ot baskets she clasped the child's hand, and they made their
way to the landing-stage.

When she returned an hour later, her basket was empty, and her kerchief
filled with silver coins.

On the deck of the steamer one of the ship's officers was talking to a
little group of delighted tourists who were comparing their miniature
purchases with the giant Totem Pole in the distance.

"You _are_ lucky," said the officer. "I know people who have tried
for years to buy the big Pole from her, but it was always 'No' with
her--just a shake of her head, and you might as well try to buy the
moon. It's for that little boy of hers she's keeping it, though she
could have sold it for hundreds of good dollars twenty times over."

That all happened eleven years ago, and last summer when I journeyed far
north of Queen Charlotte Sound, as the steamer reached a certain landing
I saw a giant Totem Pole with a well-built frame house at its base.
It was standing considerably away from the shore, but its newness was
apparent, for on its roof, busily engaged at shingling, was an agile
Indian youth of some seventeen years.

"That youngster built that house all by himself," volunteered one of the
ship's officers at my elbow. "He is a born carpenter, and gets all the
work he can do. He has supported his mother in comfort for two years,
and he isn't full grown yet."

"Who is he?" I asked, with keen interest.

"His name is Tenas," replied the officer. "His mother is a splendid
woman. 'Hoolool,' they call her. She is quite the best carver of Totem
Poles on the North Coast."

The Wolf-Brothers

Leloo's father and mother were both of the great Lillooet tribe of
British Columbia Indians, splendid people of a stalwart race of red men,
who had named the boy Leloo because, from the time he could toddle about
on his little, brown, bare feet, he had always listened with delight
to the wolves howling across the canyons and down the steeps of the
wonderful mountain country where he was born. In the Chinook language
Leloo means wolf, and before the little fellow could talk he would stand
nightly at the lodge door and imitate the long, weird barking and
calling of his namesakes, while his father would smile knowingly and
say, "He will some day make a great hunter, will our little Leloo," and
his mother would answer proudly, "Yes, he has no fear of wild things.
No wolf in the mountains will be mighty enough to scare him--our little
Leloo."

So he