beach and soon discovered their tracks. He followed them up and found
blood on the trail. This astonished him. Cautiously he followed on until
he found them both lying dead. He examined them and found that in each
moose there was a single Cree arrow. Wishing to surprise the hunter if
possible, Kangiska lay hidden in the bushes.

"After a little while the two women returned to the spot. They passed
him as close as the moose had passed the maiden in the morning. He saw
at once that the maiden had arrows in her quiver like those that had
slain the big moose. He lay still.

"Kangiska looked upon the beautiful Cree maiden and loved her. Finally
he forgot himself and made a slight motion. Manitoshaw's quick eye
caught the little stir among the bushes, but she immediately looked the
other way and Kangiska believed that she had not seen anything, At last
her eyes met his, and something told both that all was well. Then the
maiden smiled, and the young man could not remain still any longer.
He arose suddenly and the old woman nearly fainted from fright. But
Manitoshaw said:

"'Fear not, grandmother; we are two and he is only one.'

"While the two women continued to cut up the meat, Kangiska made a fire
by rubbing cedar chips together, and they all ate of the moose meat.
Then the old woman finished her work, while the young people sat down
upon a log in the shade, and told each other all their minds.

"Kangiska declared by signs that he would go home with Manitoshaw to the
Cree camp, for he loved her. They went home, and the young man hunted
for the unfortunate Cree band during the rest of his life.

"His father waited a long time on the island and afterward searched the
shore, but never saw him again. He supposed that those footprints he saw
were made by Crees who had killed his son."

"Is that story true, uncle?" I asked eagerly.

"'Yes, the facts are well known. There are some Sioux mixed bloods among
the Crees to this day who are descendants of Kangiska."

X. INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE

I: Life in the Woods

THE month of September recalls to every Indian's mind the season of the
fall hunt. I remember one such expedition which is typical of many. Our
party appeared on the northwestern side of Turtle mountain; for we had
been hunting buffaloes all summer, in the region of the Mouse river,
between that mountain and the upper Missouri.

As our cone-shaped teepees rose in clusters along the outskirts of th