e foot raised and bent
inward, while it looked up at the image and smelt the feet that were
like its own.

A vulture swooped down with a great noise of its wings, and made a
dash at the beak, but Chemanitou held it back.

Then came the porcupine, the lizard, and the snake, each drawn by its
kind in the image.

Chemanitou veiled his face for many hours, and the gusty wind swept
by, but he did not stir.

He saw that every beast of the earth seeks its kind, and that which
is like draws its likeness to itself.

The Master of Life thought and thought. The idea grew into his mind
that at some time he would create a creature who should be made, not
after the things of the earth, but after himself.

The being should link this world to the spirit world, being made in
the likeness of the Great Spirit, he should be drawn unto his
likeness.

Many days and nights--whole seasons--passed while Chemanitou thought
upon these things. He saw all things.

Then the Master of Life lifted up his head. The stars were looking
down upon the image, and a bat had alighted upon the forehead,
spreading its great wings upon each side. Chemanitou took the bat and
held out its whole leathery wings (and ever since the bat, when he
rests, lets his body hang down), so that he could try them over the
head of the image. He then took the life of the bat away, and twisted
off the body, by which means the whole thin part fell down over the
head of the image and upon each side, making the ears, and a covering
for the forehead like that of the hooded serpent.

Chemanitou did not cut off the face of the image below, but went on
and made a chin and lips that were firm and round, that they might
shut in the forked tongue and ivory teeth, and he knew that with the
lips the image would smile when life should be given to it.

The image was now complete save for the arms, and Chemanitou saw that
it was necessary it should have hands. He grew more grave.

He had never given hands to any creature. He made the arms and the
hands very beautiful, after the manner of his own.

Chemanitou now took no pleasure in the work he had done. It was not
good in his sight.

He wished he had not given it hands. Might it not, when trusted with
life, create? Might it not thwart the plans of the Master of Life
himself?

He looked long at the image. He saw what it would do when life should
be given it. He knew all things.

He now put fire in the image, but fire is not l