Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dew which moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp.  Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the Good Hunter closely as when it had first grown there.  The birds and animals hurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots, which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor head which had been so cruelly treated.  And presently great was their joy to see a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light into his eyes.  He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around him in surprise.

“Where am I?  What has happened?” he asked.

“You slept and your friends have wakened you,” said the great Eagle tenderly.  “Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more.”

The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back to his own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures, who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing.  And long, long after that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them.

THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON

This is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep.  And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out before you reach the end of the tale.

* * * * *

There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, who lived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp.  The lady Heron lived in her swamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she was very happy, never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one had told her what lonesome was.  She loved to go wading in the cool waters; she loved to catch the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while she stood still upon one leg pretending to think about something a thousand miles away.  And she loved to look at her slender, long-legged blue reflection in the water; for the lady Heron was just a little bit vain.

Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp where the Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in the water.  And he said to himself, “My!  How pretty she is!  I wonder I never noticed her before.  And how lonesome she must be there all by herself in such a nasty, moist, mushy-squshy old swamp!  I will invite her to come and share my nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top.  For to tell the truth, I am growing lonely up there all by myself.  Why should we not make a match of it, we two long-legged creatures?”

Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he set prettily in order:  for he never dreamed but that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the very first croak.  He preened his feathers and made himself as lovely as he could, and forthwith off he flew with his long legs dangling, straight to the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was standing on one leg waiting for her supper to get itself caught.