An old man was sitting alone in his lodge, by the side of a frozen
stream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost out.
He appeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white
with age, and he trembled at every joint. Day after day passed
in solitude, and he heard nothing but he sounds of the tempest
sweeping before it in the new-fallen snow.
One day, as his fire was just dying, a
handsome young man approached and entered his dwelling. His
cheeks were red with the blood of youth, his eyes sparkled with
animation and a smile played upon his lips. He walked with a
light and quick step. His forehead was bound round with a wreath
of sweet grass, in the place of a warrior's frontlet, and he carried a
bunch of flowers in his hand.
"Ah, my son," said the old man, I am happy
to see you. Come in. Come, tell me of your
adventures, and what strange lands you have been to see. Let us
pass the night together I will tell you of my prowess and
exploits, and what I can perform. You shall do the same.
And we will amuse ourselves."
He then drew from his sack a
curiously-wrought antique pipe, and having filled it with tobacco,
rendered mild by an admixture of certain leaves, handed it to his
guest. When this ceremony was concluded, they began to speak.
