am afraid of him!"

"Afraid of Hoots?" asked the manito. "An Indian boy must never be
afraid."

"But Hoots will eat me, I know he will," cried the boy. "Boo-hoo,
boo-hoo!"

"A boy must be brave," said the manito, "and I will not have a coward
among my Indians. You are too timid ever to be a warrior, and so you
shall be a bird. Whenever Indian boys look at you, they will say, 'There
is the boy who was afraid of Hoots.'"

The boy's cloak of deerskin fell off, and feathers came out all over his
body. His feet were no longer like a boy's feet, they were like the feet
of a bird. His bow and arrows fell upon the grass, for he had no longer
any hands with which to hold them. He tried to call to his mother, but
the only sound he could make was "Hoo, hoo!"

"Now you are a dove," said the manito, "and a dove you shall be as long
as you live. You shall always be known as the most timid of birds."

Again the dove that had once been a boy tried to call, but he only said,
"Hoo, hoo!"

"That is the only sound you will ever make," said the manito, "and when
the other boys hear it, they will say, 'Listen! He was afraid of Hoots,
the bear, and that is why he says Hoo, hoo!'"

WHY THE PARROT REPEATS THE WORDS OF MEN.

In the olden times when the earth was young, all the birds knew the
language of men and could talk with them. Everybody liked the parrot,
because he always told things as they were, and they called him the bird
that tells the truth.

This bird that always told the truth lived with a man who was a thief,
and one night the man killed another man's ox and hid its flesh.

When the other man came to look for it in the morning, he asked the
thief, "Have you seen my ox?"

"No, I have not seen it," said the man.

"Is that the truth?" the owner asked.

"Yes, it is. I have not seen the ox," repeated the man.

"Ask the parrot," said one of the villagers. "He always tells the
truth."

"O bird of truth," said they to the parrot, "did this man kill an ox and
hide its flesh?"

"Yes, he did," answered the parrot.

The thief knew well that the villagers would punish him the next day, if
he could not make them think that the parrot did not always tell the
truth.

"I have it," he said to himself at last. "I know what I can do."

When night came he put a great jar over the parrot. Then he poured water
upon the jar and struck it many times with a tough piece of oak. This he
did half the night. Then he went to