During breakfast Jake was humble about the fright the ladies had received in his house, explaining how he thought he had acted for the best; at which Clallam and Mart said that in a rough country folks must look for rough doings, and get along as well as they can; but Elizabeth said nothing. The little raft took all but Nancy over the river to the wagon, where they set about dividing their belongings in loads that could be floated back, one at a time, and Jake returned to repair some of the disorder that remained from the night at the cabin. John and Mart poled the first cargo across, and while they were on the other side, Elizabeth looked out of the wagon, where she was working alone, and saw five Indian riders coming down the valley. The dust hung in the air they had rushed through, and they swung apart and closed again as she had seen before; so she looked for a rifle; but the firearms had gone over the Okanagon with the first load. She got down and stood at the front wheel of the wagon, confronting the riders when they pulled up their horses. One climbed unsteadily from his saddle and swayed towards her. “Drink!” said he, half friendly, and held out a bottle. Elizabeth shook her head. “Drink,” he grunted again, pushing the bottle at her. “Piah-chuck! Skookurn!” He had a slugglish animal grin, and when she drew back, tipped the bottle into his mouth, and directly choked, so that his friends on their horses laughed loud as he stood coughing. “Heap good,” he remarked, looking at Elizabeth, who watched his eyes swim with the plot of the drink. “Where you come back?” he inquired, touching the wagon. “You cross Okanagon? Me cross you; cross horses; cross all. Heap cheap. What yes?” The others nodded. “Heap cheap,” they said. “We don't want you,” said Elizabeth. “No cross? Maybe he going cross you? What yes?” Again Elizabeth nodded. “Maybe he Jake?” pursued the Indian. “Yes, he is. We don't want you.” “We cross you all same. He not.” The Indian spoke loud and thick, and Elizabeth looked over the river where her husband was running with a rifle, and Jake behind him, holding a warning hand on his arm. Jake called across to the Indians, who listened sullenly, but got on their horses and went up the river. “Now,” said Jake to Clallam, “they ain't gone. Get your wife over here so she kin set in my room till I see what kin be done.” John left him at once, and crossed on the raft. His wife was stepping on it, when the noise and flight of riders descended along the other bank, where Jake was waiting. They went in a circle, with hoarse shouts, round the cabin as Mart with Nancy came from the pasture. The boy no sooner saw them than he caught his sister up and carried her quickly away among the corrals and sheds, where the two went out of sight. “You stay here, Liza,” her husband said. “I'll go back over.” But Mrs. Clallam laughed. “Get ashore,” he cried to her. “Quick!” “Where you go, I go, John.” “What good, what good, in the name--”