He's been looking after Uncle Benny all alone now for more than ten years—and he's very much devoted to him, and fully trustworthy; and besides that, he's a wonderful cook; but I've wondered sometimes whether Uncle Benny wasn't the only city man in the world who had an Indian body servant."
"You know a good deal about Indians."
"A little about the lake Indians, the Chippewas and Pottawatomies in northern Michigan."
"Recollection's a funny thing," Alan said, after considering a moment. "This morning, after seeing Judah and talking to him—or rather hearing him talk—somehow a story got running in my head. I can't make out exactly what it was—about a lot of animals on a raft; and there was some one with them—I don't know who; I can't fit any name to him; but he had a name."
Constance bent forward quickly. "Was the name Michabou?" she asked.
He returned her look, surprised. "That's it; how did you know?"
"I think I know the story; and Wassaquam would have known it too, I think, if you'd ask him; but probably he would have thought it impious to tell it, because he and his people are great Christians now. Michabou is one of the Indian names for Manitou. What else do you remember of the story?"
"Not much, I'm afraid—just sort of scenes here and there; but I can remember the beginning now that you have given me the name: 'In the beginning of all things there was only water and Michabou was floating on the raft with all the animals.' Michabou, it seemed, wanted the land brought up so that men
