gth and depth of it," I told him. "Climbed over
every rock on its shores, crept under every tangled growth of its
interior, explored its overgrown trails, and more than once nearly got
lost in its very heart."

"Yes," he half laughed, "it pretty wild; not much good for anything."

"People seem to think it valuable," I said. "There is a lot of
litigation--of fighting going on now about it."

"Oh! that the way always," he said as though speaking of a long
accepted fact. "Always fight over that place. Hundreds of years ago
they fight about it; Indian people; they say hundreds of years to come
everybody will still fight--never be settled what that place is, who it
belong to, who has right to it. No, never settle. Deadman's Island
always mean fight for someone."

"So the Indians fought amongst themselves about it?" I remarked,
seemingly without guile, although my ears tingled for the legend I knew
was coming.

"Fought like lynx at close quarters," he answered. "Fought, killed
each other, until the island ran with blood redder than that sunset,
and the sea water about it was stained flame color--it was then, my
people say, that the scarlet fire-flower was first seen growing along
this coast."

"It is a beautiful color--the fire-flower," I said.

"It should be fine color, for it was born and grew from the hearts of
fine tribes-people--very fine people," he emphasized.

We crossed to the eastern rail of the bridge, and stood watching the
deep shadows that gathered slowly and silently about the island; I have
seldom looked upon anything more peaceful.

The chief sighed. "We have no such men now, no fighters like those
men, no hearts, no courage like theirs. But I tell you the story; you
understand it then. Now all peace; to-night all good tillicums; even
dead man's spirit does not fight now, but long time after it happen
those spirits fought."

"And the legend?" I ventured.

"Oh! yes," he replied, as if suddenly returning to the present from out
a far country in the realm of time. "Indian people, they call it the
'Legend of the Island of Dead Men.'

"There was war everywhere. Fierce tribes from the northern coast,
savage tribes from the south, all met here and battled and raided,
burned and captured, tortured and killed their enemies. The forests
smoked with camp fires, the Narrows were choked with war canoes, and
the Sagalie Tyee--He who is a man of peace--turned His face away from
His Indian childr