Snipe lived across to the south. His canoe was very narrow. It was so shallow it did not come above his ankle. "I am going in it," he thought. "How is it going to be?" he thought. He took the paddles out of the house and went down to the river. He got into his canoe and then he got out again. He turned the canoe around. He placed it with the stern toward the land. "Indians are going to come into existence," he thought. "They will think about me with this." He held it with the stern toward the land, headed this way across the river and down stream. "There must not be many," he thought, "who will say of me, 'That one I hear did this way."' Then he went into the
canoe, beat on the stern with the paddle, and sang. When he started across, his canoe grew up higher, and floated with him over the world. The boat did not mind the water. It floated with him over this body of water which lies around the world. He sang a song as he went along. It floated back with him across to the south. "It will do that way with the man who knows my medicine," he thought. "Even if he goes into a bad place, if he thinks about me, this way the water will not trouble his boat."
314:1 Told at Hupa, December 1901, by Emma Lewis.