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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-