carefully they guarded their precious loads, and as the antlered deer in
passing through the thick woods and under the low branches never strike
trunk or bough, so these sons of the forest glided swiftly on without
allowing any hurt to come to the children of the paleface, even if at times
the faint trail led them over slippery rocks and under low intertwining
branches.

The wigwam of Souwanas was pitched in a beautiful spot at the edge of the
great forest near the sandy, rocky eastern shore of Lake Winnipeg. This
great lake is well called The Sea, which is the meaning of its Indian name.
It is about as long as Lakes Ontario and Erie combined and in some places
is eighty miles wide.

At the entrance of the wigwam, which was made of a couple of tanned
reindeerskins, the children were carefully lifted down from the men's
shoulders and then taken into this Indian abode. Coming in suddenly from
the bright sunshine it was some time before they could see distinctly. The
door flap of deerskin had dropped like a curtain behind them. All the light
there was came in through the hole in the top, where the poles of the
wigwam crossed each other. Presently, however, they were able to see a
circle of Indian children gathered around a small fire that smoldered on
the ground in the center of the tent. It was now in the pleasant summer
time, but the fire was needed for something else than warmth, as the little
Sagastao and Minnehaha discovered before long. They were soon seated in the
circle with the red children, who, young though they were, were a wee bit
startled at seeing these little palefaces. The white children, however,
simply laughed with glee. This outward demonstration seemed very improper
to the silent red children, who were taught to refrain from expressions of
their gladness or sorrow.