A low moan sounded from the crowd of watching Indians on the hill-side as they saw the grey wolf leading in the race. But the next moment, the moan changed to a shout of surprise. The strange warrior had changed himself into a partridge; he rose swiftly in the air, flew past over Mudjee Monedo, and lighted on the course far ahead of him. Then he resumed his natural form and again ran forward. The ogre did not know what had happened. He heard the shout and the whirr of wings above him, and now he saw the stranger far ahead. He was very much surprised, but again he used his magic and turned himself into a deer. With long leaps and bounds he overtook and passed beyond the running warrior. Again there was a whirr of wings. The partridge flew past overhead, and a mocking voice cried in the ogre’s ear, “Mudjee Monedo, is this the best you can do?” A moment later the ogre saw the stranger once more far ahead, and running as lightly and gracefully as ever. The charred stump was passed and Mudjee Monedo’s heart began to beat hard against his sides. Never had he had to strive so hard. For the third time he used his magic, and turned himself into his third and last form, that of a buffalo. It was in this shape that he generally won the race. With his great shaggy head down, his eyes as red as blood and his tongue lolling from his mouth, the ogre thundered past the stranger. Once again there was a whirr of wings. The partridge rose from the ground and flew past over the head of the straining buffalo. “Mudjee Monedo,” he called from above, “is this the best you can do? I fear you will lose the wager.” With despair the ogre saw that the stranger had once more flown far ahead of him, and was now almost within reach of the goal-post. Suddenly stopping, Mudjee Monedo resumed his natural form. “Hold! hold!” he called to the warrior. “A word with you.” The stranger gave a mocking laugh. Springing forward he laid his hand upon the goal-post, and a mighty shout burst from the watching people on the hill. Then a stillness fell upon them. In silence they watched the ogre as he slowly went forward toward the goal-post. As he drew near the stranger Mudjee Monedo tried to smile, but his pale lips trembled. “It was all a joke,” he muttered. “You will spare my life, as I would have spared yours. You run well and we must have many races together.” “Wretch!” cried the stranger. “What was the wager? Life against life; the loser pays the forfeit.” Swift as lightning he caught up the club that hung from the goal-post, and with one blow he struck the ogre to the earth. Then again a great shout arose from the people, and like a stream they flowed down from the hill-side and gathered around the warrior.