LEGENDS OF VANCOUVER

I suggested more tea, and, as he sipped it,
he told me the legend that few of the younger
Indians know. That he believes the story him-
self is beyond question, for many times he ad-
mitted having tested the virtues of this rock,
and it had never once failed him. All people
that have to do with water craft are supersti-
tious about some things, and I freely acknow-
ledge that times innumerable I have “whistled
up” a wind when dead calm threatened, or
stuck a jack-knife in the mast, and afterwards
watched with great contentment the idle sail
fill, and the canoe pull out to a light breeze.
So, perhaps, I am prejudiced in favor of this
legend of Homolsom Rock, for it strikes a very
responsive chord in that portion of my heart
that has always throbbed for the sea.

“You know,” began my young tillicum,
“that only waters unspoiled by human hands
can be of any benefit. One gains no strength
by swimming in any waters heated or boiled
by fires that men build. To grow strong and
wise one must swim in the natural rivers, the
mountain torrents, the sea, just as the Sag-
alie Tyee made them. Their virtues die
when human beings try to improve them by
heating or distilling, or placing even tea in
them, and so—what makes Homolsom Rock
so full of ‘good medicine’ is that the waters

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