they ceased from paddling to gaze with pleasure on that favoured
land, and as they looked they heard the sound of song from up the
river valley.

The evening fell, the pleasant Yuk-stees wind blew more faintly, and
as it passed away, over those calm inland waters swelled again the
sound of many voices chanting Indian songs.

"There are people dwelling there," they said. "It would be well if
we delayed until morning." Agreeing to this plan they crossed the
channel and camped at Klu-quilth-coose.

Next morning while the grass was damp with dew, and long before the
U-ah-tee wind had ceased, the sons of Wick-in-in-ish, hearing again
the quaint alluring song, took their canoe and paddled on, to where
between two grassy slopes, the Tsomass ends. When they approached
the river mouth, they saw extending from the bank a salmon trap, and
even to-day, the Indians will show at Lup-se-kup-se some old rotten
sticks, which they affirm formed part of that same trap. The land was
green, the wild duck's quack was heard among the reeds which edged
the river bank, while flocks of geese were feeding on the grass
which grows thickly upon the tidal flats, the flats the Indians call
Kwi-chuc-a-nit.

Upon the eastern bank the young men saw a wondrous house, which far
surpassed their father's lodge at home beyond the hills in Rainy Bay,
in size of beams and boards. The sons of Wick-in-in-ish were afraid
and would have turned the bow of their canoe home-bound, but that
from the house they heard a woman call. "Oh come and stay with us, go
not away. Our land is full of all the riches nature gives; our woods