He climbed a thickly
limbed tree, and hid in the top. Here the runners lost his track,
because he had broken the weeds and bushes down beyond the tree, as if
he had gone further on. They ran for a long distance. Then they
returned, and camped and built a fire under the tree.
The smoke crept up among the branches and curled above, and rose in a
straight column to the sky. The fugitive sailed away on the smoke,
going up and up,--past beautiful lakes and hunting-grounds stocked with
deer, large fields of corn and beans, tobacco and squashes; past great
companies of handsome Indians, whose wigwams were hung full of dried
venison and bear's meat. And so he went on and up to the wig-wam of the
Great Chief.
Here he rested. He remained for a hundred moons observing the customs
of the people and learning their language. One morning the Great Chief
told him that he must return to his own people. He disliked to do this,
for he was very happy in the new place. The Chief said, "These are the
happy hunting grounds. We have admitted you that you may know how and
what to teach your people, that they may get here. Go, and if you do
what I tell you, you may return to remain forever. You have not been
allowed to come here to remain, but only to observe. When you come
again, you shall join us in all things. You shall hunt and fish then,
and have whatever you wish.
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