102 THE BIG CANOE

tected from the winter rains, lay the reeds, wrapped
securely in a bag of oiled skins, still well preserved
in spite of the years that had passed since Kinna had
carefully hidden them there.

Kagan put the reeds to his lips and blew into them
softly. From the instrument came a sweet clear note,
even as Quahl had said. When he pressed upon the
little holes that Quahl had cut in the slender reeds,
other notes followed, each one as clear and melodious
as the song of a bird.

Hours passed. Until dusk Kagan stayed there in
the forest, playing happily upon the reeds, imitating
the songs of the birds and the sound of the wind mur-
muring in the tops of the tall spruces and cedars.
When darkness came he hid the carved box in a secret
place, for though many years had passed, the shamans
had not changed and were as quick as ever to bring
the charge of sorcery against any one who aroused
their jealousy.

All that summer Kagan practised upon his treasure,
while Quahl sat beside him and taught him little
tricks of fingering that Kinna had learned. Sometimes
the birds came fluttering from far and near to listen
to the music; sometimes they cowered, frightened,
when they heard the wind moaning, shrieking through
the forest on a still sunny day when there was no
wind.

One morning in the autumn, when there was a low
tide, Kagan was aroused early and sent to gather