o my bear's-claws necklace," I said appealingly.

White Foot-print smiled. "My boy, you shall have them," he said, "but it
is always better to earn them yourself." He cut the claws off carefully
for my use.

"Tell me, uncle, whether you could wear these claws all the time?" I
asked.

"Yes, I am entitled to wear them, but they are so heavy and
uncomfortable," he replied, with a superior air.

At last the bear had been skinned and dressed and we all resumed our
usual places. Uncheedah was particularly pleased to have some more fat
for her cooking.

"Now, grandmother, tell me the story of the bear's fat. I shall be so
happy if you will," I begged.

"It is a good story and it is true. You should know it by heart and gain
a lesson from it," she replied. "It was in the forests of Minnesota,
in the country that now belongs to the Ojibways. From the Bedawakanton
Sioux village a young married couple went into the woods to get fresh
venison. The snow was deep; the ice was thick. Far away in the woods
they pitched their lonely teepee. The young man was a well-known hunter
and his wife a good maiden of the village.

"He hunted entirely on snow-shoes, because the snow was very deep. His
wife had to wear snow-shoes too, to get to the spot where they pitched
their tent. It was thawing the day they went out, so their path was
distinct after the freeze came again.

"The young man killed many deer and bears. His wife was very busy curing
the meat and trying out the fat while he was away hunting each day.
In the evenings she kept on trying the fat. He sat on one side of the
teepee and she on the other.

"One evening, she had just lowered a kettle of fat to cool, and as she
looked into the hot fat she saw the face of an Ojibway scout looking
down at them through the smoke-hole. She said nothing, nor did she
betray herself in any way.

"After a little she said to her husband in a natural voice:
'Marpeetopah, some one is looking at us through the smoke hole, and I
think it is an enemy's scout.'

"Then Marpeetopah (Four-skies) took up his bow and arrows and began to
straighten and dry them for the next day's hunt, talking and laughing
meanwhile. Suddenly he turned and sent an arrow upward, killing the
Ojibway, who fell dead at their door.

"'Quick, Wadutah!' he exclaimed; 'you must hurry home upon our trail. I
will stay here. When this scout does not return, the warparty may come
in a body or send another scout. If only one co