Just as the sun peeped up over the edge of the horizon and smiled "good morning" to them, the Golden Hearted poured a libation on the ground from a golden goblet, and the people all shouted "Haille! Haille!" meaning triumph. The prince, the wise men and everybody faced the risen sun with bared heads and bowed three times. Then the prince said:

"Many think that the Sun is the Maker of all things. But he who makes should abide by what he has done. Now many things happen when the sun is absent; therefore he cannot be the universal creator. And that he is alive at all is doubtful for his trips do not tire him. Were he a living thing he would grow weary like ourselves. Were he free he would visit other parts of the heavens. He is a tethered beast who makes a daily round under the eye of the Master. He is like an arrow which must go whither it is sent; not whither it wishes. I tell you that he, our father and master, the Sun, must have a lord more powerful than himself who constrains him to his daily circuit without pause or rest."

The Golden Hearted spoke like this because he did not wish the Children of the Sun to believe it was really their father or God either.

All the assemblage took off their sandals and went into the Place of Gold and prayed; then came out to the court yard and offered up sacrifice of perfumes, fruits and flowers. When this was done they hurried to the fields and after the Golden Hearted turned the first sod every one else began to work. They had no plows, and those who did not break the ground with a dull saber, dropped seeds all day long. As the sun went down they laid aside their toil, and marched home shouting and singing, because now they were going to have a feast, with bonfires and dancing as late into the night as they wished.

Bochica and the Zipa

IN the Cinnamon country not far from Cuzco lived the Muscas, a rich and powerful nation who were less civilized than the Children of the Sun and were so quarrelsome that they constantly disputed among themselves. Finally the Zipa, or king, died and then there was great danger of war breaking out between the different factions as to who should be the new ruler.

At last the oldest son of the dead Zipa came to Cuzco to ask the Golden Hearted to decide who should inherit the kingdom.

"This is a matter of grave moment," said he, "and I must warn you that my time of ruling the Children of the Sun is near an end. Soon must I go to build the temple of Guatavita, the Good Life, and then must I leave this part of the world for another clime where much work awaits me."

"Come to us and build the temple of Good Life, and I promise you that both I and my brave Muscas shall be the guardians of your teachings. You shall be a demi-god among us."

"I have no wish to be anything more than an elder brother to you and your people," replied the Golden Hearted. "I am come from my home to serve humanity and must go with you if you need me—not because you wish to honor me."

The son of the Zipa then offered him many presents of gold, rich cloth, and precious stones, but the Golden Hearted refused to accept any of them. Finally the young man said:

"I am greatly disappointed, good prince, and have only this piece of bark and a strange kind of fruit to offer you. The bark is royal in my country because it cures the hated fever and is worthy your best confidence. As to the fruit, taste it for yourself."

To his surprise the Golden Hearted and the wise men were much pleased with the bark which we know to-day as Peruvian and from which quinine is made, and the pineapple tastes as sweet to us as it did to the Golden Hearted.

The son of the Zipa and his nobles conducted the wise men and the Golden Hearted over one elevated table-land after another until they came to one of the highest lakes in the world, where people can live, and its name is Gautavita.

"These terraced mountain sides show that your example has been well profited by the Children of the Sun," said the son of the Zipa, as they trudged along the royal roadway leading from Cuzco to the cinnamon country. "The instruction of the wise men in building canals and aqueducts has turned this into a garden spot even though nature intended it to be barren."

The Golden Hearted thought this would be a good opportunity to let his new friend know that he did not approve of war, and that the adherents of the Good Law, must not fight among themselves, so he said gently:

"All that you see before you is the working out of a fixed principle. Universal kindness is the secret of our success. Treat the earth gently and with consideration and she blesses you seven fold. Dig into her bosom and she yields her choicest treasures, and the beasts and birds respond to your affectionate touch. The heart of the man is the same, my friend. The obedience and allegiance of your subjects must come from the heart. If when I go among them they tell me they wish you to be their Zipa then will I go to your opponent and persuade him to relinquish his claim in your favor."

"And if he does not consent—"

"Then must you yield to him peaceably. I will not allow any blood shed on either side."

The son of the Zipa knew by the firm tone of the Golden Hearted that he meant what he said and his face turned a bright red, because he thought his own selfish purpose was known to his guest. Down in his heart he was planning to go into the capital city with a grand flourish and pretend that the Children of the Sun had sent their ruler and wise men to help him capture the throne. Now he knew very well he would not dare do anything of the kind.

"But you do not know my people, good prince," he said. "They will never obey a Zipa they do not fear."

"I am not familiar with the faces of your subjects, but I know the heart of all mankind, and whether he be white or black, young or old, the child of fortune or the opposite, he is amenable to the law of love. Win his affection and he will serve you as faithfully and obediently as a dog."

"I am afraid my turbulent warriors would not respect such a policy," replied the son of the Zipa, shaking his head.

"Remember in dealing with either man or animal that fear degrades while love ennobles."

By this time they were coming in sight of the calm peaceful waters of the lake stretched out like a sheet of glass before them.

"Water," said the Golden Hearted, "is like a pure mind—limpid and clear. It permits us to look into its depths for hidden treasures, or to see our own image reflected back from its surface. Let your heart and mind be such a mirror, and trust your people to make the right selection."

With this he laid his hand upon the shoulder of his young companion and as their eyes met, the son of the Zipa felt certain that he had a loyal and disinterested friend who would help him in the right way.

The next morning the prince and the wise men called the nobles and warriors together, and listened patiently to all they had to say for and against the two candidates. As he came into the audience chamber the strange one scowled and frowned at the visitors, but to his surprise the Golden Hearted took his hand and said:

"We have made a long, wearisome journey, my brother, in order to serve your own and your state's best interest. Speak freely that we may be able to judge fairly between the two."

"There is nothing to tell that my warriors do not already know," was the curt reply. "I am able to crush opposition and to command respect and obedience. I do not need your assistance, sir."

For a moment there was a look of pain on the face of the Golden Hearted. Then he said gently:

"You, more than any one else need help, because you are unable to govern yourself much less a rich and prosperous nation."

When it became known that the representatives of the Children of the Sun would not compel the people to accept a Zipa they did not like, they came out of their houses where they had been hidden all day for fear of violence, and marched up and down the streets playing on shell trumpets, gongs and kettle drums, and shouting the name of the oldest son of the Zipa who was in due time crowned as the rightful heir to the throne.

His first official act was to pierce the upper part of the ear of his subjects and put in gold wheels of fine filigree work, as large around as an orange. As he did so he said to each one:

"Swear by Him who gives and sustains life in the Universe, that you will faithfully keep the Good Law brought to us from the sea, by Bochica, our deliverer."

This was the name the Zipa gave the Golden Hearted, and as each man passed by him he gave them a little cake made of corn meal, and continued:

"To-morrow our good friends leave us for many days to come, but Bochica will return again, and to show him that we will do his bidding willingly let us take balsas or rafts with sails and go out on the lake where he may see the intent of our minds reflected in the water. Put wreaths of many colored flowers on the balsas, and carry with you gold and emeralds which we will cast into the lake in token of our pledge to him."

For hundreds of years afterwards, the Mucas and their descendants kept this holiday as an anniversary of the departure of the prince and the wise men. They knew that he was called the Golden Hearted in the Happy Island, and every year they selected a young priest from the temple of Gautavita, to impersonate him. After his bath the priest smeared himself all over with a fragrant oil, and then his attendants blew gold dust through reeds onto his body until he looked like a solid statue. They put him in the center of the flower-laden raft, and with chants and hymns rowed out on the lake and threw emeralds and gold dust into it. The young men wore white shirts with a red cross on the breast, and tied a red sash around their waists. On their heads were crowns of flowers and evergreen leaves to show that their virtues would continue as long as they lived, and that they were followers of the teachings of the Golden Hearted. They were always hoping and praying for his return.

We shall hear more of this ceremony and what came of it when we read the story of the Gilded Man.

Song of Hiawatha

Michabo, the Great White Hare

UNLESS you know what river was called the "Father of Waters" it will be a secret as to where the Golden Hearted and the wise men went when they took leave of the Zipa. There are many quaint stories told about this river, and also about the queer mounds and earthworks built by a strange race of men who lived ages ago in that part of our country. Their descendants are not very civilized and seem to have forgotten much that their ancestors knew although they have some very pretty ideas. For instance, they imagine that they hear voices in the growing branches and whispering leaves of the trees, and they see little vanishing men in the cliffs everywhere. They say that the Great Spirit makes the Indian summer by puffing smoke out of his cheeks, from his great peace pipe.

Before the Golden Hearted came they built a medicine lodge—a kind of temple facing the sunrise, in a place called the "Moon of Leaves." When it was finished, Wunzh, a youth of noble character and tender heart, summoned the spirits of the four quarters of the world and the day maker to come to his fire and disclose the hidden things of the distance and future.

No one can tell why they named the Golden Hearted, "Michabo, the Great White Hare," unless it was because he came in the time of the year represented in their calendar by a rabbit. They kept a record of the seasons by crude pictures drawn on the inside bark of trees, and with them the months were called moons.

No one blames them for saying the wise men were jossakeeds or prophets, because they really did look peculiar in their long robes, beards and tall black hats, especially to men who had on buffalo robes and feather head dresses.

Wunzh and his tribe received the Golden Hearted with solemn faces and much respect when they heard that he came from the Four Quarters of the World, which we know was the land of the Inca, very far south.

"Welcome, great white chief," they said, "come and sit by our council fire. Our hearts have long been weary waiting for you."

When they were all seated Wunzh handed the Golden Hearted a peace pipe shaped like a tomahawk filled with tobacco and already lighted. Not a word was spoken until every one present had taken three whiffs out of the pipe. Then the Golden Hearted said:

"I come to speak for my brothers, the fish, the animals, the creeping things and the feathered messengers of the air. I often listen to their complaints and they charge you with slaying them for food when the grains and fruits would serve you better."

"We are not disdainful of the grapes and berries concealed in our forests," replied Wunzh, "but we have no grain save rice and this must be carried on our backs for many days. Our snows and chill winds kill the plant before its seeds appear."

"Whatever the reason may be you will never do any real good in the world until you learn how to fast days at a time and can live without eating so much flesh. Even your vaunted skill with bow and arrow is not genuine. I am a better shot."

The wise men were alarmed for a moment fearing that Wunzh would be angry and that his followers would be offended also. Besides they had never heard the Golden Hearted speak boastfully before, and they were puzzled to know what would happen next.

"I am willing to try the bow with my friend," said Wunzh, with a flash of the eye and a toss of the head, which showed that he was vain and had an uncertain temper.

"When will it suit you to make the contest," quietly asked the Golden Hearted, as he arose and turned to leave the council fire.

"To-morrow's sun," answered Wunzh, haughtily, "and when it is so high," indicating a space in the sky that would make it quite early in the morning.

"Let it take place in the large square surrounded by your lodges," said the Golden Hearted, carelessly as he walked toward the one assigned for his use.

To the wise men he said:

"Leave me for a little time, I wish to be alone."

They wondered what he could mean by such language and such actions. It was evident that he did not intend to make any explanation to them, so they could only wait to see what the outcome would be.

Once inside the tent the Golden Hearted began to work on a plaited disc of straw. As soon as it was finished, he drew rings of red, blue, black and white all around the big yellow center, and was propping it up to dry when Wunzh appeared at the door of the lodge.

"I have come to show you the center pole where you may hang up the target, and we will then step off the distance between the different shooting stations," he said. "The rule requires each of us to speed two dozen arrows from the nearest point, twice that many from the middle ground, and seventy-two from the outside post."

While in the Happy Island, the prince had learned all about the use of the bow and arrow, but this was the first time he had an opportunity to show his skill, and the wise men were anxious that he should not fail, because they knew that the friends of Wunzh would not have much respect for him if he did. They could not understand how he could be so smiling and unconcerned.

The fame of Wunzh as a bowman was known far and wide and the descendants of the Mound Builders were certain he would win. At daybreak the next morning there was a solid line of warriors around the ring where the trial was to be made, and they were as motionless and stolid looking as if they had been carved out of wood. No one could tell by their faces what they were thinking and they would not have turned their heads for anything. Some of them made a kind of music on a tom-tom or Indian drum and Wunzh and the Golden Hearted marched in step like soldiers, and smiled and bowed to everybody as they came into the ring. The Golden Hearted knew all the time that he was the doubtful one, and just for a moment he glanced at the anxious faces of the wise men. Though not sure in their hearts they nodded encouragingly and before he had touched a bow every eye in the crowd was upon him.

The keepers of the bows and arrows were very fair minded, and were careful to see there were no knots or gnarls or cracks in the waxy brown hunting bow made of straight grained mulberry wood. The one to be used was six feet long and its tips were of polished elk horn, and there was a buckskin handhold in the center. The hickory arrows were as smooth as glass with very sharp saw-teeth edges on the flint heads. Around the notch end there were three vanes of eagle feathers.

The descendants of the Mound Builders were courteous enough to give their guest the first shot. As the Golden Hearted pulled a buckskin shield over his right hand he looked up at the wise men, and his eyes said:

"Trust me! I shall not fail."

Then he stooped quickly and raised the bow from the ground and placed it against his knee cap to get a good purchase. With an upward body movement he drew the long bow as far as he could, faced the painted disc target and let fly. Like the arrow that sped so swiftly that it caught fire as it flew, this one sang through the air and imbedded itself in the blue ring where it rocked and shook violently.

"The Great White Hare has won five points!" shouted the tally keepers in the Judge's corner.

"What skill!" said one pointing to the still quivering arrow. "What strength!" said another, while the wise men began to feel very proud indeed.

It was such hard work that the face of Golden Hearted was flushed but he shut his teeth together hard, and was determined to make a still better effort.

His second shot sent the arrow into the red ring nearly opposite the blue, and this scored him seven points.

"There is fine aiming!" said the judges to each other, while the other people leaned over in their seats and watched intently.

There was just a shadow of a smile on the lips of the Golden Hearted, as he made ready for the final shot from the first station.

"Ping!" and the third arrow fairly whistled as it hit the exact center of the yellow spot.

Instantly the whole crowd were on their feet, all talking at once and making so much noise that the tally keepers could not be heard.

"Five—seven—nine are the points; twenty-one for final score," they shouted.

The Golden Hearted flung down his bow and stepped to one side to make room for Wunzh. He stood wiping the perspiration off his forehead and was pleased because he saw that every one felt kindly toward him.

"Now the jossakeeds will learn how to shoot!" exclaimed the men who had backed Wunzh.

"He will never equal the first score," said others who were skillful with a bow and arrow themselves and knew how hard it was to make such fine shots.

Wunzh sent his first arrow with a vim and energy that showed he had been in constant practice, but all three of his darts sped feebly and barely indented the black ring.

"The jossakeeds hold the first station," announced the judges. "Move on to the next one."

Now came the real test of skill, and every man was interested because they all made use of the bow and arrow, in hunting and in war, and had no other kind of weapon except a knife. Hundreds of the spectators left their seats and crowded around the contestants.

The heavy hunting bow was laid aside now and one made of elastic but tough yew was substituted. The arrows had finely-pointed obsidian heads, matched and smooth but sharp as a needle.

The Golden Hearted was careful to see that the yew was properly seasoned and when satisfied, he placed the arrow on the left side of the bow with its notch set on the string. He drew the string back to just below the chin, aimed over the arrow tip and let fly.

The spectators were quick to see that his aim, draw, finish and loose was perfect even in speeding the arrows so fast they could scarcely be seen. When shooting three at a time he drove all of them into the yellow center within a quarter of an inch of each other!

The friends of Wunzh shouted and screamed:

"It is not fair! He uses too many arrows. Give us justice!" until the judges were compelled to order the warriors to drive the crowd back again with the points of their spears.

In the noise, confusion and excitement every one forgot the birds perched on a cross bar at the top of the pole supporting the target. There was a blue jay, a raven, a white dove and a green parrot. Each had a string attached to one leg. Now of course they remembered and crowded around to hear what the judges would say.

"Will the prince of the jossakeeds take a shot at the birds before being crowned with the Yew wreath of valor?"

As soon as the Golden Hearted could make himself heard he said:

"I am willing to comply with your request, but I hope I shall not hurt any of the birds."

"The parrot shall cry your aim, and must remain unharmed. You may kill the blue or the black bird, but you must release the peaceful dove uninjured. Will you remember these conditions?"

The Golden Hearted came within range and waited for a favorable opportunity. By a sudden jerk of the cord coming down the side of the pole the cross bar was set to whirling rapidly and this frightened the birds until they tried to fly away. The parrot was chained fast and to make the aim more difficult, the other birds were fastened by strings of different lengths. The marksman must free each one of them and then hit it before it could escape. The first liberated was the blue jay. The Golden Hearted cut the cord neatly and wounded the bird while it was still rising. The arrow fell near the base of the pole bringing the right wing with it.

This won him the wreath, and he now turned to the wise men for a signal. They could demand the last three shots. Would they do it? He inclined his head toward them as one of the number picked up a black flag and waved it. There was an answering shout and a cheer, and the Golden Hearted prepared to shoot again. This time he aimed at the raven and cut the string near the pole. Its weight caused the captive to fly in an oblique line downward for a moment. Quick as a flash the second arrow sped and the raven fell to the ground pierced through the heart! Without looking to see what had happened the Golden Hearted shot at the dove and as it flew up in a circle everybody saw that it was unharmed.

Then they fought and struggled with each other for the privilege of carrying the victor off the grounds, but the Golden Hearted escaped through a side door and ran away as fast as he could. He did not wish to speak to any one nor have them see how unhappy he felt. He really was heartbroken because he had killed the raven.

The Birth of Corn

WUNZH was greatly disturbed and downcast over his defeat because he thought the Great Spirit had sent the Golden Hearted in answer to his supplications, and he now felt certain that he was in disfavor. He lay awake all night thinking what he could do to win a token of good will from the Great Spirit. He knew better than to ask anything for himself, but begged and implored that it should be something for the benefit of his tribe.

"Michabo says I eat too much flesh, and that I must learn to fast before any good will come to me," he said over and over to himself. "He shall see that I know how to obey even if my arrows do go wide of the mark." There was a great lump in his throat and to tell the truth there were a few tears trickling down his cheeks, but he brushed them away quickly as he rose to his feet and shook out the buffalo robes which had answered for his bed.

"I will go to a secret place in the forest and build me a lodge, and there I will stay and fast until the Great Spirit grants my wish."

He told no one of his intention and was gone several days before he was missed at the council fires where the wise men were instructing the medicine men in the use of a wampum belt made of different colored beads. The colors were the same as the Quippos and the counting with them was done in the same manner. While the women were weaving a very handsome wampum belt to be used as a council brand of authority, the wise men helped build a Long House in the center of the confederation of tribes to put it in. Then they ordered four other Long Houses built on the north, east, south and west corners of the country, so that the runners would have some place to stay when they started with the wampum belt to let the outside tribes know the will of the council.

The Golden Hearted did not seem to take any interest in this work at all, but went among the people playing all kinds of pranks. Sometimes he frightened them nearly to death, and then again he would set them into roars of laughter by the funny things he did. He invented so many tricks and was so full of mischief that every one was on the lookout and attributed all the happenings they could not account for in any other way to him whether he did them or not.

"What has become of Wunzh? Has anybody seen him?" began to be constant queries, and his family looked very sad indeed. The Golden Hearted knew where he was and that he was fasting, so he waited until nightfall and then dressed himself in rich garments of green and yellow shading into light and dark tints. Putting on his crown with the long green Quetzal plumes he slipped off into the woods to find Wunzh. Approaching the lodge he said:

"I am sent to you, my friend, by that Great Spirit who made all things in the sky and on the earth. He has seen and known your motives in the fasting. He sees that it is from a kind and benevolent wish to do good to your people and to procure a benefit for them and not for strength in war or the praise of warriors. I come to show you how to do your kindred good, but you must rise and wrestle with me."

Wunzh knew that he was weak from fasting, but felt his courage rising in his heart, and he got up immediately determined to die rather than fail.

He instantly clinched with the Golden Hearted and wrestled with him until nearly exhausted.

"My friend, this is enough for to-day. I will come again to try you to-morrow at the same hour."

The Golden Hearted came dressed in the same fashion and wrestled with Wunzh for three successive evenings. Each day the faster's strength grew less and less, but he was more determined than ever.

"To-morrow will be your last trial. Be strong, my friend, for this is the only way you can overcome me and obtain the boon you seek."

The next day the poor youth exerted his utmost power and after awhile the Golden Hearted ceased wrestling.

"I am conquered," he said, and went into the lodge and began to teach Wunzh. "You have wrestled manfully and have fasted seven days. Now you must strip off my clothing and throw me down. Clean the earth of roots and reeds; make it soft and bury these garments here. When you have done this be careful never to let the grass grow over the spot. Once a month cover it with fresh earth. If you follow these instructions you will do great good to your fellow creatures."

In the morning the father of Wunzh came with some slight refreshments, saying:

"My son, you have fasted long enough. If the Great Spirit intends to favor you he will do it now. It is seven days since you tasted food and you must not sacrifice your health. That the Master of Life does not require of you."

"Wait, father, until the sun goes down. I have a particular reason for extending my fast until that hour."

"Very well," said the father, kindly. "I will wait until you feel inclined to eat."

Even though he was hungry the young man felt strangely renewed and strengthened and when it was night he was ready to wrestle with the Golden Hearted again. When he thought he had killed the prince he took off his garments and plumes and buried them as he had been told to do. Afterwards he returned to his father's lodge and partook sparingly of food, but he never for a moment forgot the new-made grave.

Because he was so full of pranks and tricks, the descendants of the Mound Builders saw something mysterious and strange in everything the Golden Hearted did, and when he built a boat to go down the great river in, they said it was a magic canoe and expected almost anything to happen. However before he and the wise men went away, they made him the father and guardian of their nation, and they have considered him as such ever since.

Weeks went by and the summer was drawing to a close when Wunzh returned after a long absence in hunting. Going to his father he invited him to come to the quiet lonesome spot where he had fasted so long. There in a circle freed from weeds stood a tall graceful plant with bright colored silken hair surmounted by nodding plumes, luxuriant green leaves and clusters of golden grain on each side.

"It is my friend, and the friend of all mankind. It is Mondamin, the spirit of corn. We need no longer rely on hunting alone for so long as this gift is cherished and taken care of the ground itself will give us a living. See, my father," said Wunzh, pulling off an ear, "this is what I fasted for. This is why Michabo put me through so many trials. But the Great Spirit has listened to my voice and sent us something new. Our people need no longer depend upon the chase and the water for food."

Then he told his father how he had wrestled with the Golden Hearted, and how he had torn off his garments.

"He said I was to treat the ear in the same manner, and when it was stripped I must hold it to the fire until the outer skin becomes brown while all the milk is retained in the grain."

The whole family of Wunzh joined in a feast on the roasted ears, and were very grateful for such a rich blessing. And this is the way the Indians say corn came into the world.

We learned its use from them, and also to hold the old-fashioned husking bees where all the young people got together and pulled off the husks after the ripe ears of corn had been gathered into the barn. It was always great fun, especially when they found red ears, but let us see what the Indians used to say about it:

The Indians have many pretty stories about the birth of corn. When the two little slender green leaves come up through the ground they say that it is the long green plumes of the crown buried by Wunzh and when it is ready for harvest they think the green and gold of the leaves and grain are the rest of the garments turned into a plant. They say that if you stand near a cornfield in the moonlight you can hear Mondamin, the corn spirit, murmuring and complaining of the way we treat him to the wind, the stars, and the little insects hidden in the glossy leaves and silken tassels.

The Wrathy Chieftain

AFTER sailing down the great river for many days the Golden Hearted and the wise men came into a trackless waste with no means of finding their way out except by watching where the sun rose and shooting an arrow ahead of them. This was very slow work and they all grew quite discouraged over it.

"It is altogether too bad that for fear of getting lost we must halt each time and speed another arrow before we overtake the last one," said the Golden Hearted one day when they were nearly worn out with the heat and dust of a country not much better than a desert. "I have a feeling," he continued, "that we will not be well treated by the people we find here. I do so wish we might come to the cactus and the rock with a serpent at its base where my father commanded me to found a city in honor of the sun."

"We are going in the right direction," answered the wise men, "but the end of our search is not yet."

"And much as my heart yearns for the Happy Island I will not return to my father until all his wishes have been fulfilled."

Through the murky gray clouds the stars did not make much light, and there was only a thin crescent moon, which gave a sense of utter loneliness to the Golden Hearted when he went to bed that night. The coyotes all around him howled and that made it worse, but he finally fell asleep. By and by he was awakened by a cold, wet nose touching his hand, and when he raised up on his elbow to see what it was, there stood a coyote. They are not very dangerous animals but they are sneaking and treacherous. Now we know that the Golden Hearted was gentle and kind to all creatures, and the coyote must have known it too, for it rubbed its head on his hand and did not seem in the least afraid.

"Come, my good fellow, let us be friends," said the Golden Hearted. "I will not hurt you, and you can guide me to my brethren. I have never seen their faces, but wish very much to find them."

The coyote wrinkled up his nose and made a funny little sneezing sound as if he were talking, and he wagged his tail as friendly as a dog. Maybe he did not understand what was said to him, but anyhow he felt safe enough to lie down close to his new friend and go sound asleep. When the wise men saw him the next morning, they said:

"It is a good omen and means that we shall soon come to a stopping place where strange events will happen."

This put the Golden Hearted into a better humor because he felt less doubtful and discouraged and he was much interested in the antics of the sagacious little companion that trudged by his side all day long. The coyote was enterprising enough to kill as many birds as it needed for food, without going far out of the way and was not a whit of trouble to anybody. There was not a tree nor a shrub to hide the nakedness of the dusty plains, nor was it possible to rest with any comfort until after the sun went down.

All of a sudden the coyote stopped short, pricked up its ears and listened intently.

"Yelp! yelp! yelp!" was what the Golden Hearted heard, and it sounded as if there were hundreds of young puppies everywhere. Looking closely he discovered little heaps of earth with a smooth-headed animal sitting on all fours beside it and yelping a protest to being disturbed. They were right in the midst of a village of prairie dogs, which are about the size of a jack-rabbit, but not nearly so destructive.

"Come and see what I have found," called out the Golden Hearted to the wise men who were coming up behind him. At the sound of his voice the prairie dogs gave a quick, short yelp, their heels twinkled in the air for a second, and they fairly turned a somersault diving into their holes. By the time the wise men were ready to look there was not a whisker of an inhabitant to be seen.

"What is it?" they said, "Where! we do not see anything."

"Watch these fresh piles of dirt, and you will see something come out of them," said the Golden Hearted.

"Yes;" said one, "there are some rattlesnakes."

"And here are some owls," said another. "Is it possible that you have never seen these creatures before?" and the wise men laughed at the Golden Hearted and thought they had a good joke on him.

"Let us keep quiet for a while. I tell you there is something else in those burrows besides snakes and owls," he insisted seriously.

Not hearing any more noise, one after another of the little prairie dogs put its head up out of the hole, and then stole forth cautiously to talk the matter over with its next door neighbor. There were regular beaten pathways or lanes from one burrow to another and they were evidently on very friendly footing with each other.

"These are indeed curious little animals," said the wise men, now much interested. "They not only live in communities, but keep the peace with their brothers, the snake and the owl. There is certainly no greater source of knowledge than the book of nature. Here God puts before us the thing He wishes us to learn."

At the very first words of the wise men the prairie dogs scampered back into their holes; and before they showed themselves again a party of husbandmen came along on their way to a harvest field which they said was a day's journey ahead.

"Why do you linger in this desert?" they asked of the Golden Hearted. "There are habitations farther on where the earth is watered."

"We are seeking those who need our assistance and must only tarry where we are welcome," he answered.

"Then come to our commune. We have no one to show us how to heal the sick nor to coax fertility out of this barren soil," they said. "If you will go, we will remain for the night and lead the way."

So it was arranged and to everybody's comfort and joy it began to rain shortly after and then the air was much more cool and pleasant.

The little prairie dogs were not so well pleased with this arrangement. They stuck their noses up into the moist air and whined and yelped half of the night. There can be no doubt that they were holding an indignation meeting, and were having a noisy and windy debate. May be they were comparing notes about the tall hats and veils of the wise men, or they may not have thought their long beards becoming. Or who shall say that they were not in their own peculiar fashion devising plans for safety, and to vindicate their offended dignity? They may have objected seriously to having strange men intruding upon their privacy, and it must not be considered a reflection on their courage because they scampered out of sight at the sound of a human voice. It was quite enough to frighten inoffensive little animals like these.