found him, for he hid
behind a rock till they were out of sight, and then made his home in
another forest.

Adventures of an Indian Brave

[From the Journal of the Anthropological Institute.]

A long, long way off, right away in the west of America, there once
lived an old man who had one son. The country round was covered with
forests, in which dwelt all kinds of wild beasts, and the young man and
his companions used to spend whole days in hunting them, and he was the
finest hunter of all the tribe.

One morning, when winter was coming on, the youth and his companions
set off as usual to bring back some of the mountain goats and deer to be
salted down, as he was afraid of a snow-storm; and if the wind blew and
the snow drifted the forest might be impassable for some weeks. The old
man and the wife, however, would not go out, but remained in the wigwam
making bows and arrows.

It soon grew so cold in the forest that at last one of the men declared
they could walk no more, unless they could manage to warm themselves.

'That is easily done,' said the leader, giving a kick to a large tree.
Flames broke out in the trunk, and before it had burnt up they were as
hot as if it had been summer. Then they started off to the place where
the goats and deer were to be found in the greatest numbers, and soon
had killed as many as they wanted. But the leader killed most, as he was
the best shot.

'Now we must cut up the game and divide it,' said he; and so they did,
each one taking his own share; and, walking one behind the other, set
out for the village. But when they reached a great river the young man
did not want the trouble of carrying his pack any further, and left it
on the bank.

'I am going home another way,' he told his companions. And taking
another road he reached the village long before they did.

'Have you returned with empty hands?' asked the old man, as his son
opened the door.

'Have I ever done that, that you put me such a question?' asked the
youth. 'No; I have slain enough to feast us for many moons, but it was
heavy, and I left the pack on the bank of the great river. Give me the
arrows, I will finish making them, and you can go to the river and bring
home the pack!'

So the old man rose and went, and strapped the meat on his shoulder; but
as he was crossing the ford the strap broke and the pack fell into the
river. He stooped to catch it, but it swirled past him. He clutched
again; but in