With one source of income cut off, it was clearly his duty to provide another. And how could he do this better than by securing the good-will of those on board the white piah ship? There was no danger of them being captured and driven out of business, and if he could only get them into the habit of paying him for doing things, he could see no reason why they should not continue to do so indefinitely.
The old Siwash had already persuaded himself that they would give him twenty-five dollars for one tenas man (boy), and by the same course of reasoning he now wondered if they might not be induced to give him fifty dollars for two boys. It was possible, and certainly worth trying for. If they should consent, he could not see how, in justice to himself and his family, he could refuse to give up the hyas doctin (Alaric) along with the tenas shipman (young sailor). After all, the former had not placed him under such a very great obligation, for he would have found Nittitan himself in a very few minutes.
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.
The boys had been awake and out for an hour, and Alaric was fairly intoxicated with the glorious freedom of 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 of only 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 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 land.) "Shipman Tyhee cutters wan wan." (The sailor chief made much worthless talk.)