My feet must follow hers beyond this island,
With its great, Grey Archway.


"As Yaada chanted and wailed her farewell she moved slowly towards
the edge of the cliff. On its brink she hovered a moment with
outstretched arms, as a sea gull poises on its weight--then she
called:

"'Ulka, my Ulka! Your hand is innocent of wrong; it was the evil
magic of your rival that slew my mother. I must go to her; even you
cannot keep me here; will you stay, or come with me? Oh! my Ulka!'

"The slender, gloriously young boy sprang toward her; their hands
closed one within the other; for a second they poised on the brink
of the rocks, radiant as stars; then together they plunged into
the sea."

* * * * *

The legend was ended. Long ago we had passed the island with its
"Grey Archway"; it was melting into the twilight, far astern.

As I brooded over this strange tale of a daughter's devotion, I
watched the sea and sky for something that would give me a clue
to the inevitable sequel that the tillicum, like all his race,
was surely withholding until the opportune moment.

Something flashed through the darkening waters not a stone's-throw
from the steamer. I leaned forward, watching it intently. Two