talking within. Stooping to a little hole in the skin of
the tent he peeped in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine his
surprise to find Iadilla standing upright in the middle of the tent
painting his breast a brilliant red, as Indians do in war time. And as
he daubed on the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, yet not
with the weak voice of a starving lad; and his face was very beautiful
to see, despite its pale thinness.

"My father has ended my Indian life," he said. "My father, too
ambitious, has put upon me more than my strength could bear. He would
not listen to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I knew! And my kind
Guardian Spirit knew also that it was more than I could bear. He has
shown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my father and did my best to
please him. Now I am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take the
shape which the Spirit has given me, and go away."

At these strange words the father broke into the tent, exclaiming in
terror,--

"My son, my dear son! Do not leave me!"

But, even as he spoke, Iadilla changed into a beautiful Robin Redbreast
with soft feathers and strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to the
ridgepole of the tent, he looked down with pity and tenderness upon the
heart-broken chief.

"Do not grieve, father," he sang. "I shall be so much happier as a bird,
free from human pain and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs.
Oh, I have been hungry; but now I shall get my food so easily, so
pleasantly on mountains and in the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; but
now the dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced my way
painfully by forest paths through bog and brake and tangled brier. But
now my pathways are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can tear
nor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! I am so happy!"

He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he had worn them all his
life, and, singing a sweet song, fluttered away to the neighboring
woods, where he built his nest, and lived happily ever after.

And since that day the glad little Robins have lived as that first one
promised, close by the homes of men, and have done all they could to
cheer us and make us happy. For they remember how, once upon a time,
their ancestor was a human boy.

THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN

There was once a woman who was so very inquisitive that she wished to
know everything. She was never happy unless she was poking her nose into
some mystery, and the le