A TREACHEROUS INDIAN FROM NEAH BAY
To his great disappointment, Skookum John could not find the cutter that
he had heretofore so carefully avoided and was now so anxious to
discover. She no longer lay where he had seen her the day before. He
even went far enough into Commencement Bay to take a look at Tacoma
harbor and identify the several steamers lying at its wharves. The
cutter was not among them, and he made the long trip back to his own
camp in a very disgusted frame of mind. At the same time he was
determined to redouble his efforts to gain that reward, for with the
prospect of losing it it began to assume an increased value.
With one source of income cut off, it was clearly his duty to provide
another. And how could he do this better than by securing the good-will
of those on board the white _piah-ship_? There was no danger of them
being captured and driven out of business, and if he could only get them
into the habit of paying him for doing things, he could see no reason
why they should not continue to do so indefinitely.
The old Siwash had already persuaded himself that they would give him
twenty-five dollars for one _tenas man_ (boy), and by the same course of
reasoning he now wondered if they might not be induced to give him fifty
dollars for two boys. It was possible, and certainly worth trying for.
If they should consent, he could not see how, in justice to himself and
his family, he could refuse to give up the _hyas doctin_ (Alaric) along
with the _tenas shipman_ (young sailor). After all, the former had not
placed him under such a very great obligation, for he would have found
Nittitan himself in a very few minutes. As for curing her of her injury,
the hurt could not have been anything serious or she would not have gone
to sleep so quickly. Yes, for fifty dollars he would certainly deliver
both of his young guests to the _shipman Tyhee_. He would be a fool to
do otherwise, and Skookum John had never yet been called a fool.
Besides, it was not likely that the boys would come to any harm on board
the cutter, for the _Boston men_ (whites) were very good to those of
their own tribe, never treating them cruelly, as they did the poor
Siwash, whom they had even forbidden to kill and rob shipwrecked sailors
found on their coast. Yes, indeed, both boys must be given up, and that
fifty dollars reward received as quickly as possible.
It was all a very rational process of reasoning, and one that even white
people sometimes employ to convince themselves that a thing they want to
do is the right thing to do, even though their consciences may assure
them to the contrary.
So the cunning old Indian, having persuaded himself that his meditated
treachery was pure benevolence, reached his camp in good spirits in
spite of his disappointment, and determined to make the stay of the boys
so pleasant that they should offer no objection to remaining with him
until the return of the cutter to those waters.
It was a glorious morning, and the dimpled Sound was flooded with
unclouded sunlight that even shot long golden shafts into the depths of
its bordering forest. Myriads of fish were leaping from the sparkling
water, cheerful voices sounded from the camp, and the smoke of burning
cedar filled the air with its delicate perfume.
The boys had been awake and out for an hour, and Alaric was fairly
intoxicated with the glorious freedom of that wild life, of which this
was his first taste. Already had he taken a swimming-lesson, and
although in his ignorance he had recklessly plunged into water that
would have drowned him had not Bonny and Bah-die pulled him out, he was
confident that he had swum one stroke before going down.
Upon Skookum John's return his guests sat down with him to a breakfast
which their ravenous appetites enabled them to eat with a hearty
enjoyment, though it consisted only of fish, fish, and yet more fish.
"But it is such capital fish!" explained Alaric.
"Isn't it?" replied Bonny, tearing with teeth and fingers at a great
strip of smoked salmon. "And the oil isn't half bad, either."
After they had finished eating, and their host had lighted his pipe, he
told Bonny that his early morning trip had been taken out of his anxiety
for their safety, and to discover the whereabouts of their enemies, the
revenue-men.
"_They mamook klatawa?_" (Have they gone away?) inquired Bonny.
"_No; piah-ship mitlite Tacoma illahie_" (No; steamer stay in Tacoma).
"_Shipman Tyhee cultus wau wau_" (The sailor chief made much worthless
talk).
"_Mesika wau wau Tyhee?_ (Did you talk to the captain?) inquired Bonny,
anxiously.
"_Ah ah, me wau wau no klap tenas man. Alta piah-ship kopet Tacoma
illahie. Mesika mitlite Skookum John house._"
By this sentence he conveyed to Bonny the idea that he had told the
captain the boys were not to be found. At the same time he extended to
them the hospitality of his camp for so long as the cutter should remain
at Tacoma.
When Bonny repeated this conversation to Alaric, the latter exclaimed:
"Of course we would better stay here, where we are safe until the cutter
goes away, even if it is a week from now. I hope it will be as long as
that, for I think this camp is one of the jolliest places I ever
struck."
"All right," replied Bonny. "If you can stand it, I can."
So the boys settled quietly down and waited for something to happen,
though it seemed to Alaric as though something of interest and
importance were happening nearly all the time. To begin with, they built
themselves a brush hut under Bah-die's instruction, the steep-pitched
roof of which would shed rain. Then they both took lessons from the same
teacher in sailing and paddling a canoe. The supply of fish for the camp
had to be replenished daily, and this duty devolved entirely upon the
younger children, for Bah-die went always with his father to draw the
big seine net, in which they caught fish for market. As the lads were
anxious to earn their board, they sometimes went in the big boat, and
sometimes in the small canoes with the children, by which means they
learned all the different ways known to the Indians of catching fish.
With all this, Alaric's swimming-lessons were not neglected for a single
day, and he often took baths both morning and evening, so fascinated was
he with the novel sport.
In return for what Bah-die taught him, he undertook to train the young
Siwash in the art of catching a baseball. The latter having watched him
and Bonny pass the ball and catch it with perfect ease, one day held
out his hands, as much as to say, "Here you go; give us a catch."
Alaric, who held the ball at that moment, let drive a swift one straight
at him. When Bah-die dropped it, and clapped his smarting hands to his
sides with an expression of pained astonishment on his face, the white
lad knew just how he felt. He could plainly recall the sensations of his
own experience on that not-very-long-ago day in Golden Gate Park; and
while he sympathized with Bah-die, he could not help exulting in the
fact that he had discovered one boy of his own age more ignorant than he
concerning an athletic sport. Then he set to work to show the young
Siwash how to catch a ball just as Dave Carncross had shown him, and in
so doing he experienced a genuine pleasure. He was growing to be like
other boys, and the knowledge that this was so filled him with delight.
Nearly every day Skookum John sailed over to Tacoma, ostensibly to carry
his fish, but really to discover whether or not the cutter had returned,
and each night he came back glum with disappointment. Bonny often asked
to be allowed to go to the city with him, as he was impatient to be
again at work; but the Indian invariably put him off on the plea that if
the cutter-men discovered one whom they were so anxious to capture in
his canoe, they would punish him for having afforded the fugitive a
shelter.
The young sailor could not understand why the cutter remained so long in
one place, for he had never known her to do such a thing before, and
many a talk did he and Alaric have on the subject.
"They must be waiting in the hope of catching us," Alaric would say,
"and the mere fact that they are so anxious to find us shows how
important it is for us to keep out of the way."
So time wore on until our lads had spent two full weeks in the Siwash
camp, and had become heartily sick of it. To be sure, Alaric had grown
brown and rugged, besides becoming almost an adept in the several arts
he had undertaken to master. His hands were no longer white, and their
palms were covered with calloused spots instead of blisters. He was now
a fair swimmer, could paddle a canoe with some skill, and understood its
management under sail. He knew not only how to catch fish, but how to
detach them from the hook. He could catch a baseball nearly as well as
Dave Carncross himself, besides being able to throw one with swiftness
and precision. He was learning to cook certain things, mostly of a fishy
nature, in a rude way, and had gone through several trying experiences
in trying to wash his own underclothing. Having broken his comb into
half a dozen pieces by sitting down on it, he had allowed Bonny to cut
his hair as short as possible with a pair of scissors borrowed from one
of the squaws. The result, while wholly satisfactory to Alaric, who
fortunately had no mirror in which to see himself, was so unique that
Bonny was impelled to frequent laughter without apparent cause.
Two things, however, distressed Alaric greatly, and one was his
clothing, which was not only ragged, but soiled beyond anything he had
ever dreamed of wearing. His canvas shoes, from frequent soakings and
much walking on rocks, were so broken that they nearly dropped from his
feet. His woollen trousers were shrunken and bagged at the knees, while
his blue sweater, besides being torn, had faded to a brownish red. With
all this he was comforted by the reflection that he still had a good
suit in reserve that he could wear whenever they should be free to go to
the city.
His other great trial was the food of that Siwash camp. He had never
been particularly fond of fish, and now, after eating it alone three
times a day for two weeks, the very thought of fish made him ill. He
loathed it so that it seemed to him he would almost rather go to prison,
with a chance of getting something else to eat, than to remain any
longer on a fish diet. From both these trials Bonny suffered nearly as
much as his companion.
One day when the boys had just decided that they could not stand this
sort of thing any longer, they were out fishing in the swift-sailing
canoe with Bah-die, Skookum John having gone in the larger boat to
Tacoma. While they gloomily pursued their now distasteful employment a
sail-boat containing two white men ran alongside to obtain bait. As
these were the first of their own race with whom the boys had found an
opportunity to talk since coming to that place, Bonny began to ply them
with questions. Among others he asked:
"What is the revenue-cutter doing at Tacoma all this time? Has she
broken down?"
"She isn't there," replied one of the men.
"Isn't there?" repeated Bonny, incredulously.
"No; nor hasn't been for upwards of two weeks. We are expecting her back
every day, though."
Then the men sailed away, leaving our lads to stare at each other in
speechless amazement.