a

THE CEREMONIAL DRUM 183

and wandered across the beach to the Niska canoes.
He saw them speak to the two Niskas left on guard
and lean over the canoes as if they were inspecting
them carefully. Yulan’s eyes were keen, and he was
sure that the slaves reached down and took some-
thing from the bottom of the canoes—something
which they hurriedly concealed within the ragged
bearskins which were their only garments.

“Those are the Niska slaves!” Yulan thought.
“They are arming themselves from the Niska canoes.
They must know the plans of the enemy!”

As he glanced across the channel, he noticed that
logs and driftwood were floating into the cove on
the incoming tide. Suddenly he thought of a plan.
Slowly, very slowly, he pushed into the water the
small dead tree behind which he was hiding. Con-
cealed beneath its branches, he swam cautiously
along the shore until he came to the tangled masses
of driftwood piled up on the beach not far from the
village. Once there, he crawled along behind sun-
bleached logs and tree roots until he reached the
clumps of berry bushes at the edge of the forest.

For a moment he lay there in the dense thicket,
wondering how he was ever going to reach the guest
house; how he was ever going to get past the Niska
slaves lounging near the entrance. If the Niskas saw
him stealing down the street, hiding behind houses
and totem poles, they would know that something
was wrong; they would suspect that he was fright-