blowing briskly, and for more graphic elucidation he seized the corners
of his mother's shawl and spread them out till it bellied like a sail.
Bask Wah-Wan scolded and struggled, but was blown down the breach for a
score of feet and left breathless and stranded in a heap of driftwood.
The men uttered sage grunts of comprehension, but Koogah suddenly tossed
back his hoary head.

"Ho! Ho!" he laughed. "A foolish thing, this big canoe! A most foolish
thing! The plaything of the wind! Wheresoever the wind goes, it goes
too. No man who journeys therein may name the landing beach, for always
he goes with the wind, and the wind goes everywhere, but no man knows
where."

"It is so," Opee-Kwan supplemented gravely. "With the wind the going is
easy, but against the wind a man striveth hard; and for that they had no
paddles these men on the big canoe did not strive at all."

"Small need to strive," Nam-Bok cried angrily. "The schooner went
likewise against the wind."

"And what said you made the sch--sch--schooner go?" Koogah asked,
tripping craftily over the strange word.

"The wind," was the impatient response.

"Then the wind made the sch--sch--schooner go against the wind." Old
Koogah dropped an open leer to Opee-Kwan, and, the laughter growing
around him, continued: "The wind blows from the south and blows the
schooner south. The wind blows against the wind. The wind blows one way
and the other at the same time. It is very simple. We understand,