-like length. It is
named 'Thunder Rock,' and wise men of the Paleface people say it is
rich in ore--copper, silver and gold. At the base of this shaft the
Squamish chief crouched when the storm cloud broke and bellowed through
the ranges, and on its summit the Thunder Bird perched, its gigantic
wings threshing the air into booming sounds, into splitting terrors,
like the crash of a giant cedar hurtling down the mountain side.

"But when the beating of those black pinions ceased and the echo of
their thunder waves died down the depths of the canyon, the Squamish
chief arose as a new man. The shadow on his soul had lifted, the fears
of evil were cowed and conquered. In his brain, his blood, his veins,
his sinews, he felt that the poison of melancholy dwelt no more. He
had redeemed his fault of fathering twin children; he had fulfilled the
demands of the law of his tribe.

"As he heard the last beat of the Thunder Bird's wings dying slowly,
slowly, faintly, faintly, among the crags, he knew that the bird, too,
was dying, for its soul was leaving its monster black body, and
presently that soul appeared in the sky. He could see it arching
overhead, before it took its long journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds,
for the soul of the Thunder Bird was a radiant half-circle of glorious
color spanning from peak to peak. He lifted his head then, for he knew
it was the sign the ancient Medicine Man had told him to wait for--the
sign that his long banishment was ended.

"And all these years, down in the tidewater country, the little
brown-faced twins were asking childwise, 'Where is our father? Why
have we no father, like other boys?' To be met only with the
oft-repeated reply, 'Your father is no more. Your father, the great
chief, is dead.'

"But some strange filial intuition told the boys that their sire would
some day return. Often they voiced this feeling to their mother, but
she would only weep and say that not even the witchcraft of the great
Medicine Man could bring him to them. But when they were ten years old
the two children came to their mother, hand within hand. They were
armed with their little hunting-knives, their salmon spears, their tiny
bows and arrows.

"'We go to find our father,' they said.

"'Oh! useless quest,' wailed the mother.

"'Oh! useless quest,' echoed the tribes-people.

"But the great Medicine Man said, 'The heart of a child has invisible
eyes, perhaps the child-eyes see him. The