the winged summer people; the trees wore their summer
attire, and the meadow its green blanket. There were many homes made
happy by the coming of little people everywhere, but no pair was happier
than Stasu and her husband when one morning they saw their little
brave lying wrapped in soft deerskins, and heard for the first time his
plaintive voice!

That morning, when Antelope set out on the hunt, he stopped at the
stream and looked at himself seriously to see whether he had changed
since the day before. He must now appear much graver, he said to
himself, because he is the father of a new man!

In spite of himself, his thoughts were with his own people, and he
wondered what his old grandmother would have said to his child! He
looked away off toward the Black Hills, to the Sioux country, and in his
heart he said, "I am a coward!"

The boy grew naturally, and never felt the lack of playmates and
companions, for his mother was ingenious in devising plays for him, and
in winning for him the confidence and kindness of the animal friends. He
was the young chief and the hero of No Man's Trail! The bears and wolves
were his warriors; the buffalo and elk the hostile tribes upon whom he
went to war. Small as he was, he soon preferred to roam alone in the
woods. His parents were often anxious, but, on the other hand, they
entertained the hope that he would some day be "wakan," a mysterious or
supernatural man, for he was getting power from his wild companions and
from the silent forces of nature.

One day, when he was about five years old, he gave a dance for his wild
pets upon the little plateau which was still their home. He had clothed
Mato, the bear, in one of his father's suits as a great medicine-man.
Waho, the wolf, was painted up as a brave; and the young buffalo calf
was attired in one of his mother's gowns. The boy acted as chief and
master of ceremonies.

The savage mother watched him with undisguised pride, mingled with
sorrow. Tears coursed down her dusky cheeks, although at the same time
she could not help laughing heartily at the strange performance. When
the play was ended, and she had served the feast at its close, Stasu
seemed lost in thought.

"He should not live in this way," she was saying to herself. "He should
know the traditions and great deeds of my people! Surely his grandfather
would be proud of the boy!"

That evening, while the boy slept, and Mato lay outside the lodge
eagerly listening and s