Very cordial were their greetings, but soon the quick eyes of the kindly
Indian noticed that there were several long red scratches and even some
drops of partly dried blood on the hands of his little friends. It was
hardly necessary for him to ask the cause of the wounds, as the bunches of
sweet briers and wild roses, with their sharp needle-like thorns, in the
happy children's hands told the tale.
Putting down his gun and game, Souwanas quickly gathered some of the sweet
fragrant grass which is there so abundant, and skillfully twisting it into
little coils he wound one around each of the bunches of flowers which the
children had gathered, and which they were still having trouble to hold on
account of the thorns.
The bouquets thus arranged could now be carried without inflicting any
more wounds or pain. Amid their chat and laughter, for these white children
were taught, like Indian children, not to be afraid of a few scratches or a
little pain, Minnehaha, who was industriously wiping the blood from some
wounds on her little white hands with her apron, said:
"How is it, Souwanas, that all these rosebushes and briers have such sharp
thorns on them?"
"I suppose Mary would say that Nanahboozhoo, the rascal, had something to
do with it," put in Sagastao.
At this reference to Mary there was a mischievous twinkle in the eyes of
the old Indian.
"Yes," he replied, "Nanahboozhoo had lots to do with it, and yet when you
hear the story you will see that he was not such a rascal at the time he
did it as Mary would make out, but almost as good as her pet, Wakonda, who
gave the bees their stings.
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