“Yes. Howard said that they, in company with five others, had purchased a water ditch in Boise Basin, and had been renting the water to the miners at large rates. The miners became dissatisfied with their prices, and a fight ensued. Men were killed on both sides, and they were the only members of the ditch company that escaped. They were now on their way out of the country, to escape arrest. They feared the authorities were pursuing them.” While engaged in this conversation, Captain Ruckles, the agent of the Columbia River Steamboat Company, happened to pass. Beachy hailed him, and told his story. Ruckles gave him authority to use a Whitehall boat in descending the river from Wallula, and an order upon the captain of the downward bound steamer from Umatilla, to consult his convenience on the trip to Portland. The evening was far advanced when Beachy and Farrell started on a midnight drive of thirty miles to Wallula. Day was breaking when they drove up to the landing. The river, at all times boisterous, had been swollen by the flood into a torrent. Rousing a wharfinger, they were informed that all navigation was suspended until the waters should abate, that no steamboats had been there for several days, and to attempt the passage of Umatilla Rapids in a Whitehall boat would be madness. Fortunately, the next man Beachy met was Captain Ankeny, an old river pilot, who knew every crook and rock in the channel. “It’s a dangerous business,” said the captain, after listening to his story, “but I think we can make it in a Whitehall boat. At all events, if it’s murderers you’re after, it’s worth the risk. I’ll take you down if anybody can.” At daylight the three men, with the pilot at the helm, pushed out into the stream, every spectator on shore predicting disaster. It was, indeed, a lively passage, and not a few hairbreadth escapes were attributable to the skill of the man who knew the channel. The boat dashed through the rapids, and rounded to at Umatilla, twenty-two miles below, two hours after it left Wallula. Beachy found a willing coadjutor in the captain of the steamboat at Umatilla, and, to expedite the departure of the boat, employed eighteen men to assist in discharging the cargo. When the boat had blown her last whistle and rung her last bell, two large wagons laden with emigrants, who had just arrived after a tedious journey across the plains, thundered down to the wharf to be taken aboard. “Too late,” shouted the captain. “The boat cannot be delayed. Cast off.” The spokesman for the emigrants pleaded hard for a passage. Beachy relented. “Take them on board for luck,” said he to the captain.