mentation.

"Oh! my legs! My pretty red legs! What shall I do? The young girls will
all despise me. I shall never dare to show myself among them again!"

He cried and sobbed until his grandmother, fatigued with her exercise,
fell asleep. By this time he had decided upon his plan of revenge.

He rose and stole softly out of his lodge, and, pursuing his way rapidly
towards the village of the chief, he turned his face in the direction of
the principal lodge and barked. When the inhabitants heard this sound in
the stillness of the night, their hearts trembled. They knew that it
foreboded sorrow and trouble to some one of their number.

A very short time elapsed before the beautiful daughter of the chief
fell sick, and she grew rapidly worse and worse, spite of medicines,
charms, and dances. At length she died. The fox had not intended to
bring misfortune on the village in this shape, for he loved the
beautiful daughter of the chief, so he kept in his lodge and mourned and
fretted for her death.

Preparations were made for a magnificent funeral, but the friends of the
deceased were in great perplexity. "If we bury her in the earth," said
they, "the fox will come and disturb her remains. He has barked her to
death, and he will be glad to come and finish his work of revenge."

They took counsel together, and determined to hang her body high in a
tree as a place of sepulture. They thought the fox would go groping
about in the earth, and not lift up his eyes to the branches above his
head.

But the grandmother had been at the funeral, and she returned and told
the fox all that had been done.

"Now, my son," said she, "listen to me. Do not meddle with the remains
of the chief's daughter. You have done mischief enough already. Leave
her in peace."

As soon as the grandmother was asleep at night, the fox rambled forth.
He soon found the place he sought, and came and sat under the tree where
the young girl had been placed. He gazed and gazed at her all the
livelong night, and she appeared as beautiful as when in life. But when
the day dawned, and the light enabled him to see more clearly, then he
observed that decay was doing its work--that instead of a beautiful she
presented only a loathsome appearance.

He went home sad and afflicted, and passed all the day mourning in his
lodge.

"Have you disturbed the remains of the chief's beautiful daughter?" was
his parent's anxious question.

"No, grandmother,"--and he utter