tories. I will tell you the tale he told about
the first strawberries:

"In the very earliest times a young girl became so angry one day that
she ran away from home. Her family followed her, calling and
grieving; but she would not answer their calls, nor even turn her head.

[Illustration]

"The great sun looked down with pity from the sky and tried to settle
the quarrel. First he caused a patch of ripe blueberries to grow in
her path.

"The girl pushed her way through the low bushes without stooping to
pick a berry.

"Further on the sun made juicy blackberries grow by the trail, but the
runaway paid no attention to them.

"Then low trees laden with the purple June berry tempted her, but
still she hurried on.

"Every kind of berry that the sun had ever helped to grow, he placed
in her path to cause delay, but without success.

"The girl still pressed on until she saw clusters of large ripe
strawberries growing in the grass at her feet.

"She stooped to pick and to eat. Then she turned and saw that she was
followed.

"Forgetting her anger, she gathered the clusters of ripe, red berries
and started back along the path to share them with her family.

"Then she went home as if nothing had ever happened!"

THE FIREFLY DANCE

It is a summer evening. There is no moon, and the stars twinkle
brightly in the sky. A half circle of Indian lodges fronts a small
lake. Wide meadows slope to its shores.

All the air is alive with lights, twinkling, whirling, sparkling.
Thousands of fireflies are swarming above the grass.

The meadow is full of Indian boys and girls, little and big, dancing
the firefly dance. Advancing and retreating, turning and twisting,
bowing and whirling, they imitate the moving lights about them and
above them.

In front of the lodges sit the warriors and the squaws looking on.

Good Bird is watching every move of her son. He is one of the most
active dancers on the field.

"Look, Nokomis!" she says, "No boy is straighter than your grandson,
and there is no better dancer."

[Illustration]

Fleet Deer says nothing, but he is thinking of the time when his son
will take part in the war dance of his tribe.

Little White Cloud stands by her mother. She has known three winters
and is now a chubby, pretty little Indian girl.

Suddenly she begins to imitate her brother. She throws out her tiny
brown arms, turns round and round, jumps and bows, while Nokomis and
Good Bird shout with l