ed Children fear the Stone Throwers, as they call them. But they
love the little folk that help the flowers to blossom, and the fruit and
grains to grow and ripen.

They remember these Little People in their Feasts of Thanksgiving, for
do the _Jo gah oh_ not help the sweet waters of the maple to flow? Do
they not whisper to the growing seeds and show the way to the light? Do
they not guide the runners of the strawberries, turn the blossoms to the
sun, and paint the berries red? They also tint the grains, and give to
the corn its good taste.

A third tribe of Little People dwell under the earth. They guard the
sacred white buffaloes, and keep the serpent monsters that live in the
darkness below from coming to the surface to the Red Children.

[Illustration]

There are trails that lead out to the sunlight, but the Little People
guard them close, although sometimes a great serpent will find the
trail of a spring, and will follow it and poison the waters.

Often, at night, these elves of the dark come to the upper world to
dance with the other Little People.

Wherever you find a tree in a deep, dark part of the wood, around which
no grass will grow, there you may be sure a dance ring has been formed.
There the Little People have danced till the moon dropped out of the
sky.

[Illustration: DANCE RATTLE]

STORY-TELLING TIME

The old-time Indians say that long, long ago, the Little People made a
law that stories must not be told in summer.

Summer is the time for work. Bees must store their honey. Squirrels must
gather their nuts. Men must grow their corn. Trees and plants must leaf,
and flower, and bear their fruit.

If stories were told, plants, birds, animals, and men would stop their
work to listen. This would mean poor crops and hungry people. Animals
would forget to grow their winter coats and lay by their winter stores.
Birds would fail to start in time for the South.

The old Indians say that the story-teller who disobeys this law of _Jo
gah oh_ will suffer some misfortune. Winter is the time to tell the
stories, for then the work of animals, plants, and men is done,--and the
Little People are fast asleep.

No, it is not safe to tell stories in summer. No one knows when a bird,
or a bee, or a butterfly may be listening, and may tell the chief of the
Little People. Should the chief of the Little People be offended, he
might cause something dreadful to happen to the story-teller.

Last summer, t