The gifts which it was possible to give to the Indians were not of very great value, but they were articles much needed and were always prized by the recipients even if they were never very profuse in their words of thanks.  Minnehaha and Sagastao were wild with delight at these times, and were eager to be the almoners of the mission, and carry the gifts to the Indians whom they loved so well.  The fact that the temperature of those bright, cold Northern winters kept steadily many degrees below zero did not chill their ardor nor lessen their enthusiasm.  Their dog trains were in almost constant demand, for they kept flying over the various icy trails until in the different wigwams all had been remembered with some useful gift.

Faithful Mary had made for them the warmest of fur and blanket suits.  Dressed in these, and tucked in among the robes in the cariole by their careful driver, they sped along the trails.  They made the woods echo with their merry shouts and laughter—­unless it was so bitterly cold that they had to be completely covered up.  It is not to be wondered at that there were times when, on reaching some distant wigwam, there were little hard, white spots on their cheeks or noses which told the watchful Indians that the Frost King had been at work and that speedily those frostbites must be removed.  Little cared they for the momentary pain that ensued, when the frozen parts were being thawed out.  They were out for a good time, and they had too much grit and courage to let such trifles as a few frostbites disturb their happiness.  The bright fires burning in the center of the wigwams, or in the fireplaces at the end or side of the little Indian houses, were of course always welcome after a long run in the bitter cold.

“Tell us, Souwanas,” said Sagastao one very cold day, as they were gathered around his wigwam fire, “how it was that Nanahboozhoo stole the fire from those who were guarding it and gave it to the Indians.”

“It must not be too long a story,” said Minnehaha, “as we have yet to go to the wigwam of Kinnesasis, Little Fish, with his presents, and it would be too bad to be late when they know we are coming.”

So Souwanas pledged himself to make the story as short as he could without spoiling it, and then, after a few more whiffs from his beloved calumet, he began: 

“It was long ago, when there were fewer people in the forests and on the prairies than now.  They did not have as many comforts as they have now, and one of the rarest things among them was fire.  Sometimes when the lightning’s flash set a tree on fire they would have it for a little while, but they did not seem to be able to keep it going, and they were often very cold and generally had to eat their food without cooking it.