One day a bird sang out in the forest. Then the streams began to sing,
and the moss that made a carpet all over the ground outside the wigwam
was again green. Son-of-a-Brave felt like running and shouting. He
left off his blanket and went out into the woods to play.
He had scarcely gone a rod from the wigwam when he saw a large gray
hare, following him. This was strange for one usually ran away.
Son-of-a-Brave waited, and the hare came close to him. Then he saw,
because it limped, that it was the old hare that he had befriended in
the winter, but fat and well fed, and dressed in his summer coat.
The hare flopped his ears to Son-of-a-Brave and hopped a little way
ahead, so the boy followed. He went on, without stopping, until he
came to the very spot beside the stream where Son-of-a-Brave had dug
away the snow with his new arrow head to give the hare food.
Oh, what did the boy see there!
Blossoming out of the bare earth were beautiful flowers, as white
outside as a hare's ears in the winter time, and pink inside, like
their lining. They had a sweet perfume, different from anything that
had grown in the woods before. The grateful hare stood beside them and
seemed to be trying to say that these new flowers were his gift to the
boy who had helped him.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283