ch almost smothered him,
leaving only his bright face exposed to the wind and weather. His hair
was a tangle of yellow curls which no parting could ever affect, for it
stood straight up from his forehead like a golden fleece; his mother
called it his aureole. His skin was fair as a girl's, and his eyes as big
and blue as a young Viking's; but the Indian boy's locks were black as
ink, his skin was swarthy, his eyes small and dark, and his features that
strange mixture of the Indian, the Esquimo, and the Japanese which we
often see in the best of our Alaskan cousins.

Boys, however, are boys all the world over, and friendly animals, and Ted
was soon chattering away to his newly found friend as if he had known
him all his life.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kalitan," was the answer. "They call me Kalitan Tenas;[1] my father
was Tyee."

[Footnote 1: Little Arrow.]

"Where is he?" asked Ted. He wanted to see an Indian chief.

"Dead," said Kalitan, briefly.

"I'm sorry," said Ted. He adored his own father, and felt it was hard on
a boy not to have one.

"He was killed," said Kalitan, "but we had blood-money from them," he
added, sternly.

"What's that?" asked Ted, curiously.

"Long time ago, when one man kill another, his clan must
pay with a life. One must be found from his tribe to cry?
'O-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ich-klu-kuk-ich-klu-kuk'" (ready to die, ready to
die). His voice wailed out the mournful chant, which was weird and solemn
and almost made Ted shiver. "But now," the boy went on? "Boston men"
(Americans) "do not like the blood-tax, so the murderer pays money
instead. We got many blankets and baskets and moneys for Kalitan Tyee. He
great chief."

"Do you live here?" asked Ted.

"No, live on island out there." Kalitan waved his hand seaward. "Come to
fish with my uncle, Klake Tyee. This good fishing-ground."

"It's a pretty fine country," said Ted, glancing at the scene, which bore
charm to other than boyish eyes. To the east were the mountains
sheltering a valley through which the frozen river wound like a silver
ribbon, widening toward the sea. A cold green glacier filled the valley
between two mountains with its peaks of beauty. Toward the shore, which
swept in toward the river's mouth in a sheltered cove, were clumps of
trees, giant fir, aspen, and hemlock, green and beautiful, while seaward
swept the waves in white-capped loveliness.

Kalitan ushered them to the camp with great politeness and
cons