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.