Slapu came and took a baby boy, swiqúʔiɬ, away from a tribe. Everywhere she walked the baby cried and the woods disappeared. In their place the prairie appeared. That is how Sequim Prarie came to be.
Slapu brought the boy home and he called her mother, tán, asking for a bow and arrow. She told him not to call her mother, tán, because she secretly wanted him for her husband, but she made him a bow and arrow, reminding him not to go far. She didn’t want him finding his way home.
Every day when Slapu went out she hung her heart, yə́nəwəs, on the road that led out. One day the boy saw it. He knew what it was so he shot it. She felt it and came running. The boy ran until he was at Sequim Bay, but his people had moved.
Tslatsqwehe was the only one there and he gave the boy a ride to the spit. The boy told Tslatsqwehe that Slapu would be looking for him.
Soon Slapu came looking for the boy and demanded to be taken across the water. Tslatsqwehe said his boat leaked and when she was busy pulling grass, he pulled a knot out of the bottom of the boat. When they got out in the water, Tslatsqwehe asked a crab, ʔáʔčx̣, “What shall I do with Slapu?” He told the crab, ʔáʔčx̣, to bite Slapu and when it crawled towards her she kept moving back until she fell off the boat. She screamed for help, but Tslatsqwehe pushed her down and now there is a whirlpool there.