Now, Utani realized he had gone a little too far in his bragging; but being very stubborn, he refused to tell his sister that he really could not find the secret lake by looking at the knife blade in the sun. Utani made up his mind that he would have to find the secret lake, Atagahi. He rose and placed his knife carefully in his belt and, taking his sister’s hand, started toward the ridges of the Great Smokies. For two hours, Utani and Netani climbed higher and higher into the mountains; but as the day wore on, Utani began to feel a bit frightened, for they were a long way from home and had come upon nothing that looked like a lake. Finally Netani stopped a few feet behind Utani and called out. “Let us rest here for a while, big brother. I am getting tired. Besides it is late and I am hungry. Let us go back to the village and look tomorrow.” Of course, Utani secretly thought that was a wonderful idea, for he was tired and hungry too. He agreed to follow his little sister’s idea. As he grasped his sister’s hand to start home, his foot kicked a small stone which rolled off the side of the trail and down a small embankment of earth and landed at the bottom with a splash. Utani and Netani looked at each other with great surprise and then carefully stepped to the edge of the path. Utani pushed aside the branches that grew along the side of the trail, and they both peered down into the waters of a beautiful blue green lake nestled among the trees and rocks that hid it from human eyes along the trail. They had found it! They had found Atagahi! It was fast growing dark, so the two children decided to return to their village and come back the following day to the secret lake. When they returned to their village the older braves wanted to know where they had been. Netani said, “We looked at Utani’s knife blade in the sun, and the sun told us where to find Atagahi.” The older Cherokee braves all laughed and laughed very loudly. But Netani and Utani did not laugh, for they knew where Atagahi was and they could go there any time they pleased. They never told anyone their secret, but every once in a while if you looked very carefully up the trail into the mountains, you might see two Indian children kicking stones off the side of the trail. QUARTER MOON AND LITTLE ELK “Quarter Moon! Where are you, Quarter Moon?” Little Elk was shouting for his friend as he trotted through the quiet Iroquois village. It was July, and many of the older braves had gone off to fish and hunt. There were few left in the village except the women, the old men, and the children. Little Elk was now twelve and he was feeling like a big warrior more and more each day. Finally just as Little Elk was about to give up, he heard his friend answering him from behind his father’s wigwam. “Why do you call so loudly, Little Elk?”