the white bear saw only a little pile of gray ashes. He
laughed so loudly that the boy awoke and snatched up his bow and arrows.

But the white bear ran away to his cave, still growling laughingly. He
knew that no human being could live in that cruelly cold north country
without fire.

Now when the white bear was gone, the little gray robin hopped near.
Her chirp was quite sad. She, too, saw nothing but a little heap of
ashes as gray as her own feathers.

She hopped nearer. She scratched among the ashes with her cold little
claws. She looked eagerly at each cinder with her sharp little eyes.
She found--a tiny live coal.

It was only the tiniest spark! The least flake of the fast-falling
snow would put it out!

The little gray robin hovered over it that the cold wind might not
reach the spark. She fanned it softly with her wings for a long, long
time.

The gray robin hovered so close that the coal touched her gray breast.
As she fanned it glowed larger and redder. Her breast was scorched
quite red, as the coal grew.

But the robin did not leave until a fine red flame blazed up.

Then the robin with her poor scorched red breast flew away. She flew
wearily, for she was very tired. Now and again she touched the ground.

And wherever the robin's red breast touched the earth a fire was
kindled. Soon the whole north country was blazing with tiny fires over
which the Eskimos might cook their food and dry their clothes.

The white bear crept far, far back into his cave. He growled fiercely.
He knew now that he could never have the north country to himself.

[1] Adapted from Flora J. Cook's "Nature Myths," by permission of A.
Flanigan, Chicago.

WHICH WAS THE WISER?[1]

One morning in the early spring a raven was sitting on one of the
branches of an old oak. He felt very ugly and cross, and could only
say, "Croak! Croak!"

Soon a little robin, who was looking for a place to build her nest,
came, with a merry song, into the same tree. "Good morning to you,"
she said to the raven.

But the raven made no answer; he only looked at the clouds and croaked
something about the cold wind. "I said good morning to you," said the
robin, hopping from branch to branch.

"You seem very merry this morning about nothing," croaked the raven.

"Why should I not be merry?" asked the robin. "Spring has come, and
everybody should be glad and happy."

"I am not happy," said the raven. "Don't you see th