SIXTH EVENING
"Ho, Chatanna," says the old story-teller, pleasantly, "I see that you have brought Mato, the Bear, with you to-night! I hope he will be good and not disturb the other scholars."
"Grandfather," says Chatanna, earnestly, "he will be good. He obeys me, and is never troublesome like some pets. He will lie quietly here by me and listen to the story!"
All the children range themselves around the brightly burning fire, the little boys sitting cross-legged, and the girls sideways, like demure little women.
Although they do not know it yet, there is a special treat in store for them all this evening. The story is one in which feasting plays a part, and whenever good things to eat come into a story, it is a pleasant custom of the Sioux to offer some delicacy.
The good old wife of the teacher has prepared a kettle full of her choicest wild rice, dark in color but of a flavor to be remembered, and a generous dish of boiled rice sprinkled with maple-sugar is passed to each child, (and doubtless shared with Mato by his loving friend,) at the close of the story about
THE RACCOON AND THE BEE-TREE
The Raccoon had been asleep all day in the snug hollow of a tree. The dusk was coming on when he awoke, stretched himself once or twice, and jumping down from the top of the tall, dead stump in which he made his home, set out to look for his supper.