A man--a white man--was riding up the other side of the river. Near the cabin he leaned to see something on the ground. Ten yards more and he was off the horse and picked up something and threw it away. He loitered along, picking up and throwing till he was at the door. He pushed it open and took a survey of the interior. Then he went to his horse, and when they saw him going away on the road he had come, they set up a shouting, and Mart fired a signal. The rider dived from his saddle and made headlong into the cabin, where the door clapped to like a trap. Nothing happened further, and the horse stood on the bank. “That's the funniest man I ever saw,” said Nancy. “They're all funny over there,” said Mart. “I'll signal him again.” But the cabin remained shut, and the deserted horse turned, took a few first steels of freedom, then trotted briskly down the river. “Why, then, he don't belong there at all,” said Nancy. “Wait, child, till we know something about it.” “She's liable to be right, Liza. The horse, anyway, don't belong, or he'd not run off. That's good judgment, Nancy. Right good for a little girl.” “I am six years old,” said Nancy, “and I know lots more than that.” “Well, let's get mother and the bedding started down. It'll be noon before we know it.” There were two pack-saddles in the wagon, ready against such straits as this. The rolls were made, balanced as side packs, and circled with the swing-ropes, loose cloths, clothes, frying-pans, the lantern, and the axe tossed in to fill the gap in the middle, canvas flung over the whole, and the diamond-hitch hauled taut on the first pack, when a second rider appeared across the river. He came out of a space between the opposite hills, into which the trail seemed to turn, and he was leading the first man's horse. The heavy work before them was forgotten, and the Clallams sat down in a row to watch. “He's stealing it,” said Mrs. Clallam. “Then the other man will come out and catch him,” said Nancy. Mart corrected them. “A man never steals horses that way. He drives them up in the mountains, where the owner don't travel much.” The new rider had arrived at the bank and came steadily along till opposite the door, where he paused and looked up and down the river. “See him stoop,” said Clallam the father. “He's seen the tracks don't go further.” “I guess he's after the other one,” added Clallam the son. “Which of them is the ferry-man?” said Mrs. Clallam.