SWIFT ELK, THE INDIAN BOY
Four years have passed since the summer evening when Good Bird watched her children in the firefly dance. Her son, Swift Elk, is now a tall, straight lad of eleven winters. His sister, four years younger, is a sturdy little girl, already able to help her mother in many ways.
The boy is the pride of the lodge. From his earliest babyhood he has been trained to be strong and fearless.
"Lay him very straight," his father used to say when the baby boy was placed on his cradle board. "Do not make his bed too soft. My son must grow tall and strong, for he will sometime be a great warrior."
Since he could first walk he has gone with his father each day to the lake to take an early morning bath. Like all Indians, he learned to swim when he was very small, and he loves to splash and dive and play in the water.
Do you suppose that Swift Elk dresses himself after his bath? He does not think clothing at all necessary except in winter.
Does he help his mother in her work about the lodge? Never! "A boy does not do squaw's work," he says. "A boy must learn to hunt and shoot."
Is he not made to mind? Is he never punished? Oh, no; he will be a great warrior some day, and his father says he ought not to be afraid of any one. And so he lives the wild, free life of the Indian boy. He spends his day in play, with no school, no lessons, and no work to do.