l and low fire.

Shaking and trembling he sat there, hearing nothing but the tempest as
it roared through the forest, seeing nothing but the snowstorm as it
whirled and hissed and drifted.

All the coals became white with ashes, and the fire was slowly dying.
Suddenly the wind blew aside the door of the lodge, and there came in a
most beautiful maiden.

Her cheeks were like the wild rose, her eyes were soft and glowed like
the stars in springtime; and her hair was as brown as October's nuts.

Her dress was of ferns and sweet grasses, her moccasins were of white
lilies, on her head was a wreath of wild flowers, and in her hands were
beautiful blossoms. When she breathed, the air became warm and fragrant.

"Ah, my daughter," exclaimed the old man. "Happy are my eyes to see you.
Sit here on the mat beside me; sit here by the dying embers. Tell me of
your strange adventures, and I will tell you of my deeds of wonder."

From his pouch he drew his peace pipe, very old and strangely fashioned.
He filled the pipe with bark of willow, and placed a burning coal upon
it.

Then he said, "I am Manito, the Mighty. When I blow my breath about me,
the rivers become motionless and the waters hard as stone."

The maiden smiling said, "When I blow my breath about me, flowers spring
up over all the meadows. And all the rivers rush onward, singing songs
of joy."

"When I shake my hoary tresses," said the old man, darkly frowning, "all
the ground is covered with snow. All the leaves fade and wither."

"When I shake my flowing ringlets," said the maiden, "the warm rains
fall over all the land."

Then proudly the old man replied, "When I walk through the forest,
everything flees before me. The animals hide in their holes. The birds
rise from the lakes and the marshes, and fly to distant regions."

Softly the maiden answered, "When I walk through the forest, all is
bright and joyous. The animals come from their holes. The birds return
to the lakes and marshes. The leaves come back to the trees. The plants
lift up their heads to kiss the breezes. And where-ever my footsteps
wander, all the meadows wave their blossoms, all the woodlands ring with
music."

II

While they talked, the night departed. From his shining lodge of silver
came the sun. The air was warm and pleasant; the streams began to
murmur; the birds began to sing. And a scent of growing grasses was
wafted through the lodge.

The old man's face dropped upon his