As he stepped from the great canoe, Ta-la-pus thought he felt a strange thrill pass through the soles of his feet.  They had touched the mainland of the vast continent of North America for the first time; his feet seemed to become sensitive, soft, furry, cushioned like those of a wild animal.  Then, all at once, a strange inspiration seized him.  Why not try to make his footsteps “pad” like the noiseless paws of a prairie wolf? “pad” in the little dance he had invented, instead of “shuffling” in his moccasins, as all the grown men did?  He made up his mind that when he was alone in his tent he would practise it, but just now the great Squamish chief was coming towards them with outstretched greeting hands, and presently he was patting little Ta-la-pus on the shoulder, and saying, “Oh, ho, my good Tillicum Mowitch, I am glad you have brought this boy.  I have a son of the same size.  They will play together, and perhaps this Tenas Tyee (Little Chief) will dance for me some night.”

“My brother does not dance our tribal dances,” began Lapool, but Ta-la-pus spoke up bravely.

“Thank you, O Great Tyee (Chief), I shall dance when you ask me.”

His father and brother both stared at him in amazement.  Then Chief Mowitch laughed, and said, “If he says he will dance, he will do it.  He never promises what he cannot do, but I did not know he could do the steps.  Ah! he is a little hoolool (mouse) this boy of mine; he keeps very quiet, and does not boast what he can do.”

Little Ta-la-pus was wonderfully encouraged by his father’s notice of him and his words of praise.  Never before had he seemed so close to manhood, for, being the youngest boy of the family, he had but little companionship with any at home except his mother and the little sisters that now seemed so far behind him in their island home.  All that evening the old chiefs and the stalwart young braves were gravely shaking hands with his father, his brother Lapool, and himself, welcoming them to the great festival and saying pleasant things about peace and brotherhood prevailing between the various tribes instead of war and bloodshed, as in the olden times.  It was late when the great supper of boiled salmon was over, and the immense bonfires began to blaze on the shore where the falling tides of the Pacific left the beaches dry and pebbly.  The young men stretched themselves on the cool sands, and the old men lighted their peace pipes, and talked of the days when they hunted the mountain sheep and black bear on these very heights overlooking the sea.  Ta-la-pus listened to everything.  He could learn so much from the older men, and hour by hour he gained confidence.  No more he thought of his dance with fear and shyness, for all these people were kindly and hospitable even to a boy of eleven.  At midnight there was another feast, this time of clams, and luscious crabs, with much steaming black tea.  Then came the great Squamish chief, saying more welcoming words,