“Who is that?” demanded Mrs. Clallam, sitting up.
There was no answer, but the slow creeping continued, always close along the floor, like the folds of stuff rubbing, and hands feeling their way in short slides against the boards. She had no way to find where her husband was sleeping, and while she thought of this and whether or not to rush out at the door, the table was gently shaken, there was a drawer opened, and some object fell.
“Only a thief,” she said to herself, and in a sort of sharp joy cried out her question again.
The singular broken voice of a woman answered, seemingly in fear. “Match-es,” it said; and “Match-es” said a second voice, pronouncing with difficulty, like the first. She knew it was some of the squaws, and sprang from the bed, asking what they were doing there. “Match-es,” they murmured; and when she had struck a light she saw how the two were cringing, their blankets huddled round them. Their motionless black eyes looked up at her from the floor where they lay sprawled, making no offer to get up. It was clear to her from the pleading fear in the one word they answered to whatever she said, that they had come here to hide from the fury of the next room; and as she stood listening to this she would have let them remain, but their escape had been noticed. A man burst into the room, and at sight of her and Nancy stopped, and was blundering excuses, when Jake caught his arm and had dragged him almost out, but he saw the two on the floor; at this, getting himself free, he half swept the crouching figures with his boot as they fled out of the room, and the door was swung shut. Mrs. Clallam heard his violent words to the squaws for daring to disturb the strangers, and there followed the heavy lashing of a quirt, with screams and lamenting. No trouble came from the Indian husbands, for they were stupefied on the ground, and when their intelligences quickened enough for them to move, the punishment was long over and no one in the house awake but Elizabeth and Nancy, seated together in their bed, watching for the day. Mother and daughter heard them rise to go out one by one, and the hoof-beats of their horses grew distant up and down the river. As the rustling trees lighted and turned transparent in the rising sun, Jake roused those that remained and got them away. Later he knocked at the door.
“I hev a little raft fixed this morning,” said he, “and I guess we can swim the wagon over here.”
“Whatever's quickest to take us from this place,” Elizabeth answered.
“Breakfast'll be ready, ma'am, whenever you say.”
“I am ready now. I shall want to start ferrying our things—Where's Mr. Clallam? Tell him to come here.”
“I will, ma'am. I'm sorry—”
“Tell Mr. Clallam to come here, please.”