There was a little boy who lived all alone in a house in the forest. His name was Lost Arrow. He was never lonely because he had a song for company. It was a song his grandmother had given him long ago, a very beautiful song. The song went like this: When Grandfather Thunder walks on the mountain he takes along his stick. When the rainbow carries the chickadee. But I do not need to sing you all of it, because you certainly remember it yourself. Lost Arrow did not know how to hunt and he had no seeds for corn. But he lived very well on fruit, berries and acorns.