this great thing, then you must go and talk with Sky Dog. He is a great medicine-person, perhaps he will be able to help you. Now I have told you what to do.”

“My father, I will do as you have told me,” agreed Running Fox.

He went at once to find old Sky Dog, the venerable Delaware medicine-man. When Running Fox arrived at the medicine-lodge and drew aside the huge bear robe that hung before the entrance, he saw the aged medicine-man sitting upon the ground before a small fire. He was tossing small handfuls of dried sweet-grass upon the embers, and droning some sort of medicine-song. He took no notice of the lad standing uneasily in the doorway, and Running Fox began to wonder whether he had better withdraw. While he hesitated, however, Sky Dog raised his head and looked to see who his visitor might be.

“Hi, I see some one standing in the doorway of my lodge,” he said, peevishly. “The light is bad, and my eyes are old, so that I cannot tell who you are. Come in here, and let me look at you.”

Running Fox entered, and stood before the medicine-man. Sky Dog nodded understandingly.

“Now I see who you are,” he said, “You are the son of a great chief. Well, what do you want?” he demanded, sharply.

Running Fox suddenly felt bewildered in the presence of this great medicine-person. For some moments, therefore, he maintained an awkward silence.

“Well, have you no ears?” Sky Dog cried, impatiently. “I have asked you something. Has your tongue left your mouth? Come, I am not here to be stared at.”

The sharp reproach instantly aroused Running Fox from his reverie. He saw that his stupid silence had angered Sky Dog, and he hastened to explain the reason for his visit.

Sky Dog seemed astounded at his boldness. He shook his head, and stared thoughtfully at the fire. It was a long time before he replied.

“You have spoken big words,” he said, finally. “You are only a boy, and yet you have asked me to help you do something which our bravest warriors have been unable to do. Do you think that I will listen to such foolish prattle? No. You must show me that you are in earnest. Does your father know about this thing!”

“Yes, my father sent me here,” replied Running Fox.

“Well, then I may do something about it,” said Sky Dog. “But there are many things to be done before you can start on such a journey.”

“I am listening,” declared Running Fox.

“That is right. Well, first you must go to the sweat-lodge, and purify yourself so that you can pray to Getanittowit, the Great One. Then you must go away from the village for three days. You must go to a high mountain, and ask Getanittowit, the Great One, to help you. You must sing medicine-songs. You must not eat anything but a handful of parched corn once each day. Perhaps if you do these things Getanittowit will take pity on you, and send you a vision. If that comes to pass you must come to me, and I will tell you the meaning of it. If you do not receive a vision it will be useless to set out upon the undertaking, for you will surely be killed. I have told you what to do. Go.”

Running Fox left the lodge in high spirits. He had little doubt that if he faithfully carried out the commands of Sky Dog he would receive aid and power that would enable him to achieve his ambition. He went to his father and told him what Sky Dog had said. Then he hurried to the sweat-lodge.

The Pimoakan, or sweat-lodge, was a low, dome-shaped structure made of willow boughs, and covered with several layers of animal robes. It was located close beside the river. As Running Fox approached it he saw Sky Dog and an aged assistant heating stones at a fire near the entrance to the lodge.

When the hot stones had been rolled into the lodge Sky Dog ordered Running Fox to remove his clothing and crawl into the Pimoakan. Then the medicine-man and his companion filled raw-hide buckets with river water, and dashed it over the hot stones. When the lodge was filled with steam they hung a number of heavy bear robes over the entrance, and left the lad to his fate.

For some moments Running Fox believed that he would smother in the stifling clouds of steam. Gasping and choking, he was on the point of crying out to be released when he suddenly realized what it would mean. He told himself that such an act would not only disgust Sky Dog, but that it might even arouse the anger of Getanittowit, the Great One. The possibility frightened him. He endured the ordeal with the uncomplaining fortitude of a hardened warrior. The hot, steam-laden atmosphere induced profuse perspiration, and water streamed from every pore in his body. Running Fox grew weak and dizzy. He fought to overcome his weakness, however, for he realized that it was only by thus cleansing himself that he might become fit to hold communion with Getanittowit, the Great One.

While Running Fox was confined in the lodge, Sky Dog sat just outside the entrance, chanting medicine-songs. He ordered Running Fox to repeat them until he could sing them through without a mistake. Then Sky Dog drew aside the bear robes, and commanded Running Fox to come out. The lad staggered out, pale and faint. He presented a pitiful appearance. Sky Dog pointed toward the river, and Running Fox stumbled down the bank and threw himself into the icy water. The shock quickly revived him, and in a few moments he clambered out quite recovered from his experience.

“Now you can go away and rest,” said Sky Dog. “But you must keep thinking about the thing you wish to do. Then, when you feel strong, you must take your robe and a little parched corn, and go away. You must do that before two suns have passed. Go to some high place and stay there three days. During that time you must continue to ask Getanittowit to take pity upon you, and send you a vision. You must also keep singing the medicine-songs. You must not take any weapons with you for that would make Getanittowit very angry. At the end of three days come back and tell me what you have seen. Now I cannot tell you anything more. Go.”

Late the following day Running Fox took his deer-skin robe, and a small bag containing parched corn, and left the village. He made his way toward a high pine-clad mountain directly behind the great Delaware camp. There were few who saw him go away, for Running Fox had carefully guarded his plans. Two, however, his father and old Sky Dog, stood together at the edge of the village and watched him disappear into the shadows of the forest. Then they turned silently away, and walked thoughtfully to their lodges.

When Running Fox finally reached the summit of the mountain the sun had disappeared, and the purple evening shadows were settling in the valleys. Seating himself upon the trunk of a fallen pine the young Delaware looked wonderingly upon the glorious panorama that lay before him. Far below was the Delaware village beside a splendid river which, like a great serpent, glided down from the north between parallel ridges of low wooded hills. Behind those ridges were others, rising one behind the other, like great billows, until they eventually ended in a long, irregular line of ghostly gray peaks far away against the brilliant sunset sky. The entire country was covered with a vast primeval forest which continued in all directions as far as the eye could see. At various intervals isolated woodland lakes flashed from its Bomber green background and rushing mountain cataracts blazed narrow white trails down the hillsides. It was an unspoiled picture of natural grandeur, a land blessed by the bounteous generosity of Getanittowit, who had filled it with blessings for his children. The waters teemed with fish, the forests swarmed with game, and the air was perfumed with the fragrance of the pines. Running Fox looked upon it with pride and affection, for it was the home of the great Lenape nation, his people, the Delawares.

Then the lad turned his eyes toward the north, and his face grew stern and threatening. He realized that he was looking