rmented in the film of its
countless rapids, its showers of waterfalls. It is as beautiful to
look at as to listen to, and it is here, where the trail winds about
and above it for leagues, that the Indians say it caught the spirit of
the maiden that is still interlaced in its loveliness.

It was in one of the terrible battles that raged between the valley
tribes before the white man's footprints were seen along these trails.
None can now tell the cause of this warfare, but the supposition is
that it was merely for tribal supremacy--that primeval instinct that
assails the savage in both man and beast, that drives the hill men to
bloodshed and the leaders of buffalo herds to conflict. It is the
greed to rule; the one barbarous instinct that civilization has never
yet been able to eradicate from armed nations. This war of the tribes
of the valley lands was of years in duration; men fought and women
mourned, and children wept, as all have done since time began. It
seemed an unequal battle, for the old experienced war-tried chief and
his two astute sons were pitted against a single young Tulameen brave.
Both factors had their loyal followers, both were indomitable as to
courage and bravery, both were determined and ambitious, both were
skilled fighters.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE NARROWS, VANCOUVER, B.C.
Bishop & Christie, Photo.]

But on the older man's side were experience and two other wary,
strategic brains to help him, while on the younger was but the
advantage of splendid youth and unconquerable persistence. But at
every pitched battle, at every skirmish, at every single-handed
conflict the younger man gained little by little, the older man lost
step by step. The experience of age was gradually but inevitably
giving way to the strength and enthusiasm of youth. Then one day they
met face to face and alone--the old war-scarred chief, the young
battle-inspired brave. It was an unequal combat, and at the close of a
brief but violent struggle the younger had brought the older to his
knees. Standing over him with up-poised knife the Tulameen brave
laughed sneeringly, and said:

"Would you, my enemy, have this victory as your own? If so, I give it
to you; but in return for my submission I demand of you--your daughter."

For an instant the old chief looked in wonderment at his conqueror; he
thought of his daughter only as a child who played about the forest
trails or sat obediently beside her mother in t