THERE were once three comrades who went upon the warpath, and when they were a long way from home, one had the misfortune to fall and break his leg. The other two made a litter in which they undertook to carry him, but there was a ridge of high mountains to cross, and the way grew very painful and difficult. At last they became discouraged, set the litter down, went a little aside and consulted together in whispers.

By and by they took up their burden again, and coming to a deep crevasse they let it fall as if by accident, so that the injured man rolled into the abyss. They went home and reported that they had met the enemy and that their comrade had died of his wounds. To console his weeping wife, they assured her that he had fought bravely; also that they had tended and cared for him until he died and had then given him suitable burial.

In the meantime, the abandoned one fell to the bottom of the pit, where to his surprise he beheld a very old man sitting with his hands clasped about his withered knees.

“What is this?” inquired the old sage. “Is it possible that your comrades have deserted you and left you to perish miserably?”

“It seems that they have done so,” calmly replied the youth.

“You may live, nevertheless,” the other promised, “if you will agree to my conditions. I am now too old to hunt. Stay here and keep me supplied with game as long as I live, and I will cure your leg.”

As the young man had no choice, he agreed without hesitation, and the ancient bound up his limb with healing herbs, fed and tended him until he was able to hunt.

There was game in abundance in that part of the country, and the old man told him that if ever he shot more than he could carry, he should call out and he would come to his assistance. One day the hunter succeeded in killing an immense bear, and while he was skinning it, behold! three very tall strangers clad in garments of cloud appeared close by.

“We are the Thunderers,” said they. “We should be glad to help you, for you have not deserved your misfortunes. That old man for whom you hunt is not what he seems to be. Call him, and you shall see!”

Since the youth saw no harm in calling his benefactor to help him with the game, he did as they advised, and the aged man climbed out of the pit very cautiously, first calling aloud to inquire if there were any cloud in the sky.

“There is none,” replied the hunter, and the other hobbled forward, continually peering into the heavens as if in fear of some enemy. Suddenly a rumble of thunder was heard, and immediately he turned and fled in the form of a Porcupine, throwing back sharp quills like arrows as he ran. Louder and louder pealed the thunder, and just as he reached the edge of the pit a bolt of lightning struck the Porcupine, and he fell dead into his den.

After this the young man returned to his own people.

THE WINGED HUNTER

A lone hunter had spent all of his arrows, and was at a loss. He was a long way from home. Upon the lake were many wild geese, but how was he to kill them? Finally he swam underneath the flock, caught several by the feet, and tied them to his belt with withes of basswood bark. When the geese flew up into the air, they carried the hunter with them.

Now he planned to loosen one or two of the birds so that he might sink gradually to the ground, but the rest broke loose suddenly, and he fell into a tall, hollow stump where he remained a prisoner. To be sure, it was only a day or two before some women came near after wood, but his cries frightened them, so that they retreated. Later they returned with their men and released him. Immediately the hunter made new arrows with which he killed both deer and bears, extracting oil from the latter which he kept in leathern bottles. He now wished to return home; but since he had tried flying, walking seemed to him too laborious. After much thought, he made himself a pair of wings out of a thin piece of tanned deerskin, and flew homeward, carrying the bottles for ballast, and letting fall one or two into the wigwams of the women who had set him free.

GREAT HEAD

High up on an inaccessible cliff, there dwells an immense Head, very fierce, with long, bushy hair and huge staring eyes. The people call it the Great Head, and fear it very much.

There was once a family of ten boys who lost their parents at about the same time of a mysterious disease. As they knew no near relatives, the brothers continued to live alone in the forest. However, one day the eldest failed to return from the hunt, and in the morning the second brother went to look for him. That night he, too, was missing. On the next day, the third brother set out to search for the others, and so on until only one of the ten was left.

Now the youngest brother had scarcely started on their trail when he stumbled over a queer little old man, half buried in the ground, and entirely covered with green mold.

When he had dug him out and revived him by rubbing him with oil, the boy told the stranger his story.

“I can tell you what has become of your brothers,” exclaimed the little old man. “Without doubt, it is my brother, Great Head, who has enticed them away.” “What! the Great Head is your brother?” asked the boy.

“Yes, he is,” replied the little old man.

“Then you must know his ways and can help me to outwit him.”

“I can tell you what he eats. Huge billets of maple wood—only maple—are his favorite tid-bit.”

“And is there anything he is afraid of?” the boy inquired.

“He fears my arrows, which grow ever larger as they fly!”

First the boy worked very hard chopping a great maple tree into blocks; then he invited Great Head to a feast. But Great Head would not come.

Then the little man, his brother, crept slyly to the foot of the cliff through the long grass, and sent forth a magic arrow, which grew larger and larger as it sped toward the mark. A great noise arose, like that of a hurricane rushing through a forest. Down tumbled Great Head to the foot of the precipice, and the nine youths whom he had held captive were freed from the spell, and came joyfully home again.