Canoes had been collected on the shore of Winnipeg, handy if
it should be decided that they all should go for an afternoon outing on the
water. However, Souwanas, who had gone out to look at the sky and observe
the winds and waves, now came in and reported that he thought they would
better put off the canoe trip to some time when the lake was more calm. It
was then suggested that the children be asked what would please them most.
The little folks, white and red, were not slow in giving their decision.
"Tell us a story about Nanahboozhoo."
"Who shall be the story-teller?"
There was a hearty call for "Souwanas!"
On coming in from investigating the weather, but a few minutes before,
Souwanas had seated himself on a robe and was now enjoying his calumet, or
pipe. Stoical though he was, his dark eyes flashed with pleasure at the
unanimous call of the children, but, Indianlike, it would have been a great
breach of manners if he had let his delight be known. Then, again,
Indianlike, it would never have done to have seemed to be in a hurry. The
Indian children well knew this, but who ever heard of white children that
could sit like statues, grave and dignified, while the story-teller took
time to finish smoking a large pipe of tobacco?
So it was in this case. In their wild excitement and eagerness to have the
story begin, both Sagastao and Minnehaha sprang up and, rushing toward
Souwanas, vied with each other in seeing which could first pluck the
half-smoked calumet from his mouth.
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