THE BIG CANOE

never thought of making a wheel that would tum
round and round.

The white slave had also caused water to be brought
to the chief’s lodge from the brook on the wooded hill
above, through a series of cedar logs, which he had
cut in half and hollowed out and placed one above
the other, so that the water ran in a continuous stream
into a trough beside the lodge. As a reward, the chief
had treated the stranger with more consideration than
he had ever shown to any other slave; he had given
the white man a bed upon the upper gallery, beside
his own, rather than with the other slaves upon the
lower ledge.

Then had come the potlatch. Never had Quasset
seen such a potlatch. Never had so many guests been
entertained in the village. It was held in honor of
Chief Edenshaw, most famous of all the Haida chiefs.
For days there had been gambling and dancing, songs
and merrymaking, while the carvers worked upon the
totem pole. For days no other work had been done
in the village; the fishermen had not gone to the
fishing-grounds, nor the hunters into the forest.

In spite of the holiday spirit of the past few days,
Maada had not enjoyed the potlatch time; had not
laughed at the masked dancers or the antics of Shim
the Foolish One, because her father had announced
that the white slave was to be sacrificed in the deep
pit beneath the totem pole. Not always was this sacri-
fice made, nor was it usual among the Haidas, but