oe was the largest and finest that Manabush had ever seen. It
was full of bags of the most beautiful clothing and stores of the
rarest food.

Manabush carried all the treasures into the wood and concealed them
in a cave. Then he took the magic canoe and hid it among the rocks.

[Illustration]

A voice was heard from one of the stone images: "In this way will the
canoes of your people be loaded when they pass again along this coast."

Manabush returned to his two young companions, bidding them arise and
cook. He showed them the abundance of meat and fish, the bags of maple
sugar and dried berries, and other foods liked by the Indians.

Then he thought of his aged father and mother, who had fled far from
their homes. Danger seemed past, and he wished them to return and
share his gifts.

Westward he sailed in the magic canoe. He needed no paddles, for his
wishes guided him, and the boat flew through the water with amazing
speed.

Before daylight he was at the lodge of his parents. He found them
asleep, and he carried them to his canoe so gently that they did not
awaken.

When they awoke in the morning, they could hardly believe their eyes.
They had left behind hunger and a barren lodge. They found themselves
in their own country, with abundance all about them.

Food was placed before them. Then the bags were opened. There were
beaded dresses for the mother and war bonnets for the father. There
were moccasins and warm blankets. There were skins as soft as the
most skilled work could produce.

Manabush built his parents a lodge near the cornfield and filled it
with every comfort. Then he brought ears of corn and pumpkins and laid
before them. He told them of his wrestling with Mondamin, and he
showed them the field where the corn stood in its garments of green
and yellow, waving its red plumes.

The secret of the magic canoe, the stone images, and the wonderful
gifts was shared by Manabush with his father and mother.

When spring returned a large cornfield grew and prospered. The exiled
tribe came back, and from that time they were noted for their fine
crops of maize.

THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS

All who leave the earth must follow the death trail. Each walks
alone--warrior, squaw, or child. All but papoose. The good spirits
carry papoose.

The trail goes on and on to the place where the sun slips over the
edge of the earth plane. There it comes to a deep, rapid stream, and
the only bridge is a sl