e, as he took his
pipe out of his mouth.

"Hurrah for Nanahboozhoo!" shouted the lad.

This outburst on the part of Sagastao at once attracted the attention of
the others to him and Minnehaha wanted to know what was the matter now.

"Why, did you not hear? Souwanas says that Nanahboozhoo gave the ducks the
red eyes and makes the rabbits to be white in winter and brown in summer."
Then turning to Souwanas he asked, "How does Nanahboozhoo do it?"

Here the father, while amused at the lad's enthusiasm, interposed, and
said:

"You have already kept Souwanas a long time, and perhaps he is busy."

"Busy!" said the irrepressible Sagastao, who was shrewd beyond his years.
"Busy! Why Souwanas would rather tell stories than do anything else--unless
to smoke his pipe."

Then he glibly told Souwanas in Saulteaux what had passed between him and
his father in English, and added, "Is that not so, Souwanas?"

The old Indian smiled, and said kindly:

"How can I help enjoying telling stories when I have such good little
listeners?"

"But what about his dinner?" asked the kind-hearted Minnehaha. "If we keep
him here telling stories he will be too late to get back to his wigwam for
his dinner. I think we had better take him home with us."

This was quickly decided upon, and that there might be no mistake a piece
of bark was quickly cut from a birch tree and a few lines written upon it
telling the good mother in the home that they had met Souwanas, and that he
was entertaining the children with Nanahboozhoo stories and would be with
them to dinner. Then Jack, the great dog, was called and sent back with the
missive, with orders to give it to his mistress.

As the dog dashed away homeward the mischievous Sagastao said:

"My! don't I wish I was in the kitchen when Mary hears that we are out here
with Souwanas listening to stories about Nanahboozhoo! Won't she be hopping
mad!"

"It will be better," said his father, "for Souwanas to tell his story than
for you to make any further remarks of that kind."

At first Souwanas seemed to show some hesitancy in beginning his story in
the presence of his missionary, and he whispered to Sagastao his fears that
perhaps his father would not care for such trifles as Indian legends and
stories.

With his usual bluntness, the lad declared:

"O, you don't know our father if you think that way about him. He loves
nice stories as well as we do, and tells us lots of them; so go ahead, for
you