anced up a long
ladder of rods or poles which were hung with Potlatch masks--fearful and
merciless visages, fit to cover the faces of crime. She had heard that
Umatilla would never put on a mask himself, although he allowed the custom
at the tribal dances. Mrs. Woods dropped her black eyes from the ominous
masks to the honest face of the chief.

"There," said she, lifting her arm, "there sits an honest man. He never
covered his heart with a mask--he never covered his face with a mask. He
has promised me protection. He has promised to protect the school. I can
trust a man who never wears a mask. Most people wear masks--Death takes
the masks away; when Death comes to Umatilla, he will find great Umatilla
only, fearless and noble--honest and true, but no mask. He never wore a
mask."

"But, woman," said Umatilla, "you are wearing a mask; you are afraid."

"Yes, but I can trust your word."

"You seek to please me for your own good."

"Yes--but, Umatilla, I can trust your word."

"The word of Umatilla was never broken. Death will come to Umatilla for
his mask, and will go away with an empty hand. I have tried to make my
people better.--Brother Lee, you have come here to instruct me--I honor
you. Listen to an old Indian's story. Sit down all. I have something that
I would say to you."

The company sat down and listened to the old chief. They expected that he
would speak in a parable, and he did. He told them in Chinook the story of

_THE WOLF BROTHER._

An old Indian hunter was dying in his lodge. The barks were lifted to
admit the air. The winds of the seas came and revived him, and he called
his three children to him and made his last bequests.

"My son," he said, "I am going out into the unknown life whence I came.
Give yourself to those who need you most, and always be true to your
younger brother."

"My daughter," he said, "be a mother to your younger brother. Give him
your love, or for want of it he may become lonely and as savage as the
animals are."

The two older children promised, and the father died at sunset, and went
into the unknown life whence he came.

The old Indian had lived apart from the villages of men for the sake of
peace; but now, after his death, the oldest son sought the villages and he
desired to live in them. "My sister," he said, "can look out for my little
brother. I must look out for myself."

But the sister tired of solitude, and longed to go to the villages. So one
day she s