The Promised Land
Perhaps there were ten of them--these galloping dots were hard tocount--down in the distant bottom across the river. Their swiftly movingdust hung with them close, thinning to a yellow veil when they haltedshort. They clustered a moment, then parted like beads, and went wideasunder on the plain. They veered singly over the level, merged in twosand threes, apparently racing, shrank together like elastic, and brokeranks again to swerve over the stretching waste. From this visionedpantomime presently came a sound, a tiny shot. The figures were toofar for discerning which fired it. It evidently did no harm, and wasrepeated at once. A babel of diminutive explosions followed, while thehorsemen galloped on in unexpected circles. Soon, for no visible reason,the dots ran together, bunching compactly. The shooting stopped, thedust rose thick again from the crowded hoofs, cloaking the group, and sopassed back and was lost among the silent barren hills.
Four emigrants had watched this from the high bleak rim of the Big Bend.They stood where the flat of the desert broke and tilted down in groovesand bulges deep to the lurking Columbia. Empty levels lay opposite,narrowing up into the high country.
"That's the Colville Reservation across the river from us," said theman.
"Another!" sighed his wife.
"The last Indians we'll strike. Our trail to the Okanagon goes over acorner of it."
"We're going to those hills?" The mother looked at her little girl andback where the cloud had gone.
"Only a corner, Liza. The ferry puts us over on it, and we've got togo by the ferry or stay this side of the Columbia. You wouldn't want tostart a home here?"
They had driven twenty-one hundred miles at a walk. Standing by themwere the six horses with the wagon, and its tunneled roof of canvasshone duskily on the empty verge of the wilderness. A dry windlessair hung over the table-land of the Big Bend, but a sound rose fromsomewhere, floating voluminous upon the silence, and sank again.
"Rapids!" The man pointed far up the giant rut of the stream to where astreak of white water twinkled at the foot of the hills. "We've struckthe river too high," he added.
"Then we don't cross here?" said the woman, quickly.
"No. By what they told me the cabin and the ferry ought to be five milesdown."
Her face fell. "Only five miles! I was wondering, John--Wouldn't therebe a way round for the children to--"
"Now, mother," interrupted the husband, "that ain't like you. We'vecrossed plenty Indian reservations this trip already."
"I don't want to go round," the little girl said. "Father, don't make mego round."
Mart, the boy, with a loose hook of hair hanging down to his eyes fromhis hat, did not trouble to speak. He had been disappointed in thewestward journey to find all the Indians peaceful. He knew which wayhe should go now, and he went to the wagon to look once again down theclean barrel of his rifle.
"Why, Nancy, you don't like Indians?" said her mother.
"Yes, I do. I like chiefs."
Mrs. Clallam looked across the river. "It was so strange, John, the waythey acted. It seems to get stranger, thinking about it."
"They didn't see us. They didn't have a notion--"
"But if we're going right over?"
"We're not going over there, Liza. That quick water's the Mahkin Rapids,and our ferry's clear down below from this place."
"What could they have been after, do you think?"
"Those chaps? Oh, nothing, I guess. They weren't killing anybody."
"Playing cross-tag," said Mart.
"I'd like to know, John, how you know they weren't killing anybody. Theymight have been trying to."
"Then we're perfectly safe, Liza. We can set and let 'em kill us allday."
"Well, I don't think it's any kind of way to behave, running aroundshooting right off your horse."
"And Fourth of July over too," said Mart from the wagon. He was puttingcartridges into the magazine of his Winchester. His common-sense toldhim that those horsemen would not cross the river, but the notion of anight attack pleased the imagination of young sixteen.
"It was the children," said Mrs. Clallam. "And nobody's getting me anywood. How am I going to cook supper? Stir yourselves!"
They had carried water in the wagon, and father and son went for wood.Some way down the hill they came upon a gully with some dead brush, andclimbed back with this. Supper was eaten on the ground, the horses werewatered, given grain, and turned loose to find what pickings they mightin the lean growth; and dusk had not turned to dark when the emigrantswere in their beds on the soft dust. The noise of the rapids dominatedthe air with distant sonority, and the children slept at once, the boywith his rifle along his blanket's edge. John Clallam lay till the moonrose hard and brilliant, and then quietly, lest his wife should hearfrom her bed by the wagon, went to look across the river. Where thedownward slope began he came upon her. She had been watching for sometime. They were the only objects in that bald moonlight. No shrub grewanywhere that reached to the waist, and the two figures drew together onthe lonely hill. They stood hand in hand and motionless, except that theman bent over the woman and kissed her. When she spoke of Iowa they hadleft, he talked of the new region of their hopes, the country that laybehind the void hills opposite, where it would not be a struggle tolive. He dwelt on the home they would make, and her mood followed hisat last, till husband and wife were building distant plans together. TheDipper had swung low when he remarked that they were a couple of fools,and they went back to their beds. Cold came over the ground, and theirmusings turned to dreams. Next morning both were ashamed of their fears.
By four the wagon was on the move. Inside, Nancy's voice was hearddiscussing with her mother whether the school-teacher where they weregoing to live now would have a black dog with a white tail, that couldswim with a basket in his mouth. They crawled along the edge of the vastdescent, making slow progress, for at times the valley widened and theyreceded far from the river, and then circuitously drew close again wherethe slant sank abruptly. When the ferryman's cabin came in sight, thecanvas interior of the wagon was hot in the long-risen sun. The lay ofthe land had brought them close above the stream, but no one seemed tobe at the cabin on the other side, nor was there any sign of a ferry.Groves of trees lay in the narrow folds of the valley, and the waterswept black between untenanted shores. Nothing living could be seenalong the scant levels of the bottom-land. Yet there stood the cabin asthey had been told, the only one between the rapids and the Okanagon;and bright in the sun the Colville Reservation confronted them. Theycame upon tracks going down over the hill, marks of wagons and horses,plain in the soil, and charred sticks, with empty cans, lying wherecamps had been. Heartened by this proof that they were on the rightroad, John Clallam turned his horses over the brink. The slant steepenedsuddenly in a hundred yards, tilting the wagon so no brake or shoe wouldhold it if it moved farther.
"All out!" said Clallam. "Either folks travel light in this countryor they unpack." He went down a little way. "That's the trail too," hesaid. "Wheel marks down there, and the little bushes are snapped off."
Nancy slipped out. "I'm unpacked," said she. "Oh, what a splendid hillto go down! We'll go like anything."
"Yes, that surely is the trail," Clallam pursued. "I can see away downwhere somebody's left a wheel among them big stones. But where does hekeep his ferry-boat? And where does he keep himself?"
"Now, John, if it's here we're to go down, don't you get to studyingover something else. It'll be time enough after we're at the bottom.Nancy, here's your chair." Mrs. Clallam began lifting the lighter thingsfrom the wagon.
"Mart," said the father, "we'll have to chain lock the wheels afterwe're empty. I guess we'll start with the worst. You and me'll take thestove apart and get her down somehow. We're in luck to have open countryand no timber to work through. Drop that bedding mother! Yourself is allyou're going to carry. We'll pack that truck on the horses."
"Then pack it now and let me start first. I'll make two trips whileyou're at the stove."
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"There's the man!" said Nancy.
A man--a white man--was riding up the other side of the river. Near thecabin he leaned to see something on the ground. Ten yards more and hewas off the horse and picked up something and threw it away. He loiteredalong, picking up and throwing till he was at the door. He pushed itopen and took a survey of the interior. Then he went to his horse, andwhen they saw him going away on the road he had come, they set up ashouting, and Mart fired a signal. The rider dived from his saddle andmade headlong into the cabin, where the door clapped to like a trap.Nothing happened further, and the horse stood on the bank.
"That's the funniest man I ever saw," said Nancy.
"They're all funny over there," said Mart. "I'll signal him again." Butthe cabin remained shut, and the deserted horse turned, took a few firststeels of freedom, then trotted briskly down the river.
"Why, then, he don't belong there at all," said Nancy.
"Wait, child, till we know something about it."
"She's liable to be right, Liza. The horse, anyway, don't belong, orhe'd not run off. That's good judgment, Nancy. Right good for a littlegirl."
"I am six years old," said Nancy, "and I know lots more than that."
"Well, let's get mother and the bedding started down. It'll be noonbefore we know it."
There were two pack-saddles in the wagon, ready against such straits asthis. The rolls were made, balanced as side packs, and circled with theswing-ropes, loose cloths, clothes, frying-pans, the lantern, and theaxe tossed in to fill the gap in the middle, canvas flung over thewhole, and the diamond-hitch hauled taut on the first pack, when asecond rider appeared across the river. He came out of a space betweenthe opposite hills, into which the trail seemed to turn, and he wasleading the first man's horse. The heavy work before them was forgotten,and the Clallams sat down in a row to watch.
"He's stealing it," said Mrs. Clallam.
"Then the other man will come out and catch him," said Nancy.
Mart corrected them. "A man never steals horses that way. He drives themup in the mountains, where the owner don't travel much."
The new rider had arrived at the bank and came steadily along tillopposite the door, where he paused and looked up and down the river.
"See him stoop," said Clallam the father. "He's seen the tracks don't gofurther."
"I guess he's after the other one," added Clallam the son.
"Which of them is the ferry-man?" said Mrs. Clallam.
The man had got off and gone straight inside the cabin. In the black ofthe doorway appeared immediately the first man, dangling in the grip ofthe other, who kicked him along to the horse. There the victim mountedhis own animal and rode back down the river. The chastiser was returningto the cabin, when Mart fired his rifle. The man stopped short, saw theemigrants, and waved his hand. He dismounted and came to the edge of thewater. They could hear he was shouting to them, but it was too far forthe words to carry. From a certain reiterated cadence, he seemed to besaying one thing. John and Mart tried to show they did not understand,and indicated their wagon, walking to it and getting aboard. On that thestranger redoubled his signs and shootings, ran to the cabin, where heopened and shut the door several times, came back, and pointed to thehills.
"He's going away, and can't ferry us over," said Mrs. Clallam.
"And the other man thought he'd gone," said Nancy, "and he came andcaught him in his house."
"This don't suit me," Clallam remarked. "Mart, we'll go to the shore andtalk to him."
When the man saw them descending the hill, he got on his horse and swamthe stream. It carried him below, but he was waiting for them when theyreached the level. He was tall, shambling, and bony, and roved over themwith a pleasant, restless eye.
"Good-morning," said he. "Fine weather. I was baptized Edward Wilson,but you inquire for Wild-Goose Jake. Them other names are retired andpensioned. I expect you seen me kick him?"
"Couldn't help seeing."
"Oh, I ain't blamin' you, son, not a bit, I ain't. He can't bile waterwithout burnin' it, and his toes turns in, and he's blurry round thefinger-nails. He's jest kultus, he is. Hev some?" With a furtive smilethat often ran across his lips, he pulled out a flat bottle, and alltook an acquaintanceship swallow, while the Clallams explained theirjourney. "How many air there of yu' slidin' down the hill?" he inquired,shifting his eye to the wagon.
"I've got my wife and little girl up there. That's all of us."
"Ladies along! Then I'll step behind this bush." He was dragging hisfeet from his waterlogged boots. "Hear them suck now?" he commented."Didn't hev to think about a wetting onced. But I ain't young any more.There, I guess I ain't caught a chill." He had whipped his breeches offand spread them on the sand. "Now you arrive down this here hill fromIoway, and says you: 'Where's that ferry? 'Ain't we hit the rightspot?' Well, that's what you hev hit. You're all right, and the spot ishunky-dory, and it's the durned old boat hez made the mistake, begosh!A cloud busted in this country, and she tore out fer the coast, and thejoke's on her! You'd ought to hev heerd her cable snap! Whoosh, if thatwire didn't screech! Jest last week it was, and the river come round thecorner on us in a wave four feet high, same as a wall. I was up hereon business, and seen the whole thing. So the ferry she up and bid usgood-bye, and lit out for Astoria with her cargo. Beggin' pardon,hev you tobacco, for mine's in my wet pants? Twenty-four hogs and thedriver, and two Sheeny drummers bound to the mines with brass jew'lry,all gone to hell, for they didn't near git to Astoria. They sank in thesight of all, as we run along the bank. I seen their arms wave, and themhogs rolling over like 'taters bilin' round in the kettle." Wild-GooseJake's words came slow and went more slowly as he looked at the riverand spoke, but rather to himself. "It warn't long, though. I expect itwarn't three minutes till the water was all there was left there. Mystars, what a lot of it! And I might hev been part of that cargo, easyas not. Freight behind time was all that come between me and them thatwent. So, we'd hev gone bobbin' down that flood, me and my piah-chuck."
"Your piah-chuck?" Mart inquired.
The man faced the boy like a rat, but the alertness faded instantly fromhis eye, and his lip slackened into a slipshod smile. "Why, yes, sonny,me and my grub-stake. You've been to school, I'll bet, but they didn'tlearn yu' Chinook, now, did they? Chinook's the lingo us white folkstrade in with the Siwashes, and we kinder falls into it, talking along.I was thinkin' how but for delay me and my grubstake--provisions, yeknow--that was consigned to me clear away at Spokane, might hev beendrownded along with them hogs and Hebrews. That's what the good folkscalls a dispensation of the Sauklee Tyee!--Providence, ye know, inChinook. 'One shall be taken and the other left.' And that's what beatsme--they got left; and I'm a bigger sinner than them drummers, for I'mten years older than they was. And the poor hogs was better than any ofus. That can't be gainsaid. Oh no! oh no!"
Mart laughed.
"I mean it, son. Some day such thoughts will come to you." He stared atthe river unsteadily with his light gray eyes.
"Well, if the ferry's gone," said John Clallam, getting on his legs,"we'll go on down to the next one."
"Hold on! hold on! Did you never hear tell of a raft? I'll put you folksover this river. Wait till I git my pants on," said he, stalking nimblyto where they lay.
"It's just this way," Clallam continued; "we're bound for the upperOkanagon country, and we must get in there to build our cabin beforecold weather."
"Don't you worry about that. It'll take you three days to the nextferry, while you and me and the boy kin build a raft right here byto-morrow noon. You hev an axe, I expect? Well, here is timber close,and your trail takes over to my place on the Okanagon, where you've gotanother crossin' to make. And all this time we're keeping the ladieswaitin' up the hill! We'll talk business as we go along; and, see here,if I don't suit yu', or fail in my bargain, you needn't to pay me acent."
He began climbing, and on the way they came to an agreement. Wild-GooseJake bowed low to Mrs. Clallam, and as low to Nancy,
who held hermother's dress and said nothing, keeping one finger in her mouth.All began emptying the wagon quickly, and tins of baking-powder, withrocking-chairs and flowered quilts, lay on the hill. Wild-Goose Jakeworked hard, and sustained a pleasant talk by himself. His fluency wasof an eagerness that parried interruption or inquiry.
"So you've come acrosst the Big Bend! Ain't it a cosey place? Reminds meof them medicine pictures, 'Before and After Using.' The Big Bend's theway this world looked before using--before the Bible fixed it up, yeknow. Ever seen specimens of Big Bend produce, ma'am? They send'em East. Grain and plums and such. The feller that gathered themcuriosities hed hunt forty square miles apiece for 'em. But it'sgood-payin' policy, and it fetches lots of settlers to the Territory.They come here hummin' and walks around the wilderness, and 'Where's theplums?' says they. 'Can't you see I'm busy?' says the land agent; andout they goes. But you needn't to worry, ma'am. The country where you'regoin' ain't like that. There's water and timber and rich soil and mines.Billy Moon has gone there--he's the man run the ferry. When she wrecked,he pulled his freight for the new mines at Loop Loop."
"Did the man live in the little house?" said Nancy.
"Right there, miss. And nobody lives there any more, so you take it ifyou're wantin' a place of your own."
"What made you kick the other man if it wasn't your house?"
"Well, now, if it ain't a good one on him to hev you see that! I'll tellhim a little girl seen that, and maybe he'll feel the disgrace. Onlyhe's no account, and don't take any experience the reg'lar way. He'snigh onto thirty, and you'll not believe me, I know, but he ain't nevereven learned to spit right."
"Is he yours?" inquired Nancy.
"Gosh! no, miss--beggin' pardon. He's jest workin' for me."
"Did he know you were coming to kick him when he hid?"
"Hid? What's that?" The man's eyes narrowed again into points. "Youfolks seen him hide?" he said to Clallam.
"Why, of course; didn't he say anything?"
"He didn't get much chance," muttered Jake. "What did he hide at?"
"Us."
"You, begosh!"
"I guess so," said Mart. "We took him for the ferry-man, and when hecouldn't hear us--"
"What was he doin'?"
"Just riding along. And so I fired to signal him, and he flew into thedoor."
"So you fired, and he flew into the door. Oh, h'm." Jake continued topack the second horse, attending carefully to the ropes. "I never knowedhe was that weak in the upper story," he said, in about five minutes."Knew his brains was tenas, but didn't suspect he were that weak in theupper story. You're sure he didn't go in till he heerd your gun?"
"He'd taken a look and was going away," said Mart.
"Now ain't some people jest odd! Now you follow me, and I'll tell youfolks what I'd figured he'd been at. Billy Moon he lived in that cabin,yu' see. And he had his stuff there, yu, see, and run the ferry, and akind of a store. He kept coffee and canned goods and star-plug and thisand that to supply the prospectin' outfits that come acrosst on hisferry on the trail to the mines. Then a cloud-burst hits his boat andhis job's spoiled on the river, and he quits for the mines, takin' hisstuff along--do you follow me? But he hed to leave some, and he give methe key, and I was to send the balance after him next freight team thatcome along my way. Leander--that's him I was kickin'--he knowed aboutit, and he'll steal a hot stove he's that dumb. He knowed there wasstuff here of Billy Moon's. Well, last night we hed some horses stray,and I says to him, 'Andy, you get up by daylight and find them.' And hegits. But by seven the horses come in all right of theirselves, andMr. Leander he was missin'; and says I to myself, 'I'll ketch you, yu'blamed hobo.' And I thought I had ketched him, yu' see. Weren't thatreasonable of me? Wouldn't any of you folks hev drawed that conclusion?"The man had fallen into a wheedling tone as he studied their faces."Jest put yourselves in my place," he said.
"Then what was he after?" said Mart.
"Stealin'. But he figured he'd come again."
"He didn't like my gun much."
"Guns always skeers him when he don't know the parties shootin'.That's his dumbness. Maybe he thought I was after him; he's jest thatdistrustful. Begosh! we'll have the laugh on him when he finds he runfrom a little girl."
"He didn't wait to see who he was running from," said Mart.
"Of course he didn't. Andy hears your gun and he don't inquire further,but hits the first hole he kin crawl into. That's Andy! That's the kindof boy I hev to work for me. All the good ones goes where you're goin',where the grain grows without irrigation and the blacktail deer comesout on the hill and asks yu' to shoot 'em for dinner. Who's ready forthe bottom? If I stay talkin' the sun'll go down on us. Don't yu' letme get started agin. Just you shet me off twiced anyway each twenty-fourhours."
He began to descend with his pack-horse and the first load. Allafternoon they went up and down over the hot bare face of the hill,until the baggage, heavy and light, was transported and droppedpiecemeal on the shore. The torn-out insides of their home littered thestones with familiar shapes and colors, and Nancy played among them,visiting each parcel and folded thing.
"There's the red table-cover!" she exclaimed, "and the bigcoffee-grinder. And there's our table, and the hole Mart burned in it."She took a long look at this. "Oh, how I wish I could see our pump!" shesaid, and began to cry.
"You talk to her, mother," said Clallam. "She's tuckered out."
The men returned to bring the wagon. With chain-locked wheels, andtilted half over by the cross slant of the mountain, it came heavilydown, reeling and sliding on the slippery yellow weeds, and grindingdeep ruts across the faces of the shelving beds of gravel. Jake guidedit as he could, straining back on the bits of the two hunched horseswhen their hoofs glanced from the stones that rolled to the bottom;and the others leaned their weight on a pole lodged between the spokes,making a balance to the wagon, for it leaned the other way so far thatat any jolt the two wheels left the ground. When it was safe at thelevel of the stream, dusk had come and a white flat of mist lay alongthe river, striping its course among the gaunt hills. They slept withoutmoving, and rose early to cut logs, which the horses dragged to theshore. The outside trunks were nailed and lashed with ropes, and sankalmost below the surface with the weight of the wood fastened crosswiseon top. But the whole floated dry with its cargo, and crossed clumsilyon the quick-wrinkled current. Then it brought the wagon; and the sixhorses swam. The force of the river had landed them below the cabin,and when they had repacked there was too little left of day to go on.Clallam suggested it was a good time to take Moon's leavings over tothe Okanagon, but Wild-Goose Jake said at once that their load was heavyenough; and about this they could not change his mind. He made a journeyto the cabin by himself, and returned saying that he had managed to lockthe door.
"Father," said Mart, as they were harnessing next day, "I've been upthere. I went awful early. There's no lock to the door, and the cabin'sempty."
"I guessed that might be."
"There has been a lock pried off pretty lately. There was a lot ofbroken bottles around everywheres, inside and out."
"What do you make out of it?" said Mart.
"Nothing yet. He wants to get us away, and I'm with him there. I want toget up the Okanagon as soon as we can."
"Well, I'm takin' yu' the soonest way," said Wild-Goose Jake, behindthem. From his casual smile there was no telling what he had heard."I'll put your stuff acrosst the Okanagon to-morrow mornin'. Butto-night yourselves'll all be over, and the ladies kin sleep in myroom."
The wagon made good time. The trail crossed easy valleys and overthe yellow grass of the hills, while now and then their guide tooka short-cut. He wished to get home, he said, since there could be noestimating what Leander might be doing. While the sun was still well upin the sky they came over a round knob and saw the Okanagon, blue in thebright afternoon, and the cabin on its further bank. This was a roomierbuilding to see than common, and a hay-field was by it, and a bitof green pasture, fence
d in. Saddle-horses were tied in front, headshanging and feet knuckled askew with long waiting, and from inside anuneven, riotous din whiffled lightly across the river and interveningmeadow to the hill.
"If you'll excuse me," said Jake, "I'll jest git along ahead, and seewhat game them folks is puttin' up on Andy. Likely as not he's weighin''em out flour at two cents, with it costin' me two and a half onfreightin' alone. I'll hev supper ready time you ketch up."
He was gone at once, getting away at a sharp pace, till presently theycould see him swimming the stream. When he was in the cabin the soundschanged, dropping off to one at a time, and expired. But when the riderscame out into the air, they leaned and collided at random, whirled theirarms, and, screaming till they gathered heart, charged with waveringmenace at the door. The foremost was flung from the sill, and he shotalong toppling and scraped his length in the dust, while the owner ofthe cabin stood in the entrance. The Indian picked himself up, and atsome word of Jake's which the emigrants could half follow by the fiercelift of his arm, all got on their horses and set up a wailing, likevultures driven off. They went up the river a little and crossed, butdid not come down this side, and Mrs. Clallam was thankful when theirevil noise had died away up the valley. They had seen the wagon coming,but gave it no attention. A man soon came over the river from thecabin, and was lounging against a tree when the emigrants drew up at themargin.
"I don't know what you know," he whined defiantly from the tree, "butI'm goin' to Cornwall, Connecticut, and I don't care who knows it." Hesent a cowed look at the cabin across the river.
"Get out of the wagon, Nancy," said Clallam. "Mart, help her down."
"I'm going back," said the man, blinking like a scolded dog. "I ain'tstayin' here for nobody. You can tell him I said so, too." Again his eyeslunk sidewise towards the cabin, and instantly back.
"While you're staying," said Mart, "you might as well give a hand here."
He came with alacrity, and made a shift of unhitching the horses. "I wasbetter off coupling freight cars on the Housatonic," he soon remarked.His voice came shallow, from no deeper than his throat, and a peevishapprehension rattled through it. "That was a good job. And I've hadbetter, too; forty, fifty, sixty dollars better."
"Shall we unpack the wagon?" Clallam inquired.
"I don't know. You ever been to New Milford? I sold shoes there.Thirty-five dollars and board."
The emigrants attended to their affairs, watering the horses and drivingpicket stakes. Leander uselessly followed behind them with conversation,blinking and with lower lip sagged, showing a couple of teeth. "Mybrother's in business in Pittsfield, Massachusetts," said he, "and I canget a salary in Bridgeport any day I say so. That a Marlin?"
"No," said Mart. "It's a Winchester."
"I had a Marlin. He's took it from me. I'll bet you never got shot at."
"Anybody want to shoot you?" Mart inquired.
"Well and I guess you'll believe they did day before yesterday"
"If you're talking about up at that cabin, it was me."
Leander gave Mart a leer. "That won't do," said he. "He's put you up totelling me that, and I'm going to Cornwall, Connecticut. I know what'sgood for me, I guess."
"I tell you we were looking for the ferry, and I signalled you acrossthe river."
"No, no," said Leander. "I never seen you in my life. Don't you be likehim and take me for a fool."
"All right. Why did they want to murder you?"
"Why?" said the man, shrilly. "Why? Hadn't they broke in and filledthemselves up on his piah-chuck till they were crazy-drunk? And when Icame along didn't they--"
"When you came along they were nowhere near there," said Mart.
"Now you're going to claim it was me drunk it and scattered all thembottles of his," screamed Leander, backing away. "I tell you I didn't.I told him I didn't, and he knowed it well, too. But he's just that meanwhen he's mad he likes to put a thing on me whether or no, when he neverseen me touch a drop of whiskey, nor any one else, neither. They wereriding and shooting loose over the country like they always do on adrunk. And I'm glad they stole his stuff. What business had he to keepit at Billy Moon's old cabin and send me away up there to see it was allright? Let him do his own dirty work. I ain't going to break the laws onthe salary he pays me."
The Clallam family had gathered round Leander, who was stricken withvolubility. "It ain't once in a while, but it's every day and everyweek," he went on, always in a woolly scream. "And the longer he ain'tcaught the bolder he gets, and puts everything that goes wrong on to me.Was it me traded them for that liquor this afternoon? It was his squaw,Big Tracks, and he knowed it well. He lets that mud-faced baboon run thehouse when he's off, and I don't have the keys nor nothing, and neverdid have. But of course he had to come in and say it was me just becausehe was mad about having you see them Siwashes hollering around. And hecome and shook me where I was sittin', and oh, my, he knowed well thelie he was acting. I bet I've got the marks on my neck now. See any redmarks?" Leander exhibited the back of his head, but the violence donehim had evidently been fleeting. "He'll be awful good to you, for he'sthat scared--"
Leander stood tremulously straight in silence, his lip sagging, asWild-Goose Jake called pleasantly from the other bank. "Come to supper,you folks," said he. "Why, Andy, I told you to bring them across, andyou've let them picket their horses. Was you expectin' Mrs. Clallam totake your arm and ford six feet of water?" For some reason his voicesounded 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 apleasanter bedroom for you, but" (he looked up the valley) "I guess ourfriend's plan is more sensible to-night."
So they decided to leave the wagon behind and cross to the cabin. Thehorses put them with not much wetting to the other bank, where Jake,most eager and friendly, hovered to meet his party, and when they weresafe ashore pervaded his premises in their behalf.
"Turn them horses into the pasture, Andy," said he, "and first feed 'ema couple of quarts." It may have been hearing himself say this, buttone and voice dropped to the confidential and his sentences came with achuckle. "Quarts to the horses and quarts to the Siwashes and a skookumpack of trouble all round, Mrs. Clallam! If I hedn't a-came to stop it awhile 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 rangeunswallered ever since I settled here. A store on a trail like thishere, ye see, it hez to keep spirits, of course; and--well, well! here'smy room; you ladies'll excuse, and make yourselves at home as well asyou can."
It was of a surprising neatness, due all to him, they presently saw; thelog walls covered with a sort of bunting that was also stretched acrossto 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 whiteand red village among elms, with a covered bridge and the water runningover 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 howMrs. Jake's tossin' the flapjacks. She's Injun, yu' know, and five yearsof 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 thetime to do better for ye; but them Siwashes--well, of course, you folkssee how it is. Maybe it ain't always and only white men that patronizesour 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 alwayswill."
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 themother, peeping out, saw Andy fallen among a rubbish of crates and emptycans, where he lay staring, while his two fists beat up and down like adisordered toy. Wild-Goose Jake came, and having lifted him with greattenderness, was laying him flat as Elizabeth Clallam hurr
ied to hishelp.
"No, ma'am," he sighed, "you can't do nothing, I guess."
"Just let me go over and get our medicines."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Jake, and the pain on his face was miserable tosee; "there ain't no medicine. We're kind of used to this, Andy and me.Maybe, if you wouldn't mind stayin' till he comes to--Why, a sick mantakes comfort at the sight of a lady."
When the fit had passed they helped him to his feet, and Jake led himaway.
Mrs. Jake made her first appearance upon the guests sitting down totheir meal, when she waited on table, passing busily forth from thekitchen with her dishes. She had but three or four English words, andher best years were plainly behind her; but her cooking was good,fried and boiled with sticks of her own chopping, and she served withindustry. Indeed, a squaw is one of the few species of the domestic wifethat survive today upon our continent. Andy seemed now to keep allhis dislike for her, and followed her with a scowling eye, while hefrequented Jake, drawing a chair to sit next him when he smoked by thewall after supper, and sometimes watching him with a sort of cloudedaffection upon his face. He did not talk, and the seizure had evidentlyjarred his mind as well as his frame. When the squaw was about lightinga lamp he brushed her arm in a childish way so that the match went out,and set him laughing. She poured out a harangue in Chinook, showing thedead match to Jake, who rose and gravely lighted the lamp himself, Andylaughing more than ever. When Mrs. Clallam had taken Nancy with herto bed, Jake walked John Clallam to the river-bank, and looking up anddown, spoke a little of his real mind.
"I guess you see how it is with me. Anyway, I don't commonly hev usefor stranger-folks in this house. But that little girl of yourn startedcryin' about not havin' the pump along that she'd been used to seein' inthe yard at home. And I says to myself, 'Look a-here, Jake, I don't careif they do ketch on to you and yer blamed whiskey business. They're notthe sort to tell on you.' Gee! but that about the pump got me! And Isays, 'Jake, you're goin' to give them the best you hev got.' Why, thatBig Bend desert and lonesome valley of the Columbia hez chilled my heartin the days that are gone when I weren't used to things; and the littlegirl hed came so fur! And I knowed how she was a-feelin'."
He stopped, and seemed to be turning matters over.
"I'm much obliged to you," said Clallam.
"And your wife was jest beautiful about Andy. You've saw me wicked toAndy. I am, and often, for I rile turruble quick, and God forgive me!But when that boy gits at his meanness--yu've seen jest a touch ofit--there's scarcely livin' with him. It seems like he got reg'larinspired. Some days he'll lie--make up big lies to the fust man comesin at the door. They ain't harmless, his lies ain't. Then he'll trick mywoman, that's real good to him; and I believe he'd lick whiskey up offthe dirt. And every drop is poison for him with his complaint. But I'dought to remember. You'd surely think I could remember, and forbear.Most likely he made a big talk to you about that cabin."
John Clallam told him.
"Well, that's all true, for onced. I did think he'd been up to stealin'that whiskey gradual, 'stead of fishin', the times he was out all day.And the salary I give him"--Jake laughed a little--"ain't enough tojustify a man's breaking the law. I did take his rifle away when hetried to shoot my woman. I guess it was Siwashes bruck into that cabin."
"I'm pretty certain of it," said Clallam.
"You? What makes you?"
John began the tale of the galloping dots, and Jake stopped walking tolisten the harder. "Yes," he said; "that's bad. That's jest bad. Theyhev carried a lot off to drink. That's the worst."
He had little to say after this, but talked under his tongue as theywent to the house, where he offered a bed to Clallam and Mart. Theywould not turn him out, so he showed them over to a haystack, where theycrawled in and went to sleep.
Most white men know when they have had enough whiskey. Most Indiansdo not. This is a difference between the races of which governmenthas taken notice. Government says that "no ardent spirits shall beintroduced under any presence into the Indian country." It also saysthat the white man who attempts to break this law "shall be punished byimprisonment for not more than two years and by a fine of not more thanthree hundred dollars." It further says that if any superintendent ofIndian affairs has reason to suspect a man, he may cause the "boats,stores, packages, wagons, sleds, and places of deposit" of such personto be searched, and if ardent spirits be found it shall be forfeit,together with the boats and all other substances with it connected, onehalf to the informer and the other half to the use of the United States.The courts and all legal machines necessary for trial and punishment ofoffenders are oiled and ready; two years is a long while in jail; threehundred dollars and confiscation sounds heavy; altogether the penaltylooks severe on the printed page--and all the while there's no briskersuccess in our far West than selling whiskey to Indians. Very few peopleknow what the whiskey is made of, and the Indian does not care. Hedrinks till he drops senseless. If he has killed nobody and nobody himduring the process, it is a good thing, for then the matter ends withhis getting sober and going home to his tent till such happy time whenhe can put his hand on some further possession to trade away. The whiteoffender is caught now and then; but Okanagon County lies pretty snugfrom the arm of the law. It's against Canada to the north, and the emptycounty of Stevens to the east; south of it rushes the Columbia, withthe naked horrible Big Bend beyond, and to its west rises a domainof unfooted mountains. There is law up in the top of it at Conconullysometimes, but not much even to-day, for that is still a new country,where flow the Methow, the Ashinola, and the Similikameen.
Consequently a cabin like Wild-Goose Jake's was a holiday place. Theblanketed denizens of the reservation crossed to it, and the citizenswho had neighboring cabins along the trail repaired here to spend whatmoney they had. As Mrs. Clallam lay in her bed she heard customersarrive. Two or three loud voices spoke in English, and several Indiansand squaws seemed to be with the party, bantering in Chinook. Thevisitors were in too strong force for Jake's word about coming someother night to be of any avail.
"Open your cellar and quit your talk," Elizabeth heard, and next sheheard some door that stuck, pulled open with a shriek of the warpedtimber. Next they were gambling, and made not much noise over it atfirst; but the Indians in due time began to lose to the soberer whites,becoming quarrelsome, and raising a clumsy disturbance, though it wasplain the whites had their own way and were feared. The voices rose, andsoon there was no moment that several were not shouting curses at once,till Mrs. Clallam stopped her ears. She was still for a time, hearingonly in a muffled way, when all at once the smell of drink and tobacco,that had sifted only a little through the cracks, grew heavy in theroom, and she felt Nancy shrink close to her side.
"Mother, mother," the child whispered, "what's that?"
It had gone beyond card-playing with the company in the saloon; theyseemed now to be having a savage horse-play, those on their feettramping in their scuffles upon others on the floor, who bellowedincoherently. Elizabeth Clallam took Nancy in her arms and told her thatnobody would come where they were.
But the child was shaking. "Yes, they will," she whispered, in terror."They are!" And she began a tearless sobbing, holding her mother withher whole strength.
A little sound came close by the bed, and Elizabeth's senses stopped sothat for half a minute she could not stir. She stayed rigid beneath thequilt, and Nancy clung to her. Something was moving over the floor. Itcame quite near, but turned, and its slight rustle crawled away towardsthe window.
"Who is that?" demanded Mrs. Clallam, sitting up.
There was no answer, but the slow creeping continued, always close alongthe floor, like the folds of stuff rubbing, and hands feeling their wayin short slides against the boards. She had no way to find where herhusband was sleeping, and while she thought of this and whether or notto rush out at the door, the table was gently shaken, there was a draweropened, and some object fell.
"Only a thief," she said to herself, and in a sort o
f sharp joy criedout 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, pronouncingwith difficulty, like the first. She knew it was some of the squaws, andsprang 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 werecringing, their blankets huddled round them. Their motionless black eyeslooked up at her from the floor where they lay sprawled, making no offerto get up. It was clear to her from the pleading fear in the one wordthey answered to whatever she said, that they had come here to hide fromthe fury of the next room; and as she stood listening to this she wouldhave let them remain, but their escape had been noticed. A man burstinto the room, and at sight of her and Nancy stopped, and was blunderingexcuses, when Jake caught his arm and had dragged him almost out, but hesaw the two on the floor; at this, getting himself free, he half sweptthe crouching figures with his boot as they fled out of the room, andthe door was swung shut. Mrs. Clallam heard his violent words to thesquaws for daring to disturb the strangers, and there followed the heavylashing of a quirt, with screams and lamenting. No trouble came from theIndian husbands, for they were stupefied on the ground, and when theirintelligences quickened enough for them to move, the punishment waslong over and no one in the house awake but Elizabeth and Nancy, seatedtogether in their bed, watching for the day. Mother and daughter heardthem rise to go out one by one, and the hoof-beats of their horses grewdistant up and down the river. As the rustling trees lighted and turnedtransparent in the rising sun, Jake roused those that remained and gotthem away. Later he knocked at the door.
"I hev a little raft fixed this morning," said he, "and I guess we canswim 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."
John had slept sound in his haystack, and heard nothing. "Well," hesaid, after comforting his wife and Nancy, "you were better off in theroom, anyway. I'd not blame him so, Liza. How was he going to help it?"
But Elizabeth was a woman, and just now saw one thing alone: if sellingwhiskey led to such things in this country, the man who sold it was muchworse than any mere law-breaker. John Clallam, being now a long timemarried, made no argument. He was looking absently at the open drawer ofa table. "That's queer," he said, and picked up a tintype.
She had no curiosity for anything in that room, and he laid it in thedrawer again, his thoughts being taken up with the next step of theirjourney, and what might be coming to them all.
During breakfast Jake was humble about the fright the ladies hadreceived in his house, explaining how he thought he had acted for thebest; at which Clallam and Mart said that in a rough country folks mustlook for rough doings, and get along as well as they can; but Elizabethsaid nothing. The little raft took all but Nancy over the river to thewagon, where they set about dividing their belongings in loads thatcould be floated back, one at a time, and Jake returned to repair someof the disorder that remained from the night at the cabin. John and Martpoled the first cargo across, and while they were on the other side,Elizabeth looked out of the wagon, where she was working alone, and sawfive Indian riders coming down the valley. The dust hung in the air theyhad rushed through, and they swung apart and closed again as she hadseen before; so she looked for a rifle; but the firearms had gone overthe Okanagon with the first load. She got down and stood at the frontwheel of the wagon, confronting the riders when they pulled up theirhorses. One climbed unsteadily from his saddle and swayed towards her.
"Drink!" said he, half friendly, and held out a bottle.
Elizabeth shook her head.
"Drink," he grunted again, pushing the bottle at her. "Piah-chuck!Skookurn!" He had a slugglish animal grin, and when she drew back,tipped the bottle into his mouth, and directly choked, so that hisfriends on their horses laughed loud as he stood coughing. "Heap good,"he remarked, looking at Elizabeth, who watched his eyes swim with theplot of the drink. "Where you come back?" he inquired, touching thewagon. "You cross Okanagon? Me cross you; cross horses; cross all. Heapcheap. What yes?"
The others nodded. "Heap cheap," they said.
"We don't want you," said Elizabeth.
"No cross? Maybe he going cross you? What yes?"
Again Elizabeth nodded.
"Maybe he Jake?" pursued the Indian.
"Yes, he is. We don't want you."
"We cross you all same. He not."
The Indian spoke loud and thick, and Elizabeth looked over the riverwhere her husband was running with a rifle, and Jake behind him, holdinga warning hand on his arm. Jake called across to the Indians, wholistened sullenly, but got on their horses and went up the river.
"Now," said Jake to Clallam, "they ain't gone. Get your wife over hereso she kin set in my room till I see what kin be done."
John left him at once, and crossed on the raft. His wife was stepping onit, when the noise and flight of riders descended along the other bank,where Jake was waiting. They went in a circle, with hoarse shouts, roundthe cabin as Mart with Nancy came from the pasture. The boy no soonersaw them than he caught his sister up and carried her quickly away amongthe corrals and sheds, where the two went out of sight.
"You stay here, Liza," her husband said. "I'll go back over."
But Mrs. Clallam laughed.
"Get ashore," he cried to her. "Quick!"
"Where you go, I go, John."
"What good, what good, in the name--"
"Then I'll get myself over," said she. And he seized her as she wouldhave jumped into the stream.
While they crossed, the Indians had tied their horses and rambled intothe cabin. Jake came from it to stop the Clallams.
"They're after your contract," said he, quietly. "They say they're goingto have the job of takin' the balance of your stuff that's left acrosstthe Okanagon over to this side."
"What did you say?" asked Mrs. Clallam.
"I set 'em up drinks to gain time."
"Do you want me there?" said Clallam.
"Begosh, no! That would mix things worse."
"Can't you make them go away?" Elizabeth inquired.
"Me and them, ye see, ma'am, we hev a sort of bargain they're to gitcertain ferryin'. I can't make 'em savvy how I took charge of you. Ifyou want them--" He paused.
"We want them!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "If you're joking, it's a poorjoke."
"It ain't no joke at all, ma'am." Jake's face grew brooding. "Of coursefolks kin say who they'll be ferried by. And you may believe I'd ratherdo it. I didn't look for jest this complication; but maybe I kin steerthrough; and it's myself I've got to thank. Of course, if them Siwashesdid git your job, they'd sober up gittin' ready. And--"
The emigrants waited, but he did not go on with what was in his mind."It's all right," said he, in a brisk tone. "Whatever's a-comin'sa-comin'." He turned abruptly towards the door. "Keep yerselves awayjest now," he added, and went inside.
The parents sought their children, finding Mart had concealed Nancy inthe haystack. They put Mrs. Clallam also in a protected place, as aloud altercation seemed to be rising at the cabin; this grew as theylistened, and Jake's squaw came running to hide herself. She could tellthem nothing, nor make them understand more than they knew; but shetouched John's rifle, signing to know if it were loaded, and wasgreatly relieved when he showed her the magazine full of cartridges.The quarrelling had fallen silent, but rose in a new gust of fierceness,sounding as if in the open air and coming their way. No Indian appeared,however, and the noise passed to the river, where the emigrants sooncould hear wood being split in pieces.
John risked a survey. "It's the raft," he said. "They're smashing it.Now they're going back. Stay with the children, Liza."
"You're never going to that cabin?" she said.
"He's in a scrape, mother."
John started away, heedless of his wife's despair. At his coming theIndians shouted and surrounded him, while he heard Jake say, "Drop yourgun and drink with them."
"Drink!" said Andy, laughing with the same screech he had made at thematch going out. "We re all going to Canaan, Connecticut."
Each Indian held a tin cup, and at the instant these were emptiedthey were thrust towards Jake, who filled them again, going and comingthrough a door that led a step or two down into a dark place which washalf underground. Once he was not quick, or was imagined to be refusing,for an Indian raised his cup and drunkenly dashed it on Jake's head.Jake laughed good-humoredly, and filled the cup.
"It's our one chance," said he to John as the Indian, propping himselfby a hand on the wall, offered the whiskey to Clallam.
"We cross you Okanagon," he said. "What yes?"
"Maybe you say no?" said another, pressing the emigrant to the wall.
A third interfered, saying something in their language, at which theother two disagreed. They talked a moment with threatening rage tillsuddenly all drew pistols. At this the two remaining stumbled among thegroup, and a shot went into the roof. Jake was there in one step witha keg, that they no sooner saw than they fell upon it, and the liquorjetted out as they clinched, wrestling over the room till one lay onhis back with his mouth at the open bung. It was wrenched from him, anddirectly there was not a drop more in it. They tilted it, and when noneran out, flung the keg out of doors and crowded to the door of the darkplace, where Jake barred the way. "Don't take to that yet!" he said toClallam, for John was lifting his rifle.
"Piah-chuck!" yelled the Indians, scarcely able to stand. All otherthought had left them, and a new thought came to Jake. He reached for afresh keg, while they held their tin cups in the left hand and pistolsin the right, pushing so it was a slow matter to get the keg opened.They were fast nearing the sodden stage, and one sank on the floor. Jakeglanced in at the door behind him, and filled the cups once again. Whileall were drinking he went in the store-room and set more liquor open,beckoning them to come as they looked up from the rims to which theirlips had been glued. They moved round behind the table, grasping it tokeep on their feet, with the one on the floor crawling among the legsof the rest. When they were all inside, Jake leaped out and locked thedoor.
"They kin sleep now," said he. "Gunpowder won't be needed. Keep wideaway from in front."
There was a minute of stillness within, and then a groveling noise andstruggle. A couple of bullets came harmless through the door. Thoseinside fought together as well as they could, while those outsidelistened as it grew less, the bodies falling stupefied without furthersound of rising. One or two, still active, began striking at the boardswith what heavy thing they could find, until suddenly the blade of anaxe crashed through.
"Keep away!" cried Jake. But Andy had leaped insanely in front of thedoor, and fell dead with a bullet through him. With a terrible scream,Jake flung himself at the place, and poured six shots through the panel;then, as Clallam caught him, wrenched at the lock, and they saw inside.Whiskey and blood dripped together, and no one was moving there. Itwas liquor with some, and death with others, and all of it lay upon theguilty soul of Jake.
"You deserve killing yourself," said Clallam.
"That's been attended to," replied Jake, and he reeled, for during hisfire some Indian had shot once more.
Clallam supported him to the room where his wife and Nancy had passedthe night, and laid him on the bed. "I'll get Mrs. Clallam," said he.
"If she'll be willin' to see me," said the wounded man, humbly.
She came, dazed beyond feeling any horror, or even any joy, and she didwhat she could.
"It was seein' 'em hit Andy," said Jake. "Is Andy gone? Yes, I kin tellhe's gone from your face." He shut his eyes, and lay still so long atime that they thought he might be dying now; but he moved at length,and looked slowly round the wall till he saw the print of the villageamong the elms and the covered bridge. His hand lifted to show themthis. "That's the road," said he. "Andy and me used to go fishin'acrosst that bridge. Did you ever see the Housatonic River? I've fisheda lot there. Cornwall, Connecticut. The hills are pretty there. ThenAndy got worse. You look in that drawer." John remembered, and when hegot out the tintype, Jake stretched for it eagerly. "His mother and him,age ten," he explained to Elizabeth, and held it for her to see, thenstudied the faces in silence. "You kin tell it's Andy, can't yu'?" Shetold him yes. "That was before we knowed he weren't--weren't goin' togrow up like the other boys he played with. So after a while, when shewas gone, I got ashamed seein' Andy's friends makin' their way whenhe couldn't seem to, and so I took him away where nobody hed ever beenacquainted with us. I was layin' money by to get him the best doctor inEurope. I 'ain't been a good man."
A faintness mastered him, and Elizabeth would have put the pictureon the table, but his hand closed round it. They let him lie so, andElizabeth sat there, while John, with Mart, kept Nancy away till thehorror in the outer room was made invisible. They came and went quietly,and Jake seemed in a deepening torpor, once only rousing suddenly tocall his son's name, and then, upon looking from one to the other, herecollected, and his eyes closed again. His mind wandered, but verylittle, for torpor seemed to be overcoming him. The squaw had stolen in,and sat cowering and useless. Towards sundown John's heart sickened atthe sound of more horsemen; but it was only two white men, a sheriff andhis deputy.
"Go easy," said John. "He's not going to resist."
"What's up here, anyway? Who are you?"
Clallam explained, and was evidently not so much as half believed.
"If there are Indians killed," said the sheriff, "there's still anothermatter for the law to settle with him. We're sent to search for whiskey.The county's about tired of him."
"You'll find him pretty sick," said John.
"People I find always are pretty sick," said the sheriff, and pushedhis way in, stopping at sight of Mrs. Clallam and the figure on the bed."I'm arresting that man, madam," he said, with a shade of apology. "Thecounty court wants him."
Jake sat up and knew the sheriff. "You're a little late, Proctor," saidhe. "The Supreme Court's a-goin' to call my case." Then he fell back,for his case had been called.