as he can, the
manito is pleased, but if an Indian is lazy or wicked, the spirit is
angry, and the Indian is always punished in one way or another.

One day when the manito was walking in the forest, he said to himself,
"Everything is good and happy. The green leaves are whispering merrily
together, the waves are lapping on the shore and laughing, the squirrels
are chattering and laying up their food for winter. Everything loves
me, and the colors of the flowers are brighter when I lay my hand upon
them."

Then the manito heard a strange sound. "I have not often heard that,"
said he. "I do not like it. Some one in the forest has wicked thoughts
in his heart."

Beside a great rock he saw a man with a knife.

"What are you doing with the knife?" asked the manito.

"I am throwing it away," answered the man.

"Tell me the truth," said the manito.

"I am sharpening it," replied the man.

"That is strange," said the manito, "You have food in your wigwam. Why
should you sharpen a knife?"

The man could not help telling the truth to the manito, and so he
answered, but greatly against his will, "I am sharpening the knife to
kill the wicked animals."

"Which animal is wicked?" asked the manito. "Which one does you harm?"

[Illustration: THE KNIFE ONLY WENT IN DEEPER]

"Not one does me harm," said the man, "but I do not like them. I will
make them afraid of me, and I will kill them."

"You are a cruel, wicked man," said the manito. "The animals have done
you no harm, and you do not need them for food. You shall no longer be a
man. You shall be a deer, and be afraid of every man in the forest."

The knife fell from the man's hand and struck his foot. He leaped and
stamped, but the knife only went in deeper. He cried aloud, but his
voice sounded strange. His hands were no longer hands, but feet. Antlers
grew from his head, and his whole body was not that of a man, but that
of a deer. He runs in the forest as he will, but whenever he sees a man,
he is afraid. His hoofs are split because the knife that he had made so
sharp fell upon his foot when he was a man; and whenever he looks at
them, he has to remember that it was his own wickedness which made him a
deer.

THE STORY OF THE FIRST GRASSHOPPER.

In a country that is far away there once lived a young man called
Tithonus. He was strong and beautiful. Light of heart and light of foot,
he hunted the deer or danced and sang the livelong day. Every one who