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You are proud of being an American boy, aren't you? Perhaps you will be surprised to learn that there is another boy who has a better right to the name than you have. He was here four hundred years ago, when Columbus sailed over the wide ocean and found our country.

This American boy was tall and straight and slender. His eyes were as black as ink, his hair as black as a crow's wing. He could run like a deer, swim like a fish and climb like a squirrel. He was as solemn as a little owl. When he grew to a man he wore a headdress of eagle feathers. His skin was not white like yours. It was nearly the color of an English penny or an American one cent piece. Now you know what he was. He was an American Indian. There are still a good many Indians in our country. They live in houses, on big farms. They dress like white boys, speak English and go to school. But their faces are the same as those Columbus saw.

It was a hard, wild life the Indian boy lived. Still, he had a good deal of fun. It was like camping out all the time. There were four or five million Indians here, but the country was so big that there was room for everybody to move about a good deal. There were no cities or farms; no railway trains or wagons. The Indians had to travel on foot. They followed narrow paths, or trails, through the forests and over the plains. On the rivers and lakes they made long journeys, in boats so light that they could carry them on their shoulders from one stream to another. These boats they called canoes. They were made of birch bark stretched over frames of wood. A great many Indians traveled together, for company and for safety. Each band was called a tribe and each had a chief. When a tribe found a good place to camp, some poles were stuck in the ground in a circle. The top ends of these poles were tied together. Then the skins of wild animals, or mats woven of rushes were fastened over the poles. They called this tent a wigwam. Some Indians built dome-shaped