lipped
their slimy lengths through his eager hands: his best spear with its
attendant coil was gone.

The following year he was sealing again off the coast of Point Grey,
and one night after sunset he observed the red reflection from the
west, which seemed to transfer itself to the eastern skies. Far into
the night dashes of flaming scarlet pulsed far beyond the head of False
Creek. The color rose and fell like a beckoning hand, and,
Indian-like, he immediately attached some portentous meaning to the
unusual sight. That it was some omen he never doubted, so he paddled
inland, beached his canoe, and took the trail towards the little group
of lakes that crowd themselves into the area that lies between the
present cities of Vancouver and New Westminster. But long before he
reached the shores of Deer Lake he discovered that the beckoning hand
was in reality flame. The little body of water was surrounded by
forest fires. One avenue alone stood open. It was a group of giant
trees that as yet the flames had not reached. As he neared the point
he saw a great moving mass of living things leaving the lake and
hurrying northward through this one egress. He stood, listening,
intently watching with alert eyes; the swirr of myriads of little
travelling feet caught his quick ear--the moving mass was an immense
colony of beaver. Thousands upon thousands of them. Scores of baby
beavers staggered along, following their mothers; scores of older
beavers that had felled trees and built dams through many seasons; a
countless army of trekking fur bearers, all under the generalship of a
wise old leader, who, as king of the colony, advanced some few yards
ahead of his battalions. Out of the waters through the forest towards
the country to the north they journeyed. Wandering hunters said they
saw them cross Burrard Inlet at the Second Narrows, heading inland as
they reached the farther shore. But where that mighty army of royal
little Canadians set up their new colony, no man knows. Not even the
astuteness of the first Capilano ever discovered their destination.
Only one thing was certain. Deer Lake knew them no more.

After their passing, the Indian retraced their trail to the water's
edge. In the red glare of the encircling fires he saw what he at first
thought was some dead and dethroned king beaver on the shore. A huge
carcass lay half in, half out, of the lake. Approaching it he saw the
wasted body of a giant seal. The