“‘Alas!  Alas!’ wailed the Haida mother.  ’This casting of stones does not show worth.  It but shows prowess.’

“’But I have implored the Sagalie Tyee of my father, and of his fathers before him, to help me to judge between them by this means,’ said the girl.  ’So they must cast the stones.  In this way only shall I see their innermost hearts.’

“The medicine-man never looked so old as at that moment; so hopelessly old, so wrinkled, so palsied:  he was no mate for Yaada.  Ulka never looked so god-like in his young beauty, so gloriously young, so courageous.  The girl, looking at him, loved him—­almost was she placing her hand in his, but the spirit of her forefathers halted her.  She had spoken the word—­she must abide by it.  ‘Throw!’ she commanded.

“Into his shrivelled fingers the great medicine-man took a small, round stone, chanting strange words of magic all the while; his greedy eyes were on the girl, his greedy thoughts about her.

“Into his strong young fingers Ulka took a smooth, flat stone; his handsome eyes were lowered in boyish modesty, his thoughts were worshipping her.  The great medicine-man cast his missile first; it swept through the air like a shaft of lightning, striking the great rock with a force that shattered it.  At the touch of that stone the ‘Grey Archway’ opened and has remained open to this day.

“‘Oh, wonderful power and magic!’ clamored the entire tribe.  ‘The very rocks do his bidding.’

“But Yaada stood with eyes that burned in agony.  Ulka could never command such magic—­she knew it.  But at her side Ulka was standing erect, tall, slender, and beautiful, but just as he cast his missile the evil voice of the old medicine-man began a still more evil incantation.  He fixed his poisonous eyes on the younger man, eyes with hideous magic in their depths—­ill-omened and enchanted with ‘bad medicine.’  The stone left Ulka’s fingers; for a second it flew forth in a straight line, then, as the evil voice of the old man grew louder in its incantations, the stone curved.  Magic had waylaid the strong arm of the young brave.  The stone poised an instant above the forehead of Yaada’s mother, then dropped with the weight of many mountains, and the last long sleep fell upon her.

“‘Slayer of my mother!’ stormed the girl, her suffering eyes fixed upon the medicine-man.  ’Oh, I now see your black heart through your black magic.  Through good magic you cut the “Grey Archway,” but your evil magic you used upon young Ulka.  I saw your wicked eyes upon him; I heard your wicked incantations; I know your wicked heart.  You used your heartless magic in hope of winning me—­in hope of making him an outcast of the tribe.  You cared not for my sorrowing heart, my motherless life to come.’  Then, turning to the tribe, she demanded:  ’Who of you saw his evil eyes fixed on Ulka?  Who of you heard his evil song?’

“‘I,’ and ‘I,’ and ‘I,’ came voice after voice.