f loved
ones gone, the ugly toad mother sought to please the boy's ear with the
names of valuable articles. Having shrieked in a torturing voice and
mouthed extravagant names, the old toad rolled her tearless eyes with
great satisfaction. Hopping back into her dwelling, she asked:

"My son, did my voice bring tears to your eyes? Did my words bring
gladness to your ears? Do you not like my wailing better?"

"No, no!" pouted the boy with some impatience. "I want to hear the
woman's voice! Tell me, mother, why the human voice stirs all my
feelings!"

The toad mother said within her breast, "The human child has heard and
seen his real mother. I cannot keep him longer, I fear. Oh, no, I cannot
give away the pretty creature I have taught to call me 'mother' all
these many winters."

"Mother," went on the child voice, "tell me one thing. Tell me why my
little brothers and sisters are all unlike me."

The big, ugly toad, looking at her pudgy children, said: "The eldest is
always best."

This reply quieted the boy for a while. Very closely watched the old
toad mother her stolen human son. When by chance he started off alone,
she shoved out one of her own children after him, saying: "Do not come
back without your big brother."

Thus the wild boy with the long, loose hair sits every day on a marshy
island hid among the tall reeds. But he is not alone. Always at his feet
hops a little toad brother. One day an Indian hunter, wading in the deep
waters, spied the boy. He had heard of the baby stolen long ago.

"This is he!" murmured the hunter to himself as he ran to his wigwam. "I
saw among the tall reeds a black-haired boy at play!" shouted he to the
people.

At once the unhappy father and mother cried out, "'Tis he, our boy!"
Quickly he led them to the lake. Peeping through the wild rice, he
pointed with unsteady finger toward the boy playing all unawares.

"'Tis he! 'tis he!" cried the mother, for she knew him.

In silence the hunter stood aside, while the happy father and mother
caressed their baby boy grown tall.

IYA, THE CAMP-EATER

FROM the tall grass came the voice of a crying babe. The huntsmen who
were passing nigh heard and halted.

The tallest one among them hastened toward the high grass with long,
cautious strides. He waded through the growth of green with just a head
above it all. Suddenly exclaiming "Hunhe!" he dropped out of sight. In
another instant he held up in both his hands a tiny litt