me forth from their homes and
wander as usual among the hills. Their enemies, the hunters, will try
to shoot them with their arrows, but they must not be afraid, for now
these arrows can never touch them."

The butterflies flew away quickly and gave the message to the deer, the
wolf, and the fox.

At sunrise the next morning the animals came forth gladly, and they had
not gone far, when they saw the hunters coming towards them.
Remembering the message of their friend, the grass, they did not fear
to remain, and soon saw that the grass had been right. The hunters
aimed their arrows at them and shot, but every arrow flew through the
air and fell harmlessly at their feet. All day this strange thing
happened, and at last the hunters, tired and discouraged, went back to
their camp at the foot of the hill.

"My brothers," said the first hunter, "that was indeed whispering grass
which we ate last night. For see, all day our arrows have failed to
hit their mark, though the game has been many."

"Why did the grass not whisper, then?" asked the second hunter. "It
deceived us."

"Yes, it deceived us," said the third hunter. "It kept silence while
we listened, so that we might be tempted to eat of it. Now we have
lost our power of hunting and shall be laughed at by the other hunters."

"We must fight this whispering grass," said the first hunter. "Let us
go and pull it up by the roots, so that never again it may be able to
deceive any hunter."

"Let us wait until the moon rises high in the sky," said the second
hunter. "Then, indeed, we shall uproot the whispering grass and leave
the green hill bare and naked."

The butterflies, who had been hovering near, heard what the Indians
were saying, and now they flew with all speed to the animals and told
them what was going to happen to the whispering grass.

"Oh, my brothers," said the butterflies, "your enemies, the hunters,
have planned to kill the whispering grass to-night. Can you not save
it?"

"We must save it," said the deer. "The whispering grass is our friend.
It saved our lives, and now we must save it." Turning to the fox, the
deer said, "Oh, brother, you are wise and great. Can you not think of
a plan to save the grass?"

"I am not wise enough for that," said the fox, "but I know one who is
wise. You, my brothers, remain here, while I run with all speed to the
Dark Hills where the Manitou of the Bright Fire lives. He is wise and
great, and he wil