voice under a hat;
to which, however, I paid no attention.

"You speak of the white chiefs fighting about land. Did they ever use
their big guns on each other? Tell me what you remember about the white
men who came here in ships, long ago."

"After Cappen Cook go 'way, long time, come Spanish ship, King George
ship, Boston ship. Spanish Cappen no like King George Cappen. One day
fight with long knives; (swords) and Spanish Cappen put King George man
in big ship; send him 'way off. Many ships came and went; sold many
skins. One time all go 'way but the Boston ships. Bime-by King George's
ships came back and fight the Boston's."

"And you kept your good heart all the time? Never killed the Bostons or
King George men?"

At this interrogation, Nittinat shuffled his withered limbs uneasily
beneath his rush mantle, and averted his parchment countenance. Upon my
pressing the question, as delicately as I knew how, he at length
recovered his immobility, and answered in a plausible tone enough:

"Boston Cappen Gray, he build a fort at Clyoquot. My cousin Wiccanish
sell him the ground, and Cappen Gray bring all his goods from the ship,
and put them in the fort for winter. Our young men were lazy, and had
not many skins to sell; but they wanted Cappen Gray's goods; they liked
the firewater a heap. So the young men they say, 'kill Cappen Gray, and
take his goods.' My cousin say, 'no; that a heap bad.' Nittinat say that
bad too. But we tell our young men if they _will_ do this bad thing, we
will not leave them without a chief to direct them. So my young men came
to Clyoquot to help their cousins take the big guns of the fort. But
Cappen Gray find all out in time to save our young men from doing wrong.
We tell him our hearts all good. He give us presents, make _close
tum-tum_. No use kill Boston _tyee_ when he give us what we want."

Charlie tilted up his sombrero, and shot an approving glance at the
venerable philosopher that caused a smile to ripple Fanny's face at the
instant she was saying, "The horrid wretch!" with feminine vehemence. To
cover this by-play, I asked if Nittinat remembered the _Tonquin_.

"Oh, come!" ejaculated Charlie, starting up, "I say we have had enough
of this artless historian's prattle; don't you?"

"Consider," I urged, "how rare the opportunity of verifying tradition.
Compose yourself, my friend, while I continue my interviewing." Turning
to Nittinat I asked: "Why did the Indians destroy Captain Th