One by one they shuffles out, Jake and Baldy mixed in with them, and they swings up on to their horses and slowly goes away--up the river and down the river and acrost the bridge--till y’u could see none of em no more through the fallin’ snow; and in the store was just Edmund writin’, and me lookin’ at him, and the sound of the rapids. Did Edmund talk then? That wouldn’t have been Edmund. Nothin’ was said in that store by him or me for--well, it must have been quite a while before the door opened and Miss Carey she pokes her head in and wants to know if she may be so bold as to inquire what all that meant in the school-room. The kids had gone home early for fear of the snow. So Edmund he smiles perfectly peaceful and tells her about it. So, of course, she thinks it very comic and she laughs hearty--but all of a sudden she remembers and expresses sympathy for Edmund’s misplaced generosity. “Don’t let that trouble you,” says he, gay enough. “I meant to grubstake ’em, and I will. It shall not cost ’em a cent. Don’t tell the poor old idiots.” So that was that. But the poor old idiots had somethin’ more to say. They had a thought. It snowed away all that night--a great big snow--but next mornin’ it had quit and there was promise of its turnin’ into a fine large day. The kids had come to school pretty late, but they come. And then into the store walks Kultus Jake and Frisco Baldy. For a while they walks around and just inspects all the goods they knowed by heart anyway. “Well?” says Edmund. And they looks at each other. “Could we step into the school-room just a minute?” says Jake then. Edmund he looks surprised, but asks no questions, and in we all goes. Miss Carey she gets up again. “Any more information?” says she, pleasant. “No,” says Jake. “Not to-day,” says Baldy. “We,” says Jake, “well--we--we’d--” Baldy gets restless and he steps up. “Put your school-house on our land,” says he. “We want to give it to y’u,” says Baldy. “Coal and all,” says Jake. There was a pink color went over Miss Carey’s face--all over it--and she didn’t say a word for a while; she looks quick at Edmund and then she looks back at the two old men, and her eyes has tears in ’em. “Folks ought to know geography,” says Jake. “We want the kids in this valley to know it,” says Baldy. “Knowledge will save ’em from mistakes,” says Jake. And then Miss Carey she speaks at last. “Thank you,” she says. “Is this _potlatch_?” inquires Edmund, jokin’. “_Kultus potlatch!_” says both of ’em together.