a hot fire in
front of the lodge. Sticks sharpened at both ends were driven in the
ground close to the bed of coals. The sticks were bent toward the
fire, and each one held a large piece of raw meat.

[Illustration]

When the meat was tender, Good Bird called her little daughter. "My
father is old," she said. "He can no longer hunt. Take some of this
roast meat to him."

White Cloud took the dish and went to her grandfather's lodge, the
duck waddling behind her. After the old man had eaten, White Cloud
said, "Grandfather, do you know any stories about ducks?"

"Point to the north, my grandchild, and tell me who live in the land
of ice and snow."

"North Wind and Old Winter," answered the child.

"And what do they do, little one?"

"They send the game far from my father's arrows. They freeze our food
and try to starve us. North Wind gives the war whoop as he flies in
the forest.

"Then Old Winter comes like the Indians on the war trail. We cannot
see him, and we cannot hear him. He does not break a twig, and his
footsteps make no sound. He crowds into our lodge, and tries to steal
our fire and freeze us. I wish he would never come again!"

"We must be brave, my grandchild. We must make ready with food and
firewood to fight his power. I will tell you of a brave little duck
that even North Wind could not conquer."

A BRAVE DUCK

Far to the north lived Wild Duck. His lodge was by the frozen lake.
Winter was beginning, and he had but four logs of wood for his fire.

"Four logs will do," he said. "Each log will burn for many sleeps, and
then spring will be on the way."

Wild Duck was as brave as a warrior. On the coldest days he went to
the lake to fish. He found the rushes that grew high above the water.
With his strong bill he pulled up the frozen plant stems. Then he
dived through the holes he had made in the ice and caught the fish
swimming beneath.

In this way he found plenty of food. Every day he went home to his
lodge dragging strings of fish. North Wind blew his fiercest blasts,
but no wind was cold enough to keep Wild Duck in his wigwam.

"This is a strange duck!" said North Wind. "He seems as happy as if
it were the moon of strawberries. He is hard to conquer, but I will
freeze him."

So the wind blew colder and colder, and great drifts of snow were
piled up about the wigwam. But still the fire burned brightly. The
duck went daily to the lake, and daily he brought home fish.

"Soon I