118 THE BIG CANOE

While Lana was dreaming, Steilta came running out
through the gates of the stockade, down the hill, and
through the village.

“Lana!” he shouted, as he reached his father’s
lodge. “Where are you, Lana?”

“Here I am,” Lana replied, moving quickly to
the edge of the roof, while Koots followed timidly,
not at all comfortable on the sloping planks. “What
has happened, Steilta? Why are you down here?”

“I have good news for you,” the round-faced lad
panted, climbing up on the roof beside her. “I
wanted to tell you about it before Kish came home.
The trader said that he wished to send some very
fine baskets back to the queen’s island. He said they
must be the finest baskets ever made by our tribe.
Listen, Lana! This is what I have come to tell you.
He will give a necklace for the finest basket—a long
necklace of bright beads! I saw it. Never was such
a necklace! All the women in the village hope to
win it. Our mother will not make a basket, because
her hand is crippled, but Kish is already planning
hers. Already she is sure that she will win the neck-
lace, because she is the daughter of the chief, our
father. But I am not so sure. Your baskets are more
beautiful than any I have ever seen. The Haidas
do not make such fine baskets as the Tlingits. If you
will only try, Lana, I think you can win the neck-
lace.”

“I will try,” Lana promised. How kind Steilta