l conclude his tale with, "You know well that the
otter has greater wisdom than a man."

So much for "mine own people" and our profound respect for the superior
intelligence of our little brothers of the animal world.

But the Squamish tribe hold other ideas. It was on a February day that
I first listened to this beautiful, humane story of the Deluge. My
royal old tillicum had come to see me through the rains and mists of
late winter days. The gateways of my wigwam always stood open--very
widely open--for his feet to enter, and this especial day he came with
the worst downpour of the season.

Womanlike, I protested with a thousand contradictions in my voice that
he should venture out to see me on such a day. It was "Oh! Chief, I
am so glad to see you!" and it was "Oh! Chief, why didn't you stay at
home on such a wet day--your poor throat will suffer." But I soon had
quantities of hot tea for him, and the huge cup my own father always
used was his--as long as the Sagalie Tyee allowed his dear feet to
wander my way. The immense cup stands idle and empty now for the
second time.

Helping him off with his great-coat, I chatted on about the deluge of
rain, and he remarked it was not so very bad, as one could yet walk.

"Fortunately, yes, for I cannot swim," I told him.

He laughed, replying, "Well, it is not so bad as when the Great Deep
Waters covered the world."

Immediately I foresaw the coming legend, so crept into the shell of
monosyllables.

"No?" I questioned.

"No," he replied. "For one time there was no land here at all;
everywhere there was just water."

"I can quite believe it," I remarked caustically.

He laughed--that irresistible, though silent, David Warfield laugh of
his that always brought a responsive smile from his listeners. Then he
plunged directly into the tradition, with no preface save a
comprehensive sweep of his wonderful hands towards my wide window,
against which the rains were beating.

"It was after a long, long time of this--this rain. The mountain
streams were swollen, the rivers choked, the sea began to rise--and yet
it rained; for weeks and weeks it rained." He ceased speaking, while
the shadows of centuries gone crept into his eyes. Tales of the misty
past always inspired him.

"Yes," he continued. "It rained for weeks and weeks, while the
mountain torrents roared thunderingly down, and the sea crept silently
up. The level lands were first to float in sea wat