At home she had plenty of good books to read, and she loved them too. They told her delightful stories about things that had happened long ago. Sometimes she did not quite understand all that they said, as she read them curled up by the fire, but later, when she wandered in the woods, their meaning became clearer. It was the same way when she played on the piano at home. The music set her to dreaming, and called forth puzzling thoughts. Outdoors she seemed to understand better what the music had to tell her. This little girl was Alice Cunningham Fletcher. She was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1845. As she grew older, the thought came to her that if she felt so happy out in the open, how must the Indians feel who had lived a free out-of-door life for generations. Gradually she began to think that these people, whom the world called savages, must have learned something about how to live happily. Alice Fletcher resolved that, if ever there came a time when it was possible, she would go to the home of the Indians and try to discover their secrets. Meanwhile she studied all that books and museums could teach her of the story of the Red Men. At last, there did come a day when she decided to go and live among them. It meant leaving behind her, beloved libraries, fine concerts, beautiful pictures, and even a comfortable bed and easy chair. Miss Fletcher felt, however, that there was something that meant more than comfort to her. It was the doing of a definite piece of work that she believed would be useful to the world. Therefore, she left the friends with whom she could talk of books, pictures, and music, and went to live among the Dakota and Omaha Indians. From the door of her rude wigwam of buffalo skins, she could watch the little Indian children at play and see the everyday life of the older members of the tribe. Most people think of the American Indian as a reserved, stern sort of person who never laughs or jokes. What Miss Fletcher saw from her wigwam gave her an entirely different opinion. She saw the Indians enjoy fun, and take a wide-awake interest in everything that went on around them. She decided that the sternness of the Indian was only a kind of mask that he wore before strangers. Soon the New England woman ceased to be a stranger to her Indian neighbors. The love that they both had for the sky, the wind, the streams, and the forest helped to make them understand one another. It was not long before these children of Nature realized that Miss Fletcher had come to them as a friend; and that she was really interested in them. So they dropped their mask of reserve and let her know them as they really were.