When Good Bird and White Cloud reached home, they found great rejoicing. Swift Elk had shot his first deer, and the meat was already roasting by an outdoor fire.

The hunters had found game in abundance that day, and many feasts were already called in the village.

Swift Elk had chosen to invite only his grandparents, and they were already listening to his story of the hunt.

White Cloud made haste to parch the rice, and soon a very hungry family was enjoying the fresh and abundant food.

After the supper the children asked their grandfather to tell them stories about wild rice.

The old man remembered more than one fierce battle for the possession of the rice fields. Many years had passed since the peace pipe was last smoked, and the children had lived without being in constant fear of war.

"My grandchildren," he said, "I will tell you how rice came to be used in the earliest times. There are many stories about Manabush, and you have heard how he wrestled with Mondamin and obtained the gift of corn.

"In his early youth Manabush lived with his grandmother, who taught him his duty to his people.

"One day she said to him: 'My grandson, you are old enough to prove yourself a man. Before you can become a great warrior you must show that you are able to endure many hardships without complaint.

"'Set forth on a long journey alone and without food. Travel through unknown forests, enduring hunger and thirst. Sleep on the cold ground, and pray for a vision that shall be your guide through life.'

"Manabush took his bow and arrows and went out into the forest. He fasted many days until he became weak and faint from hunger.

"In his wanderings he drew near the shore of a lake. Great beds of wild rice filled half its waters, but Manabush did not know that the seeds were good to eat.

"As he walked along within reach of the growing plants, he heard a soft voice say, 'Sometimes they eat us.'

"'Who is speaking?' he asked. All the bushes that grew so thickly in the water seemed full of whispers. He looked about and saw birds of many kinds feeding on the tall grass-like plants.

"So he picked some of the grain and ate it. 'Oh, but you are good! What do they call you?' he asked.

"Again the rustling whispers in the tall grass seemed to say, 'Wild rice. They call us wild rice!'

"Manabush waded out into the water and beat the grain from the heads. So his fast was broken by the new food given in answer to his prayers in the forest.

"And since that time, my children, the wild rice feeds thousands of our people every year. It grows without planting in the lakes and rivers of our forest land.

"Another story tells us that Manabush returned one day from a long hunt without game. The fire in front of his lodge was still burning, and a duck was sitting on the kettle eating boiled rice.

"Manabush tasted the new food and found it good. He followed the bird to a lake not far away where wild rice had grown and ripened. Afterwards boiled rice became a common food among his tribe."