"Forgetting her anger, she gathered the clusters of ripe, red berries and started back along the path to share them with her family.
"Then she went home as if nothing had ever happened!"
THE FIREFLY DANCE
It is a summer evening. There is no moon, and the stars twinkle brightly in the sky. A half circle of Indian lodges fronts a small lake. Wide meadows slope to its shores.
All the air is alive with lights, twinkling, whirling, sparkling. Thousands of fireflies are swarming above the grass.
The meadow is full of Indian boys and girls, little and big, dancing the firefly dance. Advancing and retreating, turning and twisting, bowing and whirling, they imitate the moving lights about them and above them.
In front of the lodges sit the warriors and the squaws looking on.
Good Bird is watching every move of her son. He is one of the most active dancers on the field.