ng story, but I think, Ohiyesa,
that you will remember it," said Weyuha, and so I did.

II. Manitoshaw's Hunting

IT was in the winter, in the Moon of Difficulty (January). We had eaten
our venison roast for supper, and the embers were burning brightly.
Our teepee was especially cheerful. Uncheedah sat near the entrance, my
uncle and his wife upon the opposite side, while I with my pets occupied
the remaining space.

Wabeda, the dog, lay near the fire in a half doze, watching out of the
corners of his eyes the tame raccoon, which snuggled back against
the walls of the teepee, his shrewd brain, doubtless, concocting some
mischief for the hours of darkness. I had already recited a legend of
our people. All agreed that I had done well. Having been generously
praised, I was eager to earn some more compliments by learning a new
one, so I begged my uncle to tell me a story. Musingly he replied:

"I can give you a Sioux-Cree tradition," and immediately began:

"Many winters ago, there were six teepees standing on the southern slope
of Moose mountain in the Moon of Wild Cherries (September). The men to
whom these teepees belonged had been attacked by the Sioux while hunting
buffalo, and nearly all killed. Two or three who managed to get home
to tell their sad story were mortally wounded, and died soon afterward.
There was only one old man and several small boys left to hunt and
provide for this unfortunate little band of women and children.

"They lived upon teepsinna (wild turnips) and berries for many days.
They were almost famished for meat. The old man was too feeble to hunt
successfully. One day in this desolate camp a young Cree maiden--for
such they were--declared that she could no longer sit still and see her
people suffer. She took down her dead father's second bow and quiver
full of arrows, and begged her old grandmother to accompany her to Lake
Wanagiska, where she knew that moose had oftentimes been found. I forgot
to tell you that her name was Manitoshaw.

"This Manitoshaw and her old grandmother, Nawakewee, took each a pony
and went far up into the woods on the side of the mountain. They pitched
their wigwam just out of sight of the lake, and hobbled their ponies.
Then the old woman said to Manitoshaw:

"'Go, my granddaughter, to the outlet of the Wanagiska, and see if there
are any moose tracks there. When I was a young woman, I came here with
your father's father, and we pitched our tent near this