eaten his fill by the time the
Camel had barely taken a mouthful. The little Jackal had no mind to
wait for his slow friend; he wanted to be off home again, about his
business. So he ran round and round the sugar-cane field, and as he
ran he sang and shouted, and made a great hullabaloo.

Of course, the villagers heard him at once.

"There is a Jackal in the sugar-cane," they said; "he will dig holes
and destroy the roots; we must go down and drive him out." So they
came down, with sticks and stones. When they got there, there was no
Jackal to be seen; but they saw the great Camel, eating away at the
juicy sugar-cane. They ran at him and beat him, and stoned him, and
drove him away half dead.

When they had gone, leaving the poor Camel half killed, the little
Jackal came dancing back from somewhere or other.

"I think it's time to go home, now," he said; "don't you?"

"Well, you ARE a pretty friend!" said the Camel. "The idea of your
making such a noise, with your shouting and singing! You brought this
upon me. What in the world made you do it? Why did you shout and
sing?"

"Oh, I don't know WHY," said the little Jackal,--"I always sing after
dinner!"

"So?" said the Camel, "Ah, very well, let us go home now."

He took the little Jackal kindly on his back and started into the
water. When he began to swim he swam out to where the river was the
very deepest. There he stopped, and said,--

"Oh, Jackal!"

"Yes," said the little Jackal.

"I have the strangest feeling," said the Camel,--"I feel as if I must
roll over."

"'Roll over'!" cried the Jackal. "My goodness, don't do that! If you
do that, you'll drown me! What in the world makes you want to do such
a crazy thing? Why should you want to roll over?"

"Oh, I don't know WHY," said the Camel slowly, "but I always roll over
after dinner!"

So he rolled over.

And the little Jackal was drowned, for his sins, but the Camel came
safely home.

THE GULLS OF SALT LAKE

The story I am going to tell you is about something that really
happened, many years ago, when most of the mothers and fathers of the
children here were not born, themselves. At that time, nearly all the
people in the United States lived between the Atlantic Ocean and the
Mississippi River. Beyond were plains, reaching to the foot of the
mighty Rocky Mountains, where Indians and wild beasts roamed. The only
white men there were a few hunters and trappers.

One year a bra