It was summer, and on Mackinac Island the people knew it was the time for the saking ceremony. Soon they would gather up their mats and their medicine bundles, Their pots and sleeping skins, Their bows and arrows and clubs for hunting and for war. Then they would load their long canoes for the trip to the hunting lands farther south. Now was the time to find out where the beaver and the deer would be found and where might lurk the enemy, waiting to fall upon them and carry off the young women of the tribe. So it was that the men of the Village took their stone axes and went into the woods. When they returned, they had five tall trees with the branches removed, one tree of each kind of wood to be found. These they lashed into a wigwam which pointed to the sky. Next moose hides were brought and stretched about the wigwam, covering all but a few feet at the bottom so that the tribe could watch the cerimony. That night when the moon was full, the tribe gathered with their children and formed a great circle about the pointed lodge. Only then did the Sha-man or medicine man appear. As he stode into the firelight, the people grew hushed for his magic was great, his prophesies true. Some of the smaller children hid their heads for he was terrible to look upon. Crowning his long black hair (which was worn in the manner of the Sha-man and not shaved to a scalplock) rose the feathers of the great blue hero, while painted, one side red, the other black, with white circles around his eyes. And though his nose was thrust a polished deer bone. In one hand he carried a snappng turtle rattle using the dried neck as a handle. In the other he held his drum. From his belt hung his medicine bag made of otter skin decorated with quills of the porcupine and dyed moose hair, and on his feet were moccasins also decorated. The Sha-man stopped quickly and seated himself in full view of the people inside the wigwam. Suddenly the entire wigwam began to tremble and then shake violently until the pointed tip seemed almost to touch the ground. Then terrible voices came from somewhere both in and outside of the wigwam, the mewing of puppies, the cry of terrible birds, screams, roars, howls. Only then did the voice of the turtle high and faint. One by one the warriors moved forward with gifts of tobacco to ask the future. Each time the Sha-man's spirit answered, something flying to distant places to seek knowledge. At last it was over and the people returned to their sleeping skins. This was the Lodge-shaking ceremony of the old times, a ceremony witnessed by the white man after his comming, an unsolved mystery of the Indian.

Long, long ago, at the time of the Great Turtle Spirits, Man-a-boz-ho and his brother, Pee-paul-a-wis, decided to run a great race. From the first, as always in contests of strength, Man-a-boz-ho was first, easily outdistancing his brother. As he ran, the sun shone warm upon him, the leaves spoke to him from the tall trees while the rabbit, the beaver, the deer, the fox, and all of the birds greeted him with glad calls. "Here comes the mighty Man-i-tou, our friend, who brings us fine weather," They said All summer long he ran northward, and each day was warm with sun. But Pee-pauk-a-wis, angry at being out run, doubled his efforts and began to catch up. Then he noticed that wherever his brothers moccasins touched, flowers sprang up and the land was at peace with the sky. It was then that he grew jealous and decided to punish the earth. So he scooped up water in his hand and flung it into the air calling upon the Northwind and the Eastwind to make bad weather. Then he told the Southwind to first blow a great dry heat across the land to wither the wild rice and the growing corn. Then the Eastwind would bring rains to flood the rivers. Next he caused the clouds to blot out the sun that Man-a-boz-ho might lose his way. But Man-a-boz-ho needed only to look back and smile, and the clouds disappeared. It was then, in anger, that Pee-Pauk-a-wis called upon the Nothwind to bring hail and sleet and snow. It was now the Man-a-boz-ho reached the Great Lakes. Here he paused to rest after his long journey, and there Pee-pauk-a-wis dashed past him in the night followed by the wind's of fury. Realizing he had been tricked, Man-a-boz-ho leaped to his feet and overtook his brother. For afew short days that have become known as Indian Summer. But then, winter at last settled over the land. Thus it is that, when the weather changes quickly as it does in Michigan, the people say Man-a-boz-ho and his brother, Pee-pauk-a-wis, are running their race.

All of the birds of the Island gathered one summer's day to hold a contest. Each would attempt to fly to the sky world and the one that flew the highest would win the prize. The first to try was the whitewinged gull. But while his wings were wide and strong he was used to soaring and so tired and came down. The next was the robin. Up into the air he went almost to the clouds, but he was too small and back he came. After him came the wide-winged heron, the small sparrow, the swift flying hawk and the noisy jay. At last only the eagle Wing-we-zee was left. On soaring wings he circled higher and higher until he was almost out of sight. Satisfied that he had won he started down only to feel something spring from his back. It was a small gray linnet who had hidden there. Fresh and untired it soared completly to the edge of the sky world and returned. Now a council was called as to who had won the prize. the Linnet had flown the highest but he had not started from the earth as the others. And so it was decided that the eagle had been the winner. Not only had flown the highest of all of the largest birds, but he had been forced to carry the linnet on his back. Ever after the feathers of the golden eagle have been the most honorable marks for a brave to wear.

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