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.