t.

One winter, when the tribe went off on its regular hunt, Lazy-man and
his wife staid behind as usual. They sat lonesome in their teepee, as a
wigwam is called in their language. The weather grew colder. It was
hard to find anything to eat. The lake near them was frozen, so that
they could not fish. There were not many animals living in the country
about. The lazy Indian and his wife were nearly starved.

[Illustration: Buffaloes.]

The buffaloes had never come down to this lake shore. But one day the
lazy Indian looked out and saw a herd of them coming. They were running
out on the point of land where his teepee stood. He knew that when they
got to the ice on the lake they would turn back.

"Quick, quick!" he called to his wife. The two ran right into the midst
of the herd. It was a dangerous thing to do, but they were so hungry
and miserable that they did not mind the danger. By running into the
herd they separated the buffaloes out on the point from the rest.

When the buffaloes on the point came to the ice, they paused and turned
back. They were soon running in the other direction, but the lazy
Indian and his wife faced the animals as they came. They waved their
ragged blankets at the buffaloes. They shouted in Indian fashion,
"Yow-wow, yow-wow, yow-wow!" They ran to and fro, waving and shouting.

Once more the buffaloes stopped and looked. Lazy-man and his wife now
ran at them, throwing their blankets in the air, and yelling more
wildly than ever. The scared buffaloes turned about again. They were so
badly frightened this time that they ran out on the ice on the lake.

The ice was as smooth as glass. The buffaloes could not stand up on it.
One after another they slipped and fell. The lazy Indian was not lazy
that day. He saw a chance to get out of his poverty. He ran about on
the ice, killing the buffaloes.

For many days he and his squaw worked. They skinned the buffaloes, and
dried the skins. They prepared the stomachs of the buffaloes, and
stuffed them with the chopped meat, making it look like great sausages
as big as pillows. They put a few cranberries in with the meat to give
the pemmican a good taste. Then they poured the smoking fat of the
buffalo into this great sausage. The fat filled up the small spaces.
When it got cold, the pemmican sack was almost as hard as a stone. It
could be cut only by chopping it with a tomahawk.

At last spring came, and the tribe came home from the hunt. You may
s