Upon leaving his friend, Manstin hurried away toward the North
country whither he was bound for a long hunt. Suddenly he came
upon the edge of a wide brook. His alert eye caught sight of a
rawhide rope staked to the water's brink, which led away toward a
small round hut in the distance. The ground was trodden into a
deep groove beneath the loosely drawn rawhide rope.
"Hun-he!" exclaimed Manstin, bending over the freshly made
footprints in the moist bank of the brook. "A man's footprints!"
he said to himself. "A blind man lives in yonder hut! This rope
is his guide by which he comes for his daily water!" surmised
Manstin, who knew all the peculiar contrivances of the people. At
once his eyes became fixed upon the solitary dwelling and hither he
followed his curiosity,--a real blind man's rope.
Quietly he lifted the door-flap and entered in. An old
toothless grandfather, blind and shaky with age, sat upon the
ground. He was not deaf however. He heard the entrance and felt
the presence of some stranger.
"How, grandchild," he mumbled, for he was old enough to be
grandparent to every living thing, "how! I cannot see you. Pray,
speak your name!"
"Grandfather, I am Manstin," answered the rabbit, all the
while looking with curious eyes about the wigwam.
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