THE TALKING DOLL

OnE March day while the tribes were gathered on
the bay of the Nass at olachen time, Oala the slave girl
crouched shivering behind a ragged piece of matting in
the village of her master, the Niska chief. With three
other slaves she was stringing olachen fish upon long
withes of elderberry wood, for the tall fish-racks be-
side the fire. The wind, tearing down the valley of
the Nass, was icy cold. As it increased in fury, it
sought out every nook and corner of the village and
rumpled the waters of the bay so angrily that many
canoes were overturned, nets were lost, and the fish-
ermen were forced to return to shore empty-handed.
Oala had long been hoping for a day of idleness in
which to carry out a certain secret plan, and she
sighed with relief when the fishermen returned to the
village and threw their nets disgustedly upon the
ground. There would be no more fish, she knew, until
the nets were put down again at low tide, for all
of the previous haul had either been strung upon
the racks, or were cooking in vats watched by other
slaves who dropped in red-hot stones as often as
necessary, to keep the liquid boiling and extract the

precious olachen grease, which was skimmed off the
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