* * * * *

The chief unfolded his arms, and his voice took another tone as he
said, "What do you call that story--a legend?"

"The white people would call it an allegory," I answered. He shook
his head.

"No savvy," he smiled.

I explained as simply as possible, and with his customary alertness
he immediately understood. "That's right," he said. "That's what
we say it means, we Squamish, that greed is evil and not clean,
like the salt-chuck oluk. That it must be stamped out amongst our
people, killed by cleanliness and generosity. The boy that overcame
the serpent was both these things."

"What became of this splendid boy?" I asked.

"The Tenas Tyee? Oh! some of our old, old people say they
sometimes see him now, standing on Brockton Point, his bare young
arms outstretched to the rising sun," he replied.

"Have you ever seen him, Chief?" I questioned.

"No," he answered simply. But I have never heard such poignant
regret as his wonderful voice crowded into that single word.

THE LOST ISLAND

"Yes," said my old tillicum, "we Indians have lost many things.
We have lost our lands, our forests, our game, our fish; we have
lost our ancient religion, our ancient dress; some of the younger
people have even lost their fathers' language and the legends and
traditions of their ancestors. We cannot call those old things back
to us; they will never come again. We may travel many days up the
mountain-trails, and look in the silent places for them. They are
not there. We may paddle many moons on the sea, but our canoes will
never enter the channel that leads to the yesterdays of the Indian
people. These things are lost, just like 'The Island of the North
Arm.' They may be somewhere nearby, but no one can ever find them."

"But there are many islands up the North Arm," I asserted.

"Not the island we Indian people have sought for many tens of
summers," he replied sorrowfully.

"Was it ever there?" I questioned.

"Yes, it was there," he said. "My grandsires and my
great-grandsires saw it; but that was long ago. My father never
saw it, though he spent many days in many years searching, always
searching for it. I am an old man myself, and I have never seen
it, though from my youth, I, too, have searched. Sometimes in the
stillness of the nights I have paddled up in my canoe." Then,
lowering his voice: "Twice I have seen its shadow: high rocky
shores, reaching as high as th