fore he was overtaken. The
humming bird flew as long as he could see, and before midnight he was
again ahead.

Each night the humming bird slept. Each night the crane flew. "Gaining
a little; gaining a little!" he said to himself.

Later and later in the day did the Swift One pass the Slow One.
Earlier and earlier in the night did the Slow One pass the Swift One.

On the last day of the race the crane was a night's travel ahead. He
took his time at breakfast. The humming bird passed him at sundown and
stopped to sleep.

The next morning the humming bird flew like the wind and reached the
goal early in the day. But there stood the heavy crane waiting, for he
had flown all night!

HUNTING WILD DUCKS

Swift Elk had sharpened his arrows and taken his strongest bow from
the wooden peg over his bed.

"I have seen wild ducks flying by the lake," he said. "I am going to
hide in the long grass and watch for them. If they come again, they
shall feel my arrows. To-night we eat roast duck."

The boy ran toward the lake. His sister, White Cloud, watched him
until he was out of sight. "Why can't girls go hunting?" she said. "I
have seen seven winters. I shall follow his trail."

The child ran along, hiding behind trees and bushes, and stepping
softly so that no broken twig could tell of her approach.

Indian children can see farther and hear far better than we can.
Although the old-time Indian never went to school, yet he trained his
children to listen to every sound in the forest, and to notice all
signs of animal life.

When White Cloud was near the lake, she hid in a clump of bushes and
watched. Just in sight was a little stream winding through the low
meadow.

She saw Swift Elk run along its banks. She waited without
moving--waited as only an Indian child knows how to wait.

At last, far off, she saw a speck in the sky, then another and
another. The specks grew larger. She held her breath.

A flock of wild ducks flew across the lake. Near the shore they turned
and flew over the low meadow where the boy hunter was hiding in the
high grass.

Suddenly the swift arrows flew. One, two, three, four ducks were hit
and fell to the ground. Swift Elk picked up three and swung them over
his shoulder.

He looked a long time for the fourth duck. Then, seeing another flock
approaching, he ran toward the lake shore.

Again he was fortunate in choosing the place of their approach. White
Cloud saw more arrows fly,