ung McCrae, his face black as the heart of a storm cloud, said
nothing; but his eyes glinted dangerously. The Indian continued:

"Me _klatawa kimta_ on trail. _Tyee_ man him come, too. Bimeby come to
_hiyu_ trail, all same road. Me lose trail. Me tell _tyee_ man '_halo
mamook_.'" He grinned broadly. "Him _klatawa_ back _yaka illahee_. Me
come along alone. See where _chik-chik_ wagon turn around. All right.
Me come tell you _mamook huyhuy_ moccasin."

It was very plain to Sandy now. The old Indian had recognized the track
of his moccasin at the dam; had followed the trail to the travelled
road where he had deliberately quit; and had come on to warn him to get
rid of the incriminating moccasins which were even then on his feet.
The suggestion of exchange was merely polite diplomacy.

"Simon," he said slowly, "blamed if you ain't a white Injun!"

Simon acknowledged the compliment characteristically. He produced a
pipe and examined the empty bowl with interest.

"_Halo_ smokin', me!" he observed gravely.

Sandy nodded and handed him a large plug. The Indian filled his pipe
and put the tobacco in his pocket.

"You my _tillikum,_" he announced. "When you _tenas_ boy I like you,
you like me. Good, _Konaway_ McCrae (every McCrae) my _tillikum_." He
made a large gesture of generous inclusion, paused for an instant, and
shot a keen glance at his friend. "Cas-ee Dunne my _tillikum,_ too."

"Sure," said Sandy gravely. "We're all friends of yours, Simon."

Simon nodded and considered.

"All rancher my _tillikum_," he continued after an interval. "Ah-ha!
Good! S'pose some time me _mamook_ sick, me feel all same oleman--no
more grub stop, no more smokin' stop--mebbyso all rancher _potlatch_
grub, _potlatch_ smokin', send doctin', send med'cin'? You _kumtuks?_"

He formulated this general scheme of pension and old-age insurance
gravely. With five dollars in hand and a future provided for by
grateful ranchers, he would be able to worship the _Saghalie Tyee_
at the mission with a good heart.

"You don't want much," Sandy commented. "I guess we'd chip in, though,
if you got up against the iron any time. Sure. S'pose you _mamook_
sick, all rancher _mamook_ help, give you _muckamuck_ and smokin',
stake you to doctor and dope; s'pose you go _mimoluse_, bury you in
style."

Simon nodded, well pleased. A fine funeral thrown in for good measure
suited his ideas perfectly. It was no more than his due for this
evidence of friendshi