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"We'll treat the whole thing as a joke to her." Casey breakfasted with them, and after they had gone sought Simon. The old Indian, full to repletion, was squatting on the kitchen steps, smoking and blinking sleepily. "No see um Sandy," he observed. "Where him stop?" "No more Sandy stop this illahee," Casey replied. "Sandy klatawa kopa stone illahee, all same Tom."
Tyee man him come, too. Bimeby come to hiyu trail, all same road. Me lose trail. Me tell tyee man 'halo mamook." He grinned broadly. "Him klatawa back yaka illahee. Me come along alone. See where chik-chik wagon turn around. All right. Me come tell you mamook huyhuy moccasin." It was very plain to Sandy now.
"Four, five cayuse stop," Simon answered. "Mebbyso four, five, man stop." "Well, four or five cayuses must have left a trail of some kind. You find it. Follow catchum. Find where they live their illahee, where they hang out. You get that?" Simon nodded and went to his horse. Farwell frowned at the lone moccasin track, and, lifting his eyes, beheld Simon in the act of mounting.
"To-day," came the abrupt reply; too low for the others to hear, yet harsh enough to sting her through and through. "Do you think Snoqualmie goes back to his illahee and leaves his woman behind?" Her spirit kindled in resentment.
Since then, no one had been on the island except in the daytime. Little bands of mourners had brought hither the swathed bodies of their dead, laid them in the burial hut, lifted the wail over them, and left upon the first approach of evening. Who, then, was this, the first for generations to set foot on the mimaluse illahee after dark?
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