Elizabeth noticed that today, even though it was late autumn, Strong Heart and his braves wore only breechcloths and sported arm and leg bands twisted and woven of shredded bark.
Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn elsewhere, as a heron with slow, flapping wings rose from one place along the shadowy banks of the river, skimming a few yards to settle again.
Farther up the river, a family of three black bears on a fishing expedition paused to look at the Suquamish intruders. They then ambled farther up the river, stopping again to wade into the water that was already teeming with hordes of silvery salmon. Soon they were feasting on their prime catches.
A movement overhead made Elizabeth look up. A red-tailed hawk soared, then landed on an old snag and surveyed his hunting territory, alert for a midmorning snack. Blue jays scolded from the riverbank trees. A kingfisher was a flashing arrow as he hustled upstream on some busy errand.
The hubbub around Elizabeth stilled. She turned wondering eyes to see why. She was filled with awe as the salmon chief made an appearance, walking slowly toward the riverbank. His long robe flowed around his legs, his gray hair dragged the ground behind him. The many winters of his age had bent him like an old tree.
Strong Heart’s father followed, limping as Pretty Nose supported him by holding on to his elbow. Strong Heart joined them, their eyes on the salmon chief.
Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet and stood with the other women, behind the men and Pretty Nose. Many Stars moved silently to stand beside Elizabeth. They exchanged quick smiles, then Elizabeth became absorbed in the same ritual that she had now seen twice since their arrival at the swift waters of the canyon. Each day, she and the Suquamish had watched the salmon chief as he walked down to his special vantage point above the river. He had spent the other days motionless, staring at the fish passing upstream. Each time he had announced that the salmon were moving in the river, crowding into the quiet waters. He had said that more and more fish were passing upstream, and soon the harvest would begin.
Today Elizabeth felt the building anticipation of the Suquamish, hoping that today would be the day. Even now she could see the splashes of hundreds of salmon fins.
Many Stars clasped one of Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed it affectionately as they awaited a response from the salmon chief.
Strong Heart had explained much of this ritual to her on their way to the canyon. He had said that his people assumed that as the salmon chief stood peering down into the r
iver, the old man was talking to the fish, wishing them a safe journey, and thanking them for appearing in the river again. The people believed that he possessed salmon power, a special relationship with the fish.
Hadn’t the salmon chief, as a young man, been selected by the salmon themselves?
Hadn’t he, like his predecessors, struck a bargain with the salmon that they would crowd into the river at this time of the year?
And, at this special place, they would show themselves so that the people could harvest them.
The people knew that part of the bargain between the salmon and the old chief was that the fish would not be disturbed until many had swum on to the upper river, to provide food for other tribes at less favorable fishing stations.
This was true, but the old chief also knew—perhaps the salmon had told him—that fish must be allowed to escape farther upstream to spawn, to ensure that the runs would continue in future years.
Finally, after days of watching the river and meditating, Chief Smiling Wolf turned to face his people, to make the eagerly awaited announcement. “My people, the first salmon can be taken today!” he shouted, his old eyes gleaming.
There was an uproar of celebration reaching to the sky. Then there was silence again as Smiling Wolf turned to face the river, and in a low monotone, thanked the salmon for appearing again and allowing themselves to be taken, so that the Suquamish could live.
Then Chief Smiling Wolf moved aside, mingling with the watchers as everyone pushed forward to stand at the riverbank.
Elizabeth and Many Stars rushed to find an open space among those who were crowding together, their eager eyes watching something. After squeezing into the crowd, Elizabeth gasped with fear as she watched Strong Heart, one of the tribe’s better fishermen, descend a wet, slippery cliff to a niche in the rock just above where the water cascaded through a chute in the canyon. She watched as one other brave followed, handing Strong Heart a spear. A line attached to the spear was piled neatly in front of Strong Heart’s feet, where it could run out rapidly. The other end was tied to a stake that the brave drove into a crack in the rock.
Elizabeth placed a hand over her mouth to stifle another gasp. She had not known that Strong Heart was going to be doing this, or how dangerous and difficult spearing fish in the torrent was. Should he slip and fall into the churning waters or against the rocks below, he would not have hardly any chance of surviving. She now understood why he had not shared this part of the ceremony with her.
She breathed much easier when another brave handed a rope to the one who was standing just behind Strong Heart. She thought that this rope was to be tied around Strong Heart, in case he did lose his balance.
But, no! she groaned to herself. Strong Heart shook his head, refusing to use the lifeline. He was the chosen spearsman today. He stood intently watching the movement of the fish below him, his arm cocked.
Elizabeth took some relief that the brave who stood close behind him kept a watchful eye on Strong Heart, ready to use the safety rope in case he fell into the torrent.
Elizabeth glanced down at Many Stars as she edged closer.
“Strong Heart does not wear the safety rope on this special occasion today because he fears that the salmon might be offended if he appears too cautious,” Many Stars whispered, smiling up at Elizabeth. “And do not fear. Strong Heart has been the lead fisherman for many years. He has not yet fallen into the waters.”
Elizabeth weakly returned her smile, trying to take some reassurance from what she had told her.
Then she turned her eyes back to Strong Heart, and her heart did a great leap when suddenly his arm sprang forward, the spear flying to a fish struggling at the base of the canyon.
Everyone cheered when the spear went through the thick body of the salmon, just in back of the head. And as it flipped and flopped in the water, Strong Heart grabbed the line and quickly brought it in—the first catch of the salmon harvest.
One quick thump with a wooden club and the fish lay still on the rocks. Strong Heart removed the spear, and climbing away from the river, went to Smiling Wolf and lay the salmon at the feet of the chief.