"So," she added, "you see now, maybe, why I am glad my grandchild is
girl; it means big salmon-run next year."

"It is a beautiful story, klootchman," I said, "and I feel a
cruel delight that your men of magic punished the people for
their ill choice."

"That because you girl-child yourself," she laughed.

There was the slightest whisper of a step behind me. I turned to
find Maarda almost at my elbow. The rising tide was unbeaching the
canoe, and as Maarda stepped in and the klootchman slipped astern,
it drifted afloat.

"Kla-how-ya," nodded the klootchman as she dipped her paddle-blade
in exquisite silence.

"Kla-how-ya," smiled Maarda.

"Kla-how-ya, tillicums," I replied, and watched for many moments as
they slipped away into the blurred distance, until the canoe merged
into the violet and grey of the farther shore.





THE DEEP WATERS