“Iagoo went hunting. It was the time for ducks. He went in his canoe, and he hid in the rice by the ducks. The ducks flew up and made the sun dark. He lay on his back and shot straight into the flock of ducks. A swan fell dead into his canoe. Its head was shot off; the ducks fell around his canoe like hail in a hailstorm; the water was black with the ducks he shot. He piled them up like a great teepee on the shore. He shot them all with one gunshot. “The shot from his gun fell back into the lake; it struck two loons and killed them. The shot fell through the loons and killed a muskalonge; this is the great fish that lives in the lakes. No one else ever fired such a shot as did Iagoo. He told this to my grandfather.” “It is good,” said the boys. “Tell another,” said White Deer. “Iagoo went hunting in the Hunting Moon. He killed a great deer and threw it on his back. It was heavy, but he must have food in his teepee. “He sat down on a stump to rest. He was very still, and he saw the great elks go by him on their trail to the far north. It was like a great tribe going north. The trail they made was deep, and they did not see nor smell Iagoo. “The first elk had horns like a great tree. He was very big; Iagoo wanted him; Iagoo ran swifter than all the elks; he came to the leader; he shot the leader of the elks; he fell like a tree in the forest; Iagoo lifted the elk to throw him over his shoulder; the elk horns struck the deer horns. Iagoo knew then that he had carried a big deer all day. Iagoo was not tired. He hung the deer in a tree and carried the elk home. No other brave in his tribe had ever brought home an elk with such horns. Iagoo said so to my grandfather.” Lame Buffalo stopped. There are more stories of Iagoo, the great story-teller, but Lame Buffalo did not tell any more. II. HOW CLAY DISHES WERE FIRST MADE The Indians in the west tell this story: A squaw left her two boys to care for her papoose while she worked. She was hidden in the wickiup, or tent, and did not see what the boys were doing until the papoose began to cry. The squaw found them all down by the river. They could not stir, for their feet were stuck fast in the wet clay of the river bank. She got her three children back to the wickiup. They laughed at their footprints in the clay, for they had left deep holes everywhere. The band of Indians left their camp before the sun was over their heads. The squaw, with her papoose and her boys, was soon far away from the river bank; but during the hot summer, which was soon upon them, the same band returned to the river they had left. The two little Indian boys went down to the clay bank where they had stuck fast. No rain had fallen since they had been there, and they found their footprints in the clay. These had dried until the mud was like stone.