“Yes,” said Skookum Joe, “he likes salmon better than a Siwash, and he set on the river bank and fish for himself all day long.”
“Smellum salmon,” spoke up one of the Indians, pointing to the fire where some skin of the rough, Indian smoked fish had been thrown by the aborigines the night before.
“Wa-al,” said Swiftwater, with a grin at the Indian, “I reckon they could ‘smellum’ some o’ that seal oil o’ yours down to Seattle.”
The Indians set swiftly to work while the boys looked on curiously, and soon had the enormous brown hide of the animal off the body. The latter they cut up and such portions as were available they put aboard the boats. A few steaks were cooked for the boys for breakfast, but, as Swiftwater suggested, they found the meat dry and tough and very lean. The Indians seemed to relish it, however, and the remaining dog ate enormously.
Swiftwater promised Jack that as soon as they reached their destination he would arrange for the proper curing of the skin which he could have as a trophy.
“No,” said Jack, “that goes to the Patrol for the floor of our room back in Creston, and if there is any glory attached to this matter that don’t really belong to that Indian with the ax, I shall be glad to hand that over to the Patrol.”
As they had all been aroused so early, Swiftwater gave orders for an immediate start up Gold Creek as soon as breakfast was over, that they might get in a long day and possibly reach their destination before night. Just as they were aboard and were about casting off, one of the Indians who had disappeared for a time came running down to the water with a small bundle of fur in each hand. One was the skin of the wild cat killed the night before; the other the skin of his dog crushed to death by the bear that morning.