ldened by the people's admiration of his
bravery, and did not shed a tear. As soon as she was able to speak, the
loving grandmother said:

"No, my young brave, not so! You must not mourn for your first
offering. Wash your face and then we will go."

The boy obeyed, submitted Ohitika to Wacoota with a smile, and walked
off with his grandmother and Wahchewin.

The boy and his grandmother descended the bank, following a tortuous
foot-path until they reached the water's edge. Then they proceeded to
the mouth of an immense cave, some fifty feet above the river, under
the cliff. A little stream of limpid water trickled down from a spring
within the cave. The little watercourse served as a sort of natural
staircase for the visitors. A cool, pleasant atmosphere exhaled from
the mouth of the cavern. Really it was a shrine of nature, and it is
not strange that it was so regarded by the tribe.

A feeling of awe and reverence came to the boy. "It is the home of the
Great Mystery," he thought to himself; and the impressiveness of his
surroundings made him forget his sorrow.

Very soon Wahchewin came with some difficulty to the steps. She placed
the body of Ohitika upon the ground in a life-like position and again
left the two alone.

As soon as she disappeared from view, Uncheedah, with all solemnity and
reverence, unfastened the leather strings that held the four small
bundles of paints and one of tobacco, while the filled pipe was laid
beside the dead Ohitika.

She scattered paints and tobacco all about. Again they stood a few
moments silently; then she drew a deep breath and began her prayer to
the Great Mystery:

"O, Great Mystery, we hear thy voice in the rushing waters below us! We
hear thy whisper in the great oaks above! Our spirits are refreshed
with thy breath from within this cave. O, hear our prayer! Behold this
little boy and bless him! Make him a warrior and a hunter as great as
thou didst make his father and grandfather."

And with this prayer the little warrior had completed his first
offering.

VII

THE GRAVE OF THE DOG

The full moon was just clear of the high mountain ranges when the game
scout moved slowly homeward, well wrapped in his long buffalo robe,
which was securely belted to his strong loins; his quiver tightly tied
to his shoulders so as not to impede his progress.

As he emerged from the lowlands into the upper regions, he loomed up a
gigantic figure against the clear, moonlit