flew with it to the Council in the forest. Great was the
rejoicing of the birds and beasts when they saw that the Crow had been
successful, and they said more kind things to him than he had heard for
many moons. At once they put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, but
it had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's wigwam that it would
not fit. Here was a new trouble. What was to be done to make the scalp
soft and flexible once more? The animals did their best, but their
efforts were of no avail.

Once more the great Eagle came forward and bade them listen.

"My children," he said, "my wings are never furled. Night and day for
hundreds of years the dews of heaven have been collecting upon my back
as I sit on my throne above the clouds. Perhaps this dew may have a
healing power such as no earthly fountain holds. We will see."

Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dew
which moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp.
Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the Good
Hunter closely as when it had first grown there. The birds and animals
hurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots,
which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor head
which had been so cruelly treated. And presently great was their joy to
see a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light
into his eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around him
in surprise.

"Where am I? What has happened?" he asked.

"You slept and your friends have wakened you," said the great Eagle
tenderly. "Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more."

The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back to
his own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures,
who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing. And long, long
after that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them.

THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON

This is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep.
And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out before
you reach the end of the tale.

* * * * *

There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, who
lived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron lived in her
swamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she was
very happy, never