Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow were two little Indian boys. They lived by Singing River, and they played from sunrise to sunset. They were as happy as the day was long.
Many, many moons before the White man came, a little Indian boy was left in the woods.
At one time, the animals had tribes and chiefs, like men. It was when the porcupine was chief, that a council was called.
Long, long before Columbus came to America, the Red Children were here. They were the first and only real Americans.
A great many winters ago, there lived at the foot of a certain lake a tribe of wicked Indians. These Indians were so fierce, and warlike, and wasteful, they went about destroying everything.
In the olden times, tribes of Indians did not always live in one place as they do now. They sometimes wandered from one valley or woodland to another.
Once upon a time, the Great Spirit left the Happy Hunting Ground and came to earth. He took the form of a poor, hungry man. He went from wigwam to wigwam, asking for food.
The Iroquois Red Children are a grateful people. The true Iroquois never rises after eating without saying, "Niaweh," which means, "I am thankful." The others reply, "Niuh,"—"It is well."
An Indian woman built a wigwam in the deep wood. She was a brave woman. She had no fear.
The old-time Indians say that long, long ago, the Little People made a law that stories must not be told in summer.
Long ago, birds, trees, animals, and men knew each the language of the other, and all could talk together.
Once a little Indian girl was very sad and unhappy. The Great Spirit had taken her father and mother, and she had gone to live with relatives who did not want her.
It was some moons after the coon outwitted the fox, before they again met. The coon was hurrying by, when the fox saw him.
It was bluebird time, many moons ago. Little brooks laughed and danced, and all the forest was glad.
A wise old raccoon sat up in a tree near the river where the bear lost his tail. The coon saw the fox play his foxy trick on the bear, and he did not like it.
One day, an Indian boy was playing beside a stream, when one of the little elf men came along in his canoe. The boy had his bow and arrow with him; so had the little elf man.
The land was lean and hungry. The Old Man of the North Lodge had breathed upon the valley. His breath had frozen the corn, and there was no bread for the people.
Once the Little People, the Indian fairies, ran with the Red Children through the woods, and played with them beside the streams.
There was once an Indian boy, who thought he knew more and could do more than anyone else.
Some Indian hunters once made their way north, to hunt for moose. It was at the time of Falling Leaves.