t and swallow the juice."

The hunter did as he was told and at once the sleepy feeling was gone.
Then the strangest thing happened. He saw all around him queer, little
fairies, each one with a tiny war-club. They peeped from out the bark
of the trees, from amidst the grass, and even from out his pouch.

"What are these?" he asked Weeng.

"They are my sleep fairies, and are called 'Weengs.' Now you may waken
your dogs and go." And before the hunter had time to reply the insect
had gone.

He turned and roused the dogs, who followed him, still looking very
stupid. As he went he saw the Weengs all around the trees, and many
seemed to be coming with him. When he reached his lodge, he saw the
little creatures run to the men and climb up their foreheads; then with
their war-clubs they began to knock them on the head. Soon the Indians
began to yawn and rub their eyes, and in a little while they all lay
asleep.

Then the hunter began to feel his own head grow heavy. He tried to
keep awake, but could not, so he stretched himself beside the fire and
went to sleep. When he awakened and looked around, there were no
fairies to be seen.

The hunter determined to go into the forest and see if he could find
the little tree from which he had plucked the leaf. But before he
went, he carefully tied up his dogs, for he did not wish them to follow
him and again fall under the spell of Weeng. They whined when he left
them and pulled at their ropes, but he was soon lost to their sight
among the trees. Making his way slowly through the forest, he kept a
sharp lookout for the little tree with the magic leaves. But he could
see nothing that looked like it. For many hours he tramped on, and at
last he threw himself down on the ground to rest.

As he lay there, he heard a droning noise above his head. He looked up
quickly, and there sat Weeng on the farthermost branch of the tree.

"Good-morning, great hunter," said the insect. "You have been
searching for my little tree, have you not?"

"Yes," replied the hunter. "How did you know?"

"I know many things," said Weeng; "but listen, to me. Yonder is the
tree." As he spoke, he pointed to a little tree not two yards away.
"Pluck one of the leaves, but do not chew it until sunset. At that
hour I utter my sleep call, which bids all the insects fly home to
rest. When you hear the call, you may chew the leaf, for I want you to
see what happens then."

"Is anything strang