THE PACIFIC SALMON. 79 



the canoe, and the engineer, taking his gaff, reached carefully 

 down, and was just in the act of hooking the fish, when, with 

 a wave of its tail, it moved away to the leeward. The 

 engineer leaned far over the side, and made a fearful sweep 

 at it with his gaff, when his canoe glided from under him, 

 and he saw the butt of his beautiful rod vanish in the water, 

 as down, down he went. At last he returned to the surface, 

 blew the water from his nostrils, and swam to his canoe. 



His reappearance was greeted with a chorus of howls that 

 made the echoes ring. The Boston dude rowed his boat 

 alongside, and the engineer, with the help of a hand extended 

 by one of the ladies, clambered into the boat. 



The canoe was soon righted, and his paddle, that was float- 

 ing on the water, secured. Then entering it, he paddled with 

 downcast eyes and heavy heart through the flotilla of Salmon- 

 fishers, and never stopped until he reached the boat-house. 

 When he secured his canoe he went and danced a war-dance, 

 sung a scalp-song, loud and wild, and since then no one has 

 dared to ask him how he likes the dude way of catching 

 Salmon. And around the Indian camp-fires the story is often 

 told, how a cultus white man attempted to improve on the 

 method of catching Salmon practiced by their fathers since 

 by-gone ages, and how the spirit of the waters, angered at 

 his conduct, dragged him from his canoe and almost drowned 

 him. 



