The Oldest Guide and the Youngest Tenderfoot sat in the doorway of the little cabin, away in the heart of the woods. They had finished a hard day’s fishing and were stretched out for a rest and talk.
    Once in a while there came the cry of a night bird, or there was the sudden cracking of a twig. And all the time through the trees flashed hundreds of little lights. “I like to watch the fireflies,” said the boy dreamily.
    “Seems to me they’re heaps bigger up here than they are back home.”
    “Fireflies may be what you call ’em, son,” answered the Oldest Guide, “but that’s not their right names, not a-tall.”
    “What are their right names, then?”
    “Gloflikops. It’s easy enough to say. Try it. I reckon you wonder where they got that name. Well, the truth of the matter is that these little glofilkops are sort of special night police for the woods. The Indians say that they were given the job by Gitchie Manitou, the Great Spirit.
    “Owls, mice and other birds and animals that stay out at nights would get into a lot more mischief than they do if it wasn’t for the gloflikops, who go around with their little flashlights, peeping into all the dark corners looking for trouble. They’re such busy little police that the prowling animals know they just have to behave themselves.
    “Yes, sir! It wouldn’t be very safe living in these woods if it wasn’t for those little gloflikops.”