THE LOST ISLAND


"Yes," said my old tillicum, "we Indians have lost many things.
We have lost our lands, our forests, our game, our fish; we have
lost our ancient religion, our ancient dress; some of the younger
people have even lost their fathers' language and the legends and
traditions of their ancestors. We cannot call those old things back
to us; they will never come again. We may travel many days up the
mountain-trails, and look in the silent places for them. They are
not there. We may paddle many moons on the sea, but our canoes will
never enter the channel that leads to the yesterdays of the Indian
people. These things are lost, just like 'The Island of the North
Arm.' They may be somewhere nearby, but no one can ever find them."

"But there are many islands up the North Arm," I asserted.

"Not the island we Indian people have sought for many tens of
summers," he replied sorrowfully.

"Was it ever there?" I questioned.

"Yes, it was there," he said. "My grandsires and my
great-grandsires saw it; but that was long ago. My father never
saw it, though he spent many days in many years searching, always