he called, "Here is food, my son."

There was no reply.

He entered, and there, on the ground before him, lay his boy, dead.

They dug his grave close by the lodge, and brought his bow, pipe, and
knife to bury with him.

As they were placing the youth in his grave, they heard a strange, new
song. They looked up and saw, on the top of the lodge, an unknown
bird. It had a brown coat and a red breast. As they watched, it began
to sing. Its song seemed to say:

"I was once the chief's son. But now I am a bird. I am happier than if
I had lived to be a fierce warrior, with scalps at my belt. Now I
shall make all glad with my song. I shall tell the little children
when spring has come. Then they will search for pussy-willows and
anemones. I am the robin, a little brother to man! Who so happy as I?"

Even the father's grief was comforted by the bright little messenger.
"It is best after all," he said. "My son could not kill men nor
beasts; he is happier as a singer, even as this little bird."

_The Story of the Red-Headed Woodpecker_[5]

Long, long ago, there lived an old woman in a little cottage by the
forest. She was not a poor old woman. She had plenty of wood to burn
in winter, and plenty of meal to bake into bread all the year round.
Her clothes were old-fashioned but warm. She always wore a grey dress
and a little red cap.

[Footnote 5: This story is told in verse in Phoebe Cary's _A Legend
of the Northland_].

Late one summer afternoon, the cottage door was open. The old woman
stood by her fire, baking cakes for her evening meal. How good they
smelled!

A tall old man who was passing by the cottage stopped a moment. Then
he pushed open the garden gate and walked up the path to the door.

The old woman was bending low over the cakes, but she saw his shadow
and looked up.

"Will you give me one of your cakes?" said the man.

The woman thought to herself, "Why did I leave the door open? The
smell of these hot cakes will bring every beggar within miles to my
house." Then she looked a second time at the man and saw that he was
no beggar. He stood like a king in the doorway. His blue eyes were
kind but very keen.

She looked at the six cakes that lay crisp and hot on the hearth.
"Well, I will give him one," she thought, "but these are all too
large."

She took a small handful of meal from the barrel and began to bake it
into a cake. The man watched her from the door. As she turned the
cake, it s