IT was long ago, so long that the books of the white men cannot tell the time, that all the animals in the forest could talk with the red men. There was a time when the animals came to the great council-fires and lent to the Indians the knowledge they possessed of the woods and streams. The wise beaver taught the Indian women and children where to snare the pike and salmon, and how to build houses that would keep out the rain and frosts. The bear and the wolf led the braves out on the plains and through the forests and imparted to them their skill in following the trail. The dog, by patient example, gave to the red men the tact and power to watch for many suns without weariness. From the raccoon the red men learned to mount the trunks of the largest trees. The horse consorted with the Indians on the plains and showed them the secret of swift running. The panther taught them how to conceal themselves in the thicket, on the branches of an overhanging tree or behind the ledge of rocks, and to rush forth upon their enemies like the sudden burst of the whirlwind.

Thus from every beast of the forest the red men took lessons in the craft of the woods and plains, and when they had finished all the other lessons, the fox led them far away into the forest and taught them the cunning necessary to make use of each. In this way they lived while the summer and the winter came many times, and they were happy.

But there came a time when the animals saw that the red man was their master. He had the wisdom of the beaver, the keen scent of the bear and the wolf, the patience and fidelity of the dog, the agility of the raccoon, the speed and endurance of the horse, the spring of the panther and the cunning of the fox.

Often the beaver would be surprised to find that the Indian boys and women had not been content with fishing in the places he had pointed out to them, but had wandered away to streams which he had hoped to keep for himself. Furthermore, they were looking with envious eyes upon his warm coat of fur, and he feared that they might want it for a covering. Their houses were built with even more skill than his own, and as they had learned to fashion boats out of the trees he had felled for them and had made for their use paddles shaped like his tail, they could dart across the lake or along the river faster than he could ever hope to. And the beaver was saddened because he had taught the Indians wisdom.

The bear and the wolf, wandering in the woods, often saw the Indians following the trail far into the forest. At the same time the Indians so cunningly disguised their own trail that the wolf howled with anger when he tried to follow the red men, and the bear grew surly and retired to his den in the rocks. With the keen scent the bear had trained, the Indians sought out the trees where the bees stored their honey, and thus he was robbed of much of the food he loved best. The wolf heard a young brave promise a maiden that if she would live in his wigwam she should rest on a couch made of wolf skins and be covered with the warm fur of the bear. So the wolf and the bear took their little ones into dark caves and kept away from the homes of the red men.

The dog, too, found that he no longer held first honors for faithfulness at the watch. But he was not angered at the knowledge that his brother could rival him, but lay with him many nights on guard in the wilderness, vying with him in vigilance. When their long vigils were ended the dog and the Indian would play together and make merry with each other over the result of their friendly contest.

The panther was jealous and raged through the forests with fury. Sometimes, to his surprise and wrath, when he had taken every precaution to conceal himself from his brother, the red man, the branches of the young trees would part as silently as if swayed by the breath of summer, and between them would appear his red brother, laughing at him for hiding himself so ill.

When the raccoon reached the highest point to which he dared climb, the Indian boys would follow him with shouts of laughter, and go still further toward the ends of the swaying and bending branches, hanging from them in such a dangerous and reckless manner that it made the old raccoon's head turn dizzy, and he went away to the hills by himself.

The Indians learned their lessons so thoroughly of the horse and practiced them with so much patience that finally that animal found he could no longer play when they had races on the plains. But he enjoyed the contests with his red brothers, and when they returned to the village he would follow and the Indian maidens would mount his back and ride proudly to the council-fire.

The fox was greatly chagrined to find that his cunning and tricks were matched on the part of his red brothers with others equally shrewd. No matter how carefully he concealed his trail—though he walked in the beds of the streams or circled the mountains till he had almost lost his own pathway—the Indians would track him through all his windings. When he tried to lead them astray by subtle tales they laughed at his deceptions and put him to shame before his friends and neighbors.

So it came to pass that the Indians possessed the knowledge of all the animals. They could follow the trail with the scent of the bear or the wolf; build more wisely than the beaver; climb more daringly than the raccoon; watch more faithfully than the dog; crouch more closely and spring more surely than the panther; race the plains as swiftly as the horse, and outwit the cunning of the fox.

Then the animals held a council, but the fire was not lighted in its accustomed place and the red men were in heavy slumbers while their brothers of the forest talked.

The jealous wolf opened the discussion and declared that when he had carefully looked on all sides of the existing state of affairs he saw but one course for the animals to pursue. They ought to rush in upon the villages and kill all the Indians and their women and papooses.

The bear was more noble, and said that he thought this proposition was unfair. He declared, however, that the animals could not stand still any longer and look without fear upon the dangers which confronted them. It was their duty to challenge the Indians to an open war.

The beaver argued that the better way would be to wait till the chilling blasts should come and then in the night tear away the houses the Indians had built to protect themselves and their little ones from the cold. The storms of winter, the beaver said, would very soon put these smart fellows in a condition that would make them anxious enough to come to some terms advantageous to the animals.

The horse said it would not be right to cause the Indians pain or death. The Indians were not bad neighbors, though perhaps a trifle too apt and smart for the rest of them. For a great many years, said the horse, his ancestors and the red men had been on the best of terms—not so much as a ripple of trouble having disturbed their relations. He could not for a moment think of entering into any plan whereby he would be called upon to help take his brother's life or cause him pain. He had heard that away over beyond the great mountains there was a pleasant country—not as pleasant and fertile as the one in which they now lived, but a fairly good place to live in. He would therefore propose that the animals invite the Indians to go there on a great harvest expedition, and when once the red men were safely over the mountains the animals could steal away in the night and return to their loved homes. The panther scoffed at the horse for advancing what he was pleased to call a silly and senseless plan. The beaver, too, the panther said, was much too leniently inclined. The Indians were to be feared, and if the animals were to retain any of their freedom and independence they must follow the advice of the wolf. Only total extermination of the Indian race could be depended upon to warrant them from further molestation from the red men. What good would it do, forsooth, to lure the red men over the mountains and then run away from them? Did the horse think the Indians sick nurslings or women to lie down on the big plains over the mountains and make no effort to return to their loved streams, lakes and forests? Why, the Indians would come back as quickly as could the horse himself, and then the very ground would be made red with the blood of those who had decoyed them away from homes that had for generations been held in such high reverence by the Indians. He advocated an immediate advance upon the villages and would give quarter to none.

All eyes were turned toward the raccoon as he rose to speak, for his was a very old family and had long been held in high respect by all the inhabitants of the forest. He said he could not exactly side with the panther, for the Indians had never done him any great harm. He was convinced, however, that the country ought to be rid of them, for they were becoming altogether too well skilled in the craft of the woods. Too much power in the hands of one individual, said the raccoon, was apt to make it unpleasant for those with whom he lived. He favored the plan advanced by the beaver. They could lay their plans carefully, and in this manner bring about a treaty that would keep the Indians within proper bounds.

The fox felt sure that the better plan would be for the animals to put themselves under his training. He would teach them how to cheat and steal while pretending friendship. They could then easily strip the red men's fields of the corn that had been planted for the winter. They could take from their moorings on the river banks the boats and fishing nets of bark and float them far away down the stream where they would be lost in the rapids. In this manner they could soon have the Indians at their mercy and bring about a treaty on the plan proposed by the beaver and seconded by the raccoon. The plan, he continued, offered no danger to them, as did the contests proposed by the panther and the wolf; and he thought that mature deliberation would convince all that it was the best one to adopt.

The dog said that not until the present time had he ever realized what it was to be a beast. He felt ashamed to think he had been weak enough to be prevailed upon to attend a council to which their red brothers were not bidden. It was contrary to the custom that had existed since the Great Spirit first sent them to this fair and beautiful country. He expected that they would all be punished for such treachery, and indeed they ought to be. The Indians had as yet treated them only with kindness and respect. Many times in winter, when the snows lay so deep on the ground that no food could be found the Indians had opened their homes to the animals who had not made suitable provision for food, and had fed them and kept them from perishing with hunger. There had never been a time, said the dog, as he looked around the circle of listeners and waited for a denial of his assertion, when any Indian had refused shelter, food or aid to a needy, sick or suffering animal. To be sure the Indians had acquired all the knowledge that the animals possessed, but their doing this had in no manner impoverished the animals. As they had lost nothing by this, he saw no reason why they should be jealous and fault-finding about it. Would it not be far wiser for the animals to profit by the example set by the Indians and teach each other the various traits and characteristics each possessed than to be consumed by jealousy and revenge, and in the heat of passion break a peace that had existed for so many years? He could not, and would not be a party to any of the plans proposed, and if the other animals persisted in following out any of those cruel and treacherous schemes he should consider it his duty to leave the council and go to the village to warn his sleeping brothers of their danger. More than that, he would fight on the side of the red men if it became necessary, and help them defend their lives and homes from the attack of any force that might be brought against them.

When the dog had ceased speaking the wolf and the panther were in a terrible rage. They accused the dog of cowardice, bad faith, bribe-taking, desertion and treachery. They said he had been made foolish and silly by the praise that had been lavished upon him by the Indian maidens. They reviled him and stuck out their tongues at him for being lovesick after the Indian women. They said he had turned nurse for the papooses and hereafter would better stay in the villages of his new-found friends and lie in the sun with the old men. They dared him to go to the village and expose the proceedings of the council, saying that if he attempted it they would set upon and kill him. "For a poor and meagre crust of maize-cake, too hard for the teeth of the red men to crush," said the panther; "you have been bought, and you give up all claim to the rights that have been held sacred by the dogs of all times. We should think that the memory of your forefathers and the long line of noble dogs who have lived before you came on earth to disgrace them would stir you to action for the honor of your race."

"No," said the wolf; "he can remember nothing but the soft caresses of the Indian girls upon his head. I saw him the other day lying at the feet of Garewiis, the daughter of the chief Teganagen, and when he raised his eyes and looked at her she took his head in her arms and laid her cheek against him, all the time stroking his back and singing to him as she will sing to her papooses when they come to her wigwam. Not only has he sold himself to be the friend of the Indians and sit quietly by while we are enslaved, but he is lovesick and his head is turned."

This warm and intemperate language caused much confusion and something of a sensation, though the dog remained calm and dignified. He showed by no outward sign that the uncivil and untruthful charges of the panther and the wolf had even been heard, much less heeded.

The horse instantly sprang into the open place before the fire and hurled at the two false accusers his most powerful eloquence. "I come as a champion of my friend, the dog," he said. "You have insulted and maligned him in a manner that calls for the condemnation of all honorable beasts. He is my brother. Because there is some difference in our tastes and I am his superior in size, it makes him none the less my brother. I love him, for he is gentle, affectionate, trustworthy, noble and brave. You, the panther, and you, the wolf, boast of your bravery; yet which of you dared rush into the burning forests as did my brother, the dog, and lead the blind doe to a place of safety? Which of you dared plunge into the river, made deep and dangerous by the melting snows as winter died and the warm winds came to bury—him when the waters boiled and foamed to the very tops of the high banks and spread out over the plains like a great lake—and from the midst of that angry flood bring safely to the shore a weak and drowning companion who had stumbled and fallen over the bank? I have heretofore loved you all, but henceforth I shall be ashamed to acknowledge the wolf and panther as my brothers. They seem to think that bravery consists in cruel attack and glistening teeth, but I can tell them that it is more surely found in noble deeds. I will follow the dog to the homes of the red men, and together we will fight against the cruel practices you design to put in force."

As the horse ceased speaking the Great Spirit came suddenly to the council-fire and said that the loud voices of the disputants had been borne to his ears by the message-bearers and he had listened in sorrow to all that had been said. He had therefore left the Happy Hunting-Grounds and come to their council. He was grieved that the pleasant relations heretofore existing between the Indians and the animals would now have to be broken and disturbed. When they had been given life the intention was formed that eventually all would dwell together in the Happy Hunting-Grounds. Now he would be compelled to alter his plans. He would change the language of his red children so that the beasts could never talk with them again. He would go to his children in the villages and tell them all that had been said at this clandestine council in the woods. For all time the wolf and panther should be hunted and killed by the Indians. They should be looked upon and warred against as the most dangerous of foes. The bear might be counted as an honorable antagonist, and the red men would be ready to fight him in open battle whenever the opportunity offered. The red men would not disturb or molest him, but if he should come and demand a battle the Indians would not refuse. The beaver and raccoon, on account of the heartless plan they had set forth for the vanquishing of their brethren, should be considered the prey of the Indian and should yield their thick furs to keep his children warm. The fox would be looked upon as a thief. He had proposed to steal the food of the Indians and bring them to want; now he might practice his desire. But the Indians would be warned and would set traps and snares for him. When caught his fur would be used like the fur of the beaver and raccoon. The horse and the dog might still retain their understanding of speech of I the Indians, but as they had been guilty of breaking an ancient treaty by attending a council to which all the parties of the treaty had not been bidden, they must receive some punishment, and would no longer be permitted to speak the Indian language. But they should always be the champions and friends of the red men; they should live in the Indians' homes, be present at the great feasts and festivals, share the products of their hunt, be loved and petted by the maidens and papooses, fight with the Indians when they fought and be partakers and sharers in the victories or defeats. In a word, they should be the companions and brothers of the Indians forever, here and in the Happy Hunting-Grounds.

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