“Father, save me from Apollo,” she cried. “Let the earth enclose me.”
Peneus heard her voice and instantly her feet became fastened in the soil like roots. A soft bark covered her body and her beautiful hair became the leaves of the laurel tree.
Apollo sadly gathered some of the leaves and wove them into a wreath. He laid his hand upon the tree and said, “I would have made you happy, but you would not listen to me.
“At least you shall be my tree. Your leaves shall be ever green, and heroes shall be crowned with them in sign of victory.”
AN INDIAN STORY OF THE MOLE.
N Indian once saw a squirrel sunning himself in a tree top.