and fieldcraft. Now they seemed to him almost blind and deaf.

As he went about with them, he found that for all their boasting (and
they often boasted) they really knew little about the wild folk. Many
times they would pass Wa-poose the Rabbit sitting unseen on his form
within a few feet of them. Mother Mit-chee the Ruffled Partridge made
her nest in plain sight on the ground beside the old trail and they
passed by a hundred times and never saw her. And so it was with many
others of the wild folk. Often they went quietly about their business
before the very eyes of the house people who did not see them.

During that summer little Luke spent much time with Old John the lone
Indian, who lived at the foot of Black Mountain. For Old John, seeing
the little boy's love of woodcraft and his wonderful keenness of ear and
eye, and understanding, came to love him more than he had loved anyone
or anything for many years.

He would make some excuse to come to the farmhouse. Then, when his
pretended business was finished, he would sit with the little boy on an
old bench on the lawn and tell him stories of the Red Men or of the wild
folk.

Sometimes, too, the little boy would go up the trail and sit by the
spring where he had found the Magic Speech Flower and wait for the old
Indian. Or, when Old John started for home, he would go along with him
up into the woods and there they would sit on a fallen log and talk of
the old days when the Red Men dwelt in that land, or of the wood folk
they saw and heard about them. These were most enchanting tales, and
little Luke enjoyed them exceedingly.