made into one canoe, it would not be so large."

There were exclamations of doubt, and Koogah, whose years were many,
shook his head.

"If each bidarka were as a grain of sand," Nam-Bok defiantly
continued, "and if there were as many bidarkas as there be grains of
sand in this beach, still would they not make so big a canoe as this I
saw on the morning of the fourth day. It was a very big canoe, and
it was called a _schooner_. I saw this thing of wonder, this great
schooner, coming after me, and on it I saw men--"

"Hold, O Nam-Bok!" Opee-Kwan broke in. "What manner of men were
they?--big men?"

"Nay, mere men like you and me."

"Did the big canoe come fast?"

"Ay."

"The sides were tall, the men short." Opee-Kwan stated the premises
with conviction. "And did these men dip with long paddles?"

Nam-Bok grinned. "There were no paddles," he said.

Mouths remained open, and a long silence dropped down. Opee-Kwan
borrowed Koogah's pipe for a couple of contemplative sucks. One of the
younger women giggled nervously and drew upon herself angry eyes.