12 THE BIG CANOE

says they make queer noises, something like the speech
of people!”

“Maybe you are right; maybe it is the hidden
island with the puffin birds,” said Kahala. “Let us
paddle toward the noises. If we find that it is a Tlingit
village, or the village of some other tribe, we can
hide in the fog.”

The two paddles sent the canoe speeding through
the still water, through the fog, toward the sounds,
which grew louder every moment. Soon the canoe shot
out of the fog into a circular pool of sunlight in the
center of which rose an island of black jagged
rocks—the cone of a volcano submerged in the sea,
though neither Kilsa nor Kahala knew that. Near the
top was a vent from which a cloud of steam hissed
endlessly, rising to mingle with the fog banks which
surrounded the island on every side. Thousands of
huge orange-crested birds hovered above their rocky
home, screaming their alarm as the canoe glided
slowly over the water toward their hiding-place.

“The hidden island!” Kahala cried, amazed _ be-
yond words.

“The puffin birds!” Kilsa added. “Look, there is
the bird with my hat. There, he has dropped it right in
that little cove. Now we can surely rescue it, and we
can also fill our canoe with puffin beaks, just as
Shim said. Oh, Kahala, it is too wonderful!”

“It is beyond belief,’ Kahala agreed solemnly,
sending the canoe toward the cove where Kilsa res-