“Weenk is a bee as big as a buffalo,” they say. “He has bees’ wings instead of hair. The wings sing and sing. They buzz and buzz. He is always sleepy. He brings sleep to children. The little one must go to sleep; Weenk has come. “Weenk is a good man. He brings many little manitous to help him, and they go everywhere. There is one on the papoose’s eyelid now. They are dancing in the little one’s hair. Buzz, buzz, buzz.” “Here is a war club one of the little manitous has lost,” a sister will say as she picks up a tiny hair. “Here is a feather from a scalp lock,” says another, as she holds up a fiber from some feather. So the fun goes on until finally the little papoose is asleep. “We will fight Weenk,” say the children, and then there is a battling of empty hands in the air, while they sing “Buzz, buzz, buzz.” “Wewahsta has lighted her lamp,” says the squaw mother as she sees the evening star. Then the children know it is time for them to lie down to sleep, and soon the wigwam is still. The story of buzzing Weenk and his band is fresh every evening, for they always tell new stories of what the little warriors can do. Sometimes they come on the fireflies, and sometimes the mosquitoes and busy gnats bring them. Indian children are much like their white brothers and sisters and find sport in many things. X. THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SENECAS (Iroquois) Two Indians from the Seneca Reservation went hunting; they went on a long trail, but at last found a place where the deer come to eat the salt that is in the sand; it is called a “salt lick.” The Indians waited in the trees until many deer came; they shot at the deer, which fell like wild ducks when the rice is ripe. The Indians had to throw away much meat in order to save the skins for leather. There was more meat than the wolves could eat, but the hunters shot many deer every day, until no more came. The hunters went on carrying great rolls of deerskin, which were very heavy. They were hungry, but found nothing but acorns to eat. They became very weak and said: “Our wigwams will see us no more. We shall starve, and the deerskins will never be used.” They sat by a great rock. One of the hunters hit the rock with a stick, and a little man appeared. The little one said: “You are starving because you killed and did not eat. You fed the wolves; now the wolves will feed on you. We have driven the deer to another forest, where they may live and be found by other hunters. You were selfish. You wanted all the deerskins in the forest. You were not wise.” “What shall we do to get food?” said the hunters. “You may have meat if you will give up all the deerskins. My people have said it,” said the little one. “We must have the skins, and we must have food. Ask your chief to let us have the skins for our wigwams. We will be wise when we see the deer again at the salt licks,” said the older hunter. “I will go to my chief. Hit on this rock again when you want me,” said the little one.