_... —.—4ru-qg.Ag.

3.-'.::.:‘ “
L 

LEGENDS OF VANCOUVER

lounged amongst the boulders and watched
the lazy clouds drift from peak to peak far
above us. It was one of his inspired days;
legends crowded to his lips as a whistle teases
the mouth of a happy boy, his heart was
brimming with tales of the bygones, his eyes
were dark with dreams and that strange
rnournfulness that always haunted them when
he spoke of long-ago romances. There was
not a tree, a boulder, a dash of rapid upon
which his glance fell which he could not link
with some ancient poetic superstition. Then
abruptly, in the very midst of his verbal re-
veries, he turned and asked me if I were sup-
erstitious. Of course I replied that I was.

“Do you think some happenings will bring
trouble later on—will foretell evil?" he asked.

I made some evasive answer, which, how-
ever, seemed to satisfy him, for he plunged
into the strange tale of the recluse of the
canyon with more vigor than dreaminess; but
first he asked me the question:

“What do your own tribes, those east of
the great mountains, think of twin children?”

I shook my head.

“That is enough,” he said before I could
reply. “I see, your people do not like them.”

“Twin children are almost unknown with
us,” I hastened. “They are rare, very rare;
but it is true we do not welcome them.”

18

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