THE SILVER BRACELET 79

this time the chief had decided that nothing less than
the death of his most valuable slave could do honor
to the famous visitor, for these Northern chiefs felt
it was an insult to their guests not to part with their
most valuable property at a potlatch.

For a week now the white slave had been im-
prisoned in an old lodge behind the chief’s, with a
warrior always on guard before the only entrance—
the yawning hole in the totem pole in front. Every
night Maada, sobbing softly, had listened to the wild
incantations of the shamans in the prison lodge, as
they prepared their prisoner for the sacrifice, casting
out all evil spirits with the aid of burning brands,
that the death of the white man might not cause evil
to fall upon the tribe. Hour after hour Maada had
shivered and listened, wondering desperately what
she could do to save the life of her friend but unable
to think of any plan.

Each day she had been allowed to carry food to
the prisoner—plenty of food, for the daughter of a
great chief was the most privileged person in the |
tribe. When he had asked her the reason for his im- | lit
prisonment she had confessed that he was to be
sacrificed beneath the totem pole, but that she had
determined to save him, if possible.

On this last morning she had smuggled in a knife,
his own, hidden beneath a big piece of halibut on a
long wooden trencher; had helped him hide it where
he could easily get at it. When she had told him that

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