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 come 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 their
owners are known no more. But the tall, grey column of stone will
still be there--a monument to one man's fidelity to a