Once a little hare asked her mother if she might play on the big rock near the lodge.

"Yes, little one, but you must not leave the rock. And be sure that you do not speak to any stranger who passes by," replied her mother.

Now the rock was low near the lodge, but very high on the other side, where it overlooked a stream.

A hungry lynx saw the little hare jumping on the high rock. "I must have that hare for my dinner," he said. So he spoke in a kind voice. "Wabose, Wabose. Come here, my little white one."

The hare went to the edge of the rock and looked down.

"Come here, pretty Wabose. I want to talk with you," said the lynx in a coaxing voice.

"Oh, no," said the hare. "I am afraid of you. My mother told me not to talk to strangers."

"You are very pretty, and you are a good, obedient child. But I am not a stranger. I am a relative of yours. Go down the rock and come to the stream where I can see you better. I want to send some word to your lodge. Come down and see me, you pretty little hare."

The hare was pleased to be praised and called pretty. When she heard that the lynx was a relative, she forgot to obey her mother.

She jumped down from the rock where she stood and trotted to the stream. There the lynx pounced upon her and tore her to pieces.

"Don't you know any war stories?" asked Swift Elk.

"Yes; I heard one in the moon of snow that you will like," answered his mother.