Early in September the swallows began to gather in large flocks.
The young ones, who were now finishing their lessons in flying, were
introduced to the rest of the tribe and the little boy often saw them
training in squads. They would sit in a long row upon the peak of the
barn roof. Suddenly they would start off all together and fly about for
a while. Then they would come back and settle down upon the roof again.

One day as little Luke was watching them, Father Lun-i-fro happened to
light upon a fence stake near him. "Father Lun-i-fro," said the little
boy, "what are you swallow folk doing these days?"

"We are holding our councils and getting ready to go to the sunny
Southland for the winter," answered the old swallow.

"Before you go," said the boy, "I wish you would tell me how you learned
to build your nests in such an odd way."

"Well," said Father Lun-i-fro, "since you have been so nice to us this
summer, I'll tell you."

* * * * *

"Long, long ago," went on the old swallow, "there was an Indian village
upon the top of a high hill.

"The grown-up people of the village were very good. But alas! the
children were naughty. They were so disobedient that they could never be
trusted to mind anything that their parents said to them. The old people
often talked to them and did their best to make them behave better, but