r stained with blood. But day by day the circle of
southern canoes grew thinner and thinner; the northern arrows were
telling, and truer of aim. Canoes drifted everywhere, empty, or worse
still, manned only by dead men. The pick of the southern warriors had
already fallen, when their greatest Tyee mounted a large rock on the
eastern shore. Brave and unmindful of a thousand weapons aimed at his
heart, he uplifted his hand, palm outward--the signal for conference.
Instantly every northern arrow was lowered, and every northern ear
listened for his words.

[Illustration: KITSILANO BEACH, VANCOUVER, B.C. Bishop & Christie,
Photo.]

"'Oh! men of the upper coast,' he said, 'you are more numerous than we
are; your tribe is larger; your endurance greater. We are growing
hungry, we are growing less in numbers. Our captives--your women and
children and old men--have lessened, too, our stores of food. If you
refuse our terms we will yet fight to the finish. Tomorrow we will
kill all our captives before your eyes, for we can feed them no longer,
or you can have your wives, your mothers, your fathers, your children,
by giving us for each and every one of them one of your best and
bravest young warriors, who will consent to suffer death in their
stead. Speak! You have your choice.'

"In the northern canoes scores and scores of young warriors leapt to
their feet. The air was filled with glad cries, with exultant shouts.
The whole world seemed to ring with the voices of those young men who
called loudly, with glorious courage:

"'Take me, but give me back my old father.'

"'Take me, but spare to my tribe my little sister.'

"'Take me, but release my wife and boy-baby.'

"So the compact was made. Two hundred heroic, magnificent young men
paddled up to the island, broke through the fortifying circle of canoes
and stepped ashore. They flaunted their eagle plumes with the spirit
and boldness of young gods. Their shoulders were erect, their step was
firm, their hearts strong. Into their canoes they crowded the two
hundred captives. Once more their women sobbed, their old men
muttered, their children wailed, but those young copper-colored gods
never flinched, never faltered. Their weak and their feeble were
saved. What mattered to them such a little thing as death?

"The released captives were quickly surrounded by their own people, but
the flower of their splendid nation was in the hands of their enemies,
those v