Leander stood tremulously straight in silence, his lip sagging, as Wild-Goose Jake called pleasantly from the other bank. “Come to supper, you folks,” said he. “Why, Andy, I told you to bring them across, and you've let them picket their horses. Was you expectin' Mrs. Clallam to take your arm and ford six feet of water?” For some reason his voice sounded kind as he spoke to his assistant.
“Well, mother?” said Clallam.
“If it was not for Nancy, John—”
“I know, I know. Out on the shore here on this side would be a pleasanter bedroom for you, but” (he looked up the valley) “I guess our friend's plan is more sensible to-night.”
So they decided to leave the wagon behind and cross to the cabin. The horses put them with not much wetting to the other bank, where Jake, most eager and friendly, hovered to meet his party, and when they were safe ashore pervaded his premises in their behalf.
“Turn them horses into the pasture, Andy,” said he, “and first feed 'em a couple of quarts.” It may have been hearing himself say this, but tone and voice dropped to the confidential and his sentences came with a chuckle. “Quarts to the horses and quarts to the Siwashes and a skookum pack of trouble all round, Mrs. Clallam! If I hedn't a-came to stop it a while ago, why about all the spirits that's in stock jest now was bein' traded off for some blamed ponies the bears hev let hobble on the range unswallered ever since I settled here. A store on a trail like this here, ye see, it hez to keep spirits, of course; and—well, well! here's my room; you ladies'll excuse, and make yourselves at home as well as you can.”
It was of a surprising neatness, due all to him, they presently saw; the log walls covered with a sort of bunting that was also stretched across to make a ceiling below the shingles of the roof; fresh soap and towels, china service, a clean floor and bed, on the wall a print of some white and red village among elms, with a covered bridge and the water running over an apron-dam just above; and a rich smell of whiskey everywhere. “Fix up as comfortable as yu' can,” the host repeated, “and I'll see how Mrs. Jake's tossin' the flapjacks. She's Injun, yu' know, and five years of married life hadn't learned her to toss flapjacks. Now if I was you” (he was lingering in the doorway) “I wouldn't shet that winder so quick. It don't smell nice yet for ladies in here, and I'd hev liked to git the time to do better for ye; but them Siwashes—well, of course, you folks see how it is. Maybe it ain't always and only white men that patronizes our goods. Uncle Sam is a long way off, and I don't say we'd ought to, but when the cat's away, why the mice will, ye know—they most always will.”
There was a rattle of boards outside, at which he shut the door quickly, and they heard him run. A light muttering came in at the window, and the mother, peeping out, saw Andy fallen among a rubbish of crates and empty cans, where he lay staring, while his two fists beat up and down like a disordered toy. Wild-Goose Jake came, and having lifted him with great tenderness, was laying him flat as Elizabeth Clallam hurried to his help.
“No, ma'am,” he sighed, “you can't do nothing, I guess.”
“Just let me go over and get our medicines.”