“Fought like lynx at close quarters,” he answered.  “Fought, killed each other, until the island ran with blood redder than that sunset, and the sea-water about it was stained flame color—­it was then, my people say, that the scarlet fire-flower was first seen growing along this coast.”

“It is a beautiful color—­the fire-flower,” I said.

“It should be fine color, for it was born and grew from the hearts of fine tribes-people—­very fine people,” he emphasized.

We crossed to the eastern rail of the bridge, and stood watching the deep shadows that gathered slowly and silently about the island; I have seldom looked upon anything more peaceful.

The chief sighed.  “We have no such men now, no fighters like those men, no hearts, no courage like theirs.  But I tell you the story; you understand it then.  Now all peace; to-night all good tillicums; even dead man’s spirit does not fight now, but long time after it happen those spirits fought.”

“And the legend?” I ventured.

“Oh! yes,” he replied, as if suddenly returning to the present from out a far country in the realm of time.  “Indian people, they call it the ‘Legend of the Island of Dead Men.’

“There was war everywhere.  Fierce tribes from the northern coast, savage tribes from the south, all met here and battled and raided, burned and captured, tortured and killed their enemies.  The forests smoked with camp-fires, the Narrows were choked with war-canoes, and the Sagalie Tyee—­He who is a man of peace—­turned His face away from His Indian children.  About this island there was dispute and contention.  The medicine-men from the North claimed it as their chanting-ground.  The medicine-men from the South laid equal claim to it.  Each wanted it as the stronghold of their witchcraft, their magic.  Great bands of these medicine-men met on the small space, using every sorcery in their power to drive their opponents away.  The witch-doctors of the North made their camp on the northern rim of the island; those from the South settled along the southern edge, looking towards what is now the great city of Vancouver.  Both factions danced, chanted, burned their magic powders, built their magic fires, beat their magic rattles, but neither would give way, yet neither conquered.  About them, on the waters, on the mainlands, raged the warfare of their respective tribes—­the Sagalie Tyee had forgotten His Indian children.

“After many months, the warriors on both sides weakened.  They said the incantations of the rival medicine-men were bewitching them, were making their hearts like children’s, and their arms nerveless as women’s.  So friend and foe arose as one man and drove the medicine-men from the island, hounded them down the Inlet, herded them through the Narrows, and banished them out to sea, where they took refuge on one of the outer islands of the gulf.  Then the tribes once more fell upon each other in battle.