ore I had to call so loudly
to make it hear me and return."

"Who taught thee thy medicine?" she questioned again.

"The Beaver, my manitou, daughter of Powhatan," he answered.

"And who then will teach me; how shall I learn?"

"Thou needest not such knowledge, since thou art neither a medicine man
nor a brave. I, Pochins, will call to Okee, the Great Spirit, for thee
when thou hast need of anything, food or raiment or a chief to take thee
to his lodge."

"But I should like to do that myself, Pochins," she remonstrated. "Thou
dost not know how many things I long to do myself. Let me put on thy
mask and take thy rattle, just to see how they feel."

"Nay, nay, touch them not," he cried, stretching out his hand. "The
Beaver would be angry with us and would work evil medicine on us."

Pochins was not fond of children. His dignity was so great that he never
even noticed them as he strode through the village. But the eager look
in Pocahontas's eyes seemed to draw words out of him. He began to talk
to her of the many days and nights he had spent alone, fasting, in the
prayer lodge until some message came to him from Okee, some message
about the harvest or the success of a hunting party. Pocahontas was so
interested that she asked him many questions.

"Tell me of Michabo, Michabo, the Great Hare," she coaxed, as she moved
over on a mat Pochins had spread for her.

"Hearken, then, daughter of The Powhatan," he began, his voice changing
its natural tone to one of chanting, "to the story of Michabo as it is
told in the lodges of the Powhatans, the Delawares and of those tribes
who dwell far away beyond our forests, away where abideth the West Wind
and where the Sun strideth towards the darkness.

"Michabo dived down into the water when there was no land and no beast
and no man or woman and he was lonely. From the bottom took he a grain
of fine white sand and bore it safely in his hand in his journey upward
through the dark waters. This he cast upon the waves and it sank not but
floated like a tiny leaf. Then it spread out, circling round and round,
wider and wider as the rings widen when thou casteth a stone into a
still lake, till it had grown so large that a swift young wolf, though
he ran till he dropped of old age, could not come to its ending. This
earth rose all covered with trees and hills and beasts and men and
women, and Michabo, the Great Hare, the Spirit of Light, the Great White
One, hunted through earth's f