lanket
on my back. I knew that I should have to go alone. Some work had been
done on the road during the summer, but I was unable to learn definitely
whether any camps were yet in the mountains.

At Steilacoom there was a certain character, a doctor, then understood
by few, and I may say not by many even to the end. Yet, somehow, I had
implicit confidence in him, though between him and me there would seem
to have been a gulf that could not be closed. Our habits of life were
diametrically opposite. I would never touch a drop, while the doctor was
always drinking--never sober, neither ever drunk.

It was to this man that I entrusted the safe keeping of my little
family. I knew my wife had such an aversion to people of his kind that I
did not even tell her with whom I would arrange to look out for her
welfare, but suggested another person to whom she might apply in case of
need.

When I spoke to the doctor about what I wanted, he seemed pleased to be
able to do a kind act. To reassure me, he got out his field glasses and
turned them on the cabin across the water, three miles distant. Looking
through them intently for a moment he said, "I can see everything going
on over there. You need have no uneasiness about your folks while you
are gone."

And I did not need to have any concern. Twice a week during all the time
I was away an Indian woman visited the cabin on the island, always with
some little presents. She would ask about the babies and whether there
was anything needed. Then with the parting "_Alki nika keelapie_,"[8]
she would leave.

With a fifty-pound flour sack filled with hard bread, or navy biscuit, a
small piece of dried venison, a couple of pounds of cheese, a tin cup,
and half of a three-point blanket, all made into a pack of less than
forty pounds, I climbed the hill at Steilacoom and took the road leading
to Puyallup. The first night was spent with Jonathan McCarty, whose
cabin was near where the town of Sumner now stands.

McCarty said: "You can't cross the streams on foot; I'll let you have a
pony. He's small, but sure-footed and hardy, and he'll carry you across
the rivers anyhow." McCarty also said: "Tell your folks this is the
greatest grass country on earth. Why, I am sure I harvested five tons of
timothy to the acre this year."

[Illustration: Twice a week the Indian woman visited the cabin.]

The next day found me on the road with my blanket under the saddle, my
sack of hard bread strapped