er that people never saw anything
interesting about their own daily lives.

"You can tell us something about birch canoes, can't you?" asked Ned
Johnston, by way of encouragement.

"Oh yes," Paul replied; "they're made out of bark, with hoops and strips
of wood inside, to give them shape and make them strong."

"How do they fasten up the ends?" asked Ned.

"They first sew or tie them together with strings, and then they put
pitch over the seams to make them water-tight."

"Did you ever see the Indians race in birch canoes?" asked Sam.

"Oh yes, often," Paul replied; "and they make fast time too, I can tell
you."

"Did you ever race yourself?" asked Benny.

"No," said Paul, "but I learned to paddle a canoe pretty well. I'd
rather have a good row-boat, though, than any birch I ever saw. If you
run one of them on a sharp stone, it may be cut open, unless it's pretty
new."

"How do the Indians kill buffaloes?" asked Will Palmer.

"Why, just as white men do--they shoot them with rifles. Nearly all the
Indians have rifles nowadays."

This was very unromantic, most of the boys thought, for an Indian
without bows and arrows could not be very different from a white man.
Still, something wonderful would undoubtedly come before Paul was done
talking.

"Are buffaloes really so terrible-looking as the story-papers say?"
asked Bert Sharp.

"Well, they don't look exactly like pets," said Paul. "A bull buffalo,
in the winter season, when he has a full coat of hair, looks fiercer
than a lion."

"Do the Indians really kill or torture all the white people they catch?"
asked Canning Forbes.

"I don't know; I suppose so, but perhaps they're not all as bad as some
white people say."

[Illustration: "YOU'RE A CHIEF'S SON, AREN'T YOU?"]

Canning shook his head encouragingly at Will Palmer: evidently this
young Indian had a manly spirit, and was not going to have his people
abused. There was a moment or two of silence, each boy wondering what
next to ask. Finally, Napoleon Nott said,

"You're a chief's son, aren't you?"

"What?" exclaimed Paul, so sharply that Notty dodged behind Will Palmer,
and put his hand to his head as if to protect his scalp.

"I meant," said Notty, tremblingly-- "I meant to ask what tribe you
belonged to."

"I? What tribe? Notty, what are you talking about?"

Notty did not answer, so Paul looked around at the other boys, but they
also were silent.

"Notty," said Paul, "what on earth are yo