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Mart laughed.

“I mean it, son. Some day such thoughts will come to you.” He stared at the river unsteadily with his light gray eyes.

“Well, if the ferry’s gone,” said John Clallam, getting on his legs, “we’ll go on down to the next one.”

“Hold on! hold on! Did you never hear tell of a raft? I’ll put you folks over this river. Wait till I git my pants on,” said he, stalking nimbly to where they lay.

“It’s just this way,” Clallam continued; “we’re bound for the upper Okanagon country, and we must get in there to build our cabin before cold weather.”

“Don’t you worry about that. It’ll take you three days to the next ferry, while you and me and the boy kin build a raft right here by to-morrow noon. You hev an axe, I expect? Well, here is timber close, and your trail takes over to my place on the Okanagon, where you’ve got another crossin’ to make. And all this time we’re keeping the ladies waitin’ up the hill! We’ll talk business as we go along; and, see here, if I don’t suit yu’, or fail in my bargain, you needn’t to pay me a cent.”

He began climbing, and on the way they came to an agreement. Wild-Goose Jake bowed low to Mrs. Clallam, and as low to Nancy, who held her mother’s dress and said nothing, keeping one finger in her mouth. All began emptying the wagon quickly, and tins of baking-powder, with rocking-chairs and flowered quilts, lay on the hill. Wild-Goose Jake worked hard, and sustained a pleasant talk by himself. His fluency was of an eagerness that parried interruption or inquiry.

“So you’ve come acrosst the Big Bend! Ain’t it a cosey place? Reminds me of them medicine pictures, ‘Before and After Using.’ The Big Bend’s the way this world looked before using–before the Bible fixed it up, ye know. Ever seen specimens of Big Bend produce, ma’am? They send ’em East. Grain and plums and such. The feller that gathered them curiosities hed hunt forty square miles apiece for ’em. But it’s good-payin’ policy, and it fetches lots of settlers to the Territory. They come here hummin’ and walks around the wilderness, and ‘Where’s the plums?’ says they. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’ says the land agent; and out they goes. But you needn’t to worry, ma’am. The country where you’re goin’ ain’t like that. There’s water and timber and rich soil and mines. Billy Moon has gone there–he’s the man run the ferry. When she wrecked, he pulled his freight for the new mines at Loop Loop.”

“Did the man live in the little house?” said Nancy.

“Right there, miss. And nobody lives there any more, so you take it if you’re wantin’ a place of your own.”

“What made you kick the other man if it wasn’t your house?”

“Well, now, if it ain’t a good one on him to hev you see that! I’ll tell him a little girl seen that, and maybe he’ll feel the disgrace. Only he’s no account, and don’t take any experience the reg’lar way. He’s nigh onto thirty, and you’ll not believe me, I know, but he ain’t never even learned to spit right.”

“Is he yours?” inquired Nancy.

“Gosh! no, miss–beggin’ pardon. He’s jest workin’ for me.”

“Did he know you were coming to kick him when he hid?”

“Hid? What’s that?” The man’s eyes narrowed again into points. “You folks seen him hide?” he said to Clallam.

“Why, of course; didn’t he say anything?”

“He didn’t get much chance,” muttered Jake. “What did he hide at?”

“Us.”

“You, begosh!”

“I guess so,” said Mart. “We took him for the ferry-man, and when he couldn’t hear us–“

“What was he doin’?”

“Just riding along. And so I fired to signal him, and he flew into the door.”

“So you fired, and he flew into the door. Oh, h’m.” Jake continued to pack the second horse, attending carefully to the ropes. “I never knowed he was that weak in the upper story,” he said, in about five minutes. “Knew his brains was tenas, but didn’t suspect he were that weak in the upper story. You’re sure he didn’t go in till he heerd your gun?”