He knew that while he remained in the tree, the wolf could not reach him.
He wondered if his father and the other Indians would return this way.
He did not know what to do. He did not dare to sleep for the wolf still kept watch. Now and then the wolf gave a hungry howl and looked fiercely at the little Indian boy sitting in the tree-top.
Hour after hour passed.
It was morning, and Father Sun was smiling at him with his kindly light. Mewanee loved the great bright sun and talked to him as if he were his father.
The Indian people believed that the wind, sun, moon, stars and thunder were good spirits which helped them care for themselves and their lands.
Mewanee felt sure that if he were patient, help would come, but he was so very tired that he did not know how much longer he could stay crouched in the tree-top.
A wild blackbird sang to him from a branch near by. He said, “Fear not, Mewanee; help is near at hand.”
Mewanee tried to be brave.
Suddenly all grew very dark within the forest.