eir home and
the Yuk-stees wind blew not too strong to cause the waves to dash
along in wild commotion, and after paddling uneventfully through
Klu-quilth-soh, the three E-coulth-ahts stopped beside Toosh-ko.
Looking back they could not see Nob Point which hid their home from
view,--it was as if the mountains which formed those stormy gates,
had closed and barred them in.

"What chehah" they cried, "has lured us within this inland sea and
shut those gates? A-ha A-ha!" they called with anxious cry, and
prayed Kah-oots to save them from all dangers. To the Saghalie Tyee,
the chief above, they also prayed to potlach kloshe to them, and
guard them from the evil chehahs hovering round. After the relief
of prayer, their spirits rose, and once again the splashing of their
paddles marked their onward progress.

Soon they glided by Hy-wach-es Creek and rounding Wak-ah-nit they
came in view of the great valley where the Tsomass flows. At once
they ceased from paddling to gaze with pleasure on that favoured
land, and as they looked they heard the sound of song from up the
river valley.

The evening fell, the pleasant Yuk-stees wind blew more faintly, and
as it passed away, over those calm inland waters swelled again the
sound of many voices chanting Indian songs.

"There are people dwelling there," they said. "It would be well if
we delayed until morning." Agreeing to this plan they crossed the
channel and camped at Klu-quilth-coose.

Next morning while the grass was damp with dew, and long before the
U-ah-tee wind had ceased, the sons of Wick-in-in-ish, hearing again
the quaint alluring song, took their canoe and paddled on, to where
between two grassy slopes, the Tsomass ends. When they approached
the river mouth, they saw extending from the bank a salmon trap, and
even to-day, the Indians will show at Lup-se-kup-se some old rotten
sticks, which they affirm formed part of that same trap. The land was
green, the wild duck's quack was heard among the reeds which edged
the river bank, while flocks of geese were feeding on the grass
which grows thickly upon the tidal flats, the flats the Indians call
Kwi-chuc-a-nit.

Upon the eastern bank the young men saw a wondrous house, which far
surpassed their father's lodge at home beyond the hills in Rainy Bay,
in size of beams and boards. The sons of Wick-in-in-ish were afraid
and would have turned the bow of their canoe home-bound, but that
from the house they heard a woman call.