“Yep.  I got that at school.  When I was a kid to hum I heerd Ma talk about me be-a-u-tiful golden hair, but when I got big enough to go to school I learned that it was only red, an’ they called me the ‘Red-headed Woodpecker.’  I tried to lick them, but lots of them could lick me an’ rubbed it in wuss.  When I seen fightin’ didn’t work, I let on to like it, but it was too late then.  Mostly it’s just ‘Woodpecker’ for short.  I don’t know as it ever lost me any sleep.”

Half an hour later, as they sat by the fire that Yan made with rubbing-sticks, he said, “Say, Woodpecker, I want to tell you a story.”  Sam grimaced, pulled his ears forward, and made ostentatious preparations to listen.

“There was once an Indian squaw taken prisoner by some other tribe way up north.  They marched her 500 miles away, but one night she escaped and set out, not on the home trail, for she knew they would follow that way and kill her, but to one side.  She didn’t know the country and got lost.  She had no weapons but a knife, and no food but berries.  Well, she travelled fast for several days till a rainstorm came, then she felt safe, for she knew her enemies could not trail her now.  But winter was near and she could not get home before it came.  So she set to work right where she was.

“She made a wigwam of Birch bark and a fire with rubbing-sticks, using the lace of her moccasin for a bow-string.  She made snares of the inner bark of the Willow and of Spruce roots, and deadfalls, too, for Rabbits.  She was starving sometimes, at first, but she ate the buds and inner bark of Birch trees till she found a place where there were lots of Rabbits.  And when she caught some she used every scrap of them.  She made a fishing-line of the sinews, and a hook of the bones and teeth lashed together with sinew and Spruce gum.

“She made a cloak of Rabbit skins, sewed with needles of Rabbit bone and thread of Rabbit sinew, and a lot of dishes of Birch bark sewed with Spruce roots.

“She put in the whole winter there alone, and when the spring came she was found by Samuel Hearne, the great traveller.  Her precious knife was worn down, but she was fat and happy and ready to set out for her own people.”

“Well, I say that’s mighty inter-est-in’,” said Sam—­he had listened attentively—­“an’ I’d like nothin’ better than to try it myself if I had a gun an’ there was lots of game.”

“Pooh, who wouldn’t?”

“Mighty few—­an’ there’s mighty few who could.” 
“I could.”

“What, make everything with just a knife?  I’d like to see you make a teepee,” then adding earnestly, “Sam, we’ve been kind o’ playing Injuns; now let’s do it properly.  Let’s make everything out of what we find in the woods.”

“Guess we’ll have to visit the Sanger Witch again.  She knows all about plants.”

“We’ll be the Sanger Indians.  We can both be Chiefs,” said Yan, not wishing to propose himself as Chief or caring to accept Sam as his superior.  “I’m Little Beaver.  Now what are you?”