tribes crowded. Not a single
person attempted to enter the canoe. There was no wailing, no crying
out for safety. 'Let the little children, the young mother, and the
bravest and best of our young men live,' was all the farewell those in
the canoe heard as the waters reached the summit, and--the canoe
floated. Last of all to be seen was the top of the tallest tree,
then--all was a world of water.

"For days and days there was no land--just the rush of swirling,
snarling sea; but the canoe rode safely at anchor, the cable those
scores of dead, faithful women had made held true as the hearts that
beat behind the toil and labor of it all.

"But one morning at sunrise, far to the south a speck floated on the
breast of the waters; at midday it was larger; at evening it was yet
larger. The moon arose, and in its magic light the man at the stern
saw it was a patch of land. All night he watched it grow, and at
daybreak looked with glad eyes upon the summit of Mount Baker. He cut
the cable, grasped his paddle in his strong, young hands, and steered
for the south. When they landed, the waters were sunken half down the
mountain side. The children were lifted out; the beautiful young
mother, the stalwart young brave, turned to each other, clasped hands,
looked into each others eyes--and smiled.

"And down in the vast country that lies between Mount Baker and the
Fraser River they made a new camp, built new lodges, where the little
children grew and thrived, and lived and loved, and the earth was
re-peopled by them.

"The Squamish say that in a gigantic crevice half way to the crest of
Mount Baker may yet be seen the outlines of an enormous canoe, but I
have never seen it myself."

He ceased speaking with that far-off cadence in his voice with which he
always ended a legend, and for a long time we both sat in silence
listening to the rains that were still beating against the window.

[Illustration: Native canoe]

The Sea-Serpent

There is one vice that is absolutely unknown to the red man; he was
born without it, and amongst all the deplorable things he has learned
from the white races, this, at least, he has never acquired. That is
the vice of avarice. That the Indian looks upon greed of gain,
miserliness, avariciousness and wealth accumulated above the head of
his poorer neighbor as one of the lowest degradations he can fall to,
is perhaps more aptly illustrated in this legend than anything I could
quo