A great mountain was in sight. Wahkandee followed the flying moccasins over rocks, roots, and crumbling stones. When going down the further side of the mountain he saw a beautiful white wigwam. All footprints seemed to come away from it. None went toward it. The moccasins had disappeared, and Wahkandee said, “I will rest.” The white wigwam rested on the stump of a great pine tree. The wigwam had two doors: one in front and one at the back. Two Indian girls sat back to back in the middle of the white wigwam, each looking out of a door. “What is your name?” Wahkandee asked the girl who sat at the front door. “My name is ‘The-one-who-sees-all-things-to-come,’” said the girl. “Have you seen the one who owns the flying moccasins?” asked Wahkandee. “I look before. I cannot tell what has gone,” said the maiden. Wahkandee walked to the other door and faced the other Indian girl. “What is your name?” he asked. “My name is ‘The-one-who-sees-all-things-that-have-gone.’” “Can you see the hunter who slew my brother?” asked Wahkandee. “I can only see moose bones lying on the ground. You are hungry. Take the moose meat that hangs here on the trees and eat. Our father will make you welcome. You can see his bow and arrows. He will come. You can sleep by the bones of the moose.” While Wahkandee slept the wigwam was lifted from its place and it floated away. The stump stretched out its arms and became a great manitou. The magic moccasins had changed into the maidens. They now became moccasins again. One was turned toward the east, and one toward the west. The manitou touched the dry bones of the moose. The lost hunter stood before him. He put on his moccasins. The manitou touched Wahkandee, and he became like the dry bones of the moose. He never woke from his sleep. The manitou turned the hunter’s head toward his home in the north. The magic moccasins carried him home. He went as the wild bee goes back to its tree. The hunter told the story of his moccasins around the council fire. The women tried to learn from his wife the secret of their making. She told them how she colored the quills for the patterns she made on the leather. She told them how she sewed them with sinew. This the women could see; but they could not see that her fingers had been warm with love for her husband when she wove the quills into the leather and when she sewed it with the sinew. The women could not know the secrets the manitou had whispered to the leather; nor did they know of the love the manitous have for those who try to please them. This was why the hunter was saved when he did the wrong that was not in his heart to do. All the squaws have tried to make magic moccasins, but only Mukwa has ever worn them. XLI. OPECHEE THE ROBIN REDBREAST A great hunter among the Chippewas, or Ojibways, wanted his son to secure a powerful spirit to protect him in war and all danger. To gain the help of the strong manitou the boy must fast twelve days.