his hair, and paint his face becomingly. In the course of time he was met by two women who carried baskets in which they had some camas bread and other Indian dainties. He came forward and addressed them and said very pleasantly, "Sit down, sisters; sit down. I will sing to you and tell you stories." So they sat down while he sang and told them stories, and they enjoyed his society so much that when at length he remarked casually, "What have you in your baskets, sisters?" they very kindly opened their stores and treated him; which, of course, he enjoyed, and began at once to contrive for another treat. He bade them good-bye and went on, but when out of sight took a circle about and coming to a stream washed himself and painted another way, and also combed his hair differently, and met the two women again. He addressed them as before, saying, "Sit down, sisters; sit down, and I will sing and tell you stories." This they did, and were again so charmed that they opened their baskets and treated him as before. He then went on, but circled about again so as to meet them once more, being now combed and painted still differently. He sang and told stories and was again treated. But about the fifth or sixth time that this happened, the women began to suspect that the cunning creature was no other than Tallapus, and when he saw that he was discovered, he bade them a final good-bye, and went off to the wooded hills. Then began the story of the tree, which as told by Labonte, runs as follows: "He saw a tree with a crotched root, leading to a hollow within, and thinking this a fine resting place, went inside. He then asked the tree to close, and it did so obediently. This was some time along in the fall. After it was closed, he asked it to open, and it did this also. Then he asked it to close and it was closed. It opened or shut whenever he asked it to, but by and by when he
