and damask.
Again and again the slaves of Multnomah added their burdens to the heaps, and went back for more, till a murmur of wonder rose among the crowd. His riches seemed exhaustless. At length, however, all was brought. The chief stood up, and, opening his hands to them in the Indian gesture for giving, said,
"There is all that was Multnomah s; it is yours; your hands are full now and mine are empty."
The chiefs and warriors rose up gravely and went among the heaps of treasure j each selecting from furs and skins, arms and hiagua shells, that which he desired. There was no unseemly haste or snatching; a quiet decorum prevailed among them. The women and children were excluded from sharing in these gifts, but provisions dried meats and berries, and bread of camas or Wappatto root were thrown among them on the outskirts of the crowd where they were gathered. And unlike the men, they scrambled for it like hungry animals; save where here and there the wife or daughter of a chief stood looking disdainfully on the food and those who snatched at it.
Such giving of gifts, or potlatches, are still known among the Indians. On Puget Sound and the Okan- ogan, one occasionally hears of some rich Indian making a great potlatch, giving away all his pos sessions, and gaining nothing but a reputation for disdain of wealth, a reputation which only Indian stoicism would crave. Multnomah s object was not that so much as to make, before the dispersal of the tribes, a last and most favorable impression.
When the presents were all divided, the chiefs re sumed their places to hear the last speech of Muitno- mah, the speech that closed the council.
