SEE

THE ANCIENT ONE 27 Bil

and intense cold beyond the northernmost villages of
the Tlingits.

Full of danger was such a journey, Quahl knew;
yet he was impatient to start, for he feared no peril
or hardship so much as he dreaded the condemnation
of his tribe.

At last a canoe came racing around the rocky head-
land. In it were two figures, instead of one; two
figures boldly outlined against the dark blue of the
sky. Some one was with Kinna. It was... yes...
it was their mother! She had come to bid Quahl fare-
well. He turned away. Glad though he was that his
mother had come, yet he was sorry also. It would have
been so much easier to leave with only Kinna stand-
ing there upon the beach to watch him go. His mother
would be brave, she would say nothing of the great
sorrow in her heart; yet her eyes would tell him more
than words.

When the canoe grated upon the beach, however,
he greeted her eagerly, though his heart was filled
with remorse. He was glad Kinna had confided in
her, for he saw at a glance that her knowledge had
caused her to load the canoe with all manner of use-
ful and necessary things—things Kinna would have
forgotten.

There were tools, fire-sticks, fishing equipment, a
canoe chest filled with food, a few carved wooden
dishes and utensils, baskets, fur blankets, his finest
garments of marten and otter skins trimmed with