“Hem—yes! They claim that fish is food for the brain, and goodness knows, you need something to develop that atrophied grey matter!” taunted Jane, reaching for the platter.
“Children! As Chief of this Tribe I cannot have such talk, hence I will eat the fish-cake myself!” declared Zan, taking the platter Fiji passed, and helping herself to the last bit.
Everyone laughed at the outcome of the argument, and Jane sighed while Jack smacked his lips as he watched the Chief make a great to-do over the final crumb of fish.
“While we wash dishes and clear camp the boys can go and bring in fire-wood for this noon. Then we can have a story, if you like, until it is time to have a dip,” said the Guide, as they all got up from the grass.
“No sooner said than done!” answered Fred, starting for the woods.
When the chores were done, the campers gathered about the Guide who proposed that they go to the cliff and sit on the sand to hear the tale.
“Who’s turn is it for a legend?” asked Elena, after they had found comfortable positions on the warm sand.
“Doesn’t matter whose—we always vote for Miss Miller,” replied Hilda.
A chorus of “How’s!” approved this suggestion and the Guide smiled.
“Let me see! I think I will tell you a Tlingit Myth. It is called ‘The Wolf Chief’s Son.’