56 THE BIG CANOE

glance curiously at him. They were talking about
him as they had done so many times before. They
were poking fun at him, singing cruel songs about
him and his terrible fear of the dark.

Poor Weah! He was in disgrace because he had
refused to go out into the dark night with the other
children who were taking advantage of a low tide to
dig clams along the beaches. He had refused to leave
the lodge, although his father, the head chief, had
commanded him to go and had punished him for not
obeying.

Weah would rather be punished than go out into
the darkness of a rainy night like this, when the moon
and all the stars were hidden by heavy clouds. Even
as he lay there in the bright glow of the blazing fire,
he trembled when he thought of the dripping black-
ness of the forest trail, where the limbs of the tall
spruces and cedars interlaced overhead, shutting out
any ray of light that might have entered. He trembled
when he thought of the long line of totem and memo-
rial poles along the village street which always
loomed darkly above him on a cloudy night, filling
him with a strange feeling of fear and dread. He
trembled when he thought of the deep, dark waters
that slapped endlessly upon the sandy beach of the
cove in front of his father’s lodge. He was even afraid
of the dark corners behind the empty food chests
piled up high on the ledge behind him. He was afraid
of darkness wherever he found it, as if it were some