e smart one. I am the real hunter. I
depend on my head for meat--ha!--ha!-ha!'

"Then OLD-man began to dress and skin the Bulls, and he worked hard and
long. In fact it was nearly night when he got the work all done.

"Poor little Red Fox had stood there all the time, and OLD-man never
noticed that the wind had changed and was coming from the north. Yes,
poor Red Fox stood there and spoke no word; said nothing at all, even
when OLD-man had finished.

"'Hi, there, you! what's the matter with you? Are you sorry that we
have meat? Say, answer me!'

"But the Red Fox was frozen stiff--was dead. Yes, the north wind had
killed him while OLD-man worked at the skinning. The Fox had been
caught by the north wind naked, and was dead. OLD-man built a fire and
warmed his hands; that was all he cared for the Red Fox, and that is
all he cared for anybody. He might have known that no person could
stand the north wind without a robe; but as long as he was warm
himself--that was all he wanted.

"That is all of that story. To-morrow night I shall tell you why the
birch-tree wears those slashes in its bark. That was some of OLD-man's
work, too. Ho!"

WHY THE BIRCH-TREE WEARS THE SLASHES IN ITS BARK

The white man has never understood the Indian, and the example set the
Western tribes of the plains by our white brethren has not been such as
to inspire the red man with either confidence or respect for our laws
or our religion. The fighting trapper, the border bandit, the
horse-thief and rustler, in whose stomach legitimately acquired beef
would cause colic--were the Indians' first acquaintances who wore a
white skin, and he did not know that they were not of the best type.
Being outlaws in every sense, these men sought shelter from the Indian
in the wilderness; and he learned of their ways about his lodge-fire,
or in battle, often provoked by the white ruffian in the hope of gain.
They lied to the Indian--these first white acquaintances, and in
after-years, the great Government of the United States lied and lied
again, until he has come to believe that there is no truth in the white
man's heart. And I don't blame him.

The Indian is a charitable man. I don't believe he ever refused food
and shelter or abused a visitor. He has never been a bigot, and
concedes to every other man the right to his own beliefs. Further than
that, the Indian believes that every man's religion and belief is right
and proper for that