These animals were found in great numbers on a rocky island far to seaward (supposed to have been Foresters Island), but the ocean passage in their frail canoes was very dangerous and with their primitive spears and clubs it took courage and strength to succeed in the hunt, and so they prepared themselves for the undertaking by much exercise, and hardened their bodies by sea bathing in the early morning throughout the winter. But Duck-Toolh seemingly practised none of these things, he slept late and although of great size was looked upon as lazy and weak until he became the laughing stock even of the children. In the household was a powerful man named Kash-ka-di, who in passing for his morning plunge would kick Duck-toolh and call him by his nickname, which he never resented. Upon coming out of the water each morning the bathers would test their strength by trying to pull up and break smaller trees. All of this time Duck-toolh was shamming, for every night after all had gone to sleep he would steal out and sit in the ice cold water by the hour, and coming out would beat himself with bundles of brush to keep up his circulation, then he would enter the house and throwing a little water on the hot coals to make steam, and wrapping himself in his bark mat would lie down and go to sleep in the ashes which covered his body and gave him his nickname. One night while he was sitting in the water he heard a whistle, and saw a heavily built man rise out of the sea. He came to him and told him to get up, when he whipped him on the back four times and with each stroke he fell down. Then he gave Duck-toolh the sticks and told him to whip him, which had no effect upon him and he said, "You have not gained strength yet." This operation was again repeated which gave Duck-toolh great strength, and then they wrestled with each other, but neither could throw the other. The strange man said, "Now you are very powerful I have given you my strength," when a heavy fog suddenly drove in from the sea and enveloped him and he disappeared. Then Duck-toolh ran about and broke the limbs off the trees with little effort, but he put them together again and they froze in place for he did not want any one to know that strength had come to him. He felt very happy, and was very willing to do anything for any one or to accept the ridicule and abuse heaped upon him. In the morning, Kash-ka-di, after coming out of the water, ran about trying his strength and he took the great limb that was stuck together in his hands and pulled it apart. He boasted to everyone that strength had come to him and that he was ready now to go out against the sealion. Duck-toolh said, "Yes, he would go too," which made every one laugh. Even the girls made fun of him and asked him what he could do, for he was like them, and he said that he could bail the canoe, which was a woman's or child's work. He washed and put on clean clothes and going to his grandmother said, "You have no tlhan," (strips of fur woven into blankets); "you have no da" (martin skin). She answered, "Yes" and gave him a strip of fur with which he tied up his front hair, taken in a bunch (this was done when one felt angry), and he dabbed his mouth with red paint, but still the people laughed at him, although he looked like a chief. Then the canoe started for the sealion grounds and while Kash-ka-di boasted of his great strength and what he would do, Duck-toolh sat silently in the bottom of the canoe. When they reached the rocks Kash-ka-di jumped out and grabbing a great sealion by its hind flippers tried to tear it in two, but he was thrown high in the air and killed on the rocks. Then Duck-toolh laughed and said, "Who broke the tree," "I break it," and he jumped on the rock and grabbed the sealion and tore it apart, beat the brains out of the smaller ones, and for some unknown reason he wound the intestines of the animals around his head. Then they loaded the canoe with the carcasses and returned home and everyone knew that Duck-toolh was strength and he became a very powerful and wealthy man. Some versions of this story say that he remained alone on the island for some time during which the spirit of the doctor came to him, but my informant knew nothing of this.
Yehlh-Gars.
The carved post on the right of the ornamental screen was named Yehlh-Gars "Raven Post," and told the story of the capture of Ta "the king salmon." The main figure shows the Raven in human form holding a head with a projecting blade-like tongue, which is known as Tsu-hootar "jade adze." At the bottom is the head of a fish which should have been that of the king salmon, but through a mistake of the carver it resembles more nearly that of the sculpin. Coming out of the mouth of the Raven is a bird form called Tu-kwut-lah-Yehlh, "telling lies raven," which symbolizes the lies the Raven told to the little birds mentioned in the story. (Plate 4a.)
Many of the myths relative to the later wanderings of the Raven after the release of the elements necessary to life on the earth, and particularly those in connection with animals, represent him as always hungry, unscrupulous and deceptive, and friendly only for selfish purposes. In the early spring before the salmon had come into the rivers, or the berries had ripened on the mountain sides, the season of little food, Yehlh happened to be on the seashore near Dry Bay and very hungry. He saw a king salmon jumping in the ocean and he commenced to plan how he could take it, for he had neither canoe, spear, nor line. Going back from the shore he found in a deserted camp a piece of an old cedarbark mat, an old woven spruce root hat, an eagle skin, and a jade adze "tsu-hootar." Putting on the hat, folding the mat about his body, and dressing his hair with eagle down, he took the jade and seating himself on a big boulder at the edge of the water said to the salmon, "Tsu-hootar is calling you bad names, he says that you have an ugly black mouth and that you are afraid to come up to the shore." This so enraged the salmon that he came towards the shore, when Tehlh said, "Wait a little, I have to go to the woods" for he had no club and the salmon must always be killed by striking it on the head with a club. When he returned, he again reviled the salmon and when it came and jumped in shallow water he killed it. He then kindled a fire with his rubbing sticks and prepared the fish for cooking. In the meantime many small birds came around hoping to get something to eat, and the Raven sent them off to gather skunk cabbage leaves to wrap the fish in, but those that they brought he condemned as too small or smelling bad, and told them to go to the far mountain where the proper kind grew. As soon as they had disappeared he wrapped the fish in the discarded leaves, scraped away the fire and the gravel beneath, buried the fish, and covered it with the hot stones and the fire. When the fish was cooked, he ate all of it and collecting the bones, carefully wrapped them in the old leaves and covered them with the fire and when the little birds returned with the mountain leaves he showed them the bones, saying that the fire had eaten the flesh. Then all of the birds felt very badly, the little chickadee cried bitterly and continually wiping its eyes with its feet wore away the feathers which ever after showed a white stripe from the corners down. The blue jay was so angry that he tied up the feathers on top of his head which have ever since formed a crest, for when the Tlingit are angry they tie the front hair up in a knot; while the robin in his grief sat too close to the fire and burned his breast red.
Tluke-ass-a-Gars.
The carved post on the left of the ornamental screen was named Tluke-ass-a-Gars "Wood-worm Post" and illustrated a very important happening in the early life of the family that is believed to have caused the separation of the body that first migrated northward. The large upper figure represents Ka-kutch-an, "the girl who fondled the wood-worm," which she holds in front of her body with both hands. Over her head are two wood-worms whose heads form her ears. Beneath is shown a frog in the bill of a crane. The whole post symbolizes the tree in which the wood-worm lives, the crane lights on the outer surface and the frog lives underneath among the roots.
It is said that in early days in a village that would seem to have been near Klawak, on the west coast of Prince of Wales Island, there was a chief of the Tlow-on-we-ga-dee family whose wife was of the Kon-nuh-ta-di. They had a daughter just reaching womanhood. One day after the members of the household had returned from gathering firewood, the daughter, picking up a piece of bark found a wood-worm which she wrapped up in her blanket and carried in the house. After the evening meal she took it into the back compartment and offered it some food, but it would not eat, and then she gave it her breast and it grew very rapidly and she became very fond of it, as if it were her child, and as time went on her whole life seemed to be absorbed by her pet which she kept secreted. Her constant abstraction and absences grew so noticeable that the mother's suspicions were aroused and one day she detected her fondling the worm that had now grown as large as a person. She called the chief and they wondered greatly for no one had ever seen anything like it. As she played with the worm she sang to it all the time:—
| "Da-a-a see-ok bus k-e-e-e. | Tchi-ok kon nok |
| They have small faces. | Sit down here. |
| Tu usk-k ka tel kin ka | Tchi-ok kon nok |
| They have small fat cheeks. | Sit down here." |