weird--giants in stone, whose heads are crowned with scrubby
conifers, upon whose feet the wild seas break, or in the summer time
the gentle wavelets lap. On jutting rocks the black Klap-poose, the
shag, in silence sits, while circling overhead the keen eyed gulls
watch for the shoals of fry on which they feed.

[Illustration: ON JUTTING ROCKS THE BLACK KLAP-POOSE, THE SHAG IN
SILENCE SITS]

Come now with me and I will guide you to some beauty spots, unknown,
unguessed except to those who have explored the sea creeks and
sheltered passage ways abounding on that western coast. Perhaps
between two rugged rocks we may find an opening where it cuts its way
deep into the land. In many parts, the lichen-covered canyon walls
approach so close together that our canoe can scarcely pass, and more
than likely we shall find the passage bridged by some old fallen
tree, its ancient trunk enveloped in soft moss and seedling forest
trees. Reflected in the water's surface are flowering berry shrubs,
which adorn the banks on either side. We see the glossy-leaved
shalal, the fruit of which the Indians gather to dry for winter use,
and clumps of maiden hair and other ferns rooted in old tree trunks
and rocky crevices. Such is the picture of many a salt sea creek
found in the regions round fair Barkley Sound.

Perhaps our fancy leads among the islands of the sound. It may be
that a storm has lately spent itself, and long deep swells are
rolling in from the wide ocean lying to the west. Our staunch canoe
is lost in the deep green waters of the heaving main. It climbs only
to descend and climb once more, and thus we slowly cross the Middle
Channel and reach calm water.