fish, a little elk and deer, high-crowned hats woven of grass and bark, grass bowls that held water, so tight they were; grass mats, furs. Some of the chiefs wore splendid robes of sea-otter skin. These were priced very dear, for the Indians were shrewd traders. They wanted fish-hooks, knives, and files, in exchange for ordinary articles; but only blue beads would buy the otter-skin robes.
For one otter-skin robe Captain Clark offered a watch, a handkerchief, a dollar, and a bunch of red beads.
"No, no! Tyee ka-mo-suck!" refused the Indian. "Chief beads."
But Sa-ca-ja-we-a gave to the captain her own girdle of blue "chief beads," and for it he bought a robe.
There were several new roots that the men grew to like. One root, sha-na-taw-hee, was a thistle root, purple after it had been roasted.
"Tastes like a parsnip, only swater," declared Pat.
Another root was cul-whay-ma; two feet long and slender. It also was sweet and wholesome. But the best root was the wappatoo—"a rale Irish p'tatie," said Pat.
This was brought down by Skilloots and the Wah-ki-a-cums, from up-river. It was a species of lily, and grew in the lakes. The Indian women waded in, breast-deep, and poking with their toes loosened the bulbs, which rose then to the surface. That was cold work.
