Munroe Kirk
Rick Dale, A Story of the Northwest Coast

CHAPTER XIX
A TREACHEROUS INDIAN FROM NEAH BAY

To his great disappointment, Skookum John could not find the cutter that he had heretofore so carefully avoided and was now so anxious to discover. She no longer lay where he had seen her the day before. He even went far enough into Commencement Bay to take a look at Tacoma harbor and identify the several steamers lying at its wharves. The cutter was not among them, and he made the long trip back to his own camp in a very disgusted frame of mind. At the same time he was determined to redouble his efforts to gain that reward, for with the prospect of losing it it began to assume an increased value.

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. As for curing her of her injury, the hurt could not have been anything serious or she would not have gone to sleep so quickly. Yes, for fifty dollars he would certainly deliver both of his young guests to the shipman Tyhee. He would be a fool to do otherwise, and Skookum John had never yet been called a fool. Besides, it was not likely that the boys would come to any harm on board the cutter, for the Boston men (whites) were very good to those of their own tribe, never treating them cruelly, as they did the poor Siwash, whom they had even forbidden to kill and rob shipwrecked sailors found on their coast. Yes, indeed, both boys must be given up, and that fifty dollars reward received as quickly as possible.

It was all a very rational process of reasoning, and one that even white people sometimes employ to convince themselves that a thing they want to do is the right thing to do, even though their consciences may assure them to the contrary.

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.

It was a glorious morning, and the dimpled Sound was flooded with unclouded sunlight that even shot long golden shafts into the depths of its bordering forest. Myriads of fish were leaping from the sparkling water, cheerful voices sounded from the camp, and the smoke of burning cedar filled the air with its delicate perfume.

The boys had been awake and out for an hour, and Alaric was fairly intoxicated with the glorious freedom of that 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 only of 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 his 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). "Shipman Tyhee cultus wau wau" (The sailor chief made much worthless talk).

"Mesika wau wau Tyhee? (Did you talk to the captain?) inquired Bonny, anxiously.

"Ah ah, me wau wau no klap tenas man. Alta piah-ship kopet Tacoma illahie. Mesika mitlite Skookum John house."

By this sentence he conveyed to Bonny the idea that he had told the captain the boys were not to be found. At the same time he extended to them the hospitality of his camp for so long as the cutter should remain at Tacoma.

When Bonny repeated this conversation to Alaric, the latter exclaimed: "Of course we would better stay here, where we are safe until the cutter goes away, even if it is a week from now. I hope it will be as long as that, for I think this camp is one of the jolliest places I ever struck."

"All right," replied Bonny. "If you can stand it, I can."

So the boys settled quietly down and waited for something to happen, though it seemed to Alaric as though something of interest and importance were happening nearly all the time. To begin with, they built themselves a brush hut under Bah-die's instruction, the steep-pitched roof of which would shed rain. Then they both took lessons from the same teacher in sailing and paddling a canoe. The supply of fish for the camp had to be replenished daily, and this duty devolved entirely upon the younger children, for Bah-die went always with his father to draw the big seine net, in which they caught fish for market. As the lads were anxious to earn their board, they sometimes went in the big boat, and sometimes in the small canoes with the children, by which means they learned all the different ways known to the Indians of catching fish. With all this, Alaric's swimming-lessons were not neglected for a single day, and he often took baths both morning and evening, so fascinated was he with the novel sport.

In return for what Bah-die taught him, he undertook to train the young Siwash in the art of catching a baseball. The latter having watched him and Bonny pass the ball and catch it with perfect ease, one day held out his hands, as much as to say, "Here you go; give us a catch."

Alaric, who held the ball at that moment, let drive a swift one straight at him. When Bah-die dropped it, and clapped his smarting hands to his sides with an expression of pained astonishment on his face, the white lad knew just how he felt. He could plainly recall the sensations of his own experience on that not-very-long-ago day in Golden Gate Park; and while he sympathized with Bah-die, he could not help exulting in the fact that he had discovered one boy of his own age more ignorant than he concerning an athletic sport. Then he set to work to show the young Siwash how to catch a ball just as Dave Carncross had shown him, and in so doing he experienced a genuine pleasure. He was growing to be like other boys, and the knowledge that this was so filled him with delight.

Nearly every day Skookum John sailed over to Tacoma, ostensibly to carry his fish, but really to discover whether or not the cutter had returned, and each night he came back glum with disappointment. Bonny often asked to be allowed to go to the city with him, as he was impatient to be again at work; but the Indian invariably put him off on the plea that if the cutter-men discovered one whom they were so anxious to capture in his canoe, they would punish him for having afforded the fugitive a shelter.

The young sailor could not understand why the cutter remained so long in one place, for he had never known her to do such a thing before, and many a talk did he and Alaric have on the subject.

"They must be waiting in the hope of catching us," Alaric would say, "and the mere fact that they are so anxious to find us shows how important it is for us to keep out of the way."

So time wore on until our lads had spent two full weeks in the Siwash camp, and had become heartily sick of it. To be sure, Alaric had grown brown and rugged, besides becoming almost an adept in the several arts he had undertaken to master. His hands were no longer white, and their palms were covered with calloused spots instead of blisters. He was now a fair swimmer, could paddle a canoe with some skill, and understood its management under sail. He knew not only how to catch fish, but how to detach them from the hook. He could catch a baseball nearly as well as Dave Carncross himself, besides being able to throw one with swiftness and precision. He was learning to cook certain things, mostly of a fishy nature, in a rude way, and had gone through several trying experiences in trying to wash his own underclothing. Having broken his comb into half a dozen pieces by sitting down on it, he had allowed Bonny to cut his hair as short as possible with a pair of scissors borrowed from one of the squaws. The result, while wholly satisfactory to Alaric, who fortunately had no mirror in which to see himself, was so unique that Bonny was impelled to frequent laughter without apparent cause.

Two things, however, distressed Alaric greatly, and one was his clothing, which was not only ragged, but soiled beyond anything he had ever dreamed of wearing. His canvas shoes, from frequent soakings and much walking on rocks, were so broken that they nearly dropped from his feet. His woollen trousers were shrunken and bagged at the knees, while his blue sweater, besides being torn, had faded to a brownish red. With all this he was comforted by the reflection that he still had a good suit in reserve that he could wear whenever they should be free to go to the city.

His other great trial was the food of that Siwash camp. He had never been particularly fond of fish, and now, after eating it alone three times a day for two weeks, the very thought of fish made him ill. He loathed it so that it seemed to him he would almost rather go to prison, with a chance of getting something else to eat, than to remain any longer on a fish diet. From both these trials Bonny suffered nearly as much as his companion.

One day when the boys had just decided that they could not stand this sort of thing any longer, they were out fishing in the swift-sailing canoe with Bah-die, Skookum John having gone in the larger boat to Tacoma. While they gloomily pursued their now distasteful employment a sail-boat containing two white men ran alongside to obtain bait. As these were the first of their own race with whom the boys had found an opportunity to talk since coming to that place, Bonny began to ply them with questions. Among others he asked:

"What is the revenue-cutter doing at Tacoma all this time? Has she broken down?"

"She isn't there," replied one of the men.

"Isn't there?" repeated Bonny, incredulously.

"No; nor hasn't been for upwards of two weeks. We are expecting her back every day, though."

Then the men sailed away, leaving our lads to stare at each other in speechless amazement.

CHAPTER XX
AN EXCITING RACE FOR LIBERTY

"What do you suppose it all means?" asked Alaric, as the boat containing the two white men sailed away.

"If it is true, it means that somebody has been fooling us, and you know who he is as well as I do," replied Bonny, who did not care to mention names within Bah-die's hearing. "If I'm not very much mistaken, it means also that he is trying to hold on to us until the cutter comes back. You know they offered him a reward to find us."

"Only twenty-five dollars," interposed Alaric, who could not imagine anybody committing an act of treachery for so small a sum.

"That would be a good deal to some people. I don't know but what it would be to me just now."

"If I had once thought he was after the money," continued Alaric, "I would have offered him twice as much to deal squarely with us."

"Would you?" asked Bonny, with a queer little smile, for his comrade's remarks concerning money struck him as very absurd. "Where would you have got it?"

"I meant, of course, if I had it," replied the other, flushing, and wondering at his own stupidity. "But what do you think we ought to do now?"

"Sail over to Tacoma as quick as we can, and see whether the cutter is there or not. When we find that out we'll see what is to be done next."

"But we may meet John on the way."

"I don't care. That's a good idea, though. I've been wondering how we should get our friend here to agree to the plan." Then turning to Bah-die, and speaking in Chinook, Bonny suggested that as the fishing was not very good and there was a fine breeze for sailing, they should run out into the Sound and meet the big canoe on its way back from Tacoma, to which plan the young Siwash unsuspectingly agreed.

Half an hour later the swift canoe was dashing across the open Sound before a rattling breeze that heeled her down until her lee gunwale was awash, though her three occupants were perched high on the weather side. The city was dimly visible in the distance ahead, and near at hand the big canoe which they were ostensibly going to meet was rapidly approaching. Bonny was steering, and Bah-die held the main-sheet, while the jib-sheets were intrusted to Alaric.

Skookum John had already recognized them, and as they came abreast of him motioned to them to put about; but Bonny, affecting not to understand, resolutely maintained his course. They were well past the other craft, which was coming about as though to follow them, before Bah-die realized that anything was wrong. Then obeying an angry order shouted to him by his father, he let go the main-sheet without warning, causing the canoe to right so violently as to very nearly fling her passengers overboard, and attempted to wrest the steering-oar from Bonny's hand.

Seeing this, and with the desperate feeling of an escaped prisoner who sees himself about to be recaptured, Alaric sprang aft, seized the young Indian by the legs, and with a sudden output of all his recently acquired strength, pitched him headlong into the sea. Then catching the main-sheet, he trimmed it in. Down heeled the canoe until it seemed as though she certainly must capsize; but Alaric, looking very pale and determined, held fast to the straining rope, and would not yield an inch.

It was well that he had learned this lesson, and was possessed of the courage to apply it, for the canoe did not gather headway an instant too soon. Bah-die, emerging from his plunge furious with rage, was swimming towards her, and made a frantic attempt to grasp the gunwale as she slipped away. His clutching fingers only missed it by the fraction of an inch, and before he could make another effort the quick-moving craft was beyond his reach. He was too wise to attempt a pursuit, and turned, instead, to meet the big canoe, which was approaching him.

"That was a mighty fine thing to do, Rick Dale!" cried Bonny, admiringly, "and but for you we should be on our way back to that hateful camp at this very moment. Of course they may catch us yet with that big boat, but we've got a show and must make the most of it. So throw your weight as far as you can out to windward, and don't ease off that sheet unless you see solid water pouring in over the gunnel."

"All right," replied Alaric, shortly, almost too excited for words.

Both lads realized that after what had just taken place it would be nearly as unpleasant to fall into the hands of Skookum John as into those of the revenue-men themselves, and both were determined that this should not happen if they could prevent it. But could they? Fast as they were sailing, it seemed to Alaric as though the big canoe rushing after them was sailing faster. Bonny dared not take his attention from the steering long enough to even cast a glance behind. Managing the canoe was now more difficult than before, because they had lost one hundred and fifty pounds of live ballast.

When Alaric looked at the water flashing by them it seemed as though he had never moved so fast in his life, while a glance at the big boat astern almost persuaded him that they were creeping at a snail's pace. It was certain that the long, wicked-looking beak of the pursuing craft was drawing nearer. Finally it was so close at hand that he could distinguish the old Indian's scowling features and the expression of triumph on Bah-die's face. The lad's heart grew heavy within him, for the city wharves were still far away, and with things as they were the chase was certain to be ended before they could be reached.

All at once an exclamation from Bonny directed his attention to another craft coming up the Sound and bearing down on them as though to take part in the race. It was a powerful sloop-yacht standing towards the city from the club-house on Maury Island, and its crew were greatly interested in the brush between the two canoes.

Either by design or accident, the yacht, which was to windward of the chase, stood so close to the big canoe as to completely blanket her, and so take the wind from her sails that she almost lost headway. Then, as though to atone for her error, the yacht bore away so as to run between pursuer and pursued, and pass to leeward of the smaller canoe. As the beautiful craft swept by our lads with a flash of rushing waters, glinting copper, and snowy sails, a cheery voice rang out: "Well done, plucky boys! Stick to it, and you'll win yet!"

Alaric could not see the speaker, because of the sail between them, but the tones were so startlingly familiar that for a moment he imagined the voice to belong to the stranger who had talked with him on the wharf at Victoria, and whom he now knew for a revenue-officer. If that were the case, they were indeed hopelessly surrounded by peril. He was about to confide his fears to Bonny, when like a flash it came to him that the voice was that of Dave Carncross, whom he had not seen since that memorable day in Golden Gate Park.

Although he had no desire to meet this friend of the ball-field under the present circumstances, he was greatly relieved to find his first suspicion groundless, and again directed his attention to the big canoe, which, although she had lost much distance, was again rushing after them. The boy now noticed for the first time, not more than half a mile astern of her, a white steamer with a dense column of smoke pouring from her yellow funnel, and evidently bound for the same port with themselves.

Soon afterwards they had passed the smeltery, saw-mills, and lumber-loading vessels of the old town, and were approaching the cluster of steamships lying at the wharves of the Northern Pacific Railway, which here finds its western terminus. Off these the yacht had already dropped her jib and come to anchor. The big canoe was again overhauling them, and looked as though she might overtake them, after all. A boat from the yacht was making towards the wharves, and Bonny, believing that it would find a landing-place, slightly altered his course so as to follow the same direction.

All at once Alaric, who was again gazing nervously astern, cried out: "Look at that steamer! I do believe it is going to run down the big canoe."

Bonny glanced hastily over his shoulder, and uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Great Scott! It's the cutter," he gasped. "And they are right on top of us. Now we are in for it."

"They are speaking to John, and he is pointing to us," said Alaric.

"Never mind them now," said Bonny. "Ease off your sheet a bit, and 'tend strictly to business. We've still a chance, and can't afford to make any mistakes."

A few minutes later, just as a yawl was putting off from the cutter's side, the small canoe rounded the end of a wharf and came upon a landing-stage. On it the yacht's boat had just deposited a couple of passengers, who, with bags in their hands, were hastening up a flight of steps.

"Here, you!" cried Bonny to one of the yacht's crew who stood on the float, "look out for this canoe a minute. We've got to overtake those gentlemen. Come on, Rick."

Without waiting to see whether this order would be obeyed, the boys ran up the flight of steps and dashed away down the long wharf. They had no idea of where they should go, and were only intent on finding some hiding-place from the pursuers, whom they believed to be already on their trail.

As they were passing a great ocean steamer whose decks were crowded with passengers, and which was evidently about to depart, a carriage drew up in front of them, so close that they narrowly escaped being run over. As its door was flung open a voice cried out:

"Here, boys! Get these traps aboard the steamer. Quick!"

With this a gentleman sprang out and thrust a couple of bags, a travelling-rug, and a gun-case into their hands. A lady with a little boy followed him. He snatched up the child, and the whole party ran up the gang-plank of the steamer as it was about to be hauled ashore.

Our lads had accepted this chance to board the steamer without hesitation, and now ran ahead of the others. The clerk at the inner end of the gang-plank allowed them to pass, thinking, of course, that they would deposit their burdens on deck and immediately return to the wharf.

With an instinct born of long familiarity with ocean steamers, Alaric made his way through the throng of passengers to the main saloon, and Bonny followed him closely. Here they placed their burdens on a table, and, with Alaric still in the lead, disappeared through a door on the opposite side.

Two minutes later the great ship began to move slowly from the wharf, and our lads, from a snug nook on the lower deck, watched with much perturbation a revenue-officer, who had evidently just landed from the cutter, come hurrying down the wharf.