The riverside bushes were certainly very thick; but the undergrowth behind was evidently penetrable. However, during the short lift I had seen no canoes anywhere in the reach -- certainly not abreast of the steamer. But what made the idea of attack inconceivable to me was the nature of the noise -- of the cries we had heard. They had not the fierce character boding immediate hostile intention. Unexpected, wild, and violent as they had been, they had given me an irresistible impression of sorrow. The glimpse of the steamboat had for some reason filled those savages with unrestrained grief. The danger, if any, I expounded, was from our proximity to a great human passion let loose.

     Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence -- but more generally takes the form of apathy...

     You should have seen the pilgrims stare! They had no heart to grin, or even to revile me: but I believe they thought me gone mad -- with fright, maybe. I delivered a regular lecture. My dear boys, it was no good bothering.