34 THE BIG CANOE

to his mother just before his departure from the
village.

“Tt is indeed my son!” agreed the chief, joyfully.
“No other could have known about the grease dish!
Great is the weight that is lifted from my heart, my
son. All of us had given you up for lost, save Kinna.
Tell us, where have you been? Whence came these
strange garments you are wearing?”

“Let me have some food and I will tell you,” Quahl
replied as he reached for a large chunk of roasted
bear meat.

“Kat first, my son,” commanded the chief, who saw
that Quahl was famished. “Hunger is a poor story-
teller, and we shall miss much in the telling unless
you are well fed.”

Before he ate, Quahl stripped off his heavy parka
of deerskin. Under it he wore a beautiful shirt of
soft white ermine, at which his people looked with
exclamations of amazement. Among all the islands of
the Haidas, in all the land of the Tsimshians, there
was no other garment to be compared with this one
in beauty and workmanship. Famous would it be
among all the tribes on the Nass in the springtime;
envied above all others would be the wearer!

Unmindful of the curious, excited household,
oblivious of everything for the time being, Quahl ate
hungrily, while all the others watched, but asked
no questions. Suddenly, with a grunt of dismay, he
stopped eating and drew a small pouch of oiled skins