Geauga YMCA Adventure Stories

Stories

The Cave

Three bronze-skinned small boys jumped from stone to stone as they crossed the little creek that ran near the village of Mohican wigwams. The tribe was camped here for the summer, and these boys wanted to see the hills that surrounded their new home.

The water ran lazily, past the rocks, reflecting the clear blue sky above. The fish in the stream were sunning themselves as a big green frog leaped from the bank and landed in the water with a plop. The boys laughed as he swam away, paddling frantically with his long legs.

It was a fine day for exploring. "We may find some wild berries on the next hill,"said White Bird, as they ran up the bank and began walking down the path.
They walked along in silence for several minutes. Their mouths were still, but their piercing black eyes eagerly viewed the landscape. Rolling hills surrounded the peaceful camp. Everywhere there were signs of animal life. The Mohicans would have plenty of game to hunt this summer.

After a few hours of exploring, the boys were ready to go home. Their stomachs were full of berries and their hands were rough from climbing. They had been having fun.

"See how the rains have washed away the side of that hill."observed Blue. Every eye was turned toward the hill.

"There is a hole,"said Thundercloud. "Let's see what is in it."

In a moment the boys were scrambling up the side of the steep hill on their way to inspect the hole. It was plain to see that no animal lived there.
The three boys looked at one another for a moment and then started digging at the sides of the hole. Soon it was big enough for Thunder Cloud to poke his head into the opening.

"It is very dark in there, but I can tell that it is a large cave,"reported Thunder Cloud as he took his head from the hole.

That night the new of the cave spread through the camp like wildfire. Not long after the sun came up the next morning, nearly a dozen boys went running up the trail. They wanted to see the cave. The chief of the tribe had put Flying Squirrel in charge of the group, for he was older than the rest and had a sensible head on his shoulders.

Holding their firebrands high, they carefully let themselves down inside the cave. It was large indeed, for even when all the firebrands were held high the far walls were still in darkness.

"We will explore a little of the cave at a time, "said Flying Squirrel. "We must all stay together, for if one of us gets lost a rescue would be difficult."

Beautiful colors seemed to dance on the walls as the firebrands flickered in the winds that blew across the cave.

"We will start this way,"said Flying Squirrel as he laid a few loose stones on the floor to mark the return path. The boys, holding their brands high, trailed across the floor of the cave. Large black bats circled overhead. The boys' voices echoed back to them as they spoke.

"Hello!"shouted White Bird.

"Hello!"came the echo's reply. The boys laughed.

"This is a beautiful cave," whispered White Bird, "but I wish we did not have to stay with the crowd. We could travel faster is the three of us were alone."

"We might find some secret tunnels, too," broke in Blue Eagle.

The boys pretended to be inspecting a strange rock as the others passed them. When they were out of range, they walked quickly through a low-roofed cavern that ran off in another direction.

I imagine you can guess what happened. The three boys had a lot of fun for a while, but soon they became lost. They were worried, for their torches were burning low. They had no food or water. It had been long since they had eaten their early morning meal, but when they realized that they would soon need food they became very hungry.

Thunder Cloud straightened himself and said: "Do not be afraid. We will find a way out."

They walked for what seemed like hours, but they were soon back to their starting place. They had walked in a complete circle.

They were not as brave now as they had been. "Maybe we should have stayed with the group,"thought Thunder Cloud.

The last firebrand flickered and went out. Just the flow at the end of torch remained in the darkness of the cave. No longer was there the warmth of the burning brand to cheer them.

The three Indian boys sat motionless. They were afraid to move for fear of hitting their heads on the ceiling in the darkness. They wondered if there were any wild animals or snakes in the cave.

How long they sat in the dark they did not know. When they finally heard voices in the distance and then saw firebrands coming toward them, they were very, very glad. The boys' fathers had found them.

Questions:

1. If you were these boys' fathers, do you think you would punish them?

2. Have you ever been with a group where a few wandered off by themselves? If you did, who had to wait when it was time to go home?

3. Why does the leader of such a group usually insist that everyone stay together?

4. What would happen if everyone in a group decided that he would like to go off by himself?

The Cougar

It was dark and the forest was very quiet. Panther Paws' eyes searched the darkness, seeking to find the terrible thing that was chasing him.

He was alone, and somewhere, out there in the forest, he was sure a cougar was stalking him. His heart was filled with fear. He did not want to be a mountain lion's midnight meal.

Frantically, the Indian boy raced down the forest trail. In his headlong flight, he did not feel the branches that slapped and cut his face.

Through Panther Paws' mind flashed the events that had led to this terrible predicament. It was a long story, but Panther paws could see it all. It started quite innocently. He had been hunting with his father, and they had gotten separated as they trailed a cougar. Then a small miracle had happened; one of Panther Paws' arrows had found the heart of a large cougar as it sat sunning itself on a rock. It was indeed a lucky shot. He was alone at the time, and for all anyone else knew the cougar was running when the boy shot him.

Panther Paws was not a modest boy, so he boasted to his friends that he was a great hunter. But several boys who knew better than to believe such an unlikely story teased him until Panther Paws felt he must prove his ability again. So he had gone into the forest in the late afternoon one day, after telling everyone that he would return with a prize worthy of any good hunter. But he had gotten more than he had bargained for when he found himself staring into the eyes of a cornered cougar.

Quickly pulling himself together, he put an arrow to his bowstring. The arrow sailed true, but did not strike a fatal blow. The beast was only wounded! It screamed with pain and leaped into the air, twisting and turning like a whirlwind.

Suddenly, Panther Paws lost his nerve, for he had heard about the wild fury of the cornered and wounded mountain lion. In his hurry to flee, he did not turn to see if the great cat was coming after him. He ran as fast as he could. But every sound of the forest seemed to reassure him that the cougar was playing a crafty game, following him until dark. Then he would be cornered and torn to pieces!

Soon darkness came, and Panther Paws was frantic. He imagined that the big cat was behind every tree, waiting to leap upon him. Then, suddenly, he stopped. He had come out of the forest and was standing on the bank of a marshy river. An idea flashed into his confused brain.

Quickly, he pulled a large hollow reed from the shallow water. Using his knife, he cleaned off the ends, making it into a tube about two feet long. He waded out into the river until it was over his knees. Then, after taking a quick look at the forest along the bank, he put one end of the reed in his mouth and lay down on his back in the river.

He could now breathe through the tube, as one end was sticking out above the water and the other was in his mouth. He would be safe from the animal as long as he stayed there, for cougars do not like water.

It was a long time until morning, but the sun finally sent its streamers of light out over the bright blue sky. The world looked different to Panther Paws now. He knew that the cougar would be gone and that he could safely return to his village.

He scrambled out of the mud and water to the bank. He expected to find huge animal tracks in the soft mud. But to his amazement, he found only his own. It was then that he realized that a cougar had not chased him at all. But his imagination had been as terrifying as if the cougar had really been there.

"What will I tell them when I return to the village?" he asked himself. "I promised to bring back a prize, but instead I have lost my bow and arrows."

He had failed to live up to his own boasting. He was really on the spot.

When Panther Paws got home, he was a sight. His clothes were soaked, and his body was covered with the mud form the river. He was beginning to feel the cuts from the branches that had slapped his face as he ran down the forest pathway.

As he walked between the long rows of wigwams in his village, he avoided looking either way, for fear of seeing his friends. He hoped to get cleaned up before they saw him.

As he passed one of the wigwams, he stopped short. There, lying on the ground, was the cougar he had wounded. Now, he saw the picture of what had happened. He had wounded the cougar but someone else had killed it later with a perfect shot. He knew that the truth was known.

Panther Paws was teased by his friends during the next few days. But he had asked for it, and he decided to take it, as a real person should.

It was not long until he friends forgot what had happened, and everything was all right again. But Panther Paws had learned his lesson: that boasting does not pay.

Questions:

1. Where do you think Panther Paws made his mistake, in has talking or in his hunting?

2. What usually happens to the boy that boasts too much about what he is going to do?

3. Is it all right to be "sure of yourself"?

4. How would you have treated Panther Paws?

Dead or Alive

Many years ago there lived a very famous Indian medicine man. He was famous because of his wisdom. For many years he had helped the members of his tribe by answering their questions and giving them wise advice. However, because he was so very old, many of the young braves of the tribe felt that he ought to give up his position as medicine man and allow a younger brave to have the honor.

Several times the young braves of the tribe attempted to remove him by asking him questions and posing problems that they hoped he would not be able to answer. If only they could cause him to make a mistake or catch him with a question he could not answer, they were sure they could replace him with a younger man. Each time, however, that they made an attempt to do this, they failed. His answers were always right and his advice always trustworthy.

One day, while a group of younger braves was on the hunt, one of the young men turned to the group and said: "Tonight I will ask the old medicine man a question that he will mot be able to answer. Gather all our tribesmen before his tepee tonight, and you will see."

The other braves remembered there past failures and wanted to know what he planned to do. The younger brave replied: "I will catch a bird, take it to him holding it in my hands so that the feathers show through my fingers; and I will say to him, 'What have I in my hands?' Seeing the feathers he will reply, 'A bird."Then I will say, 'That is correct, but tell me, Wise One, is it dead or is it alive?' If he says it is dead, I will open my hand and lit it fly away. If he says it is alive, I will smother it and drop it, dead, at his feet. So you see, regardless of his answer, he will be wrong and wee will be able to replace him with a younger man."

This pleased the braves because they were certain it could not fail. When they returned from the hunt, they spread word around the tribe of the test, which the medicine man would face. At sundown the space before the ancient Indian's tepee was crowded with Indians eager for the test.

The young man whose plan it was elbowed his way through the crowd, and with hands cupped before him challenged the medicine man to come forth an be tried. The wise man came from his tepee and stood before the throng. "What is it, my son?"he asked.
The young man answered: "It is said that you can answer all questions correctly. I this be so, Father, tell me what I have in my hands."

The old man looked and replied: "A bird my son."

" That is correct,"the young brave responded. "But tell me, Father, is it dead or is it alive?"

This was the challenge! Every Indian present held his breath, waiting for the medicine man's answer. The old man paused, then looking deep into the young man's eyes, he responded: "That, my son, s on you."

Questions:

1. What other things can depend only on ourselves?

2. What can we do to make ourselves more dependable?

Eagle Eggs

"That eagle flies as only a hungry eagle can fly, " observed Deer Foot. "I am glad I am not a rabbit on that hill."

Seeing the great bird in flight reminded Deer Foot of his friend Grey Hawk "Since we started our club over a moon ago," he said, "Grey Hawk has always looked upon us with admiration. I believe that he would like to be one of us.

The two boys walked along in silence for a moment. "Perhaps we should ask him to come to our secret meeting place and become a member,"he continued. Grey Hawk was a likable sort of Indian boy. He always played fair, was loyal to his friends, and was willing to help.

It was some time before Iron Hawk spoke. These things had to be considered carefully. Their little group had sworn to keep its secrets and had always been careful in selecting new members. "I think we should invite him to become a member, but I do not think it would be wise to take him to our secret hide-out,"said Iron Hawk.

As the boys continued their walk down the path, they decided that, if the other members agreed, they would ask Grey Hawk to join their club.

That evening, shortly after dark, several Indian boys met secretly outside the area made bright by the Council fire. "I think Grey Hawk should be made a member,"said one voice.

"We agree,"said the others.

"How shall we initiate him?"asked one.

"Let's make him gather eagle eggs,"said a tall Indian who had not spoken up to that time. "Yes, yes!"shouted all the voices. Grey Hawk was to gather eagle eggs.

The next morning a group of boys stood at the edge of a sharp cliff. One boy held a long rope, another a small basket. A few moments later Grey Hawk found himself clinging to the rope. The basket was tied to his back. The other lowered him over the edge of the cliff. Far below the rock was cut in and under the edge. Here a shelf stood out from the wall. This was an excellent place for a nest.

Grey Hawk's fingers grew white as he held on to the rope. He looked down. It was a full hundred yards to the swirling river beneath him. To slip would mean disaster. He hoped the boys above him had tied the rope to a strong tree.

Suddenly he was dangling in mid-air. He was now opposite the nest. He began to swing back and forth, each time picking up speed. After several tries, he was able to leap onto the shelf. It was only two feet wide. He clung desperately to the wall.

In his anxiety to keep his footing, Grey Hawk forgot all about the rope. He turned just in time to see it swing out away from him. The rope paused for a second at the other end of its swing. In a moment, it was coming back to him. As he reached out his hand to grasp it in its flight, he found himself asking: "What if the rope does not swing in far enough?"He would be stranded if it did not.

On the top of the cliff several boys stood with eyes popping. They had seen the rope swing out from under the cliff. They were scared. What had they done? They were responsible for Grey Hawk's predicament.

"Grab the rope!"shouted one of the boys. But Grey Hawk could not hear. The wild, rushing river far below was making too much noise.

The boys grew pale. What if the eagle should return and find an intruder in his nest?

Grey Hawk stood tense as he waited for the rope to swing back. He could see it was not going to swing far enough. His chances were fading; he must do something quickly. It was now or never. Mustering every ounce of strength in his body, he leaped. His hands grasped wildly in the air. Below he saw the angry river. After what seemed like hours, his hands touched the rope. He held on. He had made it! He hung on tightly while his friends pulled him up to safety.

They all forgot that Grey Hawk was supposed to have brought up the eggs. They were too glad that he was safe. Needless to say, Grey Hawk became a club member.

QUESTIONS:

1.  What would happen to the club members if Grey Hawk should be hurt or killed?

2.  What is the purpose of having an initiation?

3.  Why do some clubs have roughhouse initiations?

4. What could they do instead?

Little Pine gazed intently at the pile of wood that lay at his feet. He bent down and began to arrange the sticks in a pattern that resembled a wigwam only a few inches high.

The Council fire should be burning brightly soon. Several women were already sitting in the Council circle. They had come early, for they were too old to dance themselves, and so they would spend the evening watching the others. You may be sure they would not hesitate to say who were the good dancers and the poor ones.

Little Pine did not look in the direction of the squaws, but he thought he could feel their eyes upon him. He was sure they were talking about him, for they were whispering together.

The whispering continued. Then, suddenly, the women burst into a smothered giggle. That made him certain they were watching him. His hands began to tremble. He could feel his cheeks getting warm. How he wished they would go away!

"Keep calm,"he told himself.  "Why should I worry about a bunch of old women who say things about me? Anyway, is this not the chance of a young boy's life, the chance to build the Council fire for the tribal Fire Maker?"

Little Pine's father had been the tribal Fire Maker for many winters. He had taken great pains to teach his son the art of fire building. And now the opportunity had come. His father was giving Little Pine the chance to build tonight's fire alone. He would receive a smile from the Chief as his reward. Little Pine's father and the Chief were great friends, and the Chief was looking forward to the day when Little Pine would become Fire Maker.

Only the very top of the bright red sun was showing above the horizon in the west. It would be dark in a few moments, and the fire was not completely built, let alone burning. Little Pine tried to hurry. He piled sticks in the proper formation and then began to build the final framework of half logs. His hands shook as he worked.

At exactly the wrong moment, the women again burst into loud laughter. Little Pine looked up, his face red with anger. His hand slipped, and the half-log fell. A moment later the wood was scattered about on the ground. The half log had knocked the other pieces down like tenpins. Then, as if to add insult to injury, it had fallen into the smaller framework of sticks and crushed them into the ground. The women did not even look up. They had been talking about something else!

Little Pine felt the presence of someone behind him. He turned and found himself looking into the stern eyes of his father. Behind him stood the Chief. Little Pine did not know what to say, for now the fire would be even later in getting started. "I... I was going to...".

"Step aside, son,"his father said.  "I will build the fire. It must be done quickly. "

In a moment his father was replacing the broken sticks. The Chief turned and walked to his chair in the Council ring. The other members of the tribe began entering the circle. Soon the circle would be filled and the evening begun. Slowly Little Pine walked away, his heart heavy. If only he could kick himself very hard, he would feel much better.

Little Pine did not stay to see the dancing that night. Instead, he lay on the soft bearskin rug that covered the ground in his Comanche wigwam. In the distance he could hear the steady beat of the tom-tom. As he lay on his back, he watched the faint whispers of smoke rise from the red coals in the center of the tepee and drift lazily out of the smoke hole on the top. His finger thumped gently on his chest to the rhythm of the drums.

Little Pine was feeling blue. He was glad that he was alone. He never wanted to have to face anyone again, ever. "I will tell them...". He wasn't sure just what he would tell them, but he would think of a good excuse.

Little Pine lay very still. He was making his decision. Suddenly he sat up. Someone was coming. It was his father. They sat looking at each other in silence. The distant fire danced as it reflected on the bronze face of his father. He was smiling.

"Do not feel badly. Everyone fails at some time," he said. "Do you think that every fire I ever built was perfect?''

Little Pine did not answer. He had never seen his father make a mistake, but it made him feel much better to know that he was not the only one who made mistakes.

"I will try hard to do better the next time,"said Little Pine.

His father was still smiling when he said: "I only hope that you will not try to make excuses if you should ever have difficulty again."

Little Pine looked up. He suddenly forgot about what he was going to say to people if they teased him. It didn't matter any more. For some day he would be the tribal Fire Maker.

QUESTIONS:

· What was the real cause of Little Pine's failure to build the fire properly?

· Have you ever failed to do an important assignment because you thought someone was laughing at you?

· Was Little Pine's failure something to be ashamed of?

· What would you do if you were Little Pine?

A Friend in Need

“Tell us a story! Please, Wise Father, tell us another of your legends! “

The little braves of the village were surrounding Grey Fox, their urgent pleas tugging at the wise old man's heartstrings. Grey Fox was fond indeed of these little braves, and they in turn loved the old Chief, whose fame as a warrior and man of wisdom held them in awe.

A warrior standing near by spoke in an impatient voice: "Let Grey Fox be. He has greater tasks to do than to spin tales for you. Come now, be on your way."

Grey Fox lifted his hand to call for silence, and as though by magic the pleading voices were stilled, for their respect for the Chief was great. He spoke: "Little braves, it is true that I have many burdens to carry, but I believe there is time for just a short tale. So gather round and listen to the legend of 'The Friend in need."'

Eagerly the boys sat at his feet to listen and to learn. Grey Fox smiled at the memory of the story he had chosen to tell and then began: "Many moons ago two hunters were traveling the trail together. Suddenly they came face to face with a huge bear. One, in great fear and without thought for his companion, climbed a tree as fast as he could and hid himself in the branches.

"The other hunter, seeing that single handed he was no match for the bear, threw himself on the ground and made believe he was dead, for he had beard from other hunters that a bear will not molest a dead body.

"The gruff old bear lumbered toward him, his huge paws slapping the ground with spine-chilling thumps. Soon the shaggy beast stood directly over the man, sniffing at the Indian's nose and ears; but the man, with great control, held his breath and lay still.

"Presently the bear turned and walked slowly away. As the ponderous animal disappeared from sight, the first hunter came down from his hiding place in the tree and asked his companion what it was the bear had said to him. 'For,' he said, 'I saw that the bear put his mouth very close to your ear and whispered something to you.'

"'Why,' replied the other, 'it's no secret. He advised me not to keep company with those who leave their friends and run away when danger is near.”

Grey Fox's eyes twinkled with humor as he ended his story. ⁹ 'What lesson do you find in this tale of the hunting trail, little braves?"he asked.

QUESTIONS:

1. What lesson would you say this short legend has to offer us?

2. How would you have felt if you had been the hunter whose friend deserted him in time of need?

3. What does it mean to be a friend?

The Indian and the Cricket

One day an Indian left his home to visit a white man with whom he had become friendly. Being in a city, with its noises and its crowds, was a new experience for the Indian, and he was fascinated by it.

The Indian and the white man were walking down the street when suddenly the red man touched his friend's shoulder and said quietly: "Stop! Do you hear what I hear?"

His white friend paused, listened, smiled, and said: "All I hear is the tooting of car horns, the noise of the streetcars, and the voices of people. Just the regular noises of the city. What is it you hear?”

The Indian replied: "I hear a cricket chirping somewhere near by."

Again the white man listened, but shook his head~ "You must be mistaken,"he said, "I hear no cricket. And even if there were a cricket near by, his chirping would be drowned out by all these other noises.

The Indian would not be dissuaded. After a moment he motioned to his friend, and walking a few steps up the sidewalk they came to a vine growing alongside of one of the buildings. He pushed leaves aside, and there, to the amazement of the white man, a tiny cricket was revealed, chirping its loudest. Now that he saw the cricket and was close to it, the white man could hear its call.

As they proceeded on their way, he said to his Indian friend: "of course, you heard the cricket because your hearing is much better than mine. All Indians can hear better than white people."

The Indian smiled, shook his head, and replied: "No, that is not true. The Indian's hearing is no better than that  the white man. Watch! I'll prove it to you."

He reached into his pocket and found a fifty cent piece, which he tossed to the sidewalk. As it clinked against the cement, people from several yards around stopped, turned, and looked. Finally, one of them picked up the piece, pocketed it, and went on his way.

"You see,"said the Indian, "the noise made by the fifty cent piece was no louder than that made by the cricket, yet many of your white people heard the noise the money made, stopped, and paid attention to it, although they paid no heed to the noise made by the cricket. The reason is not a difference in our hearing. It is a difference in what we have learned to listen for, a difference in the things we turn our attention toward."

Many things are said and done to us and by us as we journey in life, and the things that will count are the things that we have our minds and our hearts tuned toward. Living will be better and happier if we learn to tune our minds and our hearts to see, hear, and know the good things rather than the bad. We can carry only so much. Let's be sure that the things we carry are good and not evil.

QUESTIONS:

1. How many things have you in your mind now that you'd be a lot happier without?

2. What thoughts do you carry around in your mind that make it impossible for you to be friendly?

3. What advantage is there to carrying some of these things?

4. Sometimes people carry grudges or remember things that have been said about them that they want to forget. Do you think that remembering and carrying these things around make for happiness? What would you suggest instead?

King of the Forest

Long before the forests knew the footsteps of any man, the squirrel was king of all the woods. Among the beasts he was ruler. He was a magnificent animal. Larger than the largest lion, stronger than the strongest buffalo, swifter than the swiftest deer, wiser than the wisest owl. Yes, indeed, he was truly a ruler. Because of his position he was admired by all the beasts of the forest.

For many years the squirrel ruled well, but the time came when he became so impressed with his authority that he thought of no one but himself. He no longer ruled unselfishly, but grew in selfishness and cruelty. As time passed, his vanity and cruelty became unbearable. Animals who had once loved him now hated and feared him. The fear and hatred for the squirrel grew until the animals felt it necessary to call the meeting of all the beasts of the forest.

At this meeting a prayer was made to the Great Spirit for help.

Hearing the prayer of these worried beasts, the Great Spirit came to earth in the guise of an animal and called upon the squirrel. He found the squirrel mean and ugly, and so, exercising his magic power, he assumed godly form, standing before the squirrel who cowered at this display of power. The Great Spirit told the huge king that he was no longer worthy to rule over the beasts of the forest and that because of his selfishness and cruelty he must be punished.

With the warning, the Great Spirit cast a spell over the squirrel and the once towering king became so small that the Great Spirit could hold him in one hand. Picking up the now terrified animal, the Great Spirit threw him high into a tree, saying "Henceforth you shall spend your days in the trees. Small in stature, you shall fear every lining thing. Your food shall be the nuts and herbs of the forest. No longer will you have your kingly roar, but shall chatter in a harmless voice. A new king will be named - one who shall be kind and wise and humble; who will remain unselfish and gentle despite his authority and strength."

With this, the Great Spirit vanished, leaving behind the small, shy animal we know today as the squirrel.

The Other Fellows Moccasins

Many snows ago -- there are those who still remember -- it was a custom among Indian tribes to appoint judges, who went from village to village to try those Indians who had broken the Indian law. This is a story of the wisdom displayed by one of those Indian judges.

A young brave was being tried for a very serious offense. While a neighboring warrior was away on a hunting trip, the Indian on trial had stolen his neighbor's ponies and valuable furs, and had sold them to a wandering trapper.

When the hunter returned to his tepee and found his furs and ponies gone, he was sad indeed. He had worked hard to gather the furs, and the ponies bad been his prized possession. He knew not what to do. In desperation, he confided in several other Indians, one of whom had witnessed the theft but, not knowing what to do, had remained silent about it. Now, however, when he saw the sadness brought to his friend, he told of witnessing the crime, and the thief was apprehended.

The thief was brought to trial. A large crowd had gathered to witness the trial, and there was a great deal of speculation as to what punishment the judge would decide. When all concerned had testified, and the Indian judge felt that he had all the information necessary, he asked for time to make his decision.

He withdrew from the crowd and entered the dense forest behind the village. With uplifted hands he prayed: "Great Spirit, help me to judge wisely."

When the trail was resumed, the judge announced his punishment. Facing the thief, he said: "You must be made to feel the sadness and concern that your neighbor has felt because of your crime. It is my judgment that you shall be forced to walk for two moons in his moccasins."

The Indians gathered at the trial understood this punishment and thought it wise.

QUESTIONS:

1.  Do you understand what the punishment was? If you are a little brave and do not understand, ask the big braves of your tribe to explain.

2.  Do you think this was a wise punishment? Why?

3. Do you think the Indian judge was a good man? Why?

The Leather Bags

The sun shown brightly upon the little Indian boy as he watched the great crowd of people coming toward him. He lifted his hand in amazement, to shade his eyes. Could it he true? Was this the great Chief of the tribe who was walking in his direction?

Yes, it was true. And behind the Chief were many braves, all in their brightest colored clothes. It was a day of celebration. At that moment, the little Indian boy realized that everyone in the tribe was following the Chief as he walked toward the river bank.

It was a big crowd that had gathered. After the braves came the boys and the squaws. The dogs were there, too. It seemed that every tepee had a dog, and every dog was barking and running, adding to the noise that the excited people were making. The tom-toms increased the din as they beat out their steady rhythm. The little Indian boy quickly joined the great throng.

In a few moments they had reached the river bank. The Chief stopped and turned to face his fellow tribesmen. A hush fell over the people. The gentle summer breeze ruffled the bright feathers in the Chiefs bonnet.

The Chief began to speak! "I have been called away to visit our neighbors who live to the south, and I shall be gone several moons,"he said. "But I shall return to you at the harvest time."

The Chief looked into the crowd of listening people. He seemed to be looking for someone. His eyes came to rest upon two boys, who appeared to be about ten summers old. They looked enough alike to be twins. "Come here, my sons,"said the Chief. The two brown-skinned boys walked toward their father. They were straight and strong. Some day, when their father was too old to carry on his work, one of these boys would rule the tribe.

The boys stood before their father. It was easy to see that they would miss him while he was away. As they looked at him, they realized that the Chief was holding two leather bags, one in each of his outstretched hands.

"I have something I wish to leave with each of you," said the Chief. "Do the best you can with it. It is yours."He handed a bag to each of his sons and then, with a wave, stepped into his canoe. In a moment the Chiefs canoe was gliding across the water, as he went on his way to vi sit his southern neighbors.

The summer passed quickly. There was plenty of game in the fields for hunting, and the fish were plentiful in the rivers and streams. The autumn season was approaching when the news came that the great Chief had completed his visit and would be returning home.

The Indians made ready a great feast, for the return of their beloved Chief would be enough reason to bring out the finest food in the village. The squaws opened their sacks of corn and prepared tasty foods that they knew the Chief like~ The summer had been good to them, and every tepee had plenty of food for the winter.

Late one afternoon the tribe gathered on the river bank once more. After a short wait, a canoe appeared around the bend in the river. A great cheer went up from the crowd, for they knew it was their wise Chief. The canoe approached swiftly, and in a few moments it touched the sandy river bank.

The Chief stepped from his canoe. He greeted his many friends, and then held high his hand for silence. He told the tribe of his experiences while visiting his friends. He told them how glad he was to be back. Then he seemed to hesitate. "Where are my two sons?"he asked.

The two boys stepped forward. They were even darker now than three months ago when their father had gone away, and it seemed that both of them had grown several inches. The Chief smiled. They were handsome boys. "You will remember,"he said, "that when I went away I gave each of you a bag of corn. You have had it all summer. Now, I want each of you to show me what you have done with what I gave you."

A great murmur arose from the assembled people. Was this the Chiefs way of testing the boys? Was the boy who had shown the greatest amount of wisdom in the use of his father's present to be the Chief of the tribe some day?

The first of the two boys had been standing with his hands behind his back. In them he held the small leather bag that his father had given him when he had gone away. He held it out to his father and said: "Father, after you left I looked into the bag to see what was there. I found that it was full of corn. I did not know what to do with it, so I hid it away in a cave, for I knew that you would want me to take good care of it."

The Chief looked at his son and said nothing. Then he turned to his other son. Everyone knew that he was waiting for the second son to tell what he had done with his bag of corn.

All was silent as the great Chief waited for his second son to speak. Finally the boy said: "Father, when I saw that there was corn in the bag you gave me, I took it out into the field and planted it When the sun grew hot, I carried water to the young green plants. When it rained very hard, I made a ditch, so that the water would not wash it away. Then, when the moon of the harvest came, I had a large bag of corn which I had grown."The boy pointed to a nearby tree, at the base of which was the large bag of corn.

The Chief went to the bag and opened it. He ran his fingers through the corn and let it drain slowly back into the sack. Then he turned and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "My son,"he said, "you have used what has been given to you to the best advantage. You will make a fine chief some day."

QUESTIONS:

1. If you were one of the Indian boys and had been given a bag of corn, what would you have done with it?

2. Do you think that the first son did a wise thing when he hid the corn in the cave?

3. What other things could have been done with the corn?

Long Elk

Two figures crouched motionless beside a large evergreen tree as the first rays of morning sun shown through the early mist. Friendly little waves lapped at the edge of the sandy beach a few feet away. At some distance, a light fog clung lazily over a place where the forest touched the edge of the great lake. This was the place that held the attention of the older of the two figures.

The boy had maintained his crouching position as long as he could, but now his patience was at an end. With clumsy movements, he walked lazily to the beach. He sat in the sand and began picking small stones from the sand and tossing them into the water. They fell into the shallow ripples with a hollow plunk.' His daydreaming was interrupted only by an occasional yawn that stretched his mouth until it seemed to cover most of his brown face.

Now the sun was showing itself over the mountaintop to the east. Distant objects became clearer. The man whispered a few words to his son, and long Elk crawled back to the tree and resumed his crouched position beside his father.

His father spoke: "You cannot shoot a deer if be sees you first,"he said, without taking his eyes from the forest "You cannot learn to hunt well unless you first learn patience."

Long Elk was a fine N).y, but be sometimes annoyed his father because he showed little patience. Some day Long Elk would be a man and would be expected to know how to hunt, and that often requires a willingness to wait for the animal to come close enough to shoot

A faint breeze stirred the evergreen branches over their heads. Long Elk's father threw several blades of grass into the air. The wind carried them away from the lake, and they landed behind the Indians. That was the way it should be.

Suddenly the older Indian grew tense. He laid his hand on Long Elk's shoulder, as a sign for complete silence. Then he pointed toward the forest A movement in the underbrush disclosed a large buck stepping into the lake for its early morning swim.

After making sure that no one was near, the deer waded slowly out into the lake until it was knee deep in the water. Then, after one last look in all directions, it plunged into the deep water and began swimming. Only its bead and antlers were visible now. It was still quite a distance away. The Indians say that you can tell how old a buck is by counting the points on its antlers. Long Elk could not tell how many points this deer had, but there were several of the~

The problem was to get the deer to come close enough to shoot The father raised his hand to his mouth. A moment later a call went out across the lake, shattering the early-morning silence. The buck's ears came to attention. A moment of silence followed, then the call went Out again. The buck seemed to sense from which direction the call came and began swimming toward the two hunters. Carefully timed calls kept the buck coming. Once it seemed to be growing suspicious of the approaching trap, but the father's skill seemed to assure the deer that everything was all right

Long Elk's father, like any other Indian hunter, was anxious that his boy learn to hunt well. It was important, for Indians depended on their hunting ability for much of their food That was the reason the father was very much disappointed when the boy showed little patience in waiting for the deer to come close. He wanted it to come right away. He did not want to wait; he wanted to seethe kill.

Finally, the deer did approach. It walked slowly toward them through the shallow water. It paused for a moment, then took another step.

The father's bow and arrow were ready. The deer was just a few yards away now. It was a perfect target The father stepped from behind the tree. The buck saw him and tried to run, but it was too late. The arrow was already in flight, and it found its mark.

The boy saw the great animal run a few steps, its hoofs thrashing the water. It got as far as the sandy beach, but there it fell to the ground - lifeless!

Long Elk never became a good hunter. He was too busy dreaming of killing the deer when he should have been listening to his father tell him how to get close enough to shoot it

QUESTIONS:

1. What would a wise Indian boy have done? Would he be interested in learning to call a deer? Why?

2. If Long Elk were living in these days and were a boy like you, what would you advise him to do if he wanted to learn a certain sport?

3. If you wanted to learn how to become a better basketball player, would you practice only at being a better shot with the ball or would you try to improve your passing, dribbling, and other techniques, too?

Over the Falls

The long shadows of evening were slowly spreading over the Indian village. Great excitement was in the air for soon the Great Chief would call the Little Braves of the tribe to his fire and tell them more of his fascinating legends.

The little braves were eager to listen and learn, for they knew that Chief White Cloud had been a mighty chief, and in his lifetime had gathered great wisdom which he shared with them through telling his stories. This night Chief White Cloud told a story about the strong love between a Father and a Son. The story told how, long ago, a tribe lived near Niagara Falls. The size and power of the Falls constantly kept tribal members aware of its destructive abilities and order to keep in good relations with the Great Spirit surrounding Niagara Falls, it was a custom each year to send the most courageous Little Brave of the tribe over the Falls in a birch bark canoe.

One year the lot fell to the youngest son of the Chief of the Tribe. When the appointed day arrived for the sacrifice, and everything was ready for the canoe to be set adrift, the braves in charge of the ritual noticed that the Chief was missing. Messengers were sent to hunt for him but he could not be found. It was getting late, and the sacrifice could not be postponed, so the boy was placed in the canoe and it was shoved out into the stream.

As the birch-bark vessel approached the center of the stream, another canoe silently glided out to the rushes on the opposite shore and swiftly approached the Little Brave. In the soft twilight, as the canoes came alongside each other, the people on shore saw that the man in the canoe was the Little Brave's Father. The rapid current caught both canoes and swiftly sent Father And Son over the Falls together.

Since that day each big and little brave of this tribe has come closer together through the act of this noble Chief. When danger is near, when a little brave needs help, he knows he can call on his Father and his Father will be at his side.

This story could be a fitting example of the motto of Y-Indian Guides - "Pals Forever."In Indian Guides a big brave should be available to help his little brave when help is needed, and to be aware of the danger points as his son travels the road of life.

The Salmon Run

"I am going to catch up with my father and ask him if I may carry his canoe for him,"shouted Little Elk as he broke into a run, leaving the other Indian boys behind him.

"I ' m coming with you,"replied Otter Tail. The two boys ran rapidly up the trail, swinging out around the many men and boys they passed.

All of the boys and men of the chinook tribe were in the long procession, for the salmon were fighting to get up the stream, where they could lay their eggs in the calmer pools. This happened each year. It made the Indians very glad, for it meant that they would have fish to eat for many months.

Little Elk was twelve years old. He was growing fast and was anxious to show his strength. He wished to be known as a young man, not a boy. This was his reason for wanting to help his father.

By now the two boys were nearing a brightly colored canoe. The man who carried it was straight and strong. Little Elk ran to him and said: "Father, I am more than twelve summers old, now I am strong enough to carry your canoe.

-A smile came over the man's face as he looked down upon the straight, sturdy boy. "But the canoe is still larger than you," he said.

A look of disappointment spread over the boy's face. "All right,"laughed the father. "Do not look like a sorrowful puppy. You may carry the canoe, for a little while."

The boy's face lighted up. Quickly he took the canoe. Even though the weight that was placed upon his shoulders nearly staggered him, he looked up at his father and forced a smile. Otter Tail was almost as excited as Little Elk. "You are very lucky,"he said, dancing around the canoe.

The men following on the trail whispered to each other of Little Elk's strength. Everything was going well -~ that is, until Otter Tail tripped and fell on a tree root in the pathway. He plunged forward, falling against Little Elk. Two boys and a canoe went thundering to the earth.

A great roar of laughter broke out from the other Indians. Little Elk got up. His face showed his

anger. Just when he was becoming a huge success, this clumsy person had to make him look like a weakling. It was plain to see that Otter Tail was very sorry for what he had done.

Little Elk tried to lift the heavy canoe back upon his shoulders, but he could not. This only made the laughter louder. And so he finally had to give it up. His father took the canoe, and the boys were sent back to their place in the line.

When the Indians arrived at the river, it seemed full of fish jumping in and out of the water as they fought their way upstream. The next few hours flew, for everyone was anxious to catch fish while the fishing was good. Up and down the stream Indians crouched on the banks, awaiting their chance to send a well-directed arrow or spear into the side of a large salmon. A mad scramble followed as the fisherman plunged into the stream to retrieve his catch. Soon piles of fish were mounting beside the Indians.

Little Elk looked up. Otter Tail had found a new place from which to fish, but he had left the fish for he had already caught, unguarded, on the river bank. "He should not leave his fish unprotected,"

thought Little Elk. "Some animal' might steal them"

Not far away a big, lazy brown bear was thinking the same thing. It would be much easier to get his meal that way than by fishing. Slowly, the bear crept forward, trying to avoid being seen. He was afraid of people. Little Elk's sharp eyes detected the bear's movements in the underbrush, and he guessed what was in the bear's mind.

He looked down. A Stone, the size of his fist, lay at his fee~ He picked it up and weighed it carefully in his hand. If he threw the stone, he knew that the bear would turn and run like a frightened dog. if he did not throw it, the bear would take the fish and run away.

It would teach Otter Tail not to leave his fish lying around if the bear did get them. And anyway, hadn't Otter Tail been the cause of Little Elk's embarrassment that morning when they fell with the canoe? Why should he take time out from his own fishing to protect someone else's fish?

It was nearly dark now, and a long line of Indians was returning to the village. Otter Tail walked a few paces behind Little Elk.

Little Elk waited until Otter Tail caught up with him Together they walked along in silence. Finally, Otter Tail said: "That bear certainly ran when you threw that stone.""He sure did," replied Little Elk. And they both had a good laugh about it.

QUESTIONS:

1.  Would you have thrown the stone if you were Little Elk?

2.  Would it teach Otter Tail a lesson if the bear got his fish?

3.  Was there any good reason why Little Elk should not throw the stone?

4.  Do you usually become angry when someone hurts you without meaning to? Why?

5. What should you do when someone pushes you accidentally?

Sea Shells

Flashing Star awoke with a start. He had overslept.

The long house was empty. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. His eyes searched the room for signs of life. Blankets were strewn about. It was plain to see that everyone was up and about his morning's work. This was the first time for many days that Flashing Star had slept until the sun was above the trees. He was usually the first one up.

A bright beam of sunlight came streaming through the smoke hole in the roof, falling upon the Chiefs chair at the far end of the room. It was here, just last night, that the several families who lived in this large house had gathered together to play games and discuss their problems. The old men had told thrilling stories of the past, and the boys had promised to prove their worth to the tribe by performing deeds of skill and bravery.

Now Flashing Star remembered! At the meeting last night he had promised to find one hundred sea shells before the sun sank below the edge of the western ocean. He was to do it 3 lone, as this was to be his first step toward becoming a brave.

Quickly Flashing Star fastened his breechcloth about his sun-tanned waist and dashed out the door. Today was the day for the shell finding. It was a beautiful day. The snowcapped mountains towered majestically against the deep-blue sky. It was only a few steps to the great rolling sea, which was near his home.

The women were gathering wood in the deep ravines. The men were launching their boats for a day of fishing. Flashing Star watched them slide out into the huge whitecaps. He would have shouted, "Good luck,"but the waves were making a great roar against the sandy beach. Flashing Star hoped they would be lucky anyway, for fish was the main food of the Chinooks living along the Pacific Ocean.

He picked up a goat's-hair bag from the ground and ran quickly down the slope toward the beach, for it was there that he would find the shells. He must hurry, for finding a hundred shells before sundown would be no simple matter.

Dropping to his knees on the coarse sand, he began to dig. He was busy for several minutes before he found the first one. "It will take me a long time to finish,"thought Flashing Star.

Soon he was becoming angry at himself for oversleeping He knew, too, that the Chief would be very angry if he had not completed his work on time, and he would receive a tongue-lashing before the entire Council that evening.

Suddenly a shadow fell across the sand, and Flashing Star realized that someone was standing over him. It was Bright Moon, who had been his friend for many years.

"You will have to hurry if you are to get your shells,"shouted Bright Moon. The roar of the waves made it difficult to hear. "I would have awakened you this morning, but the Chief would not let me. I have a plan to help you."

"You have?"said Flashing Star.

"Yes,"said Bright Moon. "I will go down the beach where no one will see me and dig some shells for you. One hour before the sun sets we will meet by the large pine tree on the hill, and together we should have a hundred shells.

Many thoughts raced through Flashing Star's mind. He knew that he had been told to get the shells alone. It was a test toward becoming a brave. But it might serve the Chief right for not awakening him that morning. Maybe he should let Bright Moon help him~

Flashing Star knew that one of the laws of his tribe was honesty; but Bright Moon had a temper, and he might become angry if he refused his help, even though they had been friends for a long time. Flashing Star thought for a moment and then said: "A brave is always honest I cannot accept your help."

Bright Moon's face turned red with rage. Without speaking, he walked away. Flashing Star spent the rest of the day digging. Every muscle hurt, but when darkness came he had his one hundred shells.

The next day Bright Moon came to Flashing Star and said: "I am sorry that I became angry yesterday. You are a better Chinook than I am. Here is my hand. let us be friends."

QUESTIONS:

1.  What would you do if you were Flashing Star?

2. Do you think it would be dishonest to let Bright Moon help?

3.  Did the Chief do wrong to let Flashing Star oversleep? Should this make any difference as far as letting Bright Moon dig the shells is concerned?

4. Would the fact that your teacher in school gave you a hard test make it all right for you to copy from someone else who offered to tell you the right answers?

Silver Beavers Dream

Sleep had come to Silver Beaver with great difficulty. For hours he had lain awake staring at the flickering shadows cast upon the Walls of his tepee by the glowing embers of the slowly dying fire in the middle of the tepee floor. His mind was crammed With the memory of events that had occurred during the day. He had lost his temper and had said a great many things for which he was sorry -- not just to one but to several of his best friends. His pride had kept him from apologizing, and yet he knew that he had been wrong and wished with all his 'night that the ugly words he had uttered might somehow be erased.

Finally he fell asleep. With the darkness that enveloped him came a dream - a dream in which a shadowy figure came to his tepee and spoke softly to him, saying: "Silver Beaver, we are preparing a message on our magic birch bark. We want you to read it carefully."

From out of nowhere the strange visitor produced a birch bark scroll and handed it to Silver Beaver, as he continued: "All that you have said today, with never a word left out, has been written here. It will prove queer reading to you, no doubt. Before this night is over and this dream has come to an end, you will be forced to read the whole record through, for so he Great Spirit has commanded.

Silver Beaver found a strange power forcing him to read the birch bark scroll. They were all there, the ugly words, all the foolish things he had said. He tried to force the sleep from him and so avoid the accusing document, but he was held fast in its grip. There was no escape.

Hours passed, and as he scanned the final sheet of this strange scroll Silver Beaver was exhausted with the ordeal. He had no sooner read the last word than his strange visitor reappeared and spoke to him: "This has been a dream, Silver Beaver, which we hope you will long remember. Its lesson is an important one; we hope you have clearly understood its meaning. If doubt lies in your mind go to your father, Chief flying Hawk, and he will help you to understand.

With this message, the figure disappeared. Suddenly Silver Beaver was awake. It was morning. His dream was over, but its impression remained strong in his memory.

QUESTIONS:

1.  What do you think is the lesson to be learned from Silver Beaver's strange dream?

2.  How many things have you said today that would have been better unsaid?

3.  Do you think apologies make up for the things a fellow says and does?

4.         Have you ever been sorry for the things you have said? What did you do about it?

Two Buckets

The red gleam of the campfire was the only light in the entire Indian village. Gathered about the fire were the young boys of the tribe. Chief Grey Fox was spinning another of his legends. Eagerly they gave their attention to the words of the wise old Chief. He had been spinning his yams for more than an hour and had not lost the interest of even one of his young admirers.

The Chief continued: "This is a story the white man brought to our land. It is the story of a well.

"In a white man's village, not far from our camp, there was once a well. It was deep, and its water was clear and cool. Many people used this well. It had two buckets. When one bucket was lowered into the well, the other would rise up from its depths. Always one bucket came up while the other went down.

"Now these buckets were not like most buckets, because they were heard to speak to each other on occasion. I'm weary of this life, said one of the water containers one day. 'No matter how many times I come up full, I always go down empty. I wish I had some other life.

"The other bucket paused for a moment and replied, I'm very happy, but then I look at my job differently from you. You say, no matter how many times you come up full you always go down empty, and you are discouraged. I say, no matter how many times I go down empty I always come up full of cool, refreshing water that many people need, and my job is an important and happy one. You see, it all depends on how you look at it.'

"I don't know,"continued Chief Grey Fox, "whether or not the white man who heard this conversation benefited by it, but to an Indian it has a real lesson."

QUESTIONS:

1. What are some of the thoughts that run through your mind as a result of this story?

2. What lesson can we learn from this legend?

3. Why not try this method the next time you're asked to do an errand around the house, especially when you know it has to be done: Wouldn't it be a little easier by having a good attitude. Sometimes it helps to make a sort of a game Out of a tough job. It's worth a try, isn't it?

Two Streams

The legends of the Indian are many. Passed on from generation to generation by the storytellers of each tribe, they have brought new wisdom and understanding to those who heed their message. Give heed then, braves, big and little, to this tepee tale. Take its message close to heart.

Running Deer first told us the story of the two streams as we camped along the Crooked Creek trail early in the spring. I can hear his voice even now: "Many moons ago, my little braves, there were tow mountain streams running down a mountainside. They talked as they flowed along together. This is not strange, for I'm sure many of you have heard small streams murmuring and whispering to one another."

He stopped, and in the silence of the forest we could hear murmuring of the creek upon whose banks our camp was set. Then, satisfied that his point had been made, he continued: "The two streams became real friends, and for a time they were happy in their new comradeship. But their came a day when one of them said, 'I believe I will run down the mountainside and see what new adventures I can find, for I am tired of staying here.' 'You go along,' the other replied. 'I'll stay here'."

"And so they parted. One stream flowed happily down the mountainside and discovered a village nestled comfortable in the valley. The adventurous stream was pure and cold. Along its shore flowers grew, trees took root, and the soft grass grew green. Animals sought its pleasant water and, meeting there told it many fascinating stories of life in the forest. In the village, people enjoyed the stream's refreshing coolness. The adventurous stream became dear to the hearts of all who knew it, and it grew in strength and happiness because it was serving others.

"The stream that had chosen to remain behind lay idly in the sun and soon became a stagnant pool. Animals avoided its dirty water. Flowers and trees died on its shore. A green scum covered its surface. Its only friend was an ancient frog who croaked mournfully from a rock in its center."

Running Deer paused to let the memory of his story dwell in our minds. Then he continued: "My tribesmen, this simple story has been told to the little braves of our tribe for many years, to encourage them to lead useful lives.

"To make your life strong, you must put it to service for others. If you become selfish and cease to be of service to your tribe and to others, you too will become useless, as did the one stream in this legend.

"Must not the brave who wishes to have muscles of great strength earn them through exercise? It is the same with our lives -- those that are best are those that are spent in service for others. The service, my braves, need not be large. It may consist of small acts of kindness, unselfishness, and love. For great things are made from many smaller things."

Questions:

1. What are some of the thoughts that run through your mind because of this story?

2. What have you done today that have been of service to someone beside yourself?

3. What are some things your tribe could do to be of service to others?

4. What are some of the things around your home or with friends that you could do to be of service?

The Voice From the Forest

Little Elk tumbled into the tepee. "I'm so angry I could do something awful!"he shouted at his mother.

"What is it my son, that makes you snarl like a cub hear?"she asked patiently. "It's that boy in the forest. I don't like him. I think I'll go out and shoot an arrow at him.""Just what has he done? How has he made you feel this way?"

Little Elk took his mother's hand and, leading her to the edge of the forest, he pointed and answered: "A little while ago I was playing here, and I stumbled and fell. I shouted 'Hey!' and someone in the forest there hollered back, 'Hey!' When I heard this, I shouted, 'What's your name?' and he just mocked me by shouting in return, 'What's your name?' Then I cried, 'Come out and let me see you.' Again he answered by repeating what I had said. Finally I got real angry and said to him, "Come out and fight!" and he shouted back 'Come out and fight!"'

Little Elk's mother looked at him a moment.~ "Would you like to try an experiment, son?"she asked quietly.

"Sure, Mother. What is it?"he replied. Under his breath Little Elk muttered: "I'd certainly like to get hold of that sassy fellow in the forest."

"Now, son, suppose you go to the edge of the forest and shout 'I like you,' and see what happens."

Little Elk looked questioningly at his mother, hesitated for a moment, then peering into the forest, he shouted, "I like you." A look of amazement spread over his face as the voice from the forest replied, "I like you."Little Elk followed with, "Let's be friends," and the voice replied, "Let's be friends."

Little Elk's mother put her arm around his shoulder. "You have been fighting with your echo, Little Elk,"she said. "There is a real lesson in what you have done today. When you were angry with your echo, he was angry in return. When you were friendly with him, he was friendly with you. May this teach you that the best way to have friends is to be a friend. You will remember the missionary's telling us of Jesus and his Golden Rule. Do you remember it, son?"

Little Elk looked into the kind and understanding face of his mother. "I remember, Mother,"he said. The Golden Rule tells us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us."

The two walked hand in hand back to the tepee.

QUESTIONS:

1. What are some of the things this story makes you think about?

2. Do you feel that Little Elk learned a lesson that day? What do you think it was?

Wet Feathers

Dark clouds rolled out of the West as Tomahawk walked through the forest near his home. Flashes of weird yellow lightning danced in the sky, and far away the thunder grew louder. The air was heavy with moisture.

"The clouds will soon be overhead," thought Tomahawk, "I had better run for the village, or I shall get soaked."

He hurried up the path that led to the village. He would be home soon. He thought that he would beat the rain, for the wind that comes before the storm was not yet blowing.

Suddenly he stopped. All was silent except for the distant roll of thunder. Then he heard something; it sounded like a bird in trouble. Searching he discovered a mallard duck huddled under a bush. The duck did not try to escape from him as he came closer. He saw that it had a broken leg.

Carefully he lifted the duck with both hands. In its big brown eyes was a look of fear and pain that would make a strong man feel sorry for it. Tomahawk quickly tucked the bird under his deerskin jacket and ran for the village. The rain was coming; he could have made better time without the duck, but he remembered how it had looked at him. He held on and ran hard.

Nearly a moon had passed, and the broken leg was completely well. The duck was tame and would run gayly around the wigwam playing with the Indian boys who came each day to see Tomahawk.

The bird had been given a name. It was known as "Wet Feathers,"for even though Tomahawk had tried to protect it on that rainy day, it had gotten very wet. Tomahawk's father had laughed when he saw the bird, and he had suggested the name. Actually, he thought it was foolish to have a duck for a pet when it would make such a fine dinner.

Wet Feathers seemed to enjoy his new home, but Tomahawk noticed a longing look in its eye whenever wild ducks, passing overhead, called to it with a loud "honk". So he was not completely surprised when Wet Feathers flew away one day to join his comrades in flight.

Two summers passed. Tomahawk was twelve years old. He had learned to shoot well and could paddle a canoe in a manner pleasing to the braves of the tribe.

Each spring, the Kickapoo Tribe held a canoe race for boys who had not reached their eleventh year. Tomahawk stood on the bank and watched the race. The young boys of the tribe were straining every muscle, for the winner was to sit at an honored place at the next Pow Wow.

The race was a close one. The river was filled with canoes and so it was no wonder that many boys were crowded out. Very few people noticed one little fellow who dropped out right at the start of the race. Not only that but his paddle was broken. Tomahawk found this same little boy later in the day, sitting alone under a big tree, his head in his hands.

"What makes you so unhappy?"asked Tomahawk, as he came upon the boy.

"My father did not expect me to win the race,"came the reply, "but he did want me to put up a good fight."

"But you cannot win a race without a paddle,"replied Tomahawk.

"I know,"said the boy, "but all my father will know is that I did not finish the race. He was not on the river bank this afternoon."

"But if he wanted you to do well in the race, why did he not come to watch?"asked Tomahawk.

The boy looked up. Sadness filled his eyes. "Several moons ago my father was hurt in a fight with a bear. You see, he is blind."

Tomahawk lowered his head. "I am sorry,"he said. "I'm sorry, too, that you did not do well in the race."

The boy's eyes lighted up. "Perhaps you would come with me and explain to my father about the race. He would then understand then how it happened that I did not finish,"pleaded the boy.

"I would be glad to,"replied Tomahawk, "but I promised to go fishing with my friend, Clear Sky, this afternoon. I will help you some other time."

As Tomahawk turned, he stopped dead still. There in his path stood Na-ha-wise, the great Chief of the Kickapoo Tribe. The Chief was looking straight at Tomahawk,

"You are Tomahawk,"said the Chief. "I remember the time that you found a duck in the wilderness. You cared for it because it was in trouble. Now you find a fellow Indian in trouble but you refuse to help him. Do you care more for a duck than a fellow Indian?"

Tomahawk turned and looked at the boy at the foot of the tree. The Chief was right. The Chief was right. It was his duty to help. A moment later the boys were walking toward the village. They were going to talk to the boy's father.