mals were used for ornaments.

On this cold winter evening Good Bird was dressed in a handsome
garment trimmed with fringe and colored quills. Her moccasins and
leggings were also ornamented.

She had braided her hair neatly, and drawn a line of fresh red paint
along the parting. Her forehead and cheeks were also touched with red.

"Are you going to a dance, Mother?" asked White Cloud.

Good Bird said nothing, but smiled as she thought of the guest who was
expected and the pleasant surprise in store for her children.

The evening meal was over. Nokomis had opened her stores of maple sugar
and corn in honor of Swift Elk, who had won the game of tops that day.

Whipping his winter top over level snow and high drifts alike, he had
outdistanced his companions by fifty paces.

White Cloud sat by the fire drying her moccasins. She had been out
sliding with her playmates until the sun left the sky. You would have
thought their sleds very funny, for they were made of the curved rib
bones of a large deer.

Swift Elk was studying the strange signs and markings on the lining
of the wigwam. He was never tired of hearing the pictures explained,
for they showed in order the chief events in his father's life.

Here was the grizzly bear that Fleet Deer had killed single-handed.
For this deed of bravery he was entitled to wear an eagle's feather.

Here was the deer that was killed in time of famine, after a long and
dangerous hunt.

Other pictures showed Indians in the war dance, on the war trail,
surprising the foe, returning with the honors of battle, holding a
council, and smoking the peace pipe.

Fleet Deer was master of the Indian art of picture writing, and he had,
that very day, added new paintings to the record. His children had never
heard of any other way to read or write, and they had never seen a book.

The flap of skin covering the lodge entrance was raised and a man
entered.

"The story-teller! The story-teller!" shouted the children with
delight. He was given the seat of honor and the best food that Good
Bird could provide.

When the guest was warm and his meal over, favorite stories were asked
for.

"We ought to hear again of the great gift of corn to our people," said
Good Bird.

"New stories, I want new stories. Will you tell us some new stories?"
asked White Cloud.

"War stories, I want, and stories of boys," said Swift Elk.

Then Fleet Deer, the father, spoke: "I wish my son to know the tale o