Then the people prayed to the Great Spirit, and as the Great Spirit looked down upon the mountain and saw what destruction had been wrought, he said, “Your flames shall be put out; your fires shall be quenched.” And even as the Great Spirit spoke, the fires grew ashen in color, and the flames trembled and sank away. But in the center of the great bowl of the mountain, where the fires had been, one little flame hung quivering. The Great Spirit saw it, and he said, “Little flame, you alone shall stay. But I will give to you a new form. You shall have wings, and live among the earth’s people, and drink the honey of its flowers. Little flame, you shall carry the color of the fire upon your throat. You shall be known as the Humming Bird, and every child will love you.” THE GIFT OF INDIAN CORN (Chippewa) IN the far back days, before the white men lived upon this side of the earth, a young Indian lad stood at the door of his father’s tepee and gazed out over the far-waving prairie grass. He was thinking of the morrow when he would begin his fast; for this was the custom among the Indians. When a youth reached a given age he went away by himself, and for seven days he ate no food, but spent the time in prayer to the Great Spirit that his part in life might be made clear to him, and that it might prove a worthy one. Now Wunzh, who stood in the tepee door, was an unusually thoughtful lad, for his father had so taught him; and he was filled with high and with grave thoughts as he looked across the waving grass. Beyond his sight, in a thicket, he knew that his father and younger brother were clearing the ground and raising the little tepee wherein he would spend the days of his fasting. Wunzh knew full well what his prayer to the Great Spirit would be, but how would it be answered? He thought of this long and often. As he had run about the prairie or made his way through the forests when a little lad, he had wondered how it was that the grass and the trees sprang up out of the dark earth. He had wondered why some of the flowers smelled sweet while others were offensive; why some of the roots were good for healing, while others caused sickness or even death, though all came from the same soil. But to none of these questions could he find an answer. Wunzh’s father was poor, and so were many other Indians; and some of them were ill, or very old. But in order to live they must hunt or fish, for game and fish were their only food. And so life was hard for many of the Indians. Since Wunzh was thoughtful and had considered all these things, he knew full well what his prayer to the Great Spirit would be.