TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Page
How the Eagle Went Hungry[1]
Little Footsteps upon the Water[6]
The Story of Lambikin[12]
Brother Wolf and the Rock[18]
Little Bear[22]
How the Pigs Can See the Wind[27]
The Talking Grass[33]
How the Fox Played Herdsman[38]
Mr. Elephant and Mr. Frog[43]
How Drakestail Went to the King[48]
The Greedy Cat[53]
The Three Billy Goats Gruff[58]
The Hobyahs[63]
The Kid Who Would Not Go[68]
The Robin’s Christmas Song[71]
The Story of Ibbity[76]
The Chipmunk Who Chattered Too Much[80]
How the Squirrel Got Wings[86]
How They Brought Hairlock Home[91]
The Bear Who Lost His Supper[95]
The Rabbit Who Was Afraid[100]
How Maple Sugar Came[106]
The Rabbit Who Wanted Red Wings[111]
How the First Mayflowers Came[116]
How the Rabbit Tried to Coast[122]
Why the Field Mouse Is Little[127]
How the First Bears Came[132]
Why the Bear Has a Stumpy Tail[138]
Why the Bear Sleeps All Winter[140]

HOW THE EAGLE
WENT HUNGRY.

Once upon a time, before there were white men on the earth, the Beavers were a family like men. They were thrifty and honest, and spent their time building in the lakes and ponds. They had hands like our hands. They were dressed in gray fur, warm enough for the winters, and dark enough for all the digging which they had to do.

There was no family of all the forest so hard working as the Beavers. The Beaver men had a secret trade of making arrows. They dug flint out of the rocks along the bank and shaped it into arrowheads. These had such magic that the Beavers always had dried meat hanging in their houses.

Most wonderful of all, though, was their skill in building. With no tools but their broad, flat hands, the Beavers built strong dams which made pools in the streams where the fish could hatch. They built their own homes, with many halls and rooms, of the mud at the bottom of the water. All the Beavers worked, even the women and children. Here they lived in honesty and peace and asked nothing of any one.

In the same days the Eagle was a proud warrior, dressed from head to foot in colored feathers. He lived on a mountain top, and when he came down to the forest he wished great honor. The winds blew their trumpets for him, and the thunder beat drums. All the creatures were asked to bow before the Eagle, and he expected fish and berries to be brought him for a feast.

One spring when the ice had gone out of the streams and ponds and the forest had put on new green leaves, the Eagle came down for a sudden visit. He stopped at the edge of a small lake, and there he saw an old Beaver woman digging in the mud. She bent low over her work. With her large, wrinkled hands she was making the clay into bricks for building a new wall for a Beaver house. The Eagle looked at her with scorn.

“I am hungry,” he said.

The Beaver woman raised her brown head out of the water, and looked up at the Eagle.

“The Beaver family would be hungry, too, sir,” she said, “if we did not work, all of us, to get a living.”

“But think of the kind of work you do,” screamed the Eagle, going up to the branch of a tree to sit so that he need not step in the mud.

“Look at your hands,” he went on. “They are not the hands of a person of rank, like myself, but are stained with earth. You live in houses that are made of mud. You cut down trees with your teeth, and eat weeds and bark. You were made only to wait on others such as myself.”

The Beaver woman went on with her work. When the Eagle had finished, she said:

“What do you want to eat?” she asked.

“We Beavers are humble, but there are no other workers in the forest like us. We deepen and dam the streams and make them more useful. Our work takes us into the mud. In the mud we must live, but we are honest, thrifty people, sir. What do you want to eat?” she asked.

“Fish,” said the Eagle. “Go down and catch some for me.”

The Beaver woman wiped her hands and then dived down into the water. The Eagle watched her go, for he was half starved. He longed for a meal of rich, freshly caught fish. He watched the smooth water for some time, but he could see not even a ripple. After he had waited an hour, the water stirred and the brown head of the Beaver woman showed.

“Your feast of fish awaits you, O Eagle,” the Beaver woman said.

“But where are the fish?” the Eagle demanded.

“They wait for you on my table, down in the Beaver lodge,” she said, and then she went under the water again.

The Eagle went hungry for a long time. Even now, when the Beaver family walks on four feet, and the Eagle is a bird, all go hungry who are too proud to work for their food.

LITTLE FOOTSTEPS
UPON THE WATER.

Once upon a time there was a little Indian boy, and his name was Footsteps Upon the Water because he could run so fast and so softly.

One day, little Footsteps Upon the Water was chasing a squirrel, and he ran so far and so wide that he lost sight of home, and he could not find his way back. On and on ran the squirrel until it came at last to a hollow tree, and it went inside to hide. Footsteps Upon the Water went inside, too, but he was not so small as the squirrel. Out of the log ran the squirrel, but the little boy could not get out. He was stuck fast inside the hollow tree.

His father looked for the little boy many moons. His mother sat at home in the wigwam, crying, but Footsteps Upon the Water did not come back. He lay in the log, and he pounded and shouted, and he thought no one was ever coming to let him out.

But one morning, as he rapped, he heard, on the outside, rap, rap, rap, and a shrill voice calling:

“Footsteps Upon the Water, are you there? Are you there?”

Then a wrinkled, brown face, with a fringe of arrows for a cap, peered in at the end of the log. It was Grandmother Porcupine come to help the little boy out.

“I traveled three days and three nights, little Footsteps Upon the Water, because I heard you cry,” said Grandmother Porcupine.

Then she scratched and she scratched at the end of the log, but she could not get the little boy out.

“I will bring my three grandsons,” said Grandmother Porcupine, and she hurried away to the old hemlock tree where her grandsons lived. She brought them back with her, and they all scratched at the end of the hollow log until at last the little boy was able to crawl out.

Footsteps Upon the Water winked and blinked his eyes when he came outside, for he had not seen the sun in many days. There, in a circle, sat Grandmother Porcupine, her three grandsons, the old Bear, the Deer, and the Wolf.

“Now, who will be a mother to this little boy?” said Grandmother Porcupine; “I am too old to take care of him.”

“I will be his mother,” said the Wolf.

“No, indeed,” said Grandmother Porcupine, “your teeth are too sharp.”

“I will be his mother,” said the Deer.

“No, indeed,” said Grandmother Porcupine, “you are always traveling. Your husband would carry little Footsteps Upon the Water on his back wherever he went, and the little boy would have no home in the winter.”

“I will be his mother,” said the good old Bear; “I have a warm house in the rocks with plenty to eat in my pantry,—berries, and nuts, and honey.”

“You may have little Footsteps Upon the Water,” said Grandmother Porcupine, “but be sure that your cubs do not teach him any rough tricks.”

So Footsteps Upon the Water went home to the Bear’s house, a cave in the rocks, with little rooms just like a real house. It was a fine place in which to live.

All summer the little boy played with the cubs. When it was late in the fall, and the days were short and dark, and the nights were cold, Mother Bear tucked them all in bed and they slept until spring.

Then came another summer, and other Bear people stopped to call upon them, saying:

“We know a fine berry patch.”

So they would all go away together to pick strawberries, or blackberries, or gooseberries. After a while, they went for chestnuts, and that was the most fun of all.

But Mother Bear taught Footsteps Upon the Water and the little cubs to run always when they saw a man with a bow and arrows. One day, a man came very close to the Bear’s house, but Mother Bear chased him with a forked stick, and he went away.

The next day, the man came again, just as the family was starting out for chestnuts. Mother Bear threw a bag of feathers at the man so that he was not able to see, and he ran away.

The third day, the man came again. Mother Bear was starting out for a neighbor’s house with a bundle upon her back. She chased the man with her forked stick, she threw some more feathers at him, but it did no good. The man shot an arrow at Mother Bear, and she fell to the ground.

“Oh, good Mother Bear,” cried little Footsteps Upon the Water, running out to help her, “such a cruel man to hurt my good Mother Bear!”

But the arrow had stuck fast in Mother Bear’s bundle, and she was not hurt at all. And the man ran up to little Footsteps Upon the Water, crying:

“My little lost boy, my little lost boy,” for it was Footsteps Upon the Water’s own father.

Then he told Mother Bear how sorry he was that he had tried to hurt her, and he invited her and all the cubs to come for a visit to the wigwam.

And little Footsteps Upon the Water went home, but he never forgot how good old Mother Bear had been to him.

THE STORY OF
LAMBIKIN.

Once upon a time there was a wee, wee Lambikin, and he thought he would go over the hill to see his granny.

So he frolicked along on his teetery legs, as happy and frisky as ever a Lambikin in the spring could be.

But he had not gone very far when he met a roaring lion, and the lion said:

“Lambikin, I will eat you.”

Then Lambikin could not think what to do, for he did not wish to be eaten just then. So he said to the lion:

“Lambikin goes to Grannikin,

Where fatter he will grow,

Then you may eat him so.”

The lion wanted a very fat lamb to eat, so he let Lambikin go on his way, but he said:

“Be sure to come back this way, Lambikin.”

Lambikin frolicked along on his teetery legs a little farther, when he suddenly saw a great vulture, with a huge bill, flying toward him.

“I will eat you, Lambikin,” said the vulture.

Now Lambikin was not ready to be eaten yet, so he said to the vulture:

“Lambikin goes to Grannikin,

Where fatter he will grow,

Then you may eat him so.”

And the vulture flew off, but he said to Lambikin as he went:

“Be sure to come back this way, Lambikin.”

Lambikin frolicked along a little farther on his teetery legs, when he suddenly saw a striped tiger coming to meet him, and the tiger said to him:

“Lambikin, I will eat you.”

Now Lambikin did not wish to be eaten by a striped tiger, so he said:

“Lambikin goes to Grannikin,

Where fatter he will grow,

Then you may eat him so.”

The tiger was sure that a fat lamb would taste better than a wee, wee one with teetery legs, so he let Lambikin go along, but he said as he went:

“Be sure that you come back this way, Lambikin.”

Lambikin reached his granny’s house, and he told her how glad he was to see her, and then he said he was very hungry, and he would like something to eat.

“I must grow fat, granny,” said Lambikin.

So his granny led the way to the corn bin, and Lambikin ate and ate and ate until his sides stuck out, and his legs were not teetery any more, and he was a fat little lamb. But the more corn he ate and the fatter he grew the less did he want to be eaten. So he said to his granny:

“Grannikin, lion and vulture and tiger will eat Lambikin. What shall he do?”

Then said his granny:

“I will make a drum of a bit of old skin. Do you get inside and roll past the lion and the vulture and the tiger.”

So granny made a drum of a bit of skin, and Lambikin jumped inside the drum, and off he rolled toward home.

But before he had gone very far he met the lion, who was waiting for him, and the lion said:

“Drummikin, have you seen Lambikin?”

But Lambikin called out from inside the drum:

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you.

On, little Drummikin, tum, tum, too.”

Then the lion thought the woods must be on fire, so he ran off as fast as he could.

But Lambikin had not gone very far when the vulture flew down for his dinner.

“Drummikin, have you seen Lambikin?” asked the vulture.

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you.

On, little Drummikin, tum, tum, too,”

said Lambikin in a gruff voice from the inside of the drum.

Then the vulture thought that the woods must surely be on fire, so he flew far above the treetops.

The tiger caught his tail and was not able to move.

Lambikin rolled merrily along a little way farther, but soon he met the striped tiger, who was waiting for his dinner.

“Drummikin, have you seen Lambikin?” asked the striped tiger.

“Fallen into the fire, and so will you.

On, little Drummikin, tum, tum, too,”

said Lambikin; but the striped tiger had very sharp ears.

“Lambikin is inside Drummikin,” he said, and he started after the drum as fast as he could go. He nearly caught it, for he went so very fast, but they came to a bramble bush. The tiger caught his tail and was not able to move, and out of the drum jumped Lambikin.

Then off he frolicked home again as frisky and happy as ever a lamb could be.

BROTHER WOLF
AND THE ROCK.

Once upon a time Brother Wolf dressed himself up very finely, just like an Indian. He put feathers on his head, and moccasins on his feet, and beads around his neck. Then he bought a very gay blanket, just like a chief’s blanket. He wrapped it all around him, and then he started on a journey.

As he traveled, he came to a big Rock. Brother Wolf thought that he had never seen such a nice Rock, such a smooth, round, shining Rock. But Brother Wolf thought that the Rock looked cold. So he took off his blanket and wrapped it around the Rock to keep the old Rock warm.

Then Brother Wolf started traveling again, but he had not gone very far when he heard a loud noise—that was the thunder; and he saw a bright light—that was the lightning; and he felt something wet on his nose—that was the rain. So Brother Wolf ran back in great haste to the Rock.

“Oh, Rock,” cried Brother Wolf, “it is storming, and I shall be wet. Give me back my blanket to keep off the rain.”

But, no, Rock would not. Old Rock said he would just keep Brother Wolf’s blanket a little longer.

Then Brother Wolf hid under a tree, and, by and by, along came Brother Fox.

“Oh, Brother Fox,” said Brother Wolf, “go to Rock and bring back my blanket.”

So Brother Fox went to old Rock and told him that Brother Wolf wanted back his blanket to keep the rain off his nose. But, no, old Rock would not give up the blanket.

Then Brother Fox went back and told Brother Wolf, and Brother Wolf cried because he knew his feathers would be spoiled. They sat under a tree, and the rain poured and poured, the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared. Brother Wolf asked Brother Fox to please go again to old Rock and ask for the blanket, but Brother Fox said, “No.”

After a while they heard a great noise, and a loud roaring. The stones in the road began to come skipping by. Brother Wolf peeped out from under the tree. There was old Rock rolling down the road. The rain had started him, and he was coming so hard that he tore great furrows of earth, and uprooted the trees. He came so fast that he could not stop himself.

Brother Fox scampered into a hole to hide, but he left the tip end of his tail sticking out. Old Rock just grazed it as he went by, and that is why the tip of Brother Fox’s tail is pointed.

On and on went old Rock until he came to a river. Splash, in he went, and that was the last that anybody saw of Rock, for he went straight to the bottom.

When the rain was over, Brother Wolf and Brother Fox went down to the river bank to look for old Rock, but they could not find him anywhere. On the top of the water floated Brother Wolf’s gay blanket, so they waited until it came ashore, and they dried it in the sun.

Then Brother Wolf said “Good-by” to Brother Fox, and put on his blanket again, and traveled.