THE CEREMONIAL DRUM

YULAN, son of the head shaman, lay hidden behind a
mass of tangled driftwood on the sand-spit that
formed one horn of the crescent-shaped cove in front
of Quasset, and peered cautiously out at the long line
of canoes which were passing in through the deep
narrow channel at the base of the rocky headland.
They were the canoes of Klaidak and his men!
Klaidak the Cruel! Klaidak, the great chief from the
distant mainland!

Yulan shivered when he looked at the famous chief,
who alone was standing upright in the leading canoe
which was larger and more elaborately carved than
any of the others. Small of stature was this great chief
whose name was feared by all the coast tribes in the
Northland, whose warriors had carried death and de-
struction to many villages, and who had long been at
war with Yulan’s tribe.

Even now, though he had come on a visit of peace,
Klaidak looked fierce and warlike as he swept the
beach with his piercing glance, causing Yulan to

crouch still lower behind the driftwood, thankful that
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