"And now," said White Cloud, "I want to hear all about the Little People."

"Speak low, White Cloud. We are coming to the rocky hillside. We must listen, for we may hear them drumming."

"I wish we could! We would run and try to see them."

"It would be far better for us to turn and run the other way. The Little People do not like to be disturbed. If they should see us, they might cast a spell on us."

"What harm would that do us?" asked the child.

"We would forget where we are going and who we are. We might wander in the woods until we starved, for we could never find the trail home."

"How do the Little People look, and what do they do? Does anyone know?"

"They are handsome little men, smaller than the tiniest babies. By daylight they drum and dance, for they are very fond of music.

"If they are not disturbed, they are very kind and helpful, especially to those who are in trouble. They do not like to be seen, and will never work if a man or woman, or even a child, is in sight.

"Sometimes they come to the cornfield when it is very dark. If they are heard, no Indian goes out of the lodge. Often the field will be found well weeded in the morning and the earth loose about the growing plants."Once, in the moon of ripe corn, there was a woman alone with a sick child. She heard the Little People near her lodge, and she remembered to be very quiet. In the morning her corn was all picked for her.

"If a hunter finds an arrow near the cornfield, he must say very loud: 'Little People, will you let me have this arrow?' for it may have been shot from their bows.

"If he takes it without asking, he may be hit with stones as he is walking home."

"Tell me about the boy who was changed into a hunter spirit," said White Cloud.

"There was once a boy," began Nokomis, "who ran away from home. He grew smaller and smaller until he became like the spirits of the woods.

"But he is full of mischief. You can sometimes tell what he is doing, although he himself is never seen.

"Have you not noticed your dog jump up quickly from the place where he has been sleeping? The spirit of the runaway boy is whipping him with nettles.

"You will often see a flock of birds suddenly leave their food and fly away. The little hunter spirit has frightened them.

"When the tired hunter stops, far from his lodge, to roast his meat, the little mischief-maker blows out his fire and fans the smoke into his eyes.

"He catches the arrows which are aimed at the birds and hides them. He puts slippery clay in the path and laughs when the children fall. No one can tell all his tricks of mischief."

"Grandmother, look! Here is an arrow on the ground."

"Let it be. We will not annoy the spirits. Now we must hurry home, for the clouds darken and I can hear the loud voices of the Thunderers starting out from their sky home."