By Pam Rosenberg

With this name, younger readers will achieve an knowing on how the orange juice they love, is made and the way it finally ends up on their desk.

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There was no one who had ever been able to run as swiftly as his younger son. He was so fast a runner that he no longer hunted with a bow. Now, whenever he hunted, he would simply chase the animal he was after until it fell from exhaustion. The deer, the elk, and the buffalo were unable to outrun him. He watched as Swift Runner waited to congratulate the other young men who finished the race after him. As each one reached the standing stone, Swift Runner clasped their hands. "You have run well," Swift Runner said to each exhausted young man.

The stone giant growled. It bent over to pick up the hatchet. Watching from the opposite shore, Skunny-Wundy feared his trick was over. He hid behind a big tree. "Hah! " the Stone Giant rumbled, licking the hatchet's blade. " The Stone Giant threw Skunny-Wundy's little hatchet at a nearby tree. To the surprise of the Stone Giant —and Skunny-Wundy —when the hatchet struck the tree, it split that tree right in half. " the Stone Giant said, totally baffled. It reached down and picked up the hatchet again.

He was ready to run away but uncertain which way to go. The rabbit, though, was waiting for him in the forest. "Do not take the trail you always take. Take the path toward the sunrise," the rabbit said. " Little Weasel ran along the path toward the sunrise. Looking out of the cave, Older Sister saw that the boy was not taking the trail that led to his snares. " she snarled. She lifted up his deerskin blanket. When she did so, the stick that he had held out to her instead of his arm fell out and she saw the hole in the blanket.

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