Good Bird worked until she had used all her string. The long rows of heads, neatly tied, looked very fine.
New plants were found, and the stalks beaten with a stick. The rice fell into the canoe, and White Cloud found it was good to eat even without cooking. By sunset the bottom of the canoe was covered with grain, and they started home across the quiet lake.
"May we have maple sugar with our rice to-night, Mother?"
"There is very little left, my daughter. I think we would better save it for winter."
"When are we going to the sugar trees to make more?"
"After the winter is nearly over and the first crow comes to tell us that the sap is flowing. Then we will move to our sugar lodge and stay for a whole moon."
"May I take care of a kettle and boil sugar next time we go to the lodge?" asked White Cloud, "By that time I can count eight winters."
"You may if you will cut birch bark and make your own sap dishes. You will need a great many."
"Why can't we eat the sugar we have, Mother? What is the use of saving it?"
"There may be little food on the cold, snowy days that are coming. We shall need the sugar more then than we do now. Have you forgotten the story of the ant and the katydid?"