"'It is the olden law of the Squamish that, lest evil befall the
tribe, the sire of twin children must go afar and alone, into the
mountain fastnesses, there by his isolation and his loneliness to
prove himself stronger than the threatened evil, and thus to beat
back the shadow that would otherwise follow him and all his people.
I, therefore, name for him the length of days that he must spend
alone fighting his invisible enemy. He will know by some great sign
in Nature the hour that the evil is conquered, the hour that his
race is saved. He must leave before this sun sets, taking with him
only his strongest bow, his fleetest arrows, and, going up into the
mountain wilderness, remain there ten days--alone, alone.'

"The masterful voice ceased, the tribe wailed their assent, the
father arose speechless, his drawn face revealing great agony over
this seemingly brief banishment. He took leave of his sobbing wife,
of the two tiny souls that were his sons, grasped his favorite bow
and arrows, and faced the forest like a warrior. But at the end
of the ten days he did not return, nor yet ten weeks, nor yet ten
months.

"'He is dead,' wept the mother into the baby ears of her two boys.
'He could not battle against the evil that threatened; it was
stronger than he--he, so strong, so proud, so brave.'

"'He is dead,' echoed the tribesmen and the tribeswomen. 'Our
strong, brave chief, he is dead.' So they mourned the long year
through, but their chants and their tears but renewed their grief;
he did not return to them.