CHAPTER IX.
GRETCHEN'S VISIT TO THE OLD CHIEF OF THE CASCADES.
"Go to the chief's lodge, Gretchen, and stay until the Potlatch, and I will come to visit you." Such were the words of Mrs.Woods, as her final decision, after long considering the chief's request.
The forest lodge of the old chief of the Cascades was picturesque without and within.

Outwardly, it was a mere tent of skins and curious pictography, under the shadows of gigantic trees, looking down on the glistening waters of the Columbia; inwardly, it was a museum of relics of the supposed era of the giant-killers, and of the deep regions of the tooth and claw; of Potlatches, masques and charms of _medas_ and _wabenoes_; of curious pipes; of odd, curious feathers, and beautiful shells and feather-work and pearls.

But, though all things here were rude and primitive, the old chief had a strong poetic sense, and the place and the arrangement of everything in it were very picturesque in its effect, and would have delighted an artist.

On a hill near were grave-posts, and a sacred grove, in which were bark coffins in trees.

Near by was an open field where the Indian hunters were accustomed to gather their peltries, and where visiting bands of Indians came to be hospitably entertained, and feasts were given _a la mode de sauvage_.