s
greatly 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 soon
could 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 the
Indians shouted and surrounded him, while he heard Jake say, "Drop your
gun and drink with them."

"Drink!" said Andy, laughing with the same screech he had made at the
match going out. "We re all going to Canaan, Connecticut."

Each Indian held a tin cup, and at the instant these were emptied
they were thrust towards Jake, who filled them again, going and coming
through a door that led a step or two down into a dark place which was
half 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 himself
by 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 the
other two disagreed. They talked a moment with threatening rage till
suddenly all drew pistols. At this the two remaining stumbled among the
group, and a shot went into the roof. Jake was there in one step with
a keg, that they no sooner saw than they fell upon it, and the liquor
jetted out as they clinched, wrestling over the room till one lay on
his back with his mouth at the open bung. It was wrenched from him, and
directly there was not a drop more in it. They tilted it, and when none
ran out, flung the keg out of doors and crowded to the door of the dark
place, where Jake barred the way. "Don't take to that yet!" he said to
Clallam, for John was lifting his rifle.

"Piah-chuck!" yelled the Indians, scarcely able to stand. All other
thought had left them, and a new thought came to Jake. He reached for a
fresh keg, while they held their tin cups in the left hand and pistols
in the right, pushing