sion, gained from a distance, was illusory. Many shacks and
camps, at first mistaken for the white men's houses, were found to be
occupied by natives. They were a drunken, rascally rabble, spending
their gains from the sale of fish and oil in a debauch that would last
as long as their money held out.

This seemed to be a more stalwart race of Indians than those to the
south, doubtless from the buffeting received in the larger waters. They
would often go out even to the open sea on their fishing excursions in
canoes manned by thirty men or more.

After spending two or three days exploring the country, we turned back
to the bay where lay the seven ships we had seen near Steilacoom. We
remembered the timber camps, the bustle and stir of the little new
village, and the activity that we saw there, greater than anywhere else
on the waters of the Sound. Most of all, my thoughts would go on to the
little cabin on the Columbia River.

Three days sufficed to land us back in the bay we sought, but the ships
were gone. Not a sailing craft of any kind was in sight of the little
town, though the building activity was going on as before.

The memory of those ships, however, remained with us and determined our
minds on the important question where the trade center was to be. We
decided therefore that our new home should be near Steilacoom, and we
finally staked out a claim on an island not far from that place.

Once the claim had been decided upon, my next desire naturally was to
get home to my family. The expedition had taken thirty days, and of
course there had been no news from my wife, nor had I been able to send
back any word to her.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Are you afraid of the rapid water?

[7] I will stay with you.

[Illustration: On the trail again with Buck and Dandy.]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MOVING FROM THE COLUMBIA TO PUGET SOUND

"CAN I get home tonight?" I asked myself.

It was an afternoon of the last week of June, in 1853, and the sun was
yet high. I was well up the left bank of the Cowlitz River; how far I
could not tell, for there were no milestones on the crooked,
half-obstructed trail leading downstream. At best it would be a race
with the sun, but the days were long, and the twilight was long, and I
would camp that much nearer home if I made haste.

My pack had been discarded on the Sound. I had neither coat nor blanket.
I wore a heavy woolen shirt, a slouch hat, and worn shoes; both hat and
sho