w bands were wound in a ball so large that the child could
hardly reach around it.

"Why do you tie the wild rice stalks, Mother?" she asked.

"So that our little brothers, the birds, can not eat all our grain,"
answered Good Bird. "All the bunches we have tied are our own, and
will be more easily harvested. No friendly Indian ever touches the
heads of rice bound together by another."

With a curved stick Good Bird pulled a mass of stalks within her reach
and bound the heads firmly together with the narrow strips of bark.
For hours she worked, forcing her way through the thick mass of water
plants and tying the stalks on both sides of the canoe.

"May I come here again with you when the wild rice is ripe?" asked
White Cloud.

"It will take two strong women to gather the harvest, my child; but
the canoe is very long and I think you can help."

[Illustration]

"How is it done, Mother?" asked the child.

"Swift Elk will sit at one end of the canoe and paddle. Nokomis will
bend the stalks over the boat and untie the long pieces of bark, and I
shall beat the heads with a stick. The grain will fall until the boat
holds as much as it is safe to carry."

"Are we going to take home any to-day?" asked White Cloud.

"Oh, yes; when the rice is not quite ripe it is just right for
parching. As soon as my rows are all tied, you shall help me gather
the greenish kernels."

Good Bird worked until she had used all her string. The long rows of
heads, neatly tied, looked very fine.

New plants were found, and the stalks beaten with a stick. The rice
fell into the canoe, and White Cloud found it was good to eat even
without cooking. By sunset the bottom of the canoe was covered with
grain, and they started home across the quiet lake.

"May we have maple sugar with our rice to-night, Mother?"

"There is very little left, my daughter. I think we would better save
it for winter."

"When are we going to the sugar trees to make more?"

"After the winter is nearly over and the first crow comes to tell us
that the sap is flowing. Then we will move to our sugar lodge and stay
for a whole moon."

"May I take care of a kettle and boil sugar next time we go to the
lodge?" asked White Cloud, "By that time I can count eight winters."

"You may if you will cut birch bark and make your own sap dishes. You
will need a great many."

"Why can't we eat the sugar we have, Mother? What is the use of saving
it?"

"There may be little f