"Ho, my grandson! you see me, I am old and poor. All the day I see no one. When I wish to drink, this raw-hide lariat leads me to the stream near by. When I need dry sticks for my fire, I follow this other rope and feel my way among the trees. I have food enough, for these bags are packed with dried meat for my use. But alas, my grandson, I am all alone here, and I am blind!"

"Take my eyes, grandfather!" at once exclaimed the kind-hearted young man. "You shall go where you will, and I will remain here in your place."

"Ho, ho, my grandson, you are very good!" replied the old man, and he gladly took the eyes of the Rabbit and went out into the world. The youth stayed behind, and as he was hungry, he ate of the dried meat in the bags.

This made him very thirsty, so he took hold of the raw-hide rope and followed it to the stream; but as he stooped to the brink, the rope broke and Mashtinna fell in.

The water was cold and the bank slippery, but after a hard struggle he got out again and made his way back to the teepee, dripping wet and very miserable. Wishing to make a fire and dry his clothes, he seized the other rope and went to the wood for sticks.

However, when he began to gather the sticks he lost the rope, and being quite blind he did nothing but stumble over fallen logs, and bruise himself against the trunks of trees, and scratch his face among the briers and brambles, until at last he could bear it no longer, and cried out to his comrade to come to his aid.

Instantly the youth appeared and gave him back his eyes, saying at the same time:

"Friend, be not so rash in future! It is right to help those who are in trouble, but one must also consider whether he himself is able to hold out to the end."



TWENTY-FIRST EVENING

THE LAUGH-MAKER



TWENTY-FIRST EVENING

"You remember the young man who married among the Bear people," begins Grandfather. "Now to us the Bear seems at times almost human; he can stand and even walk erect; he will cry and groan very like a man when hurt, and there are those who say that he laughs. In the old stories the Bears are a powerful nation; and there is a young man, perhaps the same one I told you of before, who is said to have been living among them at one time with his wife, Woshpee, and their little son."

THE LAUGH-MAKER

The village of the Bears was a large one, and the people were well-fed and prosperous. Upon certain days, a herald went the round of the lodges, announcing in a loud voice that the time had come to "go a-laughing." Not a Bear was left in the village at such times, for every one went, old and young, sick and well, the active and the lame. Only the stranger remained at home, although his wife, Woshpee, always went with her kinsfolk, for somehow he did not feel inclined to "go a-laughing;" and he kept with him his little son, who was half Bear and half human.

One day, however, a curiosity seized him to know what this laughing business might be. He took his boy and followed the Bears at a distance, not choosing to be seen. Their trail led to the shore of the Great Water, and when he had come as near as he could without exposing himself, he climbed a tall pine from whose bushy top he could observe all that took place.

The gathering of the Bears was on a deep bay that jutted inland. Its rocky shores were quite black with them, and as soon as all had become quiet, an old Bear advanced to the water's edge and called in a loud voice:

"E-ha-we-cha-ye-la, e-ha-un-he-pee lo! (Laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!)"

When he had called four times, a small object appeared in the midst of the water and began to swim toward the shore. By and by the strange creature sprawled and clambered out upon a solitary rock that stood partly above the water.

The Laugh-maker was hairless and wrinkled like a new-born child; it had the funniest feet, or hands, or flippers, with which it tried to walk, but only tumbled and flopped about. In the water it was graceful enough, but on dry land so ungainly and ridiculous that the vast concourse of Bears was thrown into fits of hysterical laughter.

"Ha, ha, ha! Waugh, waugh!" they roared, lifting their ugly long muzzles and opening their gaping jaws. Some of them could no longer hold on to the boughs of the trees, or the rocks on which they had perched, and came tumbling down on the heads of the crowd, adding much to the fun. Every motion of the little "Laugh-maker" produced fresh roars of immoderate laughter.

At last the Bears grew weak and helpless with laughing. Hundreds of them sprawled out upon the sand, quite unable to rise. Then the old man again advanced and cried out:

"E-ha-we-cha-ye-la, wan-na e-ha un-ta-pe ktay do! (Laugh-maker, we are almost dead with laughing!)" Upon this the little creature swam back into deep water and disappeared.

Now the stranger was not at all amused and in fact could see nothing to laugh at. When all the Bears had got up and dispersed to their homes he came down from the tree with his little son, and the child wished to imitate his great-grandfather Bear. He went out alone on the sandy beach and began to call in his piping voice:

"Laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!"

When he had called four times, the little creature again showed its smooth black head above the water.

"Ha, ha, ha! Why don't you laugh, papa? It is so funny!" the boy cried out breathlessly.

But his father looked on soberly while the thing went through all its usual antics, and the little boy laughed harder and harder, until at last he rolled and rolled on the sandy beach, almost dead with laughter.

"Papa," he gasped, "if you do not stop this funny thing I shall die!"

Then the father picked up his bow and strung it. He gave one more look at his boy, who was gasping for breath; then he fitted a sharp arrow to the bow and pierced the little Laugh-maker to the heart. He went out and took the skin, and they returned in silence to the camp of the Bears.

Now the next time that the herald called upon the Bears to "go a-laughing," the skin of the Laugh-maker was almost dry, but they knew nothing of it. They went away as usual, and left the young man alone with his son. But he, knowing that his wife's kinsfolk would kill him when they discovered what he had done, took the skin for a quiver and went homeward with his child.



TWENTY-SECOND EVENING

THE RUNAWAYS



TWENTY-SECOND EVENING

"Some say," remarks Grandfather, "that the hero of the story I am about to tell you is the same as the kind-hearted young man of whom you heard not long ago—Mashtinna, the Rabbit. You will remember that he was uncommonly handsome as well as generous. This time he falls in love, and there is a wicked old woman in the way; but you will learn some day that true love is able to defy and to outwit all its enemies!"

THE RUNAWAYS

There was once a young man who had journeyed a long way from home in search of adventure. One day he came to a strange village on the border of a great wood, but while yet some distance from the lodges, he happened to glance upward. In the boughs of a tree just above his head he saw a light scaffold, and on the scaffold a maiden sitting at her needle-work.

Instead of boldly entering the village, as he had intended, the youth walked on a little way, then turned and again passed under the tree. He did this several times, and each time he looked up, for the girl was the prettiest that he had ever seen.

He did not show himself to the people, but for several days he lingered on the borders of the wood, and at last he ventured to speak with the maiden and to ask her to be his wife. She did not seem to be at all unwilling; however, she said to him:

"You must be very careful, for my grandmother does not wish me to marry. She is a very wicked old woman, and has thus far succeeded in killing every one of my suitors."

"In that case, we must run away," the young man replied. "To-night, when your grandmother is asleep, pull up some of the tent-pins and come out. I shall be waiting for you!"

The girl did as he had said, and that same night they fled together and by morning were far from the village.

However, the maiden kept looking over her shoulder as if fearing pursuit, and at last her lover said to her:

"Why do you continue to look behind you? They will not have missed you until daylight, and it is quite certain now that no one can overtake us!"

"Ah," she replied, "my grandmother has powerful magic! She can cover a whole day's journey at one step, and I am convinced that she is upon our trail."

"In that case, you shall see that I too know something of magic," returned the young man. Forthwith he threw down one of his mittens, and lo! their trail was changed to the trail of a Buffalo. He threw down the other mitten, and it became the carcass of a Buffalo lying at the end of the trail.

"She will follow thus far and no farther," he declared; but the maiden shook her head, and ceased not from time to time to glance over her shoulder as they hastened onward.

In truth it was not long till she perceived the old woman in the distance, coming on with great strides and shaking her cane and her gray head at the runaways.

"Now it is my turn!" the girl exclaimed, and threw down her comb, which became a thick forest behind the fleeing ones, so that the angry old woman was held back by the dense underbrush.

When she had come out of the forest at last and was again gaining upon them, the girl threw her awl over her shoulder and it became a chain of mountains with high peaks and sharp precipices, so that the grandmother was kept back longer than before. Nevertheless, her magic was strong, and she still struggled on after the lovers.

In the meantime, they had come to the bank of a river both wide and deep, and here they stood for a while doubting how they should cross, for there was neither boat nor ford. However, there were two Cranes near by, and to these the young man addressed himself.

"My friends," said he, "I beg of you to stand on the opposite banks of this river and stretch your necks across, so that we may cross in safety! Only do this, and I will give to each of you a fine ornament for your breast, and long fringes on your leggings, so that you will hereafter be called the handsomest of birds!"



The Cranes were willing to oblige, and they stood thus with their beaks touching over the stream, so that the lovers crossed on their long necks in safety.

"Now," exclaimed the young man, "I must ask of you one more favor! If an old woman should come down to the river and seek your help, place your heads together once more as if to allow her to cross, but when she is half way over you must draw back and let her fall in mid-stream. Do this, and I promise you that you shall never be in want!"

In a little while the old woman came down to the river, quite out of breath, and more angry than before. As soon as she noticed the two Cranes, she began to scold and order them about.

"Come here, you long-necks, you ungainly creatures, come and help me over this river!" she cried.

The two Cranes again stood beak to beak, but when the wicked grandmother had crossed half way they pulled in their necks and into the water she went, screaming out threats and abuse as she whirled through the air. The current swept her quickly away and she was drowned, for there is no magic so strong that it will prevail against true love.



TWENTY-THIRD EVENING

THE GIRL WHO MARRIED THE STAR



TWENTY-THIRD EVENING

"Ah, here is our little Humming-bird, always the first to raise the door-flap!" is the old teacher's pleasant greeting.

"That is because I do not want to lose one word of your good stories, Grandfather," murmurs the little maiden, with her pretty, upward glance and bashful smile.

"I have one for you to-night that ought to please you," he answers thoughtfully. "You know the shining Star people in the heavens above us—you have gazed upon them and doubtless dreamed that you were among them. We believe them to be a higher race than ours. Listen, then, to my story."

THE GIRL WHO MARRIED THE STAR

There were once two sisters who lived alone in an uninhabited place. This was a long time ago, when the tribes upon earth were few, and the animal people were friendly to man. The name of one of the girls was Earth, and the other was called Water.

All their food was brought to them by their animal friends. The Bears supplied them with nuts, berries and wild turnips, and the Bees brought combs dripping with honey. They ate no flesh, for that would be to take life. They dwelt in a lodge made of birch-bark, and their beds were mats woven of rushes.

One clear, summer night the girls lay awake upon their beds, looking up through the smoke-hole of their wigwam and telling one another all their thoughts.

"Sister," said the Earth, "I have seen a handsome young man in my dreams, and it seemed to me that he came from up yonder!"

"I too have seen a man in my dreams," replied her sister, "and he was a great brave."

"Do you not think these bright stars above us are the sky men of whom we have dreamed?" suggested the Earth.

"If that is true, sister, and it may be true," said the Water, "I choose that brightest Star for my husband!"

"And I," declared her sister, "choose for my husband that little twinkling Star!"

By and by the sisters slept; and when they awoke, they found themselves in the sky! The husband of the elder sister who had chosen the bright star was an old warrior with a shining name, but the husband of the younger girl was a fine-looking young man, who had as yet no great reputation.

The Star men were kind to their wives, who lived very happily in their new home. One day they went out to dig wild turnips, and the old warrior said to his wife:

"When you are digging, you must not hit the ground too hard!"

The younger man also warned his wife, saying:

"Do not hit the ground too hard!"

However, the Earth forgot, and in her haste she struck the ground so hard with the sharp-pointed stick with which she dug turnips, that the floor of the sky was broken and she fell through.

Two very old people found the poor girl lying in the meadow.

They kindly made for her a little wigwam of pine boughs, and brought ferns for her bed. The old woman nursed her as well as she could, but she did nothing but wail and cry.

"Let me go to him!" she begged. "I cannot live without my husband!"

Night came, and the stars appeared in the sky as usual. Only the little twinkling Star did not appear, for he was now a widower and had painted his face quite black.

The poor wife waited for him a long time, but he did not come, because he could not. At last she slept, and dreamed she saw a tiny red Star in the sky that had not been there before.

"Ah!" said she, "that is Red Star, my son!"

In the morning she found at her side a pretty little boy, a Star Boy, who afterward grew to be a handsome young man and had many adventures. His guides by night through the pathless woods were the Star children of his mother's sister, his cousins in the sky.



TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING

NORTH WIND AND STAR BOY



TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING

"Hun, hun, hay! Old man Wazeya, the North Wind, is again on the war-path! You are brave children to come out to-night! See, he shakes his downy feather robe, and the little snow-flakes fly fast and faster! He gives his war-whoop, and cowards seek the safe shelter of their own wigwams. You are no cowards, I am sure of that, so I shall tell you of the battle between Wazeya and one of our great heroes, the son of a mortal maiden and a Star."

NORTH WIND AND STAR BOY

In the very old days at the beginning of things, Star Boy went about the world as a champion, defending all feeble folk against the attacks of their enemies.

The champion was so strong that he could not bend his bow of wood without breaking it, therefore he armed himself with a bone bow, a bone knife and a stone war-club.

One day, he came to the village of the Frogs, who poured out of their lodges to meet him and set before him food, but no water. "He who goes to the water," said they, "never returns. A great warrior lies there who has swallowed many of us alive, and now we are perishing of thirst!"

Star Boy himself was so thirsty that after he had eaten, he went down to the water, and was instantly swallowed by Tamahay, the Pickerel. But with his bone knife he slashed the Pickerel in the gills and escaped; after which he warned the big fish, saying: "Be careful how you wantonly destroy this people, for some day they will be used to destroy you!"



He then went on his way, as far as another village of Little People, who complained that they had no fire-wood.

"We dare not go to the wood any more," they said, "for there a fierce warrior lives who swoops down from above and devours us!"

Star Boy at once went to the wood, where he was attacked by Hinhan, the Owl. Him he easily conquered with his stone war-club. "Because of your cruelty," he said to the Owl, "the sun shall blind you hereafter, so that you can hunt only in the dark, when the Mouse people are advised to take to their holes and hiding-places."

Now Star Boy travelled northward, until he had reached the very northernmost country, and in that far land he found a people in great distress. That was because they feared Wazeya, the North Wind, who drove away the buffalo herds so that they had no meat. "And when he points his finger at one of us," said they, "that man dies!"

"Come, let us hunt the buffalo!" said Star Boy to them; and although they were starving, they were afraid and unwilling to go. However, he made some of the men go out with him, and upon the open plain they met with North Wind, who at once challenged the champion to do battle. The two rushed upon one another with great fury, and in the first onset Star Boy broke the bow of North Wind; but in the second, Star Boy was overthrown and lay as one dead.

However, after a time he got up again, and they met for the third bout, when lo! neither could prevail against the other, so that in the midst of the fight they were obliged to sit upon a snowbank to rest. Star Boy sat upon his calf-skin and fanned himself with an eagle-wing, and immediately the snow began to melt and the North Wind was forced to retreat. Before he went away, he made a treaty of peace with Star Boy, promising to come to earth for half the year only, and to give timely warning of his approach, so that the people might prepare for his coming and lay up food against the day of scarcity. By this means the winter and summer were established among us.



TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING

THE TEN VIRGINS



TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING

The strong sun of March still hovers over the deep blue lake, and last night's snow flurry has quite vanished from the pleasant, brown face of our Grandmother Earth, when the children arrive at Smoky Day's wide-open doorway. There is a tang in the air and a stir in the blood to-night that moves the old man to tell a tale of youth and adventure. And this is the tale:

THE TEN VIRGINS

There were once two brothers who loved one maiden, and it appeared that the younger brother was the favorite. One day, the jealous elder invited his brother to go hunting with him upon an island in the great lake, a day's journey in canoes from their village.

No sooner had they touched shore than the elder said:

"Do you go to the other end of the island, and I will drive the Deer toward you!"

The other obeyed; but although he waited a long time on the further side, no Deer appeared, nor did he see anything of his brother. At last he returned through the woods to the spot where they had landed; and behold! the canoe with his brother was almost out of sight on the blue waters of the lake.

The young man, thus abandoned, wandered about the island for many days, living upon the game which he found there in abundance. He had grown very lonely and tired of his solitary life, when one day a strange old man with long, white hair appeared on the shore.

"My son," said he, "you look unhappy! Tell me if there is anything you wish for."

"I want nothing except to cross the water to the mainland," replied the young man, "but I have no boat nor the means of making one."

"Get upon my back, and I will take you over in safety," returned the patriarch. Accordingly he took him upon his back and swam across the lake with his burden.

Now the young man was grateful to his rescuer and he no longer cared to return to his own people and to the brother who had betrayed him, therefore he went with the old man to his wigwam to hunt for him.

One day, when he was out hunting as usual, he thought he heard the far-off, musical sound of girls' laughter from the depths of the forest. He turned in the direction of the sound and soon came upon a broad trail, which he followed until he was overtaken by nine young men, all running eagerly along the same trail.

They at once made him join their company, saying that they had needed just one more to complete their number. The ten hastened on, and presently they overtook ten beautiful young damsels. Night fell, and they all went into camp together on the shore of the great lake.

The girls were very friendly and chatted pleasantly with the young men during the evening, until each party retired to sleep under a hurriedly made arbor of green boughs.

Very early in the morning the youths awoke; but lo! their companions had vanished, and they could see only the flash of a distant paddle where lake met sky at the far-off horizon line.



There was no boat, and they were about to go back in despair, when the young man who had last joined the party spied a little mussel shell at the edge of the water, and invited them to step in. At first they were doubtful and hung back; but in the end one ventured and stepped into the shell, which bore up his weight. Then another and another followed, until the ten men stood upon the shell, which had become a fine large canoe, and carried them all in safety to the opposite shore.

There they beheld the great white wigwam in which dwelt the ten virgins with their grandmother, who was a wicked old witch.

As soon as she saw the young men she took up handfuls of ashes to throw into their faces, and one after another fell senseless at her feet.

Last of all came the fortunate younger brother. He had borrowed the weapons of the old man with whom he lived, and it chanced that this man was a greater wonder-worker even than the witch. Therefore he had merely turned toward her his magic shield to keep off the shower of ashes, when the old woman lost all her power to hurt, and at once each lusty young man sprang quickly up to claim his bride.



TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING

THE MAGIC ARROWS



TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING

The wise and old heads among the Indians love children's company, and none is more sorry than Smoky Day when the village breaks up for the spring hunt, and story-telling is over for the season.

"I hope," he says kindly, "that you have listened so well to these tales of our people, and repeated them so often that you will never forget them!"

"We have, grandfather, we have!" they reply in chorus.

"We must not only remember and repeat," he continues, "but we must consider and follow their teachings, for it is so that these legends that have come down to us from the old time are kept alive by each new generation. There is much to learn from the story of one who was so modest that he took the form of a ragged and homeless little boy, and did his good deeds in secret."

THE MAGIC ARROWS

There was once a young man who wanted to go on a journey. His mother provided him with sacks of dried meat and pairs of moccasins, but his father said to him:

"Here, my son, are four magic arrows. When you are in need, shoot one of them!"

The young man went forth alone, and hunted in the forest for many days. Usually he was successful, but a day came when he was hungry and could not find meat. Then he sent forth one of the magic arrows, and at the end of the day there lay a fat Bear with the arrow in his side. The hunter cut out the tongue for his meal, and of the body of the Bear he made a thank-offering to the Great Mystery.



Again he was in need, and again in the morning he shot a magic arrow, and at nightfall beside his camp-fire he found an Elk lying with the arrow in his heart. Once more he ate the tongue and offered up the body as a sacrifice. The third time he killed a Moose with his arrow, and the fourth time a Buffalo.

After the fourth arrow had been spent, the young man came one day out of the forest, and before him there lay a great circular village of skin lodges. At one side, and some little way from the rest of the people, he noticed a small and poor tent where an old couple lived all alone. At the edge of the wood he took off his clothes and hid them in a hollow tree. Then, touching the top of his head with his staff, he turned himself into a little ragged boy and went toward the poor tent.

The old woman saw him coming, and said to her old man: "Old man, let us keep this little boy for our own! He seems to be a fine, bright-eyed little fellow, and we are all alone."

"What are you thinking of, old woman?" grumbled the old man. "We can hardly keep ourselves, and yet you talk of taking in a ragged little scamp from nobody knows where!"

In the meantime the boy had come quite near, and the old wife beckoned to him to enter the lodge.

"Sit down, my grandson, sit down!" she said, kindly; and, in spite of the old man's black looks, she handed him a small dish of parched corn, which was all the food they had.

The boy ate and stayed on. By and by he said to the old woman: "Grandmother, I should like to have grandfather make me some arrows!"

"You hear, my old man?" said she. "It will be very well for you to make some little arrows for the boy."

"And why should I make arrows for a strange little ragged boy?" grumbled the old man.

However, he made two or three, and the boy went hunting. In a short time he returned with several small birds. The old woman took them and pulled off the feathers, thanking him and praising him as she did so. She quickly made the little birds into soup, of which the old man ate gladly, and with the soft feathers she stuffed a small pillow.

"You have done well, my grandson!" he said; for they were really very poor.

Not long after, the boy said to his adopted grandmother: "Grandmother, when you see me at the edge of the wood yonder, you must call out: 'A Bear! there goes a Bear!'"

This she did, and the boy again sent forth one of the magic arrows, which he had taken from the body of his game and kept by him. No sooner had he shot, than he saw the same Bear that he had offered up, lying before him with the arrow in his side!

Now there was great rejoicing in the lodge of the poor old couple. While they were out skinning the Bear and cutting the meat in thin strips to dry, the boy sat alone in the lodge. In the pot on the fire was the Bear's tongue, which he wanted for himself.

All at once a young girl stood in the doorway. She drew her robe modestly before her face as she said in a low voice:

"I come to borrow the mortar of your grandmother!"

The boy gave her the mortar, and also a piece of the tongue which he had cooked, and she went away.

When all of the Bear meat was gone, the boy sent forth a second arrow and killed an Elk, and with the third and fourth he shot the Moose and the Buffalo as before, each time recovering his arrow.



Soon after, he heard that the people of the large village were in trouble. A great Red Eagle, it was said, flew over the village every day at dawn, and the people believed that it was a bird of evil omen, for they no longer had any success in hunting. None of their braves had been able to shoot the Eagle, and the chief had offered his only daughter in marriage to the man who should kill it.

When the boy heard this, he went out early the next morning and lay in wait for the Red Eagle. At the touch of his magic arrow, it fell at his feet, and the boy pulled out his arrow and went home without speaking to any one.

But the thankful people followed him to the poor little lodge, and when they had found him, they brought the chief's beautiful daughter to be his wife. Lo, she was the girl who had come to borrow his grandmother's mortar!

Then he went back to the hollow tree where his clothes were hidden, and came back a handsome young man, richly dressed for his wedding.



TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING

THE GHOST WIFE



TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING

On this last evening, the children are told to be especially quiet, and to listen reverently and earnestly, "for these are the greater things of which I am about to tell you," says their old teacher.

"You have heard that the Great Mystery is everywhere. He is in the earth and the water, heat and cold, rocks and trees, sun and sky; and He is also in us. When the spirit departs, that too is a mystery, and therefore we do not speak aloud the name of the dead. There are wonders all about us, and within, but if we are quiet and obedient to the voice of the spirit, sometime we may understand these mysteries!"

It is thus the old sage concludes his lessons, and over all the circle there is a hush of loving reverence.

THE GHOST WIFE

There was once a young man who loved to be alone, and who often stayed away from the camp for days at a time, when it was said that Wolves, Bears and other wild creatures joined him in his rovings.

He was once seen with several Deer about him, petting and handling them; but when the Deer discovered the presence of a stranger, they snorted with fear and quickly vanished. It was supposed that he had learned their language. All the birds answered his call, and even those fairy-like creatures of the air, the butterflies, would come to him freely and alight upon his body.



One day, as he was lying in the meadow among the wild flowers, completely covered with butterflies of the most brilliant hues, as if it were a gorgeous cloak that he was wearing, there suddenly appeared before him a beautiful young girl.

The youth was startled, for he knew her face. He had seen her often; it was the chiefs daughter, the prettiest maiden in the village, who had died ten days before!

The truth was that she had loved this young man in secret, but he had given no thought to her, for he cared only for the wild creatures and had no mind for human ways. Now, as she stood silently before him with downcast eyes, he looked upon her pure face and graceful form, and there awoke in his heart the love that he had never felt before.

"But she is a spirit now!" he said to himself sorrowfully, and dared not speak to her.

However, she smiled archly upon him, in his strange and beautiful garment, for she read his thoughts. Toward sunset, the butterflies flew away, and with them the ghost maiden departed.

After this the young man was absent more than ever, and no one knew that the spirit of the maiden came to him in the deep woods. He built for her a lodge of pine boughs, and there she would come to cook his venison and to mend his moccasins, and sit with him beside his lonely camp-fire.

But at last he was not content with this and begged her to go with him to the village, for his mother and kinsfolk would not allow him to remain always away from them.

"Ah, my spirit wife," he begged, "can you not return with me to my people, so that I may have a home in their sight?"

"It may be so," she replied thoughtfully, "if you will carefully observe my conditions. First, we must pitch our tent a little apart from the rest of the people. Second, you must patiently bear with my absences and the strangeness of my behavior, for I can only visit them and they me in the night time. Third, you must never raise your voice in our teepee, and above all, let me never hear you speak roughly to a child in my presence!"

"All these I will observe faithfully," replied the young husband.

Now it happened that after a longer absence than usual, he was seen to come home with a wife. They pitched their tent some way from the village, and the people saw at a distance the figure of a graceful young woman moving about the solitary white teepee. But whenever any of his relatives approached to congratulate him and to bid her welcome, she would take up her axe and go forth into the forest as if to cut wood for her fire, or with her bucket for water.

At night, however, they came to see the young couple and found her at home, but it appeared very strange that she did not speak to any of them, not even by signs, though she smiled so graciously and sweetly that they all loved her. Her husband explained that the girl was of another race who have these strange ways, and by and by the people became used to them, and even ceased to wonder why they could never find her at home in the day time.

So they lived happily together, and in due time children came to them; first a boy, and a little girl afterward. But one night the father came home tired and hungry from the hunt, and the little one cried loudly and would not be quieted. Then for the first time he forgot his promise and spoke angrily to the mother and child.

Instantly the fire went out and the tent was dark.

When he had kindled the fire again, he saw that he was alone, nor did tears and searchings avail to find his wife and children. Alas, they were gone from him forever!

THE END