game which had disappeared as suddenly as though
the earth had swallowed them. The hunter traveled the whole day, all to
no purpose. It was late in the evening when he staggered into camp. He
was nearly dead with fatigue. Hastily swallowing a cup of cherry bark
tea (the only article of food they had in store), he at once retired
and was soon in the sweet land of dreams. The children soon joined their
father and the poor woman sat thinking how they could save their dear
children from starvation. Suddenly out upon the night air rang the cry
of a crane. Instantly the pet crane awoke, stepped outside and answered
the call. The crane which had given the cry was the father of the pet
crane, and learning from Mr. Fox of the starving condition of his son
and his friends, he flew to the hunting grounds of the tribe, and as
there had been a good kill that day, the crane found no trouble in
securing a great quantity of fat. This he carried to the tent of the
hunter and, hovering over the tent he suddenly let the fat drop to
the earth and at once the pet crane picked it up and carried it to the
woman.

Wishing to surprise the family on their awakening in the morning she
got a good stick for a light, heaped up sticks on the dying embers, and
started up a rousing fire and proceeded to melt or try out the fat, as
melted fat is considered a favorite dish. Although busily occupied she
kept her ears open for any strange noises coming out of the forest,
there being usually some enemies lurking around. She held her pan in
such a position that after the fat started to melt and quite a lot of
the hot grease accumulated in the pan, she could plainly see the tent
door reflected in the hot grease, as though she used a mirror.

When she had nearly completed her task, she heard a noise as though some
footsteps were approaching. Instantly her heart began to beat a tattoo
on her ribs, but she sat perfectly quiet, calling all her self-control
into play to keep from making an outcry. This smart woman had already
studied out a way in which to best this enemy, in case an enemy it
should be. The footsteps, or noise, continued to advance, until at last
the woman saw reflected in the pan of grease a hand slowly protruding
through the tent door, and the finger pointed, as if counting, to the
sleeping father, then to each one of the sleeping children, then to her
who sat at the fire. Little did Mr. Enemy suppose that the brave woman
who sat so composed at