I grew uneasy, feeling myself only an idler in a land so able to fend for itself.

I now was much disposed to discuss means of getting back over the long trail to the eastward, to carry the news that Oregon was ours.
I had, it must be confessed, nothing new to suggest as to making it firmly and legally ours, beyond what had already been suggested in the minds of our settlers themselves.

It was at this time that there occurred a startling and decisive event.
I was on my way on a canoe voyage up the wide Columbia, not far above the point where it receives its greatest lower tributary, the Willamette, when all at once I heard the sound of a cannon shot.

I turned to see the cloud of blue smoke still hanging over the surface of the water.

Slowly there swung into view an ocean-going vessel under steam and auxiliary canvas.