The Book of Stories for the Story-teller - Fanny E. Coe

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lodging, so I'll stay all night," he said to himself.

      "Bring me a table," he ordered the innkeeper, as he went to his room.

      "Ha! ha!" laughed the innkeeper. "You mean bring me a supper."

      "No, I don't. I want only a table and that right quick. I'm hungry."

      The innkeeper brought the table, but after the door was shut he watched through the keyhole to see what would happen.

      "Beans, bread and bacon," ordered the boy, as he spread out his tablecloth. On came beans, bread and bacon through the open window, whirled in by North Wind. Smoking hot they all were, too, for the dishes were tightly covered. After supper was over, the boy fell sound asleep.

      North Wind did not waken him as the innkeeper took the table and the tablecloth and carried them downstairs. Next morning the boy was hungry again, but there was no tablecloth and so no breakfast.

      "You are a cheat, North Wind; you have taken back your tablecloth."

      "No," said North Wind, "that is not the sort of thing I do." But the boy did not get his tablecloth.

      After a time North Wind met him again out under the trees.

      "This time I will give you a sheep," he said. "Each time that you rub his wool, out will drop a gold-piece. Take care of him."

      The boy ran back and found the sheep at the door of the stable, behind the inn. He caught the sheep by a strap which was round its neck, and led it slowly up the stairs of the inn, to the room from which the tablecloth had disappeared the night before.

      As the boy was hungry for his breakfast, he obeyed North Wind's command and patted the sheep upon its back. A gold-piece fell out of its fleece upon the floor.

      "Good old North Wind!" said the boy. "Here's my breakfast and some hay for my sheep. Come breakfast, come hay," and through the open window came first a bundle of hay, and then a fine breakfast for the hungry boy. After breakfast, the boy paid for a week's lodging with the gold-piece.

      He slept soundly that night with his sheep for a pillow, and the next night also, but the third morning, when the boy awoke, his head lay upon the floor and the sheep was gone.

      Perhaps too many gold-pieces had been seen in the boy's hand, for he had patted his sheep very often.

      He blamed North Wind again. "You have taken back your sheep. I don't like you. You are as cold-hearted as you can be."

      But North Wind said nothing. He put a queer stick into a bag and gave it to the boy and told him to go back and lock his door as tightly as before.

      "Talk to the bag," he said, "and guard it as carefully as if there were a jewel in it."

      That night the boy was wakened out of his soundest sleep by screams for help in his room. There was the innkeeper running about, and that queer stick was pounding him, first on the head, then on the feet, then on his back, then in his face.

      "Help! help!" he cried.

      "Give me back my sheep," said the boy.

      "Get it, it is hidden in the barn," said the innkeeper.

      The boy went out and found his sheep in the barn and drove it away as fast as he could, but he forgot about the innkeeper, and maybe that stick is pounding him to this day.

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       Table of Contents

      ong ago in the far North, where it is very cold, there was only one fire. A hunter and his little son took care of this fire and kept it burning day and night. They knew that if the fire went out the people would freeze and the white bear would have the Northland all to himself. One day the hunter became ill, and his son had all the work to do.

      For many days and nights he bravely took care of his father and kept the fire burning.

      The white bear was always hiding near, watching the fire. He longed to put it out, but he did not dare, for he feared the hunter's arrows.

      When he saw how tired and sleepy the little boy was, he came closer to the fire and laughed to himself.

      One night the poor boy could endure the fatigue no longer and fell fast asleep.

      The white bear ran as fast as he could and jumped upon the fire with his wet feet, and rolled upon it. At last he thought it was all out and went happily away to his cave.

      A brown robin was flying near and saw what the white bear was doing.

      She waited until the bear went away. Then she flew down and searched with her sharp little eyes until she found a tiny live coal. This she fanned patiently with her wings for a long time.

      Her little breast was scorched red, but she did not stop until a fine red flame blazed up from the ashes.

      Then she flew away to every hut in the Northland. Wherever she touched the ground, a fire began to burn. Soon, instead of one little fire, the whole North country was lighted up.

      The white bear went farther back into his cave in the iceberg and growled terribly. He knew that there was now no hope that he would ever have the Northland all to himself.

      This is the reason that the people in the North countries love the robin, and are never tired of telling their children how its breast became red.

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      ong ago, as you know, the Indians roved over the plains and through the forests of America. Their leaders were called chiefs. This story tells about an Indian chief and his son.

      The Indian chief was very strong and very brave. He could bear cold, hunger and pain without a word. He was a wonderful hunter and a fierce enemy. Nothing ever made him afraid.

      He had one son, whom he loved with all his heart. He hoped that this son would grow up to be a warrior, greater than his father.

      But the lad was slender and white-faced. He did not seem strong; long marches wearied him. When the Indian boys are about eighteen years of age, they like to show that they will make brave warriors. To do this they take certain tests. These are some of them. They go without food and water, five, seven, or even ten days. Again they go without sleep for ten days. They let their friends cut them with knives and never even cry out.

      The time came when the son of the chief must take the test. He went away to the wigwam, or lodge, where the testing took place. His father hoped that he would act like a brave young man.

      When some days had passed, the father went to see his son. Pale and weak, he lay on the ground. He had not eaten nor slept.

      "Father," he whispered, "I cannot bear this. Let me go free."

      "Ah

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