"That is all. Is it not enough to render twin children unwelcome?"
I questioned.

He thought a while, then, with evident desire to learn how all races
regarded this occurrence, he said, "You have been much among the
Palefaces, what do they say of twins?"

"Oh! the Palefaces like them. They are--they are--oh! well, they
say they are very proud of having twins," I stammered. Once again I
was hardly sure of my ground. He looked most incredulous, and I was
led to enquire what his own people of the Squamish thought of this
discussed problem.

"It is no pride to us," he said decidedly, "nor yet is it disgrace
of rabbits; but it is a fearsome thing--a sign of coming evil to the
father, and, worse than that, of coming disaster to the tribe."

Then I knew he held in his heart some strange incident that
gave substance to the superstition. "Won't you tell it to me?"
I begged.

He leaned a little backward against a giant boulder, clasping his
thin, brown hands about his knees; his eyes roved up the galloping
river, then swept down the singing waters to where they crowded past
the sudden bend, and during the entire recital of the strange legend
his eyes never left that spot where the stream disappeared in its
hurrying journey to the sea. Without preamble he began:

"It was a grey morning when they told him of this disaster that had