his wild songs as he went. Up through the mighty forests he
climbed, through the trailless deep mosses and matted vines, up to
the summit of what the white men call Grouse Mountain. For many
days he camped there. He ate no food, he drank no water, but sat
and sang his medicine-songs through the dark hours and through the
day. Before him--far beneath his feet--lay the narrow strip of land
between the two salt waters. Then the Sagalie Tyee gave him the
power to see far into the future. He looked across a hundred years,
just as he looked across what you call the Inlet, and he saw mighty
lodges built close together, hundreds and thousands of them--lodges
of stone and wood, and long straight trails to divide them. He saw
these trails thronging with Palefaces; he heard the sound of the
white man's paddle-dip on the waters, for it is not silent like the
Indian's; he saw the white man's trading posts, saw the fishing-nets,
heard his speech. Then the vision faded as gradually as it
came. The narrow strip of land was his own forest once more.

"'I am old,' he called, in his sorrow and his trouble for his
people. 'I am old, O Sagalie Tyee! Soon I shall die and go to
the Happy Hunting Grounds of my fathers. Let not my strength die
with me. Keep living for all time my courage, my bravery, my
fearlessness. Keep them for my people that they may be strong
enough to endure the white man's rule. Keep my strength living
for them; hide it so that the Paleface may never find or see it.'

"Then he came down from the summit of Grouse Mountain. Still
chanting his medicine-songs, he entered his canoe and paddled
through the colors of the setting sun far up the North Arm. When
night fell he came to an island with misty shores of great grey
rock; on its summit tall pines and firs encircled like a king's