The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1904-10-15
Indian Revenge

lTlUe WAS OLC w dh-hio i1"' - '
muscular Indian of perhaps forty
five. Wah-kia-na became quite a
frequent visitor. His favorite loung-
ing place was the log cabin in which
Jed and | did the cooking.
One morning Jed discovered
Wah-kia-na in the act of Jabbing
long, sharp pointed piece of iron he
invariably carried in his belt into
the soup kettle, hoping, no doubt,
to fish out a nice hot chunk of beef.
This was more than my companion
could stand.
knocking the iron out of the red
skins hand with quick blow, Jed
grabbed the fellow by the scruf and
the slack and rushed him out of the
cabin, quitting him with a push that
sent him sprawling upon the
ground.
After that Wah-kia-na came to
the cook house no more, and IN
month or so the incident had drop
ped completely from our minds, but
not from the Indians. In his heart
he nurtured vengeance.
One day we learned that there
emptied into the Ump-qua certain
stream the exploration of which
promised considerable sport. This
tributary was known as Smiths rlv-
er, after an unfortunate trapper who
had been killed by the Indians many
years before.
When we had arranged our plans,
we made them known to Waite
Linn, a sturdy old backwoodsman,
who had taken quite fancy to US
youngsters and had more than once
proved himself true friend. Just
as we were pushing off along came
Waite.
"Waal," he said, 'good luck to
We. But look hyar. l want ye to
promise me a something. Guess
it'll take we three days to get up to
Smiths, thar bein' a freshet in the
river, but a day ought to fetch We
back slick as grease. Now, give me
yer word, boys, to be back hyar by
five days at the latest-that is, If
ye kim"
We promised the old fellow and
dipped our paddles, impatient to be
off.
"Good, lads, and now look hyar.
If so be as you meet trouble and hev
to quit the canoe and tramp home,
make tracks down the right bank of
the river; the right bank, do you
hear?"
Nothing particular happened un-
til the afternoon of the third day.
We were ripping along very quietly
when suddenly Jed reached over the
side of the canoe and fshed some
thing out of the water. 1t proved
to be small, closely woven Indian
basket.
s"That's bad, jed" I exclaimed.
''Sure as guns there's redskins ahead
of us"
"We'd have met the beggars if
they had come down stream; so they
must have gone up" said l. whats
to be done, Jed?'
Ozone! Go ahead and trust in
Providence" replied Jed. "They
NAV be friendly or they may not.
Anyhow, we've got our rifles"
whats that yonder?" cried Jed,
pointing to a hill little distance
ahead. Its sloping side was dotted
with what looked to be huts. We
rested on our paddles and gazed
upon the scene with silent anxiety.
We found the cause of our wonder
to be an old Indian burying ground.
The hutlike risings were simply
hillocks of earth, each of which
marked the resting place of war;
rior.
Padding mile or two farther
along, we camped for the night.
AS soon as it was light enough
we started to mount to the top of
what we meant to be our long to-
boggan slide back to Ump-qua. It
was the worst rapid we had yet en-
countered. After trying it several
ways without success we had to re-
sort to the towing line.
We dragged our little craft up
through the boiling current yard by
yard. 1t may have been within a
dozen feet of us when, crack! the
stout hide line suddenly snapped,
and away went the canoe with all
our stores and Jed's rifle, dashing
madly down the falls.
s'What fools to worry" cried Jed,
"when we can get all the canoes we
want
"Where?"
'eDown in the burial ground, of
course. It's only mile or so. Come
along"
Fortunately we were on the same