household gods, they decamped in all haste,
sixteen miles along the coast, to the fortified
village of their allies, the Nittinahts, at
Whyack. Before leaving they endeavoured
to persuade Langston to accompany them.
The trader had, however, a good store of
furs and oil. If he fled, it would be sure to
be lost; if he remained, he might save it.
So he determined to take his chance and
stay where he was. He was soon alone,
in the daily expectation of a visit from the
Clallams. And he felt rather lonely, and
slightly nervous, as he saw the last of the
friendly Pachenahts turn the point and
leave him lord of the village.

Just then I arrived with a canoe manned
by four Indians, on a visit to the beleaguered
trader. I was astonished at the
quietness of everything around, but soon
learned, as I stood on the sandy beach, the
state of affairs. I could not leave the poor
fellow alone; so, in spite of his protest
that the "mess" he had got himself into
was no business of mine, I insisted on
remaining, in order to help in defending
the stores of the trader, on whom the Clallams
might not unnaturally be expected
to wreak their vengeance, under the
supposition that he had sold gunpowder to the
Nittinahts. The first thing we did was to
load all Langston's "trade" muskets,
comprising some twenty flint-lock fowling-
pieces, used for trading with the Indians,
and to keep watch day and night, turn and
turn about. Day after day, night after
night, for more than a week did this go on;
and still no sign of the Clallam attack.

Langston's spirits, which at first were
rather depressed, now began to rise. He
would often keep me company for hours on
my watch, and relate old-world stories of his
early days at sea, of foreign ports he had
visited, of "cuttings out," and piratical
attacks in which he had been engaged,
until he would imagine himself once more
a young lieutenant instead of a waif washed
up by a curious turn of fortune on the
Vancouver shore, and taking his life, as
he used to express it, "in penny numbers."

I think it must have been on the seventh
night, calm and still, that I was sitting on
a log on the beach, with my rifle over my
knees, when I was startled by a splash,
splash, gentle and regular, coming over
the glassy water. There was a little moon,
behind a cloud, and as it peered out for a
minute, I could see twelve large war-canoes,
full of fighting men, cautiously paddling, not
a mile from the shore. There was no time to
be lost. All our little garrison was roused,
and silently concealed behind the dense
bush, which grew down to the very water's
edge. The clouds, flitting over the moon,
allowed us only chance views of the enemy:
now we could see them, now they were
concealed, now they advanced, now the
splash, splash of the paddles was close at
hand. We could even hear whispers as
they rounded the point at the entrance
to our little bay. We now crept back
to the house, barricaded the door, and,
extinguishing the lights, lay quiet, rifle in
hand, watching their movements. One by
one the canoes grated on the beach, and we
could see a council being held. Two men
knife in mouth, now crept up on all fours to
the lodges of the Pachenahts and listened
at the doors. Hearing no sound, the idea
seemed to flash upon them that the people
had fled. A noisy talk ensued, and pine
torches were lighted, with which some men
were proceeding to fire the village. Now
was our time. Bang! We fired in the air,
in any direction, musket shot after musket
shot anything to make a noise and a rapid
firing. Never shall I forget the scene. There
was no dignity in the manner in which the
warriors proceeded to the canoes. There
was no question of standing on the order of
their going; to go was the one object. Man
tumbled over man into the canoes, and every
one laid on to the paddles, out of the harbour,
into the bay—Clallamwards. They
evidently supposed, as it was our intention
they should, that the whole Pachenaht
tribe were in ambush, for how otherwise
was the repeated firing to be accounted for?
An Indian hates firing in the dark, never
knowing who is to be hit, and these Indians
acted accordingly. Delighted at our
success we ran over the point, with three or four
trade muskets in our arms, and fired a
few parting shots in their direction as they
went spinning along, to tell in the Clallam's
village the story of their hairbreadth
escape from the vile Pachenaht ambush.
In a day or two the Pachenahts returned,
and for about four-and-twenty hours we
were very great men indeed.

               THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.
                 A YACHTING STORY.

                     BOOK II.

    CHAPTER IV. THE MARRIAGE.

IN due course of time that marriage-day
came round. The doctor, in loud protest,
objected to the abatement of all the splendour
of a marriage ceremony down at St.
Arthur's-on-the-Sea when he proclaimed
that "my daughter was going to marry a
very clever, high-bred young fellow,