Indian Legends of Vancouver Island | Page 6

a large island situated in Barkley Sound
and near to the entrance to the Alberni Canal.
Toosh-ko, Hy-wach-es, Wak-ah-nit, (Copper Mountain) Tin-nim-ah,
and Klu-quilth-koose (now known as Coos Creek) are place names on

the Alberni Canal.
U-ah-tee--the north wind, Yuk-stees--the south wind.
O-lil-lie and Il-la-hie, are Chinook for berries and land or country
respectively.
Ah-tooch is the Indian name for deer.
Lup-se-kup-se or Nooh-see-cupis, is a small piece of cleared land on
the left bank of the Tsomass river and about half way between the
towns of Port Alberni and Alberni.
Kleet-sa, is a high mountain rising from the waters of Taylor Arm,
Sproat Lake, so named because of its white or chalky appearance.
Kuth-kah-chulth, is the Indian name for Mount Arrowsmith, a splendid
peak rising directly east of the town of Port Alberni. Mount
Arrowsmith is one of the highest mountains of Vancouver Island; it is
5976 feet in elevation.
Toh-a-muk-is, is the land fronting on the little bay just north of the foot
of Argyle Street, Port Alberni.
Kok-a-mah-kook, is a place close to the stream known as Dry Creek,
and near to the railway round house, Port Alberni.
Kwa-nis, Kam-mass or Gam-mas as it is variously known, is a species
of lily which comes into flower about the middle of April and remains
in flower till June. It is gathered, roasted and preserved whole in bags
for winter use.
THE FINDING OF THE TSOMASS
Near thirty miles from where Alberni pours her crystal stream out to
the mighty fjord that cleaves Vancouver's Island nigh in twain, a tribe
of Indians lived. Their village nestled at the foot of wooded hills, which
everywhere on this indented coastline, rise straight up from out the
North Pacific. They were a powerful tribe, E-coulth-aht by name; seven
hundred strong, with many fighting men, and many children who
played upon that shore. I think even now I hear the echo of their voices
round the bay, and how marvelously clear an echo may be, among the
inlets of that rockbound coast! I have heard my call flung back from
side to side alternately, till it was lost among the rocky heights and
ceased to be.
Across the bay from where the Indians lived, ran a stream, called
Po-po-moh-ah. Here every autumn, when the salmon came, they stayed
and caught the fish for winter use. Yet strange to say these ancient

E-coulth-ahts seemed unaware that at their very doors, a nature hewn
canal had its entrance. One fine September morning
Ha-houlth-thuk-amik and Han-ah-kut-ish, the sons of Wick-in-in-ish or,
as some say Ka-kay-un, accompanied by their father's slave See-na-ulth
were paddling slowly to Po-po-moh-ah, when half across and near to
Tsa-a-toos they saw dead salmon floating on the tide.
The salmon had spawned, and is it not strange to think that this, the
king of fish should struggle up the rapid tumbling streams for many
miles, against strong currents, over falls where the water breaks the
least, perchance to fall within the wicker purse of Indian traps placed
there so cunningly to catch them if they should fall back; and even if
they escape the Indian traps and find the gravel bar where they four
years before, began their life, and having spent themselves in giving
life, sicken and die, their bodies even in death give sustenance to gulls
and eagles circling round those haunts.
"These fish have come from where fresh water flows, so let us follow
up from whence they come. Let Quawteaht direct our course, and we
shall find new streams where salmon are in plenty and win great glory
in our tribe." Thus spake the sons of Wick-in-in-ish, and they turned the
prow of their canoe upstream, and followed where the trail of salmon
led, to the broad entrance of that splendid fjord.
Soon they paddled by the harbour U-chuck-le-sit, long famed for its
safe anchorage and quiet retreat, when winter storms lash the waters of
the sound. Leaving this quiet harbour on the left, they followed where
the wider channel led to Klu-quilth-soh, that dark and stormy gate,
where Indians say the dreaded Chehahs dwell among the rocky
heights--"The Gates of Hell," and when men seek to pass those gates
the Chehahs blow upon them winds of evil fates from north and south
and east and west. The water boils in that great witches pot, while
Indians seek a sheltered beach in vain--no beach is there, no shelter
from the storm. The mighty cliffs frown down relentlessly; the whale
She-she-took-a-muck opens his great jaws and swallows voyagers, at
which the chehahs laugh, and their wild laughter, Klu-quilth-soh's
heights re-echo far away.
On this eventful day the evil chehahs were absent from their home and
the Yuk-stees wind blew not too strong to cause the waves to dash
along in wild commotion,