"Let her alone, and see what she's up to," said Oliver, noticing that I was disturbed at such interference with my well-laid plans for bread-baking.
She covered the hot pebbles and sand where the fire had been with a lighter layer of pebbles. Upon these the clams were deposited. They were covered with fine twigs, and upon the twigs earth was placed.
"Kloshe,"[2] she said.
"Hyas kloshe,"[3] said her husband, who squatted near by, watching the proceedings with evident approval.
"What did they say?" I asked.
"I know what they said, but I don't know what they meant," responded Oliver, "unless it was she had done a good job; and I think she has."
Thus began and ended our first lesson in the Chinook jargon, and our first experience with a clam bake.
This first clam bake gave us great encouragement. We soon learned that the bivalves were to be found in almost unlimited quantity and were widely distributed. The harvest was ready twice a day, when the tide was out, and we need have no fear of a famine even if cast away in some unfrequented place.
"Ya-ka kloshe al-ta,"[4] said the Indian woman, uncovering the steaming mass and placing the clams on a sliver found near by. "De-late kloshe muck a muck alta."[5]
Without understanding her words, but knowing well what she meant, we fell to disposing of this, our first clam dinner. We divided with the Indians the bread that had been baked and some potatoes that had been boiled. The natives soon withdrew to their own camp.