le, come! A big cinnamon bear!" I shouted as I emerged from
the teepee.

Uncle sprang out, and in a moment he had sent a swift arrow through the
bear's heart. The animal fell dead. He had just begun to dig up
Wabeda's bone, when the dog's quick ear had heard the sound.

"Ah, uncle, Wabeda and I ought to have at least a little eaglet's
feather for this! I too sent my small arrow into the bear before he
fell," I exclaimed. "But I thought all bears ought to be in their
lodges in the winter time. What was this one doing at this time of the
year and night?"

"Well," said my uncle, "I will tell you. Among the tribes, some are
naturally lazy. The cinnamon bear is the lazy one of his tribe. He
alone sleeps out of doors in the winter, and because he has not a warm
bed, he is soon hungry. Sometimes he lives in the hollow trunk of a
tree, where he has made a bed of dry grass; but when the night is very
cold, like to-night, he has to move about to keep himself from
freezing, and as he prowls around, he gets hungry."

We dragged the huge carcass within our lodge. "Oh, what nice claws he
has, uncle!" I exclaimed eagerly. "Can I have them for my necklace?"

[Illustration: "Oh, what nice claws he has, uncle!" I exclaimed
eagerly. _Page 69._]

"It is only the old medicine-men who wear them regularly. The son of a
great warrior who has killed a grizzly may wear them upon a public
occasion," he explained.

"And you are just like my father and are considered the best hunter
among the Santees and Sissetons. You have killed many grizzlies, so
that no one can object to my bear's-claw necklace," I said appealingly.

White Foot-print smiled. "My boy, you shall have them," he said, "but
it is always better to earn them yourself." He cut the claws off
carefully for my use.

"Tell me, uncle, whether you could wear these claws all the time?" I
asked.

"Yes, I am entitled to wear them, but they are so heavy and
uncomfortable," he replied, with a superior air.

At last the bear had been skinned and dressed and we all resumed our
usual places. Uncheedah was particularly pleased to have some more fat
for her cooking.

"Now, grandmother, tell me the story of the bear's fat. I shall be so
happy if you will," I begged.

"It is a good story and it is true. You should know it by heart and
gain a lesson from it," she replied. "It was in the forests of
Minnesota, in the country that now belongs to the Ojibways. From the
Bedawakanton Sioux vi