Out flew the birds, glad to stretch their wings, and the boy sped his arrow after them. But swifter than his arrow was the light beam of the little Star, and it fell upon the birds and the boy. Immediately they became enchanted. The birds flew swiftly down to earth and lighted upon an island in the midst of a green sea, and the little boy, the grandson of Evening Star, floated softly down after them. Then Osseo was full of sorrow, and he said to his father, “Oh, father! let us go also, my wife and I, that we may not be separated from our son.” So Evening Star permitted Osseo and Oweenee to enter the silver cage, and silver wings were given it, and it flew down to the island in the midst of the green sea. And then the enchantment of the little Star changed all of them to Fairies, and joining hands they danced and sang in the starlight, while the Evening Star looked down upon them from his far-away home in the sky. WHY THE ASPEN LEAVES ARE NEVER STILL (Blackfeet) “WHY are the leaves on the aspen tree never still, Grandmother?” asked one of the Indian children of the old basket weaver. “I have watched them so many times, and they always talk together.” “You are right, my daughter. When there is no breath in the heavens, the aspen leaves still talk.” “Is there a story about the aspen tree, grandmother?” asked the little girl. “Will you tell it to me, if there is?” “Yes daughter,” replied the old woman, “there is a story about the aspen tree which it is good that you should hear.” Taking her basket upon her knees and continuing her weaving, the grandmother told her story: “Many, many moons ago there was a young warrior who was lonely in his father’s lodge, and he said to himself, ‘I will seek a maiden to wed, and make ready a lodge of my own.’ “So he watched the maidens of the village, and he found two sisters who seemed so modest, and kind, and good, that he knew not which of them to choose. “When he went to their father’s lodge, he was kindly treated by both. They gave him words of welcome, they smiled upon him, and they prepared food and set it before him. Both could weave fine baskets for the lodge, and make rich embroidery of quills. “Many times the young brave went to the lodge, but he could not tell which maiden would make the better wife. And at last he said to himself, ‘I will try magic. I will get the medicine man to help me.’ “So he visited the lodge of the Medicine Man, and after a time there came away from the Medicine Man’s lodge an old man, bent, and leaning upon a stick. He walked feebly, and his garments were ragged. His hair was white, and his chin quivered with age. [Illustration: “THE OLDER SISTER LOOKED ON WITH SCORN”]