n frail birch-bark
canoes, and had no fear of anything that ran, or stalked, or flew. But
the Indian boy about which this story is told was afraid of all the
wild creatures of the forest. He never ventured far away from the safe
circle of his home campfire. Most of all was the boy afraid of Hoots,
the bear.

This was because Hoots was a part of the forest. He hid himself by
day, for he was afraid of bows and swift flying arrows. But at night,
the bear prowled near the Indian camp, and could be heard from one end
of the forest to the other, his great feet crunching through the dried
bushes and twigs.

In those days the Indians believed that a good spirit, called the
manito, watched over them, and guided them, and kept them from harm.
The story tells that the manito was walking one day through the trees
of the forest when he saw this little Indian boy, hiding behind a pine
tree and giving loud cries of terror.

"What is this that I hear?" asked the manito. "No Indian boy ever
cries. Come forth that I may see who the coward is, and learn of what
he is afraid."

So the boy came out from behind the pine tree and spoke to the
manito,

"I have been sent with my bow and arrows to hunt for food for my
mother to cook," he said, "but I can go no farther in the forest. I am
afraid of Hoots, the great bear, who lives in it."

"You should be afraid of nothing, my son, not even of Hoots, the
bear," warned the manito.

"But I can't help being afraid of Hoots; I think that he may eat me,"
said the boy, and at that he began crying again, "Boo-hoo, boo-hoo."

"There shall be no coward among the Indians," said the manito. "And I
see that you will always be afraid. I shall change your form into that
of a bird. Whenever any one looks at you, he will say, 'There is the
bird that is the most timid of all.'"

As the manito finished speaking, the Indian boy's deerskin cloak fell
to the ground; his bow and arrows dropped too, for he had no longer
any hands with which to hold them. He was suddenly completely covered
with a coat of soft gray feathers. His moccasins fell off, and his
feet turned into the wee feet of a bird. He wanted to call his mother,
but his voice had changed to the plaintive call of a dove, and the
only sound he was able to make was, "Hoo, hoo!"

"You are now the dove," said the manito, "and you will be a dove as
long as you live. Of all birds you will be the shyest. And every one
who sees you and hears your call w