Other stories to be given in this chapter show how important little human children were among primitive people—so important in one story that all the animals in the world assembled and tried to save two little boys who went sound asleep upon a rock that gradually rose higher and higher until their faces touched the moon; and so important in another that even the great god of the Algonquins, Glooskap himself, was conquered by the baby; and in still another Indian myth so important that if it had not been for the wishes of the little son of a Manito, there would never have been any summer; but this last, if he really were the son of a Manito, was, of course, a little more than human. LEGEND OF TU-TOK-A-NU-LA (_Indians of the Yosemite Valley_) There were once two little boys living in the valley, who went down to the river to swim. After paddling and splashing about to their hearts’ content, they went on shore and crept upon a huge bowlder that stood beside the water, on which they lay down in the warm sunshine to dry themselves. Very soon they fell asleep, and slept so soundly that they never wakened more. Through moons and snows, winter and summer, they slumbered on. Meantime the great rock whereon they slept was treacherously rising day and night, little by little, until it soon lifted them up beyond the sight of their friends, who sought them everywhere, weeping. Thus they were borne up at last beyond all human help or reach of human voice; lifted up into the blue heavens, far up, far up, until their faces touched the moon; and still they slumbered and slept, year after year, safe among the clouds. Then, upon a time, all the animals assembled together to bring down the little boys from the top of the great rock. Every animal made a spring up the face of the wall as far as he could leap. The little mouse could only jump up a hand-breadth; the rat, two hand-breadths; the raccoon, a little farther; and so on—the grizzly bear making a mighty leap far up the wall, but falling back like all the others. Last of all the lion tried, and he jumped up farther than any other animal, but he, too, fell down flat on his back. Then came along an insignificant measuring-worm, which even the mouse could have crushed by treading on it, and began to creep up the rock. Step by step, a little at a time, he measured his way up, until he presently was above the lion’s jump, then pretty soon out of sight. So he crawled up and up, through many sleeps, for about one whole snow, and at last he reached the top. Then he took the little boys and came downward as he went up, so bringing them safely to ground. And the rock is called the measuring-worm—Tutokanula. NEZHIK-E-WA-WA-SUN; OR, THE LONE LIGHTNING (_Odjibwa_)