an heart, and the ultimate extinction of the worst.

In talking with my many good tillicums, I find this witch-woman legend
is the most universally known and thoroughly believed in of all
traditions they have honored me by revealing to me.

Deer Lake

Few white men ventured inland, a century ago, in the days of the first
Chief Capilano, when the spoils of the mighty Fraser River poured into
copper-colored hands, but did not find their way to the remotest
corners of the earth, as in our times, when the gold from its sources,
the salmon from its mouth, the timber from its shores are world-known
riches.

The fisherman's craft, the hunter's cunning were plied where now cities
and industries, trade and commerce, buying and selling hold sway. In
those days the moccasined foot awoke no echo in the forest trails.
Primitive weapons, arms, implements, and utensils were the only means
of the Indians' food-getting. His livelihood depended upon his own
personal prowess, his skill in woodcraft and water lore. And, as this
is a story of an elk-bone spear, the reader must first be in sympathy
with the fact that this rude instrument, most deftly fashioned, was of
priceless value to the first Capilano, to whom it had come through
three generations of ancestors, all of whom had been experienced
hunters and dexterous fishermen.

Capilano himself was without a rival as a spearsman. He knew the moods
of the Fraser River, the habits of its thronging tenants, as no other
man has ever known them before or since. He knew every isle and inlet
along the coast, every boulder, the sand-bars, the still pools, the
temper of the tides. He knew the spawning grounds, the secret streams
that fed the larger rivers, the outlets of rock-bound lakes, the turns
and tricks of swirling rapids. He knew the haunts of bird and beast
and fish and fowl, and was master of the arts and artifice that man
must use when matching his brain against the eluding wiles of the
untamed creatures of the wilderness.

Once only did his cunning fail him, once only did Nature baffle him
with her mysterious fabric of waterways and land lures. It was when he
was led to the mouth of the unknown river, which has evaded discovery
through all the centuries, but which--so say the Indians--still sings
on its way through some buried channel that leads from the lake to the
sea.

He had been sealing along the shores of what is now known as Point
Grey. His canoe had gradu