“That doesn’t make any difference,” exclaimed Joseph. “Tell them as best you can and that will be good enough for us. Isn’t that so, Bob?”
“I should say so,” agreed Robert heartily. “I love those Indian legends.”
“All right then,” said Walt. “I’ll try my best. Did you ever hear the legend of ‘The Lone Lightning’?”
“Never,” cried both boys. “Tell us that one,” urged Joseph eagerly.
The old trapper filled his pipe deliberately. When it was lighted and he had settled himself comfortably against the trunk of a tree and taken a few big puffs, he began his story.
“Once upon a time there was a little orphan boy. He lived with his uncle who treated him very badly and gave him but little to eat. As a result the boy pined away and was thin and slight and never grew much. This treatment went on for a long time and finally the uncle pretended to be greatly ashamed of the way he had abused his nephew. He commenced to feed the boy all he could eat in order to fatten him and to make up for the hard usage he had received. The uncle’s real plan, however, was to kill the boy by overfeeding him.
“He told his wife to give the boy plenty of bear’s meat, especially the fat, as that was supposed to be the best part. They used to force food on the boy and one day they nearly choked him to death by trying to cram it down his throat. The boy finally escaped from the lodge, however, and fled into the woods. He did not know his way about and soon got lost. Night fell and the boy was afraid. He climbed high into the branches of a tall pine tree so that the wild animals could not reach him and while up there he fell asleep. While he was asleep he had a dream.
“A person appeared to him from the sky and said, ‘My poor little lad, I pity you, and the bad usage you have received from your uncle has led me to visit you; follow me, and step in my tracks.’ Immediately the boy awoke and he rose up and followed his guide, mounting higher and higher into the air until finally he reached the sky. Here he was given twelve arrows and told to go to the northern skies where there was a great many manitous or spirits whom he must try to ambush and kill.
“So the lad set out and finally came to that part of the sky. He shot eleven of his twelve arrows in an attempt to kill the manitous, but he was unsuccessful. Every time he shot an arrow there was a long and solitary streak of lightning in the sky; then all became clear again and not a cloud or spot could be seen. The boy now had but one arrow left and he held this a long time while he searched all about to spy the manitous he was after. This was not an easy task, however, for these manitous were very cunning and could change their form instantly. They feared the boy’s arrows, for they were magic, and had been given to him by a good spirit. They had power to kill the manitous if only they were aimed right.
“Finally the boy discovered the chief of the manitous. He drew his last arrow, aimed it carefully and let it fly. He had directed his aim straight at the heart of his enemy, but before the arrow could reach him the manitou changed himself into a rock. Into this rock the last magic arrow plunged deep and stuck fast.