all of these things are true even to this day. Isn't it so, Mukoki?"

The old warrior nodded.

"And what became of the Great Spirit and the seven beautiful
daughters?" questioned Rod.

Mukoki rose and left the fire.

"He believes in that as he believes in the sun and the moon," spoke
Wabi softly. "But he knows that you do not, and that all white people
laugh at it. He could tell you many wonderful stories of the creation
of these forests and mountains and the things in them if he would.
But he knows that you would not believe, and would laugh at him
afterward."

In an instant Rod was upon his feet.

"Mukoki!" he called. "Mukoki!"

The old Indian turned and came back slowly. The white youth met him
half-way, his face flushed, his eyes shining.

"Mukoki," he said gently, gripping the warrior's hand, "Mukoki--I love
your Great Spirit! I love the one who made these glorious forests, and
that glorious moon up there, and the mountains and lakes and rivers!
I Want to know more about him. You must tell me, so that I will know
when he talks about me, in the winds, in the stars, in the forests!
Will you?"