t strangers. From this time, I shall shake
hands with strangers, and bid them welcome. From this time, I shall be a
man and live under the law of men."

"Then," said the dogs sadly, "we shall no longer be able to talk with
you, and tell you the things that we know. But we will always stand by
you. We will be your friends and will fight for you, when you need us as
you did to-day."

This is why the Indian and his dog are now unable to speak each other's
language. This is also why an Indian's dog will fight to the death for
his friend.

Not only is the dog a true friend to the Indian in this world, but in
the next as well. It seems that the soul of an Indian on its journey to
the Happy Hunting Ground must cross a deep, swift-running stream. On
either side of this dark river, there stand two dogs who hold in their
teeth a great log upon which the souls pass.

The soul of the Indian who has been kind to his dog crosses the log
easily, for the dogs stand guard. As the soul of such an Indian reaches
the river, they say, "This Indian was kind to his dog. He gave him of
his own food, and the dog always had a warm place by his fire. We will
help this Indian to cross."

Then the dogs grip the log firmly in their teeth, and hold it steady
while the soul of the kind Indian passes over.

But if the soul of an Indian who has been unkind to his dog comes to the
river, the dogs say, "This man was cruel to his dog. He gave his dog no
place by the fire, he beat him, he let him go hungry. This man shall not
cross."

Then the dogs grip the log lightly in their teeth, and when the soul of
the unkind Indian is half way across, they turn it quickly to one side,
and the soul is thrown into the deep, dark river.

Many an Indian has been kind to his dog, that he might make sure of a
safe crossing on that log.

GREEDY FAWN AND THE PORRIDGE

[Illustration]

In the days when there was no one living in this country but the
Indians, there were no houses; there were only Indian wigwams. There
were no roads and no streets, but Indian trails.

At that time there grew a wonderful chestnut, which the Indians used in
their cooking. A very small bit of this chestnut grated into a kettle
would make a potful of porridge.

[Illustration]

In a certain wigwam lived Deerheart and Sky Elk, and their little son
Greedy Fawn. The mother was called Deerheart because she was so loving,
and gentle, and kind. The father was named Sky Elk becau