meet him. “You did not wait long enough for me to gather the gulls’ eggs,” he said.

Mishosha was wonder-struck at finding him safe when he supposed the gulls were already feasting upon him.

“I am so forgetful,” he stammered. “I forgot I had left you upon the island. I should have remembered before long, however, and have returned for you.” Within himself he thought, “This boy must have a very powerful guardian spirit, but all the same to-morrow he shall not escape me.”

The next morning he said to Panigwun, “To-day I am going to take you to an island covered with precious stones of all kinds. There you may gather all you wish, and this time I will be careful and not forget you.”

“Will you not take me to see my little brother to-day?” asked Panigwun.

The magician shot an evil glance at him from under his brows. “Some other day,” he answered. “To-day we must go to the treasure island.”

Panigwun followed him into the canoe, and again they sped over the waters of the lake, but this time in a different direction. Soon they reached a small island as steep and bare as the back of a fish. Among it’s rocks lay a quantity of precious stones of all kinds, diamonds, emeralds and rubies.

“Look, my son!” said the magician. “Here are all the treasures you could wish. Step out and gather them.”

Panigwun knew that the magician was planning some evil, but it was useless to disobey him. He landed, and immediately the canoe moved too far away from the shore for him to reach it.

“Rise, oh, king of the fishes,” called the magician in a terrible voice. “I have long been wishing to offer up a victim to you. Here is a youth for you. Accept him as my offering.” Then he slapped the canoe on the side and disappeared in the direction of the island.

A moment after the waters were disturbed, they broke in waves upon the island, and the head of a gigantic pike appeared. He came on toward Panigwun, his mouth open wide as if to swallow him. The youth did not lose his courage. He called upon his guardian angel, and then flourishing his knife he cried, “Man is the master of the fishes. You are my servant. Come here and take me on your back, and carry me to Mishosha’s island.”

At this command the pike came closer and floated beside the island. Panigwun stepped upon his back and the fish bore him away. So swiftly they went that they out-sped the canoe. When Mishosha reached the beach the youth was already there waiting to help him out. The magician looked at him with surprise and terror. “You here!” he muttered. “I am so forgetful; but I would soon have remembered you were on the island and have returned for you.”

“I thought I would save you the trouble,” answered Panigwun mockingly.

The next morning the magician again called Panigwun to go with him in his canoe. “And this time I will not forget you,” he promised.

Panigwun gave him a look of scorn but said nothing.

On and on the canoe bore them over the surface of the lake further than they had ever gone before. At last they came to an island upon which stood one stark pine, and far up near the top of it was a nest. “Look, my son, in that nest the eagles have their eggs. Do you climb up and get them for me.”

Still in silence Panigwun landed and began to climb the tree, but before he had more than reached the first branches the pine shot up to enormous height. Panigwun felt himself being carried further and further from the earth and toward the sky. From far below he heard the magician’s voice: “Rise, oh, eagles, and take the victim I have brought you. Ye are the king of the birds and it is proper you should receive offerings.” Then, striking his canoe upon its side he shot rapidly away over the lake.

Two enormous eagles rose and circled about Panigwun; their wings beat the air with a sound like thunder and they shrieked fiercely. For a moment the boy closed his eyes, dizzy with the height from the ground and the noise; then gathering his courage and commending himself to his guardian spirit, he drew his knife and flourished it.

“The eagle is the king of birds,” he cried, “but man is the king of the eagles. I am the master and you are the servants. Take me upon your wings and carry me to the magician’s island.”

For a moment the eagles hesitated. Then they drew together so that their wings crossed. Panigwun stepped upon them, and away they soared, so fast that the wind sang past his ears, and they landed at the island before the canoe had come in sight.

When the magician found that Panigwun had returned to the island his face grew pale, and his heart quaked within him. “This boy will prove too much for me,” he thought. “His guardian spirit is very powerful. But my magic shall still conquer him.”

The next morning he said to Panigwun, “To-day I have planned a little hunting expedition. We will go together, and when you land I will accompany you, that there may be no danger of my forgetting you.” Panigwun looked at him with a scorn he did not try to hide. “Then you will not take me to see my little brother to-day?”

“No,” answered the magician harshly, and he turned away in the direction of the canoe. The boy followed him, and away they sped together toward the hunting grounds that Mishosha had chosen.

They landed and drew up the canoe and started off together. The magician kept looking up toward the sky and muttering to himself. They went on and on until many miles lay behind them, and at nightfall they reached a lodge in the midst of a wilderness. “It is here we spend the night,” said the magician.

They made a fire and cooked their supper, and after they had eaten they took off their moccasins and leggings and laid them near the fire. Then they rolled them in their blankets and lay down for the night. The magician waited until he was sure from Panigwun’s breathing that he was asleep. Then he arose very quietly and crept over to where Panigwun had left his moccasins and leggings. He took one of each and threw them in the fire, and then by his magic he caused the weather to turn cold, and a deep snow to cover the ground. Having done this he rolled himself in his blanket again and fell into a deep sleep. All night the snow fell and the wind howled across the plains, heaping the snow in deep drifts.

When Panigwun awoke the next morning Mishosha was already up, and was tying on his leggings. “Make haste,” he said to the boy, “for it is morning and we have far to travel.”

The boy arose and looked for his moccasins and leggings, but he could find only one of each where the night before he had left two. The magician watched him with a malicious look. At length he said, “Are you looking for your other legging and moccasin? I fear you will not find them. I smelled something burning in the night, and this is the month when fire draws things into itself.”

Then Panigwun knew that the magician had burned them. He said nothing, but sat down and drew his hood over his head and communed with his guardian spirit. After a time he arose and took a charred piece of wood, and blackened his foot and leg with it for as far up as the legging would have covered him. Then he told the magician he was ready.

Outside the cold was bitter. A keen wind drove the sleet into their faces so that they were almost blinded. They stumbled on through the drifts, and every now and then Mishosha looked around expecting to see Panigwun overcome with the cold. But his