changes also. The detailed explanation of which is not now necessary to give.
THE LEGEND OF THE SURF.
In the long ago there dwelt an Indian on the Columbia River at or near Point Adams with no companion other than his faithful dog. This was in the time when all animals possessed the faculty of speech, and ofttimes the dog and master would hold sweet communion together. Upon a certain evening, as the shadows of night began to gather, and while the man and dog were rehearsing the events of the day, a loud knock was given at the door. In answer to the call, the man opened the door and what should meet his startled gaze but the gigantic form of a monster cheatco, who was awaiting there the answer to his raps. He wished to know if he could be entertained there with a supper and lodging for the night. Of course there was but one thing to do and the man invited the monster in and to partake of his hospitality, otherwise he might have invited immediate destruction to himself. He prepared his guest with as sumptuous a meal as his limited larder and bachelor skill could provide, and in due time showed him to bed. Soon after the dog and his master also retired.
Some time in the night, as the Indian awoke from a sleep, he overheard the cheatco talking and chuckling to himself as to the nice meal he proposed to make of his host. Upon discovering the evil design of his guest, terror seized the soul of that poor Indian, and he immediately resolved to find some way of escape. He thought it not safe to attempt to go out by the front door lest the giant should notice him as he passed the place where he lay. So he dug a hole through the ground under the walls of the lodge at the rear end. He laid a stick of wood in his
