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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1879)
February, 1879. THE WEST SHORE. 37 able to speak but recovering his mum he asked if he (the stranger) was the person who wrote the note requesting him to call for the lost pin. (Mr. Dray ton found it impossible to say "stolen" to such a polite and elegant person.) The stranger smilingly replied that he had the honor, and asked if Mr. I), had brought the reward offered. On re ceiving the sum the stranger then took the valued pin from his vest pocket and gracefully handed it to Mr. Drayton, laughingly remarking that the possessor of such a jewel should be more careful of it. Mr. Drayton eagerly took the pin and restored it to its accustomed place in his shirt-front. Then, turning to the gentlemanly thief, he said, " Now, my man, that this little business is settled satisfactorily between us, and as I of course know that you appropri ated my pin, I have 110 hesitation in asking you how in the name of Heaven you took it ? for it seems to me im possible for any man to rob another of a pin fastened securely in his shirt, without detection." The stranger looked at him whimsically for a mo ment, and then said, "Don't you re member, just as I was leaving you yes teiday I turned and put my hand on your coat for a moment and tapped you on the breast, so, and sot (suiting the action to the word.) Well, that was when 1 took your pin." And, with a pleasant nod, the stranger shut the door and disappeared. A few minutes afterward, while on his way toward the hotel, and recalling the scene of his strange interview, Mr. Drayton glanced down to feast bis eyes again with the sight of his cherished diamond, and behold, it was not there! And he never saw it again. The clever thief had taken it a second time, while showing Mr. Drayton the "modus op erandi " of its first robbery ! ACROSS Mir MDK PLATS. Sc knk at a fashionable evening party. Mr. Drown " Ah, Mr. Jones, allow me to introduce you to Miss Smith." Jones "Delighted to meet so agree able and charming a lady. Will you allow me to hug you for a half hour, Miis Smith?" Miss Smith "Cer tainly, Mr. Jones, I am exquisitely fond of such pastime." And the two em braced and waltzed off. "Tiik big steer" of Clark & Mc Gregor, of Koschurg, is now four years old. He is rather poor a! present, but still weighs 1,600 pounds, and is a trifle over eighteen hands high. Hidden among the mountains that lie along the coast of Washington Ter ritory, nestles Twana lake. Its outlet threads its way through pleasant val leys and dark ennyons, foams over miniature cascades, where the Twana Indians set their tish traps to catch the shining salmon, sweeps dark and clear over solid rocks, past the few hay farms on the one side and the straggling In- linn huts mid white houses of the Twana agency on the other. Widen ing and deepening, it flows on by a picturesque logging camp, and spread ing itself tranquilly over wide mud flats, merges into l'uget Sound. On this river, about a mile and a half from its mouth, are located the agency build incrs. Shut in ns we are from the outer world, we hxik forward to our few far visits into civilization with eager an ticipations. The weary winter mouths had worn away, and the first warm stepsof summer were making our wave washed home lovely with bloom and foliage, when, with a joyful heart, I seated myself in the row-bout to be con veyed to the small town three miles distant. There I was to take the tiny steamer Shoo-Fly, that ran to Port Gamble. It was a bright June morn ing. Life seemed doubly dear to me as I looked nt my sleeping baby, and let my happy thoughts run on and pic ture the meeting with the dear ones at home. Around the joint we go, and the dancing waters leap forward to meet the salt sea waves lieyond. " It seems to me," I remark, dubiously, " that the tide is very far out. Do you think we can get out of the river ? For the Twana is low now, and at low tide the mud lints and shifting sand bars catch many an unwary boat and keep it and its occupants until the tide a. .a I If comes in. 1 mum we can, rcpue my husband. " A party went M yes terday morning an hour later than this." Thus reassured, I dismiss my fears nnd watch the familiar land-marks disap pear. Now the river widens. The long head-lands reach out into the canal as if to intercept our way. Two huge trees, gnarled and broken, have drifted down to the mouth of the river, and rear their mossy rots, black ami wave-worn, looking in the dltancelike some old sea monsters. A tall, long- legged bird stalks leisurely about, with a preternaturally solemn air. "Mow prettily the water ripples in the first taint sunbeams lieyond them." " It is shallow where the ripples are," said my husband. To the right the mud fiats rise up, shiny and glistening, between us and the wooded shore. Full of pleasant thoughts, I have not noticed that we are in the shallows, until an ominous grating sound, once heard not easily forgotten, jars on my startled ear. No use to push back. We are fast, and so Jack lays down the oars, and step ping nut, pushes nnd pulls the boat un til again we llont in calm water. Not far is the way smooth. The deceitful ripples are again around us, Safely through this time, and I take heart and hope that all may yet lie well; but there are more ripple-, and the water gels shallower as we go on. Again and again we rest motionless on a snnd-hni j Jack works in the boat and out, push ing, pulling and drugging until he nt last comes to the reluctant conclusion that Ibis lime we are fairly caught. l'.xhauted ami despairing, he gets into the boat. The water hurries by as if mocking our helplessness. Around the point a thin blue smoke curls up. Il is the steamer. It is so hard to be left, when a sick mother is waiting ami watching for one. " Mother will think the Indians have killed us all," says Juck, alter a gloomy silence. " Would you stay here while I walk across the tide fials and get a canoe al the city a canoe could come out here now ?" he nsks. Oh, no; I shudder nl the thought of silling there all that while alone in that open bout, with only the while sen gulls, flying far und near, lo keep me company. " Why can't we Uitli walk across the flats ?" Thi bright thought is no sooner spoken than agreed uion, and in onr blissful ignoraaee we grow merry over our trouble. Gathering up my skirts nnd Inking my satchel I prepared to follow my husband, who, with baby and baggage, had already reached the flat. A stream of water eight or nine feel wide ran lietween (he boat ami the mud bank. Running water always made me dixy. Dul resolved to he brave, I grasjed my parasol firmly ami "waded through." For a while ibe walking was not hail, save for the clam shells; a these flats are great clam beds, our feet came often in contact