many years, the early customs became greatly changed. To-day large numbers of Indians are living in the white man's way. Some are well educated and own houses, farms, and even automobiles. Their children are trained in government schools. There are writers among them whose books we like to read, and there are artists who paint interesting pictures of Indian life.

During the great World War the Indians begged to join the army, and hundreds enlisted. Young men from many tribes were in France, and there were no braver soldiers.

THE WILD-RICE INDIANS

Every boy and girl who studies geography can find the Great Lakes. In the states south and west there are hundreds of small lakes and rivers where wild rice grows in the shallow water.

During the early days of our country, different tribes of Indians gathered the wild rice for food, and many battles were fought for the rice fields.

From the birch trees of the forest the men obtained bark for their canoes. In these light boats the women pushed their way through the thickets of ripe grain. They beat the stalks with short sticks, letting the rice fall into the canoes.

The wild rice was eaten raw from the growing plants. It was also parched while green for daily use, and bushels of the ripe grain were stored away for the long, cold winter.

At harvest time there was always good hunting, for great flocks of ducks, geese, and other birds flew to the rice stalks to eat the seeds.

In the spring the women, boys, and old men spent weeks at the sugar camp. They caught the maple sap in small bark dishes and boiled it into sugar. The boys kept the fires going under the kettles and, for the first few days, ate nearly all the sugar they made.

Many kinds of berries grew in this northern country. These the Indian women picked and dried. Indeed, the underground storehouse of a wigwam housekeeper was full of good things to eat.

Hiawatha is said to have lived on the shore of one of the Great Lakes. Before the white men sold fire water to the Indians, there were many happy homes in the forest. The ways of living were the same as we read about in Longfellow's poem, and the children were trained to be brave and honorable and to respect their elders.

The boys were trained in woodcraft. They learned the names and habits of wild animals. They could find their way alone through dense forests; and they could see farther and hear better than any boys we know.

The girls were taught by their mothers to be modest and industrious. They made beautiful beadwork to trim dresses and moccasins. They could set up a wigwam, prepare food, and keep a clean and orderly home.

This little book tells how children lived and played long ago in the wild-rice country. Their tribe was then at peace with the fierce Indians farther west. A few men of the village had traveled north with furs, but the children had never seen a white man.

The old-time life of the Indians is ended. But there are camps in the unsettled lands of the wild-rice region where many strange customs can still be seen; where the Indian drum is heard, and the women gather wild rice as in the olden time.

STORIES AND STORY-TELLERS

The Indians of long ago had no books and no schools; but each tribe had its story-tellers, who went from one wigwam to another. Everywhere they were welcomed by old and young and begged to return.

The stories were told and retold by their hearers until learned. Indian mothers quieted their fretful little ones by stories and songs just as other mothers have always done.

The Indian stories are strange, and some are very beautiful. There are wonderful tales of the sun, moon, and stars; of animals and birds and trees; of the thunder and the lightning and the winds.

Through stories the children learned the strange beliefs of their parents. They were taught to call the sun their father and the moon their mother, and all the animals and birds their brothers.

The Indians believed that good and bad spirits were all around them on the earth and above them in the sky.

They thought that animals and birds could talk, and that they listened to everything which was said in the wigwams.

Tales of fearless hunters and brave warriors made the boys wish to become as brave as their fathers. Tales of the men that had brought great good to their people led the children to hope that they, too, might sometime bring blessings to their tribe.

The children learned that their fathers worshiped the Great Spirit, and that no warrior ever went on the warpath without offering many prayers.

They were taught that many of their dances were thank offerings to the Great Spirit, and that the war dance was for success in battle.

In winter evenings the Indians gathered around the wigwam fire. This was their only light. The fathers and grandfathers told wonderful stories of war and hunting, and related the old tales they had heard when they were children.

Night after night the boys were drilled in repeating the stories they had heard. The whole family listened attentively, helping all, and praising the one who did the best.

Special training was given to the boys of the tribe who showed the most talent. They were carefully prepared to take the places of the older story-tellers, for the tribal tales must never be lost nor forgotten.

The Indian belief that animals can talk is shown in many of their best stories. Here is one about the birds.

WELCOME TO A PAPOOSE

Little Wren flies here and there about the village of wigwams. She is the news gatherer for the bird council.

She peers into the tent openings and listens to the talk of the mothers. She flits about the trees where children play.

When a little son is born, she carries the news to the birds, and they are sad. "Alas, alas!" they cry. "We hear the whistle of his arrow. The boy will grow, and he will shoot us with his bow and arrows."

But when the wren chatters about the coming of a baby girl, the birds chirp merrily. They sing of the grains she will scatter when she grinds the corn into meal.

They sing of the wild rice she will let drop when she comes with her loaded canoe from the rice harvest. "Sing merrily, sing merrily," they say. "Another woman child has come to feed us!"

The cricket hops in the wigwam. And the cricket is glad when the baby is a girl. "I shall hide