“Iagoo took his war club with his two hands. He walked like a brave in battle. He ran on the trail to kill the strange beast. He raised his war club to strike it, but it was nothing but a big ant dragging a rabbit to its hole in the trail. Iagoo sat down in the sand and laughed, while the ant pulled the rabbit into the ant-hole. The rabbit was killed by the ant. Iagoo said so, and he knew it. The ant killed the rabbit with its horns.” “Ugh! ugh! ugh!” said the boys around the fire. White Deer laughed, and her daughters laughed. “Tell another,” said the boys. “My grandfather said that Iagoo told of the willow trees. Iagoo went to the willow trees to take some of the little creeping-cats from them. They are the flowers that come when the snow has melted. “The willow trees looked small to Iagoo. He broke off a branch and went to get one on the other side of the tree. He made a heavy trail around the tree to mark the bush. The sun was over his head when he began to make the trail. He walked around that one willow bush, and the sun was going down in the lake when he was done. It was a long trail. No one but Iagoo ever saw such a willow bush.” White Deer laughed. She had gathered many willows for weaving. The oldest boy looked at his brothers. They were laughing too. He did not laugh, but said “Ugh!” like a great chief. Lame Buffalo looked at the fire. White Deer put on more sticks and blew the fire with her breath; when it began to blaze Lame Buffalo went on with more stories of Iagoo. “My grandfather said that Iagoo went in the cold moon of winter to the south. He went alone in his canoe. His tribe was in the far north, in the fur country. Iagoo liked to fish. His wife could hunt for the fur skins, for it is cold in the far north. “Iagoo let his canoe drift like a leaf as he fished. It drifted near the shore of the river, then Iagoo stepped out on the shore. It sank under his feet. As the water came over where he stepped, he saw that he had not stepped on land. He had stepped on a thick lily leaf. “Iagoo jumped back into his canoe. He broke the stem of the lily leaf with his fishing spear and put the great leaf in his canoe. It covered him and the canoe. He dried the leaf and rolled it in a pack. He went back to the far north when he had fished all he wanted to, and he gave the leaf to his squaw. She was glad. It was like a wide buffalo skin; she made dresses for herself and her daughters out of it. No other squaws had such fine dresses.” White Deer smiled, and the little girls laughed. They knew the pond-lily leaves were small in the lakes; they could not be so wide in a river. “It is a story for squaws,” said the oldest boy. “We will go to sleep,” said Lame Buffalo, his father. The next night Lame Buffalo told this story of Iagoo for the boys: “A white man gave Iagoo a gun, so my grandfather said. He could shoot better than any white man.