"Yes, men!" he echoed. "The white people call it Deadman's Island.
That is their way; but we of the Squamish call it The Island of
Dead Men."

The clustering pines and the outlines of the island's margin were
now dusky and indistinct. Peace, peace lay over the waters, and the
purple of the summer twilight had turned to grey, but I knew that in
the depths of the undergrowth on Deadman's Island there blossomed
a flower of flaming beauty; its colors were veiled in the coming
nightfall, but somewhere down in the sanctuary of its petals pulsed
the heart's blood of many and valiant men.





A SQUAMISH LEGEND OF NAPOLEON


Holding an important place among the majority of curious tales held
in veneration by the coast tribes are those of the sea-serpent. The
monster appears and reappears with almost monotonous frequency in
connection with history, traditions, legends and superstitions; but
perhaps the most wonderful part it ever played was in the great
drama that held the stage of Europe, and incidentally all the world
during the stormy days of the first Napoleon.

Throughout Canada I have never failed to find an amazing knowledge
of Napoleon Bonaparte amongst the very old and "uncivilized"