Then, placing himself in the
centre of the lodge, he ranged the ducks in a circle around him.

"Now," said he, "you must all shut your eyes _tight_; whoever opens his
eyes at all, something dreadful will happen to him. I will take my
Indian flute and play upon it, and you will, at the word I shall give,
open your eyes, and commence dancing, as you see me do."

The ducks obeyed, shutting their eyes _tight_, and keeping time to the
music by stepping from one foot to the other, all impatient for the
dancing to begin.

Presently a sound was heard like a smothered "quack," but the ducks did
not dare to open their eyes.

Again, and again, the sound of the flute would be interrupted, and a
gurgling cry of "qu-a-a-ck" be heard. There was one little duck, much
smaller than the rest, who, at this juncture, could not resist the
temptation to open one eye, cautiously. She saw Nan-nee-bo-zho, as he
played his flute, holding it with one hand, stoop a little at intervals
and seize the duck nearest him, which he throttled and stuffed into the
bag on his shoulders. So, edging a little out of the circle, and getting
nearer the door, which had been left partly open, to admit the light,
she cried out,--

"Open your eyes--Nan-nee-bo-zho is choking you all and putting you into
his bag!"

With that she flew, but Nan-nee-bo-zho pounced upon her. His hand
grasped her back, yet, with desperate force, she released herself and
gained the open air. Her companions flew, quacking and screaming, after
her. Some escaped, and some fell victims to the sprite.

The little duck had saved her life, but she had lost her beauty. She
ever after retained the attitude she had been forced into in her moment
of danger--her back pressed down in the centre, and her head and neck
unnaturally stretched forward into the air.

CHAPTER XXV.

RETURN JOURNEY, CONTINUED.

The third day of our journey rose brilliantly clear, like the two
preceding ones, and we shaped our course more to the north than we had
hitherto done, in the direction of _Big-foot_ Lake, now known by the
somewhat hackneyed appellation, Lake of Geneva.

Our journey this day was without mishaps or disasters of any kind. The
air was balmy, the foliage of the forests fresh and fragrant, the little
brooks clear and sparkling--everything in nature spoke the praises of
the beneficent Creator.

It is in scenes like this, far removed from the bustle, the strife, and
the sin of civilized l