Towards evening, it began to rain and blow violently; and Capt. Clarke therefore determined to remain during the night. When they thought his appetite had returned, an old woman presented him, in a bowl made of light-colored horn, a kind of sirup, pleasant to the taste, made from a species of berry common in this country, about the size of a cherry, called by the Indians _shelwel_. Of these berries a bread is also prepared, which, being boiled with roots, forms a soup, which was served in neat wooden trenchers. This, with some cockles, was his repast. The men of the village now collected, and began to gamble. The most common game was one in which one of the company was banker, and played against all the rest. He had a piece of bone about the size of a large bean; and, having agreed with any one as to the value of the stake, he would pass the bone with great dexterity from one hand to the other, singing at the same time to divert the attention of his adversary. Then, holding up his closed hands, his antagonist was challenged to say in which of them the bone was, and lost or won as he pointed to the right or wrong hand. To this game of hazard they abandon themselves with great ardor. Sometimes every thing they possess is sacrificed to it; and this evening several of the Indians lost all the beads which they had with them. This lasted for three hours; when, Capt. Clarke appearing disposed to sleep, the man who had been most attentive, and whose name was Cuskalah, spread two new mats by the fire; and, ordering his wife to retire to her own bed, the rest of the company dispersed at the same time. Capt. Clarke then lay down, and slept as well as the fleas would permit him. Next morning was cloudy, with some rain. He walked on the seashore, and observed the Indians walking up and down, and examining the shore. He was at a loss to understand their object till one of them explained that they were in search of fish, which are thrown on shore by the tide; adding, in English, "Sturgeon is good." There is every reason to suppose that these Clatsops depend for their subsistence during the winter chiefly on the fish thus casually thrown on the coast. After amusing himself for some time on the beach, Capt. Clarke returned toward the village. One of the Indians asked him to shoot a duck which he pointed out. He did so; and, having accidentally shot off its head, the bird was brought to the village, and all the Indians came round in astonishment. They examined the duck, the musket, and the very small bullet (a hundred to the pound); and then exclaimed in their language, "Good musket: don't understand this kind of musket."