The artist was regarded as a great "medicine man" by the natives, who sometimes gathered in great numbers to watch him manipulate his supposed implements of magic--insomuch that at one village on the coast of De Fuca Straits, so great was the crowd gathered in the head chief's lodge that it was filled, and those outside climbed to the roof and, tearing the mats from their supports, to which they slung one upon another, peered down at him from above. He experienced much difficulty everywhere, however, in prevailing upon the natives to sit for their portraits, owing to their superstitious fear that the possessor of their likenesses would have some mysterious power or evil influence over them. In addition to entreaties and bribes, he had sometimes to resort to various strategies and arguments to attain his end--as, for instance, that the pictures were to be shown to their "great mother," the queen, who would no doubt be much disappointed on missing his proposed subject's portrait. On one occasion he allayed the fears of a repentant sitter, who continued to pursue him only by hastily preparing a duplicate sketch of him and destroying the duplicate in his presence--on another occasion he was in great peril owing to the unexpected death of one of his subjects--a woman--whose demise was attributed to his malign influence. Kane, notwithstanding, had many interesting subjects. Among others he met at Fort Victoria the great Yellow-cum, head chief of the Macaws at Cape Flattery and the wealthiest man of his tribe in slaves and iaquas, the shell money then in circulation there. His father was the pilot of the _Tonquin_, who escaped destruction by the terrible explosion, which blew in pieces Mr. Astor's ship, with the man who fired the magazine and all the savage horde on her deck. On his way home he paid a four days' visit to Dr. Whitman, the well known missionary, and his family at their home on the banks of the Walla Walla. The doctor took him to see an Indian named To-ma-kus that he might take his likeness--his appearance being the most savage, Kane says, he ever beheld. The Indian, a prey to superstitious fears, endeavoured to burn the sketch made of him by Kane, who snatched it from him and fled, the man appearing to be greatly enraged. The circumstance is referred to, as it must have been peculiarly distressing to the artist to hear when at Colville of the massacre of Doctor and Mrs. Whitman and a dozen others and that the ferocious To-ma-kus was the man who had tomahawked his late host, while another Indian, whom he had sketched, was present when the deed was done. Kane had, however, done all he could to warn Dr. Whitman of his danger and endeavoured to persuade him to seek safety at Fort Walla Walla--having, indeed, taken a three hours' ride back from the fort, where he had heard and seen enough to arouse his fears for the missionary, to the missionary--but in vain. The devoted man said he had lived so long