ould see him swimming the stream. When he was in the cabin the sounds
changed, dropping off to one at a time, and expired. But when the riders
came out into the air, they leaned and collided at random, whirled their
arms, and, screaming till they gathered heart, charged with wavering
menace at the door. The foremost was flung from the sill, and he shot
along toppling and scraped his length in the dust, while the owner of
the cabin stood in the entrance. The Indian picked himself up, and at
some word of Jake's which the emigrants could half follow by the fierce
lift of his arm, all got on their horses and set up a wailing, like
vultures driven off. They went up the river a little and crossed, but
did not come down this side, and Mrs. Clallam was thankful when their
evil 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 the
cabin, and was lounging against a tree when the emigrants drew up at the
margin.

"I don't know what you know," he whined defiantly from the tree, "but
I'm goin' to Cornwall, Connecticut, and I don't care who knows it." He
sent 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't
stayin' here for nobody. You can tell him I said so, too." Again his eye
slunk 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 was
better off coupling freight cars on the Housatonic," he soon remarked.
His voice came shallow, from no deeper than his throat, and a peevish
apprehension rattled through it. "That was a good job. And I've had
better, 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 driving
picket stakes. Leander uselessly followed behind them with conversation,
blinking and with lower lip sagged, showing a couple of teeth. "My
brother's in business in Pittsfield, Massachusetts," said he, "and I can
get 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 go