ported itself in the cool waters;
superstition held that should their canoe, or even their paddle blades,
touch a human being their marvellous power would be lost. The handsome
young chief swam directly in their course. They dared not run him
down; if so, they would become as other men. While they yet counselled
what to do, there floated from out the forest a faint, strange,
compelling sound. They listened, and the young chief ceased his stroke
as he listened also. The faint sound drifted out across the waters
once more. It was the cry of a little, little child. Then one of the
four men, he that steered the canoe, the strongest and tallest of them
all, arose and, standing erect, stretched out his arms towards the
rising sun and chanted, not a curse on the young chief's disobedience,
but a promise of everlasting days and freedom from death.

"Because you have defied all things that came in your path we promise
this to you," he chanted; "you have defied what interferes with your
child's chance for a clean life, you have lived as you wish your son to
live, you have defied us when we would have stopped your swimming and
hampered your child's future. You have placed that child's future
before all things, and for this the Sagalie Tyee commands us to make
you forever a pattern for your tribe. You shall never die, but you
shall stand through all the thousands of years to come, where all eyes
can see you. You shall live, live, live as an indestructible monument
to Clean Fatherhood."

The four men lifted their paddles and the handsome young chief swam
inshore; as his feet touched the line where sea and land met, he was
transformed into stone.

Then the four men said, "His wife and child must ever be near him; they
shall not die, but live also." And they, too, were turned into stone.
If you penetrate the hollows in the woods near Siwash Rock you will
find a large rock and a smaller one beside it. They are the shy little
bride-wife from the north, with her hour-old baby beside her. And from
the uttermost parts of the world vessels come daily throbbing and
sailing up the Narrows. From far trans-Pacific ports, from the frozen
North, from the lands of the Southern Cross, they pass and repass the
living rock that was there before their hulls were shaped, that will be
there when their very names are forgotten, when their crews and their
captains have taken their long last voyage, when their merchandise has
rotted, and t