w to set up three
sticks so they would stand for many days.

"Now go into the wood, set up your sticks, and leave your quarrel
there," she said. "When the Berry Moon has passed, you shall return and
see if the sticks are still standing.

"If they lean toward the rising sun, Lightning Bow was right. If they
lean toward the setting sun, Flying Squirrel won. If they have fallen
down, neither was right and neither won."

Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel went into the wood and set up their
sticks. Then they began to throw balls with willow wands, and soon they
were happy again.

* * * * *

The sun had risen and set many times. The Berry Moon had passed. It was
the Thunder Moon, when White Fawn said to Lightning Bow and Flying
Squirrel, "Today you may go into the wood and see if your sticks are
still standing."

Hand in hand, the two little Indian boys ran into the wood. They found
only a heap of rotting sticks.

Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow stood and looked at the sticks. They
thought and thought.

"What did we set up the sticks for?" each asked of the other.

And for the life of them they could not remember what they had quarreled
about, and why they had set up the sticks!

HOW MICE OVERCAME THE WARRIORS

Once a tribe of the Iroquois became very warlike and cruel. They liked
to follow the warpath rather than the hunting trails.

These warriors thought only of the war dance. They forgot to give thanks
for the sweet waters of the maple, and for the planting season. Neither
did they remember to praise the Great Spirit, in song and dance, for the
juicy strawberries, and the waving green corn, as once they had done.

To fight was the one desire of their lives, the one thought that filled
their minds. They boasted that none were so fierce and bloodthirsty as
they.

"Our arrows fall like leaves of the pine," they said, "and always are
they red with blood. Our war shirts have many scalp locks on them."

One day, a dispute arose with a neighboring tribe of their nation. The
Peace Wigwam was not far away, but these warriors would not take their
quarrel to it, as was the custom. The fighting Indians would have none
of the Peace Wigwam.

[Illustration]

"Let the women and papooses sit in the sun at the door of the Peace
Wigwam," they said scornfully. "Chiefs are for the warpath."

A fierce cry was raised, and the war dance was begun. The chiefs painted
their bodies, d