aid to her little brother: "I am going away to find our brother
who has taken up his abode in the villages. I will come back in a few
moons. Stay you here."

But she married in the villages, and did not return.

The little brother was left all alone, and lived on roots and berries. He
one day found a den of young wolves and fed them, and the mother-wolf
seemed so friendly that he visited her daily. So he made the acquaintance
of the great wolf family, and came to like them, and roam about with them,
and he no longer was lonesome or wished for the company of men.

One day the pack of wolves came near the villages, and the little boy saw
his brother fishing and his sister weaving under a tree. He drew near
them, and they recognized him.

"Come to us, little brother," said they, sorry that they had left him to
the animals.

"No--no!" said he. "I would rather be a wolf. The wolves have been kinder
to me than you.

"My brother,
My brother,
I am turning--
am turning
Into a wolf.
You made me so!

"My sister,
My sister,
I am turning--
I am turning
Into a wolf.
You made me so!"

"O little brother, forgive me," said the sister; "forgive me!"

"It is too late now. See, I _am_ a wolf!"

He howled, and ran away with the pack of wolves, and they never saw him
again.

* * * * *

"Jason Lee, be good to my people when I am gone, lest they become like the
little brother.

"Victor Trevette, be good to my people when I am gone, lest they become
like the little brother."

The tall form of Marlowe Mann now appeared before the open entrance of the
lodge. The Yankee schoolmaster had been listening to the story. The old
chief bent his eye upon him, and said, "And, Boston tilicum, do you be
good to Benjamin when I am gone, so that he shall not become like the
little brother."

"You may play, Gretchen, now--it is a solemn hour; the voices of the gods
should speak."

Gretchen took her violin. Standing near the door of the tent, she raised
it to her arm, and the strains of some old German music rose in the
glimmering air, and drifted over the Columbia.

"I think that there are worlds around this," said the old chief. "The
Great Spirit is good."

The sun was going down. High in the air the wild fowls were flying, with
the bright light yet on their wings. The glaciers of Mount Hood were
flushed with crimson--a sea of glass mingle