An Indian was once wandering across the prairie. He was tired, and hungry, and very lonely. He had traveled many miles.

At last he came to a brook, in a meadow at the foot of a hill.

"I will rest here until noon," thought the Indian. He sat down upon the mossy bank beside the brook.

Presently he heard some one whisper, "Lift me up and carry me with you, and I will be your friend."

The Indian looked carefully about him, to find who was speaking. He saw a small, gray animal peeping from out of the moss.

"Ha, ha, Gray Mole!" laughed the Indian. "Why should I carry you?"

"I am far from my island home. If you will carry me to the cliff near the Place of Breaking Light, I can then reach my burrow safely," replied Gray Mole.

The Indian placed Gray Mole in his large wampum belt.

"Very well, little friend," he said. "You may travel with me, but I shall rest here for a time before starting on the journey."

Then, covering himself with his deerskin robe, he lay down upon the moss. He was soon fast asleep.

At about noon Sun passed overhead. Sun traveled so close to the earth that his rays scorched and shriveled the deerskin robe.

When the Indian awoke, he found that his deerskin robe had been scorched and shriveled by Sun. He was furiously angry.

"I will follow Sun and punish him," said the Indian.

Sun had traveled far beyond the meadow and was now fast disappearing behind the hill. The Indian started to follow.

At last the Indian reached the summit of the hill and could look down the other side. Sun could no longer be seen. He had hidden in his cave beyond the Western Sea.

The Indian traveled until he came to the edge of a cliff. The Shining Big Sea Water beat high against the rocks, and in the distance he could see the Place of Breaking Light.

"We have come to the cliff, little friend. Jump out of my wampum belt," said the Indian. "But how are you going to reach your burrow on the island yonder?"

"I shall wait here with you until the break of day," replied Gray Mole.

Many trees grew near the cliff. East Wind blew gently through their branches, rustling the leaves and carrying messages to the Indian.

Oak Tree said proudly, "I am King of the Forest. The Great Chief summons his warriors beneath my boughs. Here he holds his councils. Of my branches the strong arrows are made."

Ash Tree whispered, "My pliant branches make the bows which speed the arrows in their flight."

Maple Tree said softly, "I am the food of the Great Chief. My sap is sweet and wholesome. People of all nations delight to show me honor."

Red Willow bowed low and said, "My bark is used for the peace pipe of the Great Chief. Of my branches the women weave baskets and mats for their wigwams."

Marsh Reeds, growing near Red Willow, chimed sweetly, "Our stalks are used for the stems of the peace pipes."

Linden Tree swayed to and fro, saying, "I am used for the cradles in which the children are rocked."

Pine Tree said gently, "My sweet singing lulls the children to sleep." And she murmured a soft lullaby.

Birch Tree was standing near the path.

"Of what use are you, O Birch Tree?" said the Indian.

Birch Tree replied, "My bark covers the canoes that sail upon the lakes and rivers. I am used also for the picture-writing of the people."

East Wind again blew gently, stirring the leaves of the trees.

Then Cedar Tree said, "My pliant branches make the canoes strong and steady."

Larch Tree whispered, "I give my fibrous roots to bind the parts together."

Fir Tree said, "My rosin closes the seams of the canoes, to make them safe."

Then the Indian looked at a cluster of alder trees growing near a stream of water.

"Of what use are you, O Alder Trees?"

The Alder Trees replied, "The Indian Chief comes here to fish in the cool stream. He finds shelter, beneath our branches, from the hot rays of Sun!"

All this time, Gray Mole had been busily gathering fibrous roots from the larch tree. He had made a rope to snare Sun.

Then Gray Mole called to the Indian to look toward the Place of Breaking Light. There, in a little bay on Gray Mole's island, stood a birch canoe. Soon the canoe floated to where the Indian stood.

"Follow me," said Gray Mole. "Step into the magic canoe. We will go to the island and there set a snare for Sun."

The magic canoe carried them safely over the water, and they soon reached the island. Then the Indian set the snare for Sun.

Presently Sun came out of his cave and was at once caught in the snare.

For seven days the world was dark. The people suffered from hunger and cold. Then the Indian cried, "Alas, what have I done! Who will unfasten the rope and set Sun free?"

"I can set Sun free again," said Gray Mole.

The little mole crept to the snare. Nibble, nibble, he went, until the rope gave way.

Then Sun burst forth in all his might. In his anger he blazed a path across the sky.

The poor little mole was scorched in the fierce heat, and his eyes were blinded. Never again could he see well.

The Indian was sorry, but he said, "Gray Mole, you are a true friend. You shall always live with me, and all the moles shall be my forest brothers."

Then, placing Gray Mole in his wampum belt once more, he stepped into the canoe, and together they sailed to the Indian's home.