TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING
THE TEN VIRGINS
TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING
The strong sun of March still hovers over the deep blue lake, and last night's snow flurry has quite vanished from the pleasant, brown face of our Grandmother Earth, when the children arrive at Smoky Day's wide-open doorway. There is a tang in the air and a stir in the blood to-night that moves the old man to tell a tale of youth and adventure. And this is the tale:
THE TEN VIRGINS
There were once two brothers who loved one maiden, and it appeared that the younger brother was the favorite. One day, the jealous elder invited his brother to go hunting with him upon an island in the great lake, a day's journey in canoes from their village.