loated. Last of all to be seen was the top of the
tallest tree, then--all was a world of water.

"For days and days there was no land--just the rush of swirling,
snarling sea; but the canoe rode safely at anchor, the cable those
scores of dead, faithful women had made held true as the hearts
that beat behind the toil and labor of it all.

"But one morning at sunrise, far to the south, a speck floated on the
breast of the waters; at midday it was larger; at evening it was yet
larger. The moon arose, and in its magic light the man at the stern
saw it was a patch of land. All night he watched it grow, and at
daybreak looked with glad eyes upon the summit of Mount Baker. He
cut the cable, grasped his paddle in his strong, young hands, and
steered for the south. When they landed, the waters were sunken
half down the mountain-side. The children were lifted out; the
beautiful young mother, the stalwart young brave, turned to each
other, clasped hands, looked into each other's eyes--and smiled.

"And down in the vast country that lies between Mount Baker and
the Fraser River they made a new camp, built new lodges, where the
little children grew and thrived, and lived and loved, and the
earth was repeopled by them.

"The Squamish say that in a gigantic crevice half-way to the crest
of Mount Baker may yet be seen the outlines of an enormous canoe,
but I have never seen it myself."

He ceased speaking with that far-off cadence in his voice with which
he always ended a legend, and for a long time we both sat in silence
listening to the rains that were still beating against the window.

THE SEA-SERPENT

There is one vice that is absolutely unknown to the red man; he
was born without it, and amongst all the deplorable things he
has learned from the white races, this, at least, he has never
acquired. That is the vice of avarice. That the Indian looks
upon greed of gain, miserliness, avariciousness, and wealth
accumulated above the head of his poorer neighbor as one of the
lowest degradations he can fall to is perhaps more aptly illustrated
than anything I could quote to demonstrate his horror of what
he calls "the white man's unkindness." In a very wide and
varied experience with many tribes, I have yet to find even one
instance of avarice, and I have encountered but one single case of a
"stingy Indian," and this man was so marked amongst his fellows that
at mention of his name his tribes-people jeered and