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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:47:08 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:47:08 -0700 |
| commit | c18c853fc205a2dd79fa6fccff8f1682d606c30b (patch) | |
| tree | d0925ea042acc1306ff4ad22cdac66fa05125825 /22096-h | |
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diff --git a/22096-h/22096-h.htm b/22096-h/22096-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd81c46 --- /dev/null +++ b/22096-h/22096-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4352 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children, by Mabel Powers. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + font-size: 105%; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + + + body{margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children, by Mabel Powers + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children + +Author: Mabel Powers + +Release Date: July 18, 2007 [EBook #22096] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES THE IROQUOIS TELL *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;"> +<img src="images/imgcover.jpg" width="465" height="600" alt="cover" title="cover" /> +</div> +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;"> +<img src="images/img001.jpg" width="363" height="600" alt="frontispiece" title="frontispiece" /> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1><img src="images/img002a.jpg" width="150" height="136" alt="" title="" />STORIES<img src="images/img002a.jpg" width="150" height="136" alt="" title="" /></h1> + + <h1>THE IROQUOIS<br /> + TELL THEIR<br /> + CHILDREN</h1> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/img002c.jpg" width="400" height="304" alt="title decoration" title="title decoration" /> + +</div> + + <h2>MABEL POWERS<br /> + (YEH SEN NOH WEHS)</h2> + + + <p class="center">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY<br /> + NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO<br /><br /> + + Copyright, 1917, by<br /> + Mabel Powers.<br /> + <i>All rights reserved.</i><br /><br /> + + + W. P. 9</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4> +<span class="smcap">To all the Children who ask<br /> +How and Why,<br /> +especially those Red Children<br /> +who see with wonder eyes,<br /> +and those Paleface Children<br /> +who yet believe in fairies,<br /> +these stories are lovingly dedicated</span> +</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;"> +<img src="images/img004.jpg" width="298" height="350" alt="dedication decoration" title="dedication decoration" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr><td> </td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Acknowledgment</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_8'><b>8</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Foreword by the Chiefs</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_9'><b>9</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><th align='center' colspan="2">INTRODUCTORY</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Stories came to Be</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_11'><b>11</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why I was called the Story-teller</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_13'><b>13</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Little People</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_18'><b>18</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Story-telling Time</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_23'><b>23</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Iroquois give Thanks</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_27'><b>27</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Firemaker and a Peacemaker</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_34'><b>34</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><th align='center' colspan="2">IROQUOIS WONDER STORIES</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the White Man came</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_45'><b>45</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Eagle defends Americans</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_49'><b>49</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Turkey Buzzard Got His Suit</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_60'><b>60</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Partridge drums</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_66'><b>66</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Indians learned to Heal</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_69'><b>69</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Dogs chase Foxes</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_75'><b>75</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Hermit Thrush is so Shy</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_79'><b>79</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Good and Evil came to Be</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_85'><b>85</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How a Boy was Cured of Boasting</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_90'><b>90</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Cuckoo is so Lazy</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_95'><b>95</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Coon outwitted the Fox</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_99'><b>99</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Goldfinches look like the Sun</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_103'><b>103</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">What the Ash and the Maple Learned</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_107'><b>107</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Woman overcame the Bear</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_112'><b>112</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Woodpecker bores for its Food</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_115'><b>115</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Ice Roof Fell</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_119'><b>119</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Chipmunk has Black Stripes</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_122'><b>122</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Two Indian Boys settled a Quarrel</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_125'><b>125</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Mice overcame the Warriors</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_130'><b>130</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Crows are Poor</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_135'><b>135</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Indian loves his Dog</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_139'><b>139</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Greedy Fawn and the Porridge</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_145'><b>145</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Hounds outrun other Animals</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_152'><b>152</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Indians never shoot Pigeons</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_155'><b>155</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Old Man Winter was driven Back</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_159'><b>159</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why Lightning sometimes Strikes</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_168'><b>168</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Why the Hare has a Split Lip and Short Tail</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_176'><b>176</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Corn Plume and Bean Maiden</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_180'><b>180</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Robin burned his Breast</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_187'><b>187</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><th align='center' colspan="2">IROQUOIS FAIRY STORIES</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Morning Star lost her Fish</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_195'><b>195</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Little Shooter lost his Luck</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_201'><b>201</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How an Indian Boy won his Name</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_205'><b>205</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How the Fairies worked Magic</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_211'><b>211</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENT" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENT"></a>ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2> + + + +<p>If the Red Children had not welcomed the writer to their lodge fires, +these stories the Iroquois tell their children could not have been +retold. With one or two exceptions, the ideas found in the stories have +been had from the lips of the Indians themselves. To <span class="smcap">Arthur C. +Parker</span>—<i>Ga wa so wa neh</i>—for his careful review of the stories and +assistance in securing authentic Iroquois illustrations; and to the +following story-tellers who so kindly welcomed her to their lodges, and +told her stories, the writer is most grateful.</p> + + + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="85%" cellspacing="0" summary="ACKNOWLEDGMENT"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Edward Cornplanter</span> (<i>So son do wah</i>—"Great Night")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Patterson</span> (<i>Ga reh hwonts</i>—"Power has come down")</td><td align='left'>Tuscarora Deer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Moses Shongo</span> (<i>Ho non da a suh</i>—"Keeper of the hills")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Clifford Shongo</span> (<i>Ouhn yah dah goh</i>—"Very dark blue sky")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Charles Doxon</span> (<i>Hoh squa sa ga dah</i>—"Woodsman")</td><td align='left'>Onondaga Turtle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Daniel George</span> (<i>Jo ha a ga dah</i>—"Roadscraper")</td><td align='left'>Onondaga Eel</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mary Printup</span> (<i>Wah le sa loh</i>)</td><td align='left'>Mohawk Snipe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dan Williams</span> (<i>Oh geh rah u reh ru ha neh</i>—"Running Bear")</td><td align='left'>Tuscarora Bear</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Eli Henry</span></td><td align='left'>Tuscarora Deer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Harriett Pembleton</span> (<i>Gah do rehn tah</i>—"Dropping Husks")</td><td align='left'>Tuscarora Turtle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Amos Killbuck</span> (<i>Har wen do dyoh</i>—"He has forsaken early dawn")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Alfred Jimeson</span> (<i>Har neh a oh</i>—"Hatchet in his hands")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Heron</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">William Hoag</span> (<i>O no nah</i>—"Very cold")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ellen Pierce Shongo</span> (<i>Yea wen noh aih</i>—"The high word")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Baptist Thomas</span> (<i>Sa ha whe</i>—"Long feather")</td><td align='left'>Onondaga Turtle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Albert Cusick</span> (<i>Sha go na qua da</i>—"Made them mad")</td><td align='left'>Onondaga Eel</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Theodore Jimeson</span> (<i>Jah o yah</i>)</td><td align='left'>Seneca Snipe</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">David Warrior</span> (<i>Dwen o gwah</i>)</td><td align='left'>Cayuga White Heron</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Willett Jimeson</span> (<i>So i as ah</i>—"Owner of fine cornstalks")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nancy Greysquirrel</span> (<i>Gah gwah tah</i>—"One who lifts")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Bear</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Emily Tallchief</span> (<i>Gi das was</i>—"Wind blowing through corn")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Turtle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Louise Pierce Logan</span> (<i>Ga yah was</i>—"The quivering heaven")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Thomas Jones</span> (<i>Gah ne yehs</i>—"The dropping snow")</td><td align='left'>Seneca Wolf</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a>FOREWORD</h2> + + +<p>Once our fathers own these lands of New York State. Once the Iroquois +were great people. Their council fires burn from Hudson on east to Lake +Erie on west, from rising to setting sun. Then White man come. He ask +for small seat size buffalo skin. He take larger and larger one, till +Indian have but small place to sit.</p> + +<p>Now we have little left but stories of our fathers. They, too, will soon +be lost and forgotten, but a voice has come to speak for us. <i>Yeh sen +noh wehs</i>—the one who tells the stories—will carry these stories of +our fathers to Paleface. She will help White man to understand Indian, +Indian to be understood. She will have all men brothers.</p> + +<p>Indian's heart is glad that <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i>, our white friend, has +come to us. She have good eyes. She see right. She like things Indian. +She try to preserve them. Our old men and women tell her the stories +told them, many, many moons ago, when little children.</p> + +<p><i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> write down these stories so our children and our +children's children may read and know them; and so Paleface Children may +learn them also. Indian tell these stories to his children to make them +good and brave and kind and unselfish. May they teach Paleface Children +how they should do.</p> + +<p>Again we say, Indian is glad to have some one speak for him. He is glad +to have some one write down the great and beautiful thoughts in Indian's +mind and heart. We have spoken. <i>Na ho.</i></p> + +<h3>Chief of Seneca Nation,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009a.jpg" width="600" height="92" alt="Chief of Seneca Nation" title="Chief of Seneca Nation" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<h3>Chief of Onondagas,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009b.jpg" width="600" height="82" alt="Chief of Onondagas" title="Chief of Onondagas" /> +</div> + +<h3>Chief of Tuscaroras,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009c.jpg" width="600" height="86" alt="Chief of Tuscaroras" title="Chief of Tuscaroras" /> +</div> + +<h3>Chief of Oneidas,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009d.jpg" width="600" height="92" alt="Chief of Oneidas" title="Chief of Oneidas" /> +</div> + +<h3>Chief of Cayugas,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009e.jpg" width="600" height="101" alt="Chief of Cayugas" title="Chief of Cayugas" /> +</div> + +<h3>Chief of Mohawks,</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img009f.jpg" width="600" height="98" alt="Chief of Mohawks" title="Chief of Mohawks" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_STORIES_CAME_TO_BE" id="HOW_THE_STORIES_CAME_TO_BE"></a>HOW THE STORIES CAME TO BE</h2> + + +<p>Out of the moons of long ago, these stories have come. Then every tribe +of the Iroquois had its story-teller.</p> + +<p>When the Old Man of the North came out of his lodge, and the forests and +rivers of the Red Children grew white with his breath, these story-tellers wandered from wigwam to wigwam.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>Seated on warm skins by the fire, the story-teller would exclaim, +"<i>Hanio</i>!" This meant, "Come, gather round, and I will tell a story."</p> + +<p>Then all the Red Children would cry, "<i>Heh</i>," and draw close to the +fire. This meant that they were glad to hear the story. And as the +flames leaped and chased one another along the fire trail, they would +listen to these wonder stories of the Little People, of the trees and +flowers, of birds, of animals, and men. When the story-teller had +finished, he said, "<i>Na ho</i>." This meant, "It is the end."</p> + +<p>The earth was very young, when the Red Children first learned how +everything came to be, and just why it is that things are as they are. +They told these wonderful things to their children, and their children +in turn told them to their children; and those children again in turn +told them to theirs, that these things might not be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Now, but few of the Red Children know these stories that the +grandmothers and old men of the tribe used to tell. The story-teller is +no longer seen wandering from wigwam to wigwam.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img011.jpg" width="500" height="190" alt="Chapter footer" title="" /> + +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_I_WAS_CALLED_THE_STORY-TELLER" id="WHY_I_WAS_CALLED_THE_STORY-TELLER"></a>WHY I WAS CALLED THE STORY-TELLER</h2> + + +<p>Some time ago the writer of these stories was asked to speak for an +Indian Society. She accepted the invitation, and that night made her +first Indian friends.</p> + +<p>Her new friends told her many beautiful things about the Red Children. +The more the writer learned about the Iroquois people, and things +Indian, the more interested she became. After a time she began to tell +the Paleface the things she had learned.</p> + +<p>Soon, one of the tribes, the Senecas—the tribe to which her new friends +belonged—heard that she was speaking for them. They wished to honor +her, so they asked her to be present at their Green-Corn Feast, and +become one of them.</p> + +<p>So when the Green-Corn moon hung her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> horn in the night sky, the writer +found the trail to the Land of the Senecas. There the Senecas adopted +her into the Snipe clan of their nation. She was called <i>Yeh sen noh +wehs</i>—"One who carries and tells the stories."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that the writer became one of the Red Children, <i>Yeh sen noh +wehs</i>—the Daughter of the Senecas.</p> + +<p>The more <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> learned of the Red Children, and their +simple stories, the more she loved them. One day, <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> +said she would be the story-teller not only of the Senecas, but of all +the tribes of the Iroquois. There are six great families of this people. +Each family is called a tribe or nation.</p> + +<p>Once, the council fires of these six nations burned from the Hudson on +the east, to Lake Erie on the west, and they were a great and powerful +people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was at the time of the Berry Moon that <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> hit the +story trail. Since then she has journeyed through all the lands of the +Senecas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Oneidas, the Mohawks, and the +Tuscaroras.</p> + +<p>Like the story-teller of old, <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> wandered from lodge to +lodge of the Iroquois. "<i>Hanio</i>," she would call, and as the Indians +gathered round, she would tell them one of the stories that other Indian +friends had told to her.</p> + +<p>Sometimes this would remind the Red Children of another story, which +<i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> did not know, and they would tell it to her. It was +in this way that these stories have been gathered.</p> + +<p>There were many days when <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> told her stories, but none +were told in return. Few members of the tribes—these usually the +oldest—could remember the stories "they used to tell."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sometimes <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> heard a story as she trudged along a +furrow, beside a ragged Indian who was plowing with a more +ragged-looking team. Or she would listen as she helped an Indian woman +prepare the evening meal, pick berries, or gather nuts.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img015.jpg" width="550" height="297" alt="berries and nuts" title="berries and nuts" /> +</div> + + +<p>Sometimes, as <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> sat by a fire down in the depths of a +beautiful wood, and watched the smoke of the sacred medicine rise, a +medicine man would tell her a story; or an Indian woman would drop a +word, as she sat at her door weaving baskets or making beadwork.</p> + +<p>These stories <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> has made into a story book, that they +might not be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> lost and forgotten; that all the Iroquois Red Children and +their children's children might know and tell them, and that Paleface +children might learn them as well.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img016.jpg" width="350" height="202" alt="feather" title="feather" /> +</div> + +<p>The American children have no fairies of their own. They must borrow +their fairies from children of other nations. <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> thought +it very sad, so she put a magic feather in her cap, and winged moccasins +on her feet. Then she went on the chase for real American wonder +stories, and for real American fairies.</p> + + + +<p>Had there not been a feather in the magic cap she wore, <i>Yeh sen noh +wehs</i> would not have found them. But the feather pointed the way to the +Nature Wonder Trail, and there she caught a glimpse of the "Little +People,"—the only true American fairies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_LITTLE_PEOPLE" id="THE_LITTLE_PEOPLE"></a>THE LITTLE PEOPLE</h2> + + +<p>All children who live close to Mother Earth come to know and to see the +fairies of the flowers, the woods, the rocks, and the waters.</p> + +<p>These fairies the Iroquois call the <i>Jo gah oh</i>, or "Little People," +because they are so small. The Little People can do wonderful things. +Whatever they wish, they can do. They can fly through the air. They can +dart under or through the water, into the earth and through the rocks, +as they please, for they wear invisible moccasins and travel in winged +canoes.</p> + +<p>Their wee babies are carried on the little mothers' backs,—just like +the Indian's papoose. The little fathers have wonderful winged bows and +arrows, that can shoot any distance they wish.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/img018.jpg" width="364" height="600" alt="The Little People bring good luck to the Indians" title="The Little People bring good luck to the Indians" /> +</div> + +<p>The Little People bring good luck to the Indians. Whatever Indian boys +and girls wish for,—if they wish hard enough, the <i>Jo gah oh</i> will +bring to them.</p> + +<p>It is said that there are three tribes of these Little People,—those +that live in the rocks beside streams and lakes, those that hover near +the flowers and plants, and those that guard the dark places under the +earth.</p> + +<p>The rock Little People are very strong. They can uproot large trees and +can hurl great rocks. Sometimes they dare the Indians to a test of +strength with them. They also like to play ball with stones.</p> + +<p>The Red Children fear the Stone Throwers, as they call them. But they +love the little folk that help the flowers to blossom, and the fruit and +grains to grow and ripen.</p> + +<p>They remember these Little People in their Feasts of Thanksgiving, for +do the <i>Jo gah oh</i> not help the sweet waters of the maple to flow? Do +they not whisper to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> the growing seeds and show the way to the light? Do +they not guide the runners of the strawberries, turn the blossoms to the +sun, and paint the berries red? They also tint the grains, and give to +the corn its good taste.</p> + +<p>A third tribe of Little People dwell under the earth. They guard the +sacred white buffaloes, and keep the serpent monsters that live in the +darkness below from coming to the surface to the Red Children.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img020.jpg" width="550" height="256" alt="strawberry runners" title="strawberry runners" /> +</div> + + +<p>There are trails that lead out to the sunlight, but the Little People +guard them close, although sometimes a great serpent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> will find the +trail of a spring, and will follow it and poison the waters.</p> + +<p>Often, at night, these elves of the dark come to the upper world to +dance with the other Little People.</p> + +<p>Wherever you find a tree in a deep, dark part of the wood, around which +no grass will grow, there you may be sure a dance ring has been formed. +There the Little People have danced till the moon dropped out of the +sky.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img021.jpg" width="550" height="194" alt="Dance Rattle" title="Dance Rattle" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Dance Rattle</span></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="STORY-TELLING_TIME" id="STORY-TELLING_TIME"></a>STORY-TELLING TIME</h2> + + +<p>The old-time Indians say that long, long ago, the Little People made a +law that stories must not be told in summer.</p> + +<p>Summer is the time for work. Bees must store their honey. Squirrels must +gather their nuts. Men must grow their corn. Trees and plants must leaf, +and flower, and bear their fruit.</p> + +<p>If stories were told, plants, birds, animals, and men would stop their +work to listen. This would mean poor crops and hungry people. Animals +would forget to grow their winter coats and lay by their winter stores. +Birds would fail to start in time for the South.</p> + +<p>The old Indians say that the story-teller who disobeys this law of <i>Jo +gah oh</i> will suffer some misfortune. Winter is the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> to tell the +stories, for then the work of animals, plants, and men is done,—and the +Little People are fast asleep.</p> + +<p>No, it is not safe to tell stories in summer. No one knows when a bird, +or a bee, or a butterfly may be listening, and may tell the chief of the +Little People. Should the chief of the Little People be offended, he +might cause something dreadful to happen to the story-teller.</p> + +<p>Last summer, the writer of these stories came very near being changed +into an animal,—or something worse,—just for telling stories. So an +old Indian said. She does not know now how she escaped. She thinks it +must have been because she was a White Indian. This is how it happened.</p> + +<p>It was at the time of the Harvest Moon. <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> spoke for one +of the tribes at their council house, and she told some of these wonder +stories.</p> + +<p>All went well until the middle of the night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> Then a very old Indian +came to warn her of her danger. It seems that he had been at the council +in the evening, and had heard the stories told, many of which he knew.</p> + +<p>He told <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> he had expected to see her change into +something else right then and there. He said he would not dare to tell a +story. "No, no, me 'fraid, evil come!" he said.</p> + +<p>Then he wanted to know if <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> was a real Indian. He had +been told that she was a White Indian, but when he heard her tell the +stories, he said, he thought she was a real Indian.</p> + +<p>When <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> told him that she had not a drop of Indian blood +running in her veins, he looked very solemn. At last he spoke. He told +the interpreter to tell her,—for he spoke but a few words of +English,—that the Great Spirit made a snake, a snake; a fox, a fox; a +muskrat, a muskrat; a coon, a coon; a bear, a bear;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> an Indian, an +Indian; a White Indian, a White Indian. Each must be snake, fox, coon, +bear, Indian or White Indian, as long as he lived. Each must be himself.</p> + +<p>Then the old man asked what disease <i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> had, that made +her go around with a feather in her hair, acting like a real Indian, if +she were a White Indian.</p> + +<p><i>Yeh sen noh wehs</i> had no answer. And she does not know to this day, +what saved her from being changed into a rabbit, a katydid, or something +worse, by the chief of the Little People. She knows, however, that she +is very glad she is telling the stories to you, in the <span class="smcap">WINTER</span> time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img025.jpg" width="500" height="190" alt="shoes" title="shoes" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_IROQUOIS_GIVE_THANKS" id="HOW_THE_IROQUOIS_GIVE_THANKS"></a>HOW THE IROQUOIS GIVE THANKS</h2> + + +<p>The Iroquois Red Children are a grateful people. The true Iroquois never +rises after eating without saying, "<i>Niaweh</i>," which means, "I am +thankful." The others reply, "<i>Niuh</i>,"—"It is well."</p> + +<p>The Red Children never pick a flower without thinking how kind the Great +Spirit has been, to cause the flowers to grow. They like flowers, and no +matter how poor the Indian cabin, flowers are always to be found near.</p> + +<p>When the Iroquois pick fruit, they give thanks to the Great Spirit. And +always do they leave some, for the "little brothers of the wood."</p> + +<p>They do not try to pick every cherry or berry, or nut or apple, for +themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> Fruits grow for the birds and animals as well as for men, +and the little brothers of the wood must not be forgotten. Some of +everything that grows is left for them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img027.jpg" width="450" height="226" alt="Sap Bucket" title="Sap Bucket" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Sap Bucket</span></span> +</div> + + + +<p>During the spring and summer, the Iroquois give several thanksgiving +feasts. The first is early in the spring, at maple-sugar time. As soon +as the sap begins to flow, the Maple Feast is called.</p> + +<p>The Indians gather about a large maple tree. A fire is lighted near, +upon which one of their number sprinkles tobacco. As the smoke rises, a +prayer of thanksgiving is made to the Great Spirit, for causing the +sweet waters of the maple to flow. Then the maple trees are thanked for +their service<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> to men, and protection is asked for the trees during the +coming year.</p> + +<p>When "the leaf of the dogwood is the size of a squirrel's ear," it is +planting time. Then an Indian maid goes into the fields and scatters a +few grains of corn, asking the aid of the Great Spirit for the harvest. +The Indian always plants his seed with the growing moon, that it may +grow with the moon.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img028.jpg" width="550" height="238" alt="Strawberry Feast" title="Strawberry Feast" /> +</div> + + +<p>The next feast is the Strawberry Feast and Dance.</p> + +<p>The strawberry is one of the best gifts of the Great Spirit to his +children. So greatly is it prized that it is thought to grow on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> Sky +Road that leads to the Happy Hunting Ground. An Indian who has been very +ill, near death, will say, "I almost ate strawberries."</p> + +<p>When the strawberry ripens, the Red Children are happy. They sing their +praises to the Great Spirit and dance with joy. They remember the Little +People who have helped to make the berries beautiful, and they have a +song of praise and dance of thanks for them as well. Without the help of +the Little People, the strawberries would not be so sweet and ripe.</p> + +<p>At the time of the Harvest Moon comes the last feast of the summer. This +thanksgiving feast lasts four days. The Indians not only give thanks for +the ripening of the corn, but for every growing thing. Therefore this +feast is longer than the others, since it takes some time to name all +the good gifts of the Great Spirit to the Red Children, and to give +thanks for them all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is a story<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> of the corn in which the Spirit of the Corn is a +maiden, not a handsome young chief, as one of the stories claims. This +Corn Maiden was one of three sisters, and was called <i>Ona tah</i>.</p> + + +<p>The three sister vegetables—the corn, the bean, and the squash—were +called the <i>Di o he ko</i>, which means "those we live on," since they are +the life-giving vegetables.</p> + +<p>These sisters lived together on a hill and were very happy. But one day +<i>Ona tah</i> wandered away in search of dews for her kernels.</p> + +<p>The Evil Spirit was watching. He seized <i>Ona tah</i>, the Spirit of the +Corn, and sent one of his monsters to blight her fields. The killing +winds swept over the hill, and the spirits of the squash and bean fled +before them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Ona tah</i> was held for some time a prisoner in the darkness under the +earth, by the Evil Spirit.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 316px;"> +<img src="images/img031.jpg" width="316" height="550" alt="life-giving vegetables" title="life-giving vegetables" /> +</div> + +<p>At last a sun ray found her and guided her back to her lost hilltop. +There she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> found that her sisters had fled. She was alone.</p> + +<p>Then <i>Ona tah</i> made a vow to the sun that she would never again leave +her fields. But she sighs for her lost sisters, and mourns the blight +that came upon her beautiful fields. For since the time when <i>Ona tah</i> +wandered away and left her fields, the corn has not grown so tall or so +beautiful as once it did.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 302px;"> +<img src="images/img032.jpg" width="302" height="350" alt="pots" title="pots" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FIREMAKER_AND_A_PEACEMAKER" id="A_FIREMAKER_AND_A_PEACEMAKER"></a>A FIREMAKER AND A PEACEMAKER</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 97px;"> +<img src="images/img033.jpg" width="97" height="380" alt="Bows and arrows" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p>In the olden times, tribes of Indians did not always live in one place +as they do now. They sometimes wandered from one valley or woodland to +another. When they came to a sheltered place, where there was pure +running water, and where plenty of game and wood were to be found, they +would build their lodges and light their council fires.</p> + +<p>There they might camp for one moon, or for many moons. As long as their +arrows brought game on the hunting trails near, they would not break +camp. But if game grew scarce, or if for any reason<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> they did not like +the camp ground, they would move farther on.</p> + +<p>Sometimes they would go several days' journey, before they found a +camping place such as they liked.</p> + +<p>The first thing that was done in making a camp was to secure fire and +light the council fire. This fire was always kept burning. It never went +out while they remained.</p> + +<p>The Indians loved the fire. It was the gift of the Great Spirit to the +Red Children. It kept them warm and cooked their food by day, and +protected them by night.</p> + +<p>A line of fires was kept burning around the camp. This protected the Red +Children from the wild animals, for all animals fear fire, and are +charmed by it. They might prowl and howl all night long outside the fire +ring, but never would they attempt to come within that ring. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> the +Indians could sleep in peace, guarded by the spirits of the fire.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 254px;"> +<img src="images/img035.jpg" width="254" height="350" alt="Fire stick" title="Fire stick" /> +</div> + +<p>The Indian that could make fire first became a chief and leader. When it +was decided to camp at a certain place, a signal would be given. At this +the young braves would leap into the woods, to see which one first could +bring back fire. Each had his own secret way of making it. Usually a +bowstring was twisted about a fire stick, and the stick was turned +rapidly in a groove. In a few seconds, smoke would rise from the sawdust +that formed. After a little fanning a flame would leap forth.</p> + + +<p>The Indian whose brain and hand worked swiftest and surest was the +smartest and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> best man. He became a Firemaker, and was made a chief of +the tribe. He could do something that the rest could not,—at least he +had proved himself to be more skillful. Such a man, it was thought, had +a better understanding of all things, and therefore could tell the rest +of the tribe what ought to be done.</p> + +<p>He no longer was just a man who ate and slept, walked and ran. He was a +man with a mind. He could think and could do things. So he became a +Firemaker chief, and he helped the tribe to think and do.</p> + +<p>The Iroquois Red Children believe that there are three kinds of men: +those that use the body only; those that use body and mind; and those +that use body, mind, and spirit.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that sometimes an Indian grew to be so kind and so +great, that he could not only strike the fire we see, but the fire we do +not see,—the fire of love that burns in the hearts of people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;"> +<img src="images/img037.jpg" width="368" height="600" alt="fire of love that burns in the hearts of people" title="fire of love that burns in the hearts of people" /> +</div> + + + +<p>When an Indian could strike this kind of fire, and warm the hearts not +only of his own tribe but of all tribes, so that they came to love one +another, he was a great chief, a Peacemaker chief. Such a man would go +from tribe to tribe, teaching the people how they should do, so that all +might live in peace and plenty, like brothers.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 130px;"> +<img src="images/img039.jpg" width="130" height="380" alt="Hominy vessel" title="Hominy vessel" /> +</div> + +<p>To be a Peacemaker was the highest seat an Indian could take. Few +Indians became Peacemaker chiefs, and they were the great men of the +tribe.</p> + +<p>Indian women also might become Peacemakers. At one time the Iroquois had +a Peace Wigwam, where all disputes and quarrels were settled.</p> + +<p>The most beautiful, just, and fair-minded woman of all the tribes was +chosen to sit in this wigwam. It was her duty to tend the Peace fire, +and to see that it never went out. She also kept a pot of hominy always +steaming over the fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>If two Indians had a dispute, it was the custom for them to run to the +Peacemaker's wigwam. They entered from opposite sides. Inside the +wigwam, a deerskin curtain separated them from each other.</p> + + + +<p>The Peacemaker would listen to the grievance of the one and then to that +of the other. Then she would draw aside the curtain, get the enemies +together, and settle the dispute with justice.</p> + + +<p>The two would then eat of the hominy, and depart in peace,—no longer +enemies, but friends.</p> + + +<p>No nation could fight another nation without the consent of the +Peacemaker. Because the peacewomen were wise, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> just, and kind, and +taught men to love, not fight each other, the Iroquois were for many +years at peace.</p> + +<p>But one day, it is said, a Peacewoman proved untrue to her trust. She +thought more of her own happiness than that of the nation.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img040.jpg" width="600" height="350" alt="Peace Wigwam" title="Peace Wigwam" /> +</div> + + +<p>This woman was very beautiful, and the people loved her. For some time +she sat in the Peace Wigwam, and tended faithfully the Peace fire.</p> + +<p>One day an Oneida and a Cayuga chief fell to quarreling. They sought the +Peace Wigwam. As they entered and saw the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> young Peacewoman tending the +fire, each thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful.</p> + +<p>Into the heart of each there leaped the desire that she might tend his +wigwam fire.</p> + +<p>The Peacemaker listened to the quarrel of the young chiefs and settled +it justly. Then each tried to persuade her to leave the Peace fire and +return with him to his lodge. But the Peacemaker said, "No, I must tend +the fire, it must be kept burning." The chiefs departed with heavy +hearts.</p> + +<p>But the Oneida chief could not forget the beautiful woman. When a moon +had passed, he returned to the Peace Wigwam. This time he persuaded the +Peacemaker to leave her fire and return with him to sit at his wigwam +door.</p> + +<p>The Peace fire flickered and went out. The Iroquois again went on the +warpath, and for many, many moons, they fought and suffered and died.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h2><br /><br /><a name="IROQUOIS_WONDER_STORIES" id="IROQUOIS_WONDER_STORIES"></a>IROQUOIS WONDER STORIES<br /><br /></h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 199px;"> +<img src="images/img043.jpg" width="199" height="200" alt="motif" title="motif" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/img044.jpg" width="600" height="180" alt="canoe" title="canoe" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_WHITE_MAN_CAME" id="HOW_THE_WHITE_MAN_CAME"></a>HOW THE WHITE MAN CAME</h2> + + +<p>Long, long before Columbus came to America, the Red Children were here. +They were the first and only real Americans.</p> + +<p>From the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west, +ranged these Children of the Sun, as they called themselves.</p> + +<p>Happy and free as the sunlight and air about them, they ran through wide +forests all their own, or plied their bark canoes up and down the +streams.</p> + +<p>Then the Indian had a dream. This was long before Columbus dreamed his +dream of the Western World.</p> + +<p>In his dream the Indian saw a great White Bird coming out of the east. +Its wings were stretched wide to the north and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> south. With great +strength and speed, it swept toward the setting sun.</p> + +<p>In fear and wonder the Indian watched this giant White Bird appear and +disappear. He knew its meaning, and the Indian's heart was sad.</p> + +<p>Then the White man came. From the Big Sea Water on the east he came, in +his great white-winged canoe. With one hand pointing to the Great +Spirit, and with the other extended to the Red man he came. He asked for +a small seat. A seat the size of a buffalo skin would be quite large +enough for him, he said.</p> + +<p>In the name of the Great Spirit, the Red Children greeted the White man, +and called him "brother." They gave him the seat he asked. They gave him +a large buffalo skin also, and showed him where he could spread it by +their council fire.</p> + +<p>The White man took the buffalo skin. He thanked his Red brother in the +name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> of the Great Spirit. Then he began to cut the skin into many, many +small strips.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img046.jpg" width="500" height="155" alt="Buffalo skin" title="Buffalo skin" /> +</div> + + +<p>When the whole buffalo skin had been cut into narrow strips, he tied the +strips together. They made a long cord that would reach over a long +trail.</p> + +<p>In amazement the Indians watched the White man while he measured off a +seat as long and as broad as this cord would reach around. The "small +seat," the size of a buffalo skin, became a tract of land.</p> + +<p>Soon the White man asked for another seat. This time his seat took in +the Indians' lodges and camp fire. He asked the Indians if they would +move on a few arrow flights. This they did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the White man wanted another seat. Each time it took a larger skin +for him to sit upon. This time the skin stretched so far that it covered +a part of the Indians' hunting and fishing grounds.</p> + +<p>Again the Indians moved on. Again the White man followed. Each time his +seat grew larger, until the Indian had a place but the size of a buffalo +skin on which to sit.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that the White man came. Like a great White Bird that swept +from the Big Sea Water on the east to the Big Sea Water on the west, the +White man came; and he drove the Indian from the rising to the setting +sun.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img047.jpg" width="450" height="136" alt="tools" title="tools" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_EAGLE_DEFENDS_AMERICANS" id="WHY_THE_EAGLE_DEFENDS_AMERICANS"></a>WHY THE EAGLE DEFENDS AMERICANS</h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 282px;"> +<img src="images/img049a.jpg" width="282" height="350" alt="Mother Bear found for them all the honey" title="Mother Bear found for them all the honey" /> +</div> + +<p>Many, many moons before the White man came, a little Indian boy was left +in the woods. It was in the days when animals and men understood each +other better than they do now.</p> + +<p>An old mother bear found the little Indian boy.</p> + +<p>She felt very sorry for him. She told the little boy not to cry, for she +would take him home with her; she had a nice wigwam in the hollow of a +big tree.</p> + + +<p>Old Mother Bear had two cubs of her own, but she had a place between her +great paws for a third. She took the little papoose, and she hugged him +warm and close. She fed him as she did her own little cubs.</p> + + +<p>The boy grew strong. He was very happy with his adopted mother and +brothers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> They had a warm lodge in the hollow of the great tree. As +they grew older, Mother Bear found for them all the honey and nuts that +they could eat.</p> + + +<p>From sunrise to sunset, the little Indian boy played with his cub +brothers. He did not know that he was different from them. He thought he +was a little bear, too. All day long, the boy and the little bears +played and had a good time. They rolled, and tumbled, and wrestled in +the forest leaves. They chased one another up and down the bear tree.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sometimes they had a matched game of hug, for every little bear must +learn to hug. The one who could hug the longest and the tightest won the +game.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img049b.jpg" width="500" height="93" alt="and nuts" title="and nuts" /> +</div> + +<p>Old Mother Bear watched her three dear children at their play. She would +have been content and happy, but for one thing. She was afraid some harm +would come to the boy. Never could she quite forget the bear hunters. +Several times they had scented her tree, but the wind had thrown them +off the trail.</p> + +<p>Once, from her bear-tree window, she had thrown out rabbit hairs as she +saw them coming. The wind had blown the rabbit hairs toward the hunters. +As they fell near the hunters, they had suddenly changed into rabbits +and the hunters had given chase.</p> + +<p>At another time, Mother Bear tossed some partridge feathers to the wind +as the hunters drew near her tree. A flock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> of partridges went whirring +into the woods with a great noise, and the hunters ran after them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img051.jpg" width="450" height="108" alt="partridge feathers" title="partridge feathers" /> +</div> + +<p>But on this day, Mother Bear's heart was heavy. She knew that now the +big bear hunters were coming. No rabbits or partridges could lead these +hunters from the bear trail, for they had dogs with four eyes. +(Foxhounds have a yellow spot over each eye which makes them seem +double-eyed.) These dogs were never known to miss a bear tree. Sooner or +later they would scent it.</p> + +<p>Mother Bear thought she might be able to save herself and her cubs. But +what would become of the boy? She loved him too well to let the bear +hunters kill him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 446px;"> +<img src="images/img052.jpg" width="446" height="480" alt="Chief Porcupine" title="Chief Porcupine" /> +</div> + + +<p>Just then the porcupine, the Chief of the animals, passed by the bear +tree. Mother Bear saw him. She put her head out the bear-tree window and +called to him. He came and sat under the bear-tree window, and listened +to Mother Bear's story of her fears for the boy.</p> + +<p>When she had finished, Chief Porcupine said he would call a council of +the animals, and see if they could not save the boy.</p> + +<p>Now the Chief had a big voice. As soon as he raised his voice, even the +animals away on the longest trails heard. They ran at once and gathered +under the council tree. There was a loud roar,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> and a great flapping of +wings, for the birds came, too.</p> + +<p>Chief Porcupine told them about the fears of Mother Bear, and of the +danger to the boy.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the Chief, "which one of you will take the boy, and save him +from the bear hunters?"</p> + +<p>It happened that some animals were present that were jealous of man. +These animals had held more than one secret council, to plan how they +could do away with him. They said he was becoming too powerful. He knew +all they knew,—and more.</p> + +<p>The beaver did not like man, because men could build better houses than +he.</p> + +<p>The fox said that man had stolen his cunning, and could now outwit him.</p> + +<p>The wolf and the panther objected to man, because he could conceal +himself and spring with greater surety than they.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;"> +<img src="images/img054.jpg" width="363" height="600" alt="some animals were present" title="some animals were present" /> +</div> + +<p>The raccoon said that man was more daring, and could climb higher than +he.</p> + +<p>The deer complained that man could outrun him.</p> + +<p>So when Chief Porcupine asked who would take the boy and care for him, +each of these animals in turn said that he would gladly do so.</p> + +<p>Mother Bear sat by and listened as each offered to care for the boy. She +did not say anything, but she was thinking hard,—for a bear. At last +she spoke.</p> + +<p>To the beaver she said, "You cannot take the boy; you will drown him on +the way to your lodge."</p> + +<p>To the fox she said, "You cannot take him; you would teach him to cheat +and steal, while pretending to be a friend; neither can the wolf or the +panther have him, for they are counting on having something good to eat.</p> + +<p>"You, deer, lost your upper teeth for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> eating human flesh. And, too, you +have no home, you are a tramp.</p> + +<p>"And you, raccoon, I cannot trust, for you would coax him to climb so +high that he would fall and die.</p> + +<p>"No, none of you can have the boy."</p> + +<p>Now a great bird that lives in the sky had flown into the council tree, +while the animals were speaking. But they had not seen him.</p> + +<p>When Mother Bear had spoken, this wise old eagle flew down, and said, +"Give the boy to me, Mother Bear. No bird is so swift and strong as the +eagle. I will protect him. On my great wings I will bear him far away +from the bear hunters.</p> + +<p>"I will take him to the wigwam of an Indian friend, where a little +Indian boy is wanted."</p> + +<p>Mother Bear looked into the eagle's keen eyes. She saw that he could see +far.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then she said, "Take him, eagle, I trust him to you. I know you will +protect the boy."</p> + +<p>The eagle spread wide his great wings. Mother Bear placed the boy on his +back, and away they soared, far from the council woods.</p> + +<p>The eagle left the boy, as he had promised, at the door of a wigwam +where a little Indian boy was wanted.</p> + +<p>This was the first young American to be saved by an American eagle.</p> + +<p>The boy grew to be a noble chief and a great hunter. No hunter could hit +a bear trail so soon as he, for he knew just where and how to find the +bear trees. But never was he known to cut down a bear tree, or to kill a +bear.</p> + +<p>However, many were the wolf, panther, and deerskins that hung in his +lodge. The hunter's wife sat and made warm coats from the fox and beaver +skins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> which the hunter father brought in from the chase. But never was +the hunter, his wife, or his children seen to wear a bear-skin coat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img058.jpg" width="500" height="133" alt="Beaver skins" title="Beaver skins" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_TURKEY_BUZZARD_GOT_HIS_SUIT" id="HOW_THE_TURKEY_BUZZARD_GOT_HIS_SUIT"></a>HOW THE TURKEY BUZZARD GOT HIS SUIT</h2> + + + +<p>It was a long, long time ago, when the earth was very young. Trees and +flowers were growing everywhere, but there were no birds. One morning +the Great Spirit drew back the blanket from the door of his wigwam in +the sky. He looked upon the earth and smiled, for he saw that his work +was good.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img059.jpg" width="350" height="311" alt="Turkey Buzzard" title="Turkey Buzzard" /> +</div> + +<p>"Today," thought he, "I will make big butterflies, to fly in and out +among the beautiful trees and flowers of the earth. They shall sing as +they fly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the Great Spirit spoke, and the tree tops were full of birds,—but +they had no feathers.</p> + +<p>All day he watched them fly and listened to their songs. But their naked +bodies and long legs did not please him. Before the sun had set he had +made feathered suits, of every size and color, to cover them.</p> + +<p>That night, as the birds hid their heads under their wings, the Great +Spirit spoke to them. He told about the feathered suits he had made for +them, and where these suits could be found.</p> + +<p>A council was called next day by the birds. They chose <i>Gah gah go wah</i>, +the Turkey Buzzard, to get the suits. He could fly over a long trail and +not be tired.</p> + +<p>The birds told him that if he would go, he might have the first choice +of the suits of feathers, but he must try on no suit more than once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Turkey Buzzard promised and set out toward the setting sun. Twice the +sun set, and three times it rose, before he found the feathered suits. +There were many of them, and they were very beautiful. He could not make +up his mind which one he would like best to wear.</p> + +<p>Then he remembered that he could try on each suit of feathers once. So +he began to put them on.</p> + +<p>The feathers of the first suit were too long. They trailed on the ground +as he walked. Neither could he fly well in them. Turkey Buzzard laid +that suit aside.</p> + +<p>The next suit shone like gold. The feathers were a beautiful yellow. +Turkey Buzzard put it on and strutted up and down the forest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how handsome I am!" he said. "But I must not keep this, for if I +did,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> I should shine so like the face of the Great Spirit, that all the +other birds would see me."</p> + +<p>And he slipped off the suit of yellow feathers as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>A third suit was of pure white feathers. Turkey Buzzard thought it +looked very beautiful. It was a perfect fit.</p> + +<p>"But it will get dirty too soon," he said. "I will not choose this."</p> + +<p>And this, too, was laid aside.</p> + +<p>There were not enough feathers in the fourth suit. Turkey Buzzard +shivered with cold. It was not warm enough. He would not have it.</p> + +<p>There were too many feathers, and too many pieces, in the fifth suit. It +took too much time to put it on. Turkey Buzzard did not want that.</p> + +<p>So he went from one suit to another, trying on and taking off. Always he +had some new fault to find. Something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> was wrong with each one. Nothing +quite pleased him. No suit was just right.</p> + +<p>At last there was but one suit left. It was not pretty. It was a plain, +dull color,—and very short of feathers at the neck and head. Turkey +Buzzard put it on. He did not like it. It did not fit him well: it was +cut too low in the neck. Turkey Buzzard thought it was the homeliest +suit of all. But it was the last suit, so he kept it on.</p> + +<p>Then <i>Gah gah go wah</i>, the Turkey Buzzard, gathered up the suits and +flew back to the bird lodge. He still wore the plain, dull-colored suit.</p> + +<p>The birds again called a council. Each was told to select a suit from +those that <i>Gah gah go wah</i> had brought, and put it on. This they did.</p> + +<p>Then the birds in their beautiful feathered suits began to walk and fly +about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> the Turkey Buzzard, and to make fun of his plain, dull dress.</p> + +<p>But <i>Gah gah go wah</i> held his head high. He walked proudly about among +the birds. He looked with scorn on their beautiful suits. After a time +he spoke.</p> + +<p>He said, "<i>Gah gah go wah</i>, the Turkey Buzzard, does not want your +suits. He had the pick of them all. He likes his own suit best."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Adapted from Erminie Smith's <i>Myths of the Iroquois</i>.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/img064.jpg" width="400" height="206" alt="Turkey Buzzard" title="Turkey Buzzard" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_PARTRIDGE_DRUMS" id="WHY_THE_PARTRIDGE_DRUMS"></a>WHY THE PARTRIDGE DRUMS</h2> + + +<p>It was after the Great Spirit had made all the beautiful birds, that the +Evil Spirit came along. He saw the beautiful birds and heard their +beautiful songs. He saw that the earth people liked the birds and liked +to hear them sing.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img065.jpg" width="350" height="260" alt="Partridge" title="Partridge" /> +</div> + +<p>Now the Evil Spirit did not wish people to be happy, so he said, "I will +make a bird that will make people afraid. I will make a big bird that +will not sing, but will make a great noise."</p> + +<p>So the Evil Spirit went to work. In a short time he had made a big bird, +that could not sing, but could drum.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The big bird flew away into the wood. That night a drumming noise was +heard in the wood. The people were afraid. They could not sleep, because +of the noise.</p> + +<p>In the morning, they went into the woods to search for the noise. Deep +in the forest could still be heard that strange drumming. They followed +it, until they came to a deep, dark place in the woods. There was a loud +fluttering and whirring of wings, and a great bird flew out from among +them, along the ground and over the trees.</p> + +<p>The people were afraid. They called to the Great Spirit to help them.</p> + +<p>The Great Spirit was near. He heard their cry, and went after the bird, +for he was very angry.</p> + +<p>The Great Spirit said, "I will not have my people frightened by this +great bird; it shall die."</p> + +<p>The big bird gave the Great Spirit a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> long chase. At last the Great +Spirit came upon it. He seized it, and threw it against a large tree.</p> + +<p>As the big bird struck the tree, drops of blood flew in all directions. +They changed into smaller birds that went whirring into the woods, just +as the big bird had done. There they began to drum.</p> + +<p>Like the big bird, these smaller birds like to startle people. They +flutter out from under the leaves, and with a whirring noise they fly +far into the wood. There they perch on an old log, or a rock, and drum +with their wings.</p> + +<p>Some of the earth people say they are drumming for their mates. But +others still think that the birds drum to make people afraid.</p> + +<p>So this is how the Indians say the partridges came to be. This is why +they drum, and why some of the earth children still love to hunt +partridges.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_INDIANS_LEARNED_TO_HEAL" id="HOW_THE_INDIANS_LEARNED_TO_HEAL"></a>HOW THE INDIANS LEARNED TO HEAL</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 158px;"> +<img src="images/img068.jpg" width="158" height="280" alt="Medicine Rattle" title="Medicine Rattle" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Medicine Rattle</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>A long, long time ago, some Indians were running along a trail that led +to an Indian settlement. As they ran, a rabbit jumped from the bushes +and sat before them.</p> + + +<p>The Indians stopped, for the rabbit still sat up before them and did not +move from the trail. They shot their arrows at him, but the arrows came +back unstained with blood.</p> + +<p>A second time they drew their arrows. Now no rabbit was to be seen. +Instead, an old man stood on the trail. He seemed to be weak and sick.</p> + + + +<p>The old man asked them for food and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> a place to rest. They would not +listen but went on to the settlement.</p> + +<p>Slowly the old man followed them, down the trail to the wigwam village. +In front of each wigwam, he saw a skin placed on a pole. This he knew +was the sign of the clan to which the dwellers in that wigwam belonged.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img069.jpg" width="500" height="145" alt="Animals" title="Animals" /> +</div> + +<p>First he stopped at a wigwam where a wolf skin hung. He asked to enter, +but they would not let him. They said, "We want no sick men here."</p> + +<p>On he went toward another wigwam. Here a turtle's shell was hanging. But +this family would not let him in.</p> + +<p>He tried a wigwam where he saw a beaver skin. He was told to move on.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img070.jpg" width="500" height="139" alt="Birds and animals" title="Birds and animals" /> +</div> + + +<p>The Indians who lived in a wigwam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> where a deer skin was seen, were just +as unkind. Nor was he permitted to enter wigwams where hung hawk, snipe, +and heron skins.</p> + +<p>At last he came to a wigwam where a bear skin hung.</p> + +<p>"I will ask once more for a place to rest," he thought.</p> + +<p>And here a kind old woman lived. She brought food for him to eat, and +spread soft skins for him to lie upon.</p> + +<p>The old man thanked her. He said that he was very sick. He told the +woman what plants to gather in the wood, to make him well again.</p> + +<p>This she did, and soon he was healed.</p> + +<p>A few days later the old man was again taken sick. Again he told the +woman what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> roots and leaves to gather. She did as she was told, and +soon he was well.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;"> +<img src="images/img071.jpg" width="229" height="250" alt="Herb basket" title="Herb basket" /> +</div> + + +<p>Many times the old man fell sick. Each time he had a different sickness. +Each time he told the woman what plants and herbs to find to cure him. +Each time she remembered what she had been told.</p> + +<p>Soon this woman of the Bear clan knew more about healing than all the +other people.</p> + +<p>One day, the old man told her that the Great Spirit had sent him to +earth, to teach the Indian people the secrets of healing.</p> + +<p>"I came, sick and hungry, to many a wigwam door. No blanket was drawn +aside for me to pass in. You alone lifted the blanket from your wigwam +door and bade me enter.</p> + +<p>"You are of the Bear clan, therefore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> all other clans shall come to the +Bear clan for help in sickness.</p> + +<p>"You shall teach all the clans what plants, and roots, and leaves to +gather, that the sick may be healed.</p> + +<p>"And the Bear shall be the greatest and strongest of the clans."</p> + +<p>The Indian woman lifted her face to the Great Spirit to thank him for +this great gift and knowledge of healing. When she turned again to the +man, he had disappeared.</p> + +<p>No one was there, but a rabbit was running swiftly down the trail.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img072.jpg" width="450" height="422" alt="Medicine Mask" title="Medicine Mask" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Medicine Mask</span></span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;"> +<img src="images/img073.jpg" width="360" height="600" alt="Why dogs chase foxes" title="Why dogs chase foxes" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="WHY_DOGS_CHASE_FOXES" id="WHY_DOGS_CHASE_FOXES"></a>WHY DOGS CHASE FOXES</h2> + + +<p>A fox was running through the wood near a river. He had a fish in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>The fish had been stolen from an Indian who lived down the stream. The +fox had been passing near the Indian's wigwam. He saw the fish hanging +by the fire. It was cleaned and ready to cook.</p> + +<p>"What a tasty breakfast!" thought the fox. "I think I will watch the man +eat."</p> + +<p>Soon the Indian went into the wigwam. The fox slipped up to the fire. He +seized the fish, and ran away with it.</p> + +<p>When the Indian came back, he had no breakfast. The fish was gone. No +fox was to be seen.</p> + +<p>The fox ran along, feeling much pleased with himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a cunning fox I am," he chuckled. "I will play another foxy trick. +This time it shall be on the bear I see coming."</p> + +<p>He ran up a tree that had been bent half way to earth by the West Wind. +There he began to eat his fish. He smacked his lips so loudly that the +bear heard him.</p> + +<p>The bear stopped under the tree, and asked, "What are you eating that +tastes so good?"</p> + +<p>For answer the fox threw down a bit of the fish. The bear smacked his +lips and cried, "More! More!"</p> + +<p>"Go to the river, swim out to the big log, and catch your own fish," +called the fox. "It's very easy! Just drop your tail into the water. +Hold it there till a fish comes along and bites, then pull it up. That +is the way I catch my fish. You can catch all the fish you want with +your own tail."</p> + +<p>The bear hurried on to the river. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> swam to the log and dropped his +tail into the water, as the fox had advised.</p> + +<p>All day he sat and fished with his tail,—for bears then had very long +tails.</p> + +<p>The sun set, but no fish had pulled his tail. All night the bear sat on +the log and fished. Cold North Wind blew his breath over the water. The +river grew still and white.</p> + +<p>Towards morning, the bear felt that his tail was getting very heavy. Now +at last he was sure he had a fish. He tried to pull it up. But alas! his +tail was frozen fast in the ice.</p> + +<p>Then the fox came along. He laughed long and loudly at the bear, and +asked if the fishing was good.</p> + +<p>Some dogs heard the fox, and came tearing through the thick underbrush. +They saw the fox and started after him.</p> + +<p>The fox slyly led them on to the frozen river toward the bear. The bear +saw them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> coming, and called to the fox to go around some other way. The +fox made believe he did not hear, and came straight on to the bear to +ask him what he had said.</p> + +<p>The dogs leaped upon the bear. The bear struggled. He gave one great +pull, and freed himself from the ice. He struck at the dogs so fiercely +with his great paws, that they soon left him, and went on after the fox.</p> + +<p>Dogs have been running after foxes ever since.</p> + +<p>When the bear got his breath, he stood up and looked around at his tail. +He found he had only a small piece left. Most of his tail had been left +in the ice.</p> + +<p>This is why bears have short tails, and why dogs still love to chase the +fox.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_HERMIT_THRUSH_IS_SO_SHY" id="WHY_HERMIT_THRUSH_IS_SO_SHY"></a>WHY HERMIT THRUSH IS SO SHY</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img078.jpg" width="550" height="257" alt="Wise old owl" title="Wise old owl" /> +</div> + +<p>Some moons after the council when the birds chose their feathered suits, +a second council was called. The purpose of this council was to see +which bird could fly to heaven, and bring a song to earth.</p> + +<p>When all the birds had arrived and were perched upon the council tree, +the wise old owl spoke.</p> + +<p>"Friends and brothers, listen," said the owl. "Many of you have strong +wings,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> but your voices are not beautiful. High, high up in the sky, a +long trail beyond the clouds, is the Happy Hunting Ground.</p> + +<p>"There live all our brothers of the wood, whom the Great Spirit has +called. They sing songs more beautiful than any heard on earth.</p> + +<p>"The bird that can fly beyond the clouds will hear that singing. He +shall bring a song to earth. Who will fly the Great Sky Trail, and bring +a song to earth? Who-whoo! Who-whoo! Who-whoo!"</p> + +<p>At this, all the birds that were swift of wing flew high in the air. +They circled round and round to show their skill. Then they disappeared +in the clouds.</p> + +<p>But one by one they dropped to earth; for when they had reached the +Great Sky Trail beyond the clouds, they were too tired to take it.</p> + +<p>At last the eagle arose and stretched his great wings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Listen," he said, "for the Chief of Birds speaks. No other bird is so +swift and so strong as the eagle. He has circled the earth. He has flown +to the rim of the world. The eagle will fly the Great Sky Trail and +bring the song to earth."</p> + +<p>A little brown thrush sat near the eagle.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he thought, "how I would like to bring that song to earth!"</p> + +<p>But he was so small, and his wings were so tired!</p> + +<p>Then an idea popped into the little brown head of the thrush. He hopped +softly to the back of the eagle, and hid in the thick feathers near the +neck. So small and light was the thrush, that the eagle did not feel his +weight. He did not know that the little brown thrush was on his +back,—and the other birds did not tell him.</p> + +<p>The eagle spread his great wings. Up, and up, and up, they soared. The +council<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> wood became a little speck and then was seen no more. Over, and +under, and through the clouds, on, and on, and on, they sailed, along +the Great Sky Trail.</p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/img081.jpg" width="175" height="450" alt="eagle" title="eagle" /> +</div> + +<p>At last the eagle's strength began to fail. He could go no further. The +great wings of the chief of birds could beat the air no longer. They +fell at his side.</p> + +<p>The little brown thrush felt the eagle quiver and begin to drop toward +the earth.</p> + +<p>Then away flew the little brown thrush. The air was so light it seemed +easy to fly. On and on he went, for he was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> tired. He had had a ride +almost to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Now," he thought, "I will go on and will get the song."</p> + +<p>For some time, the little brown thrush flew along the Great Sky Trail. +All at once the air seemed full of song. He knew he was nearing the +Happy Hunting Ground.</p> + +<p>He listened. One song seemed more beautiful to him than the rest. Again +and again he listened. He caught the notes. He sang them many times, +until he was sure that he could carry the song to earth.</p> + +<p>Then down, and down, and down, he floated, through clouds and storms and +sunshine, back to Mother Earth.</p> + +<p>Very happy, he flew toward the council wood. He was so full of his +beautiful song and the wonderful Sky Trail, he thought he must pour out +his song at once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>But when he reached the council wood, he dared not open his mouth! He +remembered that he had stolen his ride part way to heaven,—and he knew +the other birds knew it.</p> + +<p>But that song! he must sing it! He thought his throat would burst, if he +did not sing!</p> + +<p>So the little brown thrush flew off by himself, into a deep, dark part +of the wood. There, hidden by the brush and the bushes, he poured forth +the song he had heard on the Great Sky Trail.</p> + +<p>Men hearing it to-day, say, "Listen, a hermit thrush! What a beautiful +song! But he is such a shy bird, one seldom can catch a glimpse of him."</p> + +<p>They do not know why he keeps so close under cover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_GOOD_AND_EVIL_CAME_TO_BE" id="HOW_GOOD_AND_EVIL_CAME_TO_BE"></a>HOW GOOD AND EVIL CAME TO BE</h2> + + +<p>Every boy has wondered how there came to be two of him.</p> + +<p>Every girl has puzzled over how she happened to be twins. Sometimes she +is the good girl,—sometimes a naughty one.</p> + +<p>The Indians say this is how it happened.</p> + +<p>The world was very young. There was no earth, only a cloud-like sea.</p> + +<p>The sea was filled with water animals, and water birds flew over it. All +was dark. Light had not yet come.</p> + +<p>Then the cloud-sea began to call for light. The Great Spirit heard, and +said, "It shall be so. I will make a new place for man to live in."</p> + +<p>The Great Spirit called the beautiful Sky Mother to Him. Her face was +like the sun, she was so light of heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Great Spirit told the Sky Mother to look down. She, too, heard the +cloud-sea calling, and she said, "I will go."</p> + +<p>As she began to descend, the animals saw her coming. "See the light," +they cried. "Where will it rest?"</p> + +<p>One of the water animals said, "I will go to the bottom of the sea and +get something for it to rest on."</p> + +<p>He went down, but he never came back.</p> + +<p>Other animals followed him. But they, too, did not come back.</p> + +<p>Then the muskrat said, "I will go. I will be the earth bringer."</p> + +<p>He returned, with some mud in his mouth and claws.</p> + +<p>"It will grow fast," he cried, in a weak voice. "Who will carry it?"</p> + +<p>The turtle offered his back. As the muskrat placed the mud on the +turtle's shell he died. But the beaver came and slapped the mud down +with his tail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>The mud on the turtle's back grew very fast. Soon it was a small island. +The turtle became the earth bearer. He has continued to hold up the +earth ever since.</p> + +<p>Now, when the sea rises in great waves, or the earth shakes, the Indians +say, "The turtle is stretching. He is wiggling his back!"</p> + +<p>Now, since there was a place for the light to rest on, the birds flew up +to meet it. They found that the light was the beautiful Sky Mother.</p> + +<p>Then the birds spread wide their great wings, and bore the Sky Mother +through the air to the cloud-sea. They placed her on the island on the +turtle's back. There the Sky Mother had rested some time, when she felt +something stirring beneath her heart. She heard voices. One was soft and +kind and full of love, the other was harsh and quarrelsome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>Soon the Sky Mother looked into the faces of the first-born of earth, +for she had borne the twin brothers, the spirits of Good and Evil. As +she looked into the face of the Good Mind, she said, "You shall be +called the Light One."</p> + +<p>Then she looked into the face of his brother, and said, "You shall be +named the Dark One."</p> + +<p>The island became a beautiful land.</p> + +<p>The twin brother Light One grew up happy, loving, peaceful, and kind. He +wanted to make the new land the most beautiful place in which to live. +The twin brother Dark One grew up sullen, quarrelsome, hateful, and +unkind. He tried to make the land the worst place in which to live.</p> + +<p>From his mother's beautiful face the Light One made the sun. He set it +in the eastern sky, that it might shine forever. Then the Dark One put +darkness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> in the west to drive the sun from the sky.</p> + +<p>The Light One gave his mother's body to the earth, the Great Mother from +which springs all life. He made great mountains, and covered them with +forests from which beautiful rivers ran. The Dark One threw down the +mountains, gnarled the forests, and bent the rivers which his brother +had made.</p> + +<p>Every beautiful thing which the good brother Light One made, the bad +brother Dark One tried to destroy and ruin.</p> + +<p>And because the first-born of earth were the twin spirits, the Good Mind +and the Evil Mind, there has been a good and bad spirit born into every +boy and girl who has come into the world since.</p> + +<p>So the Indians say!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_A_BOY_WAS_CURED_OF_BOASTING" id="HOW_A_BOY_WAS_CURED_OF_BOASTING"></a>HOW A BOY WAS CURED OF BOASTING</h2> + + +<p>There was once an Indian boy, who thought he knew more and could do more +than anyone else. He was so proud of himself that he walked around like +a great chief, who wears a war shirt with many scalp locks on it.</p> + +<p>The other Indian boys and girls called him Spread Feather, because he +strutted about like a big turkey or a peacock.</p> + +<p>One day, Spread Feather was playing ball with the other boys. Not once +had he failed to drive or catch the ball with his crosse stick. Twice he +had thrown the ball with such force that some one had been hurt.</p> + +<p>Spread Feather grew more and more pleased with himself, as he played. He +began to use tricks and to talk very large.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/img090.jpg" width="364" height="600" alt="Spread Feather grew more and more pleased with himself" title="Spread Feather grew more and more pleased with himself" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 116px;"> +<img src="images/img091.jpg" width="116" height="450" alt="raquets" title="raquets" /> + +</div> + + +<p>"No one can play ball as I," he said. "I can catch the swiftest ball +that can be thrown. I can throw the ball to the sky. I can run faster +than the deer."</p> + +<p>Spread Feather boasted so loudly that a rabbit heard him. The rabbit +came out of the bushes and sat up on his hind legs. He watched Spread +Feather play, and listened to his boasting.</p> + +<p>Soon a strange boy was standing where the rabbit had sat.</p> + +<p>The stranger said to Spread Feather, "I would like to play ball with +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on, then!" taunted the boastful boy. "Spread Feather will show the +strange ball player how to catch a ball."</p> + +<p>They began to play.</p> + +<p>The stranger could run like a deer. His balls were so swift and so +curved that Spread Feather could not see them. He could not catch one. +They seemed to come from the sky.</p> + +<p>At last one ball hit Spread Feather on the mouth. He fell to the ground. +His face was red with anger, and his lips were red with blood.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet and shouted to the stranger, "Though I do not like +the taste of your ball, yet I can throw you."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," said the stranger. "We will have a game of 'Catch as +catch can.'" This is the Indian name for a game of wrestling.</p> + +<p>Spread Feather set his feet very hard on the ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My legs are as strong as the legs of a bear," he boasted.</p> + +<p>They began to wrestle. Soon Spread Feather's arms fell at his sides. He +panted for air. He had no breath and no strength.</p> + +<p>The stranger picked Spread Feather up and tossed him over his head like +a ball. The boy fell without a word.</p> + +<p>When Spread Feather opened his eyes, a rabbit sprang into the bushes.</p> + +<p>All night, Spread Feather lay and thought, and thought. He was too weak +and too sore to go back to his wigwam. Nor was he eager to meet the +other boys.</p> + +<p>At sunrise a rabbit hopped near. The rabbit slyly suggested that he +might like to play another game of ball.</p> + +<p>The boy sat up and said to the rabbit, "Spread Feather is no more. He no +longer struts like a turkey. He has nothing to say. He will win a new +name. It will not be Spread Feather."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_CUCKOO_IS_SO_LAZY" id="WHY_THE_CUCKOO_IS_SO_LAZY"></a>WHY THE CUCKOO IS SO LAZY</h2> + + +<p>The land was lean and hungry. The Old Man of the North Lodge had +breathed upon the valley. His breath had frozen the corn, and there was +no bread for the people.</p> + +<p>The Indian hunters took to the chase. They followed every track of deer +or rabbit. If their arrows brought them meat, they threw it over their +shoulders and ran to the village, that the hungry women and children +might eat.</p> + +<p>But one Indian remained in his wigwam. He sat by the fire with his wife +and child, and waited for the hunters to bring game.</p> + +<p>This man refused to go on the hunt. He was lazy. All day he sat by the +fire and smoked his pipe. Once in a while, he would stir the water in +the kettle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> which he kept boiling for the meat that he hoped the hunters +might bring. Whenever the child, his little son, begged him for food, he +would say, "It isn't done yet."</p> + +<p>At last the little Indian boy grew so sick and faint for want of food +that he cried aloud.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img095.jpg" width="550" height="326" alt="pipes" title="pipes" /> + +</div> + + +<p>The lazy Indian father was angry. He seized the pudding stick, and +struck the child to the ground. Instantly a bird flew up and perched on +the pole over the fire, from which the kettle hung.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now it's done!" said the bird solemnly, for it did not seem to have a +light heart like other birds.</p> + +<p>Now, strange as it may seem this father was no longer cruel and lazy. +His lazy spirit seemed to have gone. He wanted to go at once on the +chase, and hunt food for his wife and little boy.</p> + +<p>"To-night you shall have deer meat to eat," he said, as he spread a soft +skin by the fire, for the boy to lie on. Then he turned to place the +child on the skin,—but no boy was there. He had no son. Only that +strange bird perched, joyless and alone, over the fire, on the pole from +which the kettle hung.</p> + +<p>"Now it's done!" the bird cried again, and with that it flew out of the +wigwam.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That spring the Indians discovered a new bird in the woods. The bird was +too lazy to build a real nest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img097.jpg" width="350" height="190" alt="a new bird in the woods" title="a new bird in the woods" /> +</div> + +<p>This bird did not weave together twigs and moss, leaves and ferns, bits +of hair and thistledown, to make a cozy, warm, safe nest for its eggs +and young, as did the other birds. This bird would lay its eggs +anywhere. Wherever a few sticks lay crosswise in a track, or in a little +hollow of the ground, or where some twigs or dried ferns were caught +loosely in a bush, there this lazy bird would lay its eggs and rear its +young.</p> + +<p>It was too lazy to build a real nest, that was safe and warm for its +little ones.</p> + + + + +<p>The Indians called the bird "the cuckoo." But only one Indian knew how +the cuckoo came to be, and why it is too lazy to build a real nest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_COON_OUTWITTED_THE_FOX" id="HOW_THE_COON_OUTWITTED_THE_FOX"></a>HOW THE COON OUTWITTED THE FOX</h2> + + +<p>A wise old raccoon sat up in a tree near the river where the bear lost +his tail. The coon saw the fox play his foxy trick on the bear, and he +did not like it.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img099.jpg" width="350" height="281" alt="The fox stopped under the tree" title="The fox stopped under the tree" /> +</div> + +<p>"The fox is getting a big head," said the coon. "This must not be. His +head must be made smaller. Some of the foxiness must be taken out of it. +He is getting too foxy. He thinks he has the cunning of all the animals, +and that no one can outwit him. Some one must play a 'fox' trick on +him."</p> + +<p>Not many days later, the coon saw the fox coming down the trail. The +coon was eating some juicy yellow apples that he had found on a tree not +far away. As soon as he saw the fox, he ran up a tree,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> and began to +smack his lips as the fox had done to tempt the bear.</p> + +<p>The fox stopped under the tree, just as the bear had stopped.</p> + +<p>"What tastes so good?" he asked.</p> + +<p>For answer the coon threw down an apple to the fox, just as the fox had +thrown the piece of fish down to the bear.</p> + +<p>The fox took the apple and ate it.</p> + +<p>"Fine! Fine!" said the fox, when he had finished the last mouthful. +"Where did you get it?"</p> + + + + +<p>The coon then told the fox how to find the apple tree. He must follow +the trail along the river, down to the pine bluff. Then he must climb +the bluff and run toward the setting sun, until he came to an open +field. In the center of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> that field stood a great apple tree. It was +filled with juicy yellow apples.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/img100.jpg" width="267" height="300" alt="The coon then told the fox" title="The coon then told the fox" /> +</div> + +<p>"But you can climb the tree and pick your own apples. How can I get them +off the tree?" whined the fox.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's easy," said the coon. "Just back off two bow shots from the +tree, then lower your head,—so. Run hard and butt the tree with your +head. You have such a big head, it will shake the tree so hard that all +the apples will fall at once. Do as I tell you, and you will have all +the apples you want for a long time."</p> + +<p>The fox thanked the coon and started at once.</p> + +<p>He found the apple tree, just as the coon had said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a fine open place to run in," thought the fox. "I will get such a +fine start that when I hit the tree it will shake the world."</p> + +<p>Already he began, in his mind, to see the apples falling, like pine +needles, and to feel the earth shake under his feet.</p> + +<p>The fox did as the coon had told him. One arrow flight he backed off, +then another. Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and ran swiftly +over the thick grass. He struck the tree as hard as ever he could, with +his big head.</p> + +<p>Not an apple fell, but a dazed, foolish-looking fox fell to the ground.</p> + +<p>Next morning as the sun rose, a shame-faced fox was seen running toward +the woods beyond the pine bluff. He carried his head low, and he seemed +to be playing no foxy tricks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_GOLDFINCHES_LOOK_LIKE_THE_SUN" id="WHY_THE_GOLDFINCHES_LOOK_LIKE_THE_SUN"></a>WHY THE GOLDFINCHES LOOK LIKE THE SUN</h2> + + +<p>It was some moons after the coon outwitted the fox, before they again +met. The coon was hurrying by, when the fox saw him.</p> + +<p>Now the fox had not forgotten the trick the coon had played on him. His +head was still sore from that great thump against the apple tree. So the +fox started after the coon. He was gaining, and would have caught him, +had they not come to a tall pine tree.</p> + +<p>The coon ran to the very tiptop of the pine tree. There he was safe, for +the fox could not climb.</p> + +<p>The fox lay down on the soft pine needles and waited for the coon to +come down. The coon stayed up in the pine tree so long that the fox grew +tired and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> sleepy. He closed his eyes and thought he would take a short +nap.</p> + +<p>The coon watched, until he saw that the fox was sound asleep. Then he +took in his mouth some of the pitch from the pine tree. He ran down the +tree and rubbed the pitch over the eyes of the sleeping fox.</p> + +<p>The fox awoke. He sprang up and tried to seize the coon, but, alas! he +could not see what he was doing. The lids of his eyes were held fast +with the pine gum. He could not open them.</p> + +<p>The coon laughed at the fox's plight, then ran and left him.</p> + +<p>The fox lay for some time under the tree. The pine gum, as it dried, +held the lids of his eyes closer and closer shut. He thought he should +never again see the sun.</p> + +<p>Some birds were singing near by. He called them, and told them of his +plight. He asked if they would be so kind as to pick open his eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>The birds flew off and told the other birds. Soon many of the little +dark songsters flew back to where the fox lay. Then peck, peck, peck, +went the little bills on the eyelids of the fox. Bit by bit they +carefully pecked away the pine gum. If one grew tired, another bird +would take its place.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img104.jpg" width="550" height="185" alt="The birds flew off" title="The birds flew off" /> +</div> + + +<p>At last the fox saw a streak of light. Soon the lid of one eye flew +open, then the other. The sun was shining, and the world looked very +beautiful to the fox, as he opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>He was very grateful to the little birds for bringing him light. He told +them to ask what they would, and he would give it to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>The little birds said, "We do not like the plain, dark suits which the +Turkey Buzzard brought us. Make us look like the sun we have brought to +you."</p> + +<p>The fox looked about him. Beautiful yellow flowers were growing near. He +pressed some of the sun color from them, and with the tip of his tail as +a brush, he began to paint the dark little birds like the sun.</p> + +<p>The birds fluttered so with joy, he thought he would paint the bodies +first. Before he could brush the wings and tails with the sun paint, +each little bird had darted away, like a streak of sunshine. So happy +and light of heart were the birds, that they could not wait for the fox +to finish the painting.</p> + +<p>This is why goldfinches are yellow like the sun. It is why they have +black wings and tails, why they flutter so with joy, and why they never +finish their song.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHAT_THE_ASH_AND_THE_MAPLE_LEARNED" id="WHAT_THE_ASH_AND_THE_MAPLE_LEARNED"></a>WHAT THE ASH AND THE MAPLE LEARNED</h2> + + +<p>Long ago, birds, trees, animals, and men knew each the language of the +other, and all could talk together.</p> + +<p>In those days, the trees of the forest grew very large and strong. At +last they came to know their strength too well. They became selfish, and +proud, and quarrelsome. Each tree boasted that he was the greatest and +strongest. Each one struggled to gain for himself the most earth, the +best air, the brightest sun. No tree had a thought for the other.</p> + +<p>One day the trunk of a great Maple tried to crowd out an Ash. The Ash, +of course, thought he had as much right to stand there as the Maple, and +he said he would not stir a limb.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get out of my way," cried the Maple. "I am greater than you, and of +more use to man; for I furnish the sweet water for him to drink."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will not!" said the Ash. "I am greater than you, and of more +use to man than you; for I furnish the tough wood from which he makes +his bow."</p> + +<p>At this the trees fell to wrestling. Back and forth, in and out they +swayed, each trying to throw the other. They forgot that they were +brothers in the wood.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/img108.jpg" width="280" height="134" alt="basket" title="basket" /> +</div> + +<p>Then the South Wind came along. He heard the loud voices and stopped to +find out what the quarrel was about.</p> + +<p>"I am greater than you, for I furnish the sweet water for man to drink," +came the angry voice of the Maple, as he threw his huge trunk against +the Ash.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not," retorted the Ash, and he sent the Maple back with a +great push of his strong elbow. "I am greater than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> you, for I furnish +the tough wood from which he makes his bow."</p> + + + +<p>For a time, the South Wind watched them writhe and twist and try to +throw each other to the ground. Then he said, softly, "You, O Maple, do +not cause the sweet water to flow for man; nor do you, O Ash, make your +wood to grow pliant and tough for his bow."</p> + +<p>"Who does, then?" they asked defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Listen," said the South Wind, "and you shall hear."</p> + +<p>Then the Maple and Ash forgot their quarrel. They bent their heads so +low and close to listen, that an arm of the Maple slipped through an arm +of the Ash.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/img109.jpg" width="364" height="600" alt="Maple and Ash forgot their quarrel" title="Maple and Ash forgot their quarrel" /> +</div> + +<p>And as they stood thus listening, each with an arm locked in an arm of +the other, the South Wind gently swayed them to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> and fro. Then a voice +was heard, singing, "<i>San noh-eh! San noh-eh! San noh-eh!</i>" which +means, "The Mother of all things."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that the Ash and the Maple learned that it was Mother Earth +who gave them their life, and power, and strength, and that they were +brothers, because they had one Mother.</p> + +<p>The Ash and the Maple whispered the secret to the birds. The birds came +and listened to the voice, and went and told the animals. The animals +came and listened, and went and told men. And thus all the earth +children learned that there is one Great Mother of every living thing, +and that all are brothers.</p> + +<p>And now, whenever two trees lock arms lovingly, and the South Wind sways +them gently to and fro, that same voice may be heard, singing, "<i>San +noh-eh! San noh-eh! San noh-eh!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_WOMAN_OVERCAME_THE_BEAR" id="HOW_THE_WOMAN_OVERCAME_THE_BEAR"></a>HOW THE WOMAN OVERCAME THE BEAR</h2> + + +<p>An Indian woman built a wigwam in the deep wood. She was a brave woman. +She had no fear.</p> + +<p>One night, she heard something coming along the trail. Thump, thump, +thump, it came, to the very door of her wigwam.</p> + +<p>There was a rap.</p> + +<p>"Come in," said the woman, but no one entered.</p> + +<p>Again there came a rap.</p> + +<p>Again the woman called, "Come in." Again the latch was not lifted.</p> + +<p>A third time the rap came. A third time the woman called, "Come in," but +no one entered.</p> + +<p>Then the strange thump, thump, thump, was heard going down the trail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next night, the same thing occurred. Soon after dark, the woman +heard the thump, thump, thump, coming along the trail. Up to the very +door of the wigwam it came.</p> + +<p>Three times, a rap, rap, rap, was heard as before. Three times the woman +answered, "Come in," but no one entered.</p> + +<p>Then the same strange thump, thump, thump, was heard going down the +trail again.</p> + +<p>The third night, the woman thought she would make sure who was calling. +She stood for a long time, with her hand on the latch.</p> + +<p>At last she heard the visitor coming. Thump, thump, thump, it came along +the trail. There were three raps.</p> + +<p>"Come in," called the woman, but the latch did not move in her hand. She +waited. Again came the raps.</p> + +<p>This time she threw wide open the door,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> and there stood a great black +bear. He showed his sharp teeth and growled, "Are you at home?"</p> + +<p>The woman looked him straight in the eye and replied, "I am at home."</p> + +<p>At once the bear turned on his heel and went down the trail, as fast as +he could go.</p> + +<p>Never again did the woman hear that strange thump, thump, thump; and +never again did the bear call to see if she were at home.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img113.jpg" width="550" height="328" alt="The bear" title="The bear" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_WOODPECKER_BORES_FOR_ITS_FOOD" id="WHY_THE_WOODPECKER_BORES_FOR_ITS_FOOD"></a>WHY THE WOODPECKER BORES FOR ITS FOOD</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time, the Great Spirit left the Happy Hunting Ground and +came to earth. He took the form of a poor, hungry man. He went from +wigwam to wigwam, asking for food.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he found the Indians sitting around the fire, telling stories +and talking of the Great Spirit. Then the man would pass by unseen.</p> + +<p>One day, he came to a wigwam in which a woman was baking cakes.</p> + +<p>"I am very hungry," the man said. "Will you please give me a cake?"</p> + +<p>The woman looked at the man, and then at the cake. She saw that it was +too large to give away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>She said, "I will not give you this cake, but I will bake you one, if +you will wait."</p> + +<p>The hungry man said, "I will wait."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/img115.jpg" width="280" height="156" alt="baking cakes" title="baking cakes" /> +</div> + +<p>Then the woman took a small piece of dough and made it into a cake and +baked it. But when she took this cake from the coals, it was larger than +the first.</p> + +<p>Again the woman looked at her cake. Again she saw it was too large to +give away. Again she said, "I will not give you this one, but I will +bake you one, if you will wait."</p> + +<p>Again the man said, "I will wait."</p> + +<p>This time the woman took a very, very, tiny bit of dough, and made it +into a cake.</p> + +<p>"Surely, this will be small enough to give away," she thought, yet when +baked it was larger than both the others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>The woman stood and looked at the three cakes. Each was too large to +give away.</p> + +<p>"I will not give you any of the cakes," she said to the man. "Go to the +woods, and find your food in the bark of trees."</p> + +<p>Then the man stood up and threw off his ragged blanket and worn +moccasins. His face shone like the sun, and he was very beautiful. The +woman shrank into the shadow of the wigwam. She could not look upon his +face, for the light.</p> + +<p>"I am the Great Spirit," said he, "and you are a selfish woman. Women +should be kind, and generous, and unselfish. You shall no longer be a +woman and live in a warm wigwam, with plenty of cakes to bake. <i>You</i> +shall go to the forest and hunt <i>your</i> food in the bark of trees. Summer +and winter, you shall eat worms of the same size as the cake you would +have made for me."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 226px;"> +<img src="images/img117.jpg" width="226" height="300" alt="Woodpecker" title="Woodpecker" /> +</div> + +<p>The woman began to grow smaller and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> smaller. Feathers grew upon her +body, and wings sprang from it. The Great Spirit touched her head, and +it became red.</p> + + + +<p>"Always shall you wear this red hood," he said, "as a mark of your +shame. Always shall you hide from man. Always shall you hunt for little +worms, the size of the cake you made for me."</p> + +<p>At this a sharp cry was heard, and a bird flew into the fireplace of the +wigwam, and up the chimney. As it passed out of the chimney, the soot +left those long streaks of black which we see now on the woodpecker's +back.</p> + +<p>Ever since then, this woodpecker has had a red head, and has been hiding +from man on the farther side of the tree trunk, and boring in the bark +for <i>little</i> worms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_ICE_ROOF_FELL" id="WHY_THE_ICE_ROOF_FELL"></a>WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL</h2> + + +<p>A great many winters ago, there lived at the foot of a certain lake a +tribe of wicked Indians. These Indians were so fierce, and warlike, and +wasteful, they went about destroying everything.</p> + +<p>They laid low a tract of beautiful forest trees, for no good purpose. +They tore up shrubs and plants that gave them food and medicine. They +shot their arrows into every bird or animal they saw, just for sport.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img118.jpg" width="500" height="220" alt="tool" title="tool" /> +</div> + + +<p>The great trees—their silent brothers of the wood—trembled and sighed +when they heard these Indians coming. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> squirrels darted into hollow +trees, and birds flew in alarm at their footsteps. The deer and rabbit +ran from the trail.</p> + +<p>At last the Great Spirit became very angry with this tribe. Always he +had taught the Indians never to kill an animal, unless for food and +protection; never to fell a tree, unless for fuel or shelter; never to +dig up shrubs or plants, unless for some good use.</p> + +<p>"All life," the Great Spirit had said, "is sacred and beautiful. It must +not be wasted."</p> + +<p>And never before had he known the Indians to waste the beautiful living +things about them. The Great Spirit was very sad.</p> + +<p>The ice formed very thick on the lake that winter.</p> + +<p>One night, there came a great storm of wind and rain. The ice broke +loose from the shores, and the wind blew it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> down the lake. At the foot +of the lake, a mass of ice was piled high over the shore, where lived +these wasteful Indians.</p> + +<p>Like a giant roof, the ice spread over the little Indian village lying +there asleep, but the Indians did not know. They slept on, unaware of +their danger, for a deep, heavy sleep had come upon them.</p> + +<p>Just as the sun rose, the ice roof gave way and fell upon the sleeping +Indians, crushing them in their wigwams.</p> + +<p>The waste they had brought upon their brothers of the wood had brought +punishment upon them. The Great Spirit had destroyed these wicked +Indians, that the good Indians might keep his world beautiful.</p> + +<p>Ever after, as long as the Indians occupied the country, before the +White man came, no trees were felled, and no animals or birds were +killed, unless for some wise and useful purpose.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_CHIPMUNK_HAS_BLACK_STRIPES" id="WHY_THE_CHIPMUNK_HAS_BLACK_STRIPES"></a>WHY THE CHIPMUNK HAS BLACK STRIPES</h2> + + +<p>At one time, the animals had tribes and chiefs, like men. It was when +the porcupine was chief, that a council was called.</p> + +<p>A great fire was lighted, for it was night. When all the animals were +seated around the fire, the porcupine spoke.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 257px;"> +<img src="images/img121.jpg" width="257" height="300" alt="chipmonk" title="chipmonk" /> +</div> + + +<p>"Friends," he said, "we have met here to settle a great question: 'Shall +we have night all the time, or day?'" At this, all the animals began to +talk at once. There was great confusion. The night animals kept +shouting, "Night, night! Always night!" Others of the animals cried, +"Day, day! Always day!" Still others called for "Day and night!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was so much noise that it could not be decided what was best.</p> + +<p>At last the animals grew tired of calling. One by one the voices grew +fainter, and the shouting ceased. Of the night animals, the voice of the +bear alone was heard. He had a big voice and still kept calling, "Night, +night! Always night!"</p> + +<p>The animals who wanted day all the time, and those who wanted day and +night, also became quiet,—all except the chipmunk. He chattered on, "We +will have light—and then night. We will have light—and then night. +Chee, chee, chee!"</p> + +<p>Then the bear, too, became tired. He was fat and lazy, and so sleepy! He +thought he would take a short nap.</p> + +<p>But all night long the wide-awake little chipmunk kept up his song. Not +for a moment did he stop to rest. Out of the dark came his voice, sure +and cheery, "We will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> have light—and then night. We will have +light—and then night! Chee, chee, chee!"</p> + +<p>And before the animals knew it, the sun began to rise.</p> + +<p>At the first rays of light, the bear sat up, blinked, and rubbed his +eyes. He saw that while he had slept, light had indeed come. He knew +that he and the night animals had been beaten in the council, and that +the chipmunk and the animals who wanted day and night had won.</p> + +<p>The bear was very angry. He struck at the chipmunk with his paw. But he +was clumsy, and the chipmunk was spry!</p> + +<p>The chipmunk laughed and sprang into a hole of a hollow tree near by. +But those black stripes on the chipmunk's back show where the paw of the +black bear touched him as he slipped into the tree.</p> + +<p>Ever since this council, and the little chipmunk called so long and loud +for "light and night," we have had day and night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_TWO_INDIAN_BOYS_SETTLED_A_QUARREL" id="HOW_TWO_INDIAN_BOYS_SETTLED_A_QUARREL"></a>HOW TWO INDIAN BOYS SETTLED A QUARREL</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 35px;"> +<img src="images/img124.jpg" width="35" height="350" alt="arrows" title="arrows" /> +</div> + + +<p>Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow were two little Indian boys. They +lived by Singing River, and they played from sunrise to sunset. They +were as happy as the day was long.</p> + +<p>In the summer, they fished and swam in Singing River, and they shot +their arrows into chipmunk and woodpecker holes. Sometimes they played +"Dodging Arrows," a game their mother had taught them when they were +very young.</p> + +<p>In the winter, they jumped into fleecy snowdrifts and rolled until their +little bronze bodies took on a red-raspberry tint. Then they would send +their snow-snakes skimming over the hard crust of snow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Snow-snakes were small rods of wood, polished smooth with resin, oil, or +wax. They could be thrown long distances. Long Moose—Lightning Bow and +Flying Squirrel's father—could throw a snow-snake a mile and a half, +over the crust of the snow. But the snow-snakes he used were eight feet +long and tipped with lead.</p> + +<p>It was the Moon of Berries. Six times had Flying Squirrel and Lightning +Bow seen the Berry Moon hang her horn in the night sky. And not once in +all their lives had they quarreled.</p> + +<p>One morning, Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow planned a foot race. +Seven times they were to run. Three times, Flying Squirrel had made the +goal first. Three times, Lightning Bow had outrun him. The seventh race +was claimed by each. No one saw them run, so no one could decide the +game. And they fell to quarreling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/img126.jpg" width="365" height="600" alt="Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow" title="Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow" /> +</div> + +<p>Louder and louder their voices were raised. More and more angry they +grew.</p> + +<p>White Fawn, their mother, was baking corn bread on the coals of the +wigwam fire. The angry voices reached her ears. She stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>"For shame!" she called. "Go and set up your sticks."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 269px;"> +<img src="images/img127.jpg" width="269" height="280" alt="set up the sticks" title="set up the sticks" /> +</div> + + +<p>Then she showed Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel how to set up three +sticks so they would stand for many days.</p> + +<p>"Now go into the wood, set up your sticks, and leave your quarrel +there," she said. "When the Berry Moon has passed, you shall return and +see if the sticks are still standing.</p> + +<p>"If they lean toward the rising sun, Lightning Bow was right. If they +lean toward the setting sun, Flying Squirrel won. If they have fallen +down, neither was right and neither won."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lightning Bow and Flying Squirrel went into the wood and set up their +sticks. Then they began to throw balls with willow wands, and soon they +were happy again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The sun had risen and set many times. The Berry Moon had passed. It was +the Thunder Moon, when White Fawn said to Lightning Bow and Flying +Squirrel, "Today you may go into the wood and see if your sticks are +still standing."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand, the two little Indian boys ran into the wood. They found +only a heap of rotting sticks.</p> + +<p>Flying Squirrel and Lightning Bow stood and looked at the sticks. They +thought and thought.</p> + +<p>"What did we set up the sticks for?" each asked of the other.</p> + +<p>And for the life of them they could not remember what they had quarreled +about, and why they had set up the sticks!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_MICE_OVERCAME_THE_WARRIORS" id="HOW_MICE_OVERCAME_THE_WARRIORS"></a>HOW MICE OVERCAME THE WARRIORS</h2> + + +<p>Once a tribe of the Iroquois became very warlike and cruel. They liked +to follow the warpath rather than the hunting trails.</p> + +<p>These warriors thought only of the war dance. They forgot to give thanks +for the sweet waters of the maple, and for the planting season. Neither +did they remember to praise the Great Spirit, in song and dance, for the +juicy strawberries, and the waving green corn, as once they had done.</p> + +<p>To fight was the one desire of their lives, the one thought that filled +their minds. They boasted that none were so fierce and bloodthirsty as +they.</p> + +<p>"Our arrows fall like leaves of the pine,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> they said, "and always are +they red with blood. Our war shirts have many scalp locks on them."</p> + +<p>One day, a dispute arose with a neighboring tribe of their nation. The +Peace Wigwam was not far away, but these warriors would not take their +quarrel to it, as was the custom. The fighting Indians would have none +of the Peace Wigwam.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img130.jpg" width="550" height="271" alt="arrows and sticks" title="arrows and sticks" /> +</div> + + +<p>"Let the women and papooses sit in the sun at the door of the Peace +Wigwam," they said scornfully. "Chiefs are for the warpath."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>A fierce cry was raised, and the war dance was begun. The chiefs painted +their bodies, donned their war shirts, sharpened their tomahawks, tipped +their arrows, and tightened their bowstrings.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/img131.jpg" width="250" height="231" alt="cap and feathers" title="cap and feathers" /> +</div> + + +<p>But by the time they had made ready, the sun had set, and the blanket of +darkness had fallen upon them. A council was quickly called. It was +decided that they would not start to war until moonrise. So the warriors +lay down to sleep.</p> + +<p>As they slept, another council was called. This was not a council of +men, but of mice.</p> + +<p>From long and short trails they came, hundreds and hundreds of mice, for +all had heard the warriors boast of their strength.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the mice, "we will show<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> these boasters how weak are men, +and how strong are little mice."</p> + +<p>When all the mice were gathered about the council tree, the leader spoke +thus: "My brothers, listen! The Great Spirit did not give men strength, +that they should fight and kill one another. The Great Spirit did not +make men powerful, that they should strike down and kill the weaker +animals. Let us show these fierce warriors that it is the weak who are +strong, and the strong who are weak. Let every mouse destroy at least +one weapon before the moon shall rise."</p> + +<p>At this, all the mice set to work. Snap, snap, snap, went the bowstrings +on all sides. Then the sharp little teeth began on the feathers that +winged the poisoned arrows. Soon the feathers lay in bits about the +ground.</p> + +<p>Next, the deerskin cords that bound the sling shots were cut in two, and +before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> moon had risen, every weapon had been made useless; every +Indian had been disarmed,—and the mice had scampered away.</p> + +<p>The warriors awoke. Again the war cry was raised. They sprang to their +feet and seized their weapons, but found them useless. Their bows had no +strings; their arrows, no wings; their slings, no cords.</p> + +<p>The warriors who boasted that they were the strongest and fiercest on +the earth, had been made powerless by mice.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img133.jpg" width="550" height="140" alt="bows and arrows" title="bows and arrows" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_CROWS_ARE_POOR" id="WHY_CROWS_ARE_POOR"></a>WHY CROWS ARE POOR</h2> + + +<p>After the Great Spirit had made the Red Children and had given them this +beautiful land in which to live, he sent them a great gift,—the gift of +the corn.</p> + +<p><i>Ga gaah</i>, the Crow, claims it was he who brought this gift. He says he +was called to the wigwam of the Great Spirit in the sky. A grain of corn +was placed in his ear, and he was told to carry it to earth, to the Red +Children.</p> + +<p>Therefore, as <i>Ga gaah</i> brought the gift, he claims he has a right to +pull what corn he needs. <i>Ga gaah</i> says he does not "steal" corn. He +simply takes what belongs to him, his rightful share.</p> + +<p>And surely <i>Ga gaah</i> is not greedy! He never takes more corn than he +wants for himself. He never hides or stores it away. He takes just what +he wishes to eat at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> time, and no more, for crows never think of +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>In summer, they are happy in the cornfields, guarding the roots from +insect enemies, and pulling the tender blades whenever they are hungry.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img135.jpg" width="500" height="201" alt="crow" title="crow" /> +</div> + + +<p>But when winter comes, the crows are sad. Many councils are held. +Sometimes a council tree will be black with crows. All are so poor and +so hungry, that they get together to try to plan a better way to live.</p> + +<p>There is much noise and confusion at a crow council, for all the crows +talk at once. All are saying, "No bird is so poor as the crow; he is +always hungry. Next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> summer, let us plant and raise a big crop of corn, +and gather and save it for the winter. Next winter, crows will not be +hungry; they will have food.</p> + +<p>"We will no longer take from the fields of the Red Children just enough +corn for a meal to-day. We will raise our own corn, and lay by a store +for the winter."</p> + +<p>And having agreed that this is a wise plan, the council ends.</p> + +<p>A few days later, another council will be called. At this, the crows +will plan how and where to plant the corn. Some will be appointed to +select a field, others to find seed, and still others to plant and tend +the corn.</p> + +<p>But, alas! When spring comes, and skies are blue, and the sun shines +warm, the crows forget the hunger of the winter, and the councils in the +tree. They remember only that the skies are blue, and the sun shines +warm, and now there is plenty of corn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>Happy and content, they walk up and down the fields of the Red Children.</p> + +<p>"We have all we want to-day," they say, "Why should we think of +to-morrow, or next winter? We had a good meal this morning, and we are +sure of one to-night. Is not this enough for a crow? What more can he +ask?"</p> + +<p>And the next winter comes, and finds the crows as poor and as hungry as +they were the last. Again they are holding noisy councils in the council +tree. Again they are laying plans for the great crop of corn that they +will raise next summer!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img137.jpg" width="550" height="244" alt="the great crop of corn" title="the great crop of corn" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_INDIAN_LOVES_HIS_DOG" id="WHY_THE_INDIAN_LOVES_HIS_DOG"></a>WHY THE INDIAN LOVES HIS DOG</h2> + + +<p>The dog is the Indian's best friend. He is the comrade by day and the +protector by night. As long as the Indian's dog has strength, he will +fight for his friend.</p> + +<p>The Indian says this is how the dog came to take his part.</p> + +<p>An Indian and his dogs went into the woods to hunt. It was in the days +when dogs and men could talk together, and each understood the language +of the other.</p> + +<p>When they reached the woods, the dogs began to talk with the Indian. +They told him many wonderful things about the woods, which he did not +know. They taught him many tricks of the chase: how to scent and track +the game, and where to look for trails.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img139.jpg" width="550" height="232" alt="dogs" title="dogs" /> +</div> + + +<p>The man listened to what the dogs said, and he did as they told him. +Soon the sledge which the dogs had drawn to the woods was piled high +with deer and other game.</p> + +<p>Never had the Indian's arrows brought him so much game. Never had he met +with such success in hunting. He was so pleased that he said to the +dogs, "Always shall I talk with you, give ear to what you say, and be +one of you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but listen!" said the dogs. "If you wish to be one of us, you must +live under the law of dogs, not men. Animals have laws different from +those of men. When two dogs meet for the first time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> they try their +strength to see which is the better dog.</p> + +<p>"Men do not fight when strangers meet, they shake hands. As we fight +strange dogs, so you, too, must fight strange men, to see which is the +best man,—if you are to live under the law of dogs."</p> + +<p>The man said he would think it over, and at sunrise give his answer. +Indians always sleep before deciding a question.</p> + +<p>Next morning, the man said he would live under the law of animals, and +fight strange men.</p> + +<p>The following day, the man made ready to leave the woods. From the +basswood, he made a strong harness for the dogs, so that they could draw +the load of game back to the camp for him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img140.jpg" width="500" height="124" alt="dog sledge" title="dog sledge" /> +</div> + + +<p>When the sun was high, the man and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> the dogs started with the sledge +load of game. They had not gone far before they saw two strange Indians +coming.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the dogs to the man, "remember you are living under the +dog's law. You must fight these strange men."</p> + +<p>The man attacked first one Indian and then the other. At last both +turned on him, and when they left him, he was nearly dead. At this, the +dogs took a hand. They leaped upon the Indians and drove them from the +woods. Then they came back to where their friend lay on the ground, and +began to talk with him and lick his face.</p> + +<p>The man could not speak for some time, but when his voice came to him, +he said to the dogs, "No longer do I wish to live under the law of +animals. No more shall I fight strangers. From this time, I shall shake +hands with strangers, and bid them welcome. From this time, I shall be a +man and live under the law of men."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then," said the dogs sadly, "we shall no longer be able to talk with +you, and tell you the things that we know. But we will always stand by +you. We will be your friends and will fight for you, when you need us as +you did to-day."</p> + +<p>This is why the Indian and his dog are now unable to speak each other's +language. This is also why an Indian's dog will fight to the death for +his friend.</p> + +<p>Not only is the dog a true friend to the Indian in this world, but in +the next as well. It seems that the soul of an Indian on its journey to +the Happy Hunting Ground must cross a deep, swift-running stream. On +either side of this dark river, there stand two dogs who hold in their +teeth a great log upon which the souls pass.</p> + +<p>The soul of the Indian who has been kind to his dog crosses the log +easily, for the dogs stand guard. As the soul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> of such an Indian reaches +the river, they say, "This Indian was kind to his dog. He gave him of +his own food, and the dog always had a warm place by his fire. We will +help this Indian to cross."</p> + +<p>Then the dogs grip the log firmly in their teeth, and hold it steady +while the soul of the kind Indian passes over.</p> + +<p>But if the soul of an Indian who has been unkind to his dog comes to the +river, the dogs say, "This man was cruel to his dog. He gave his dog no +place by the fire, he beat him, he let him go hungry. This man shall not +cross."</p> + +<p>Then the dogs grip the log lightly in their teeth, and when the soul of +the unkind Indian is half way across, they turn it quickly to one side, +and the soul is thrown into the deep, dark river.</p> + +<p>Many an Indian has been kind to his dog, that he might make sure of a +safe crossing on that log.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GREEDY_FAWN_AND_THE_PORRIDGE" id="GREEDY_FAWN_AND_THE_PORRIDGE"></a>GREEDY FAWN AND THE PORRIDGE</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/img144.jpg" width="500" height="340" alt="chestnut" title="chestnut" /> +</div> + + +<p>In the days when there was no one living in this country but the +Indians, there were no houses; there were only Indian wigwams. There +were no roads and no streets, but Indian trails.</p> + +<p>At that time there grew a wonderful chestnut, which the Indians used in +their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> cooking. A very small bit of this chestnut grated into a kettle +would make a potful of porridge.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/img145.jpg" width="364" height="600" alt="porridge" title="porridge" /> +</div> + +<p>In a certain wigwam lived Deerheart and Sky Elk, and their little son +Greedy Fawn. The mother was called Deerheart because she was so loving, +and gentle, and kind. The father was named Sky Elk because he was so +strong and fleet of foot. Greedy Fawn, too, came rightly by his name. +You will soon know why.</p> + +<p>One day, Deerheart and Sky Elk went on a long trail. As they left the +wigwam, they said to Greedy Fawn, "Do not touch the chestnut, do not +build a fire, while we are away."</p> + +<p>Greedy Fawn promised. He watched his father and mother disappear down +the western trail. Then he went back to the wigwam.</p> + +<p>"Now," thought he, "I will have all the porridge I want."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>So he ran and gathered some sticks. He built a fire with the sticks. +Then he hung the kettle over the fire, and put some water in it. Then he +found the chestnut. He grated a little of the chestnut into the kettle, +and began to stir. Then he grated some more, and some more, and some +more.</p> + +<p>Faster and faster Greedy Fawn stirred the boiling porridge, for it began +to swell and fill the kettle.</p> + +<p>Larger and larger, it grew, and it grew, and it grew.</p> + +<p>Greedy Fawn was so frightened he did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>"Oh, will it never stop swelling?" he thought. Harder and harder he +stirred to keep the porridge from boiling over. Beads of perspiration +ran down his little bronze face, yet still he stirred. He dared not +stop.</p> + +<p>Then he remembered that sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> his mother would rap the kettle with +the porridge stick, if it became too full.</p> + +<p>Rap, rap, rap, went the porridge stick on the edge of the kettle. +Instantly the <i>kettle</i> began to swell. Larger, and larger, and larger it +grew. Greedy Fawn was so frightened he did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>Now Greedy Fawn could not reach across the kettle, to stir the porridge +with his stick, so he began to run around it. And around, and around, +and around the kettle he ran, stirring, and stirring, and stirring.</p> + +<p>At last the kettle was so large that it nearly filled the wigwam. There +was just space enough left for Greedy Fawn to run around it. And around, +and around, and around the kettle he ran, stirring, and stirring, and +stirring.</p> + +<p>Oh, how his little arms ached! And, oh, how tired his small legs were! +But still he ran. He dared not stop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here was porridge enough to last a small boy a lifetime, and he could +not stop to taste one mouthful!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img149.jpg" width="550" height="302" alt="porridge pots" title="porridge pots" /> +</div> + + +<p>At last Greedy Fawn could run no longer. He stumbled and fell by the +side of the kettle. He was too weak to rise. The stick fell from his +hand, and the porridge boiled on. Higher, and higher, and higher it +rose, until it ran over and down the sides of the kettle. Closer, and +closer the boiling porridge crept to the little Indian boy, and soon +Greedy Fawn and his stick were nearly buried in porridge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>For once Greedy Fawn had all the porridge he wanted. And never again +would he have wanted anything, had not Deerheart and Sky Elk heard his +cries, and come running like deer up the trail to save him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img150.jpg" width="550" height="443" alt="Deerheart and Sky Elk" title="Deerheart and Sky Elk" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_HOUNDS_OUTRUN_OTHER_ANIMALS" id="WHY_HOUNDS_OUTRUN_OTHER_ANIMALS"></a>WHY HOUNDS OUTRUN OTHER ANIMALS</h2> + + +<p>A hound was chasing a hare through the woods.</p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 257px;"> +<img src="images/img151.jpg" width="257" height="350" alt="A hound was chasing a hare through the woods" title="A hound was chasing a hare through the woods" /> +</div> + +<p>Some wolves and panthers were chasing a bull that had been feeding in +the valley near the woods. For some time they had been trying to run him +down, but they did not seem to gain on him.</p> + + +<p>When the wolves and panthers saw that they were not gaining on the bull, +they halted to take counsel. They decided that it would take a whole day +of hard running to get the bull, and a hound was near! Why not go for +the hound?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>All agreed. They set off for the hound.</p> + +<p>Now the bull had heard the wolves and panthers take council, and he, +too, set off for the woods.</p> + +<p>As he neared the wood, the bull called to the hound and warned him that +a pack of wolves and panthers was after him. Just then they came into +sight. The hound dared not meet them alone, and he knew not which way to +turn.</p> + +<p>Then the bull called, "Come, jump on my back. I can outrun them."</p> + +<p>The hound ran and leaped on the back of the bull, and away they went.</p> + +<p>The bull and the hound talked as they ran. The bull said he thought the +wolves would soon grow tired, fall back, and give up the chase. But he +was wrong. They were too angry at being outwitted.</p> + +<p>"You think to take our game from us," they howled at the bull. "But we +will eat hound meat to-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bull saw it was a run for life. All day he ran. For a time it was +easy to outrun the wolves and panthers, but at last they began to press +hard upon him.</p> + +<p>As the sun dropped out of the sky, the bull felt his knees begin to +weaken. The weight of the hound was telling on him. A moment later, he +stumbled and fell.</p> + +<p>In an instant, the pack was upon them. But with one leap, the hound +cleared the pack and was off down the trail.</p> + +<p>The weaker wolves and panthers leaped upon the bull. The stronger went +on.</p> + +<p>But now the best of them were no match for the hound. He was fresh and +strong, for he had been riding all day. They were tired and worn from +the long chase, and soon they gave it up.</p> + +<p>Because the hound is able to save his strength for the end of the chase, +he can now outrun not only wolves and panthers, but all the other +animals.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_INDIANS_NEVER_SHOOT_PIGEONS" id="WHY_INDIANS_NEVER_SHOOT_PIGEONS"></a>WHY INDIANS NEVER SHOOT PIGEONS</h2> + + +<p>An Indian hunter went into the forest in search of game.</p> + +<p>The forest was so large that it would have taken three days to journey +through it. All day he followed the track of the deer, but his arrows +brought him no food.</p> + +<p>At night, he came to a dark, swift-running stream. He was tired and +hungry.</p> + +<p>"Here," said he, "I will lie down and rest until sunrise."</p> + +<p>He began to search for a bed of pine needles, for the Indian loves the +pine tree. It is his friend by day and by night. By day it is his forest +guide. At night it gives him a soft, sweet-smelling bed on which to +sleep, and it shields him from the storm.</p> + +<p>The hunter ran along the stream. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> was very dark. He felt no soft pine +needles under his moccasined feet, only the knotted roots of trees.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the great roots of an oak tree reached out and caught him. He +could not free his foot from the oak's grasp.</p> + +<p>The sun rose and set. The great tree still held the hunter fast. He was +weak from pain and hunger.</p> + +<p>It was now two days since he had tasted food. Four notches had been cut +in his stick, for the Indian measures time in this way. Each sunrise and +sunset, when he is on the trail, is marked by a notch on a small stick +which he carries.</p> + +<p>Three times did the sun again rise and set, yet the tree did not let go +its hold. There were now ten notches on the stick, and the hunter was so +weak that he could scarcely cut the last one.</p> + +<p>As the sun rose on the fifth day, a bird flew into the tree. He saw the +hunter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> lying on the ground, and came close and spoke to him.</p> + +<p>The hunter understood, for in those days men and birds could talk +together.</p> + +<p>The bird asked the man what he could do for him, and the hunter +whispered, "You are strong. You can fly a long trail. Go and tell the +chief of my people."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 321px;"> +<img src="images/img157.jpg" width="321" height="350" alt="the birds" title="the birds" /> + +</div> + +<p>The bird flew swiftly away with the message. He did not wait until the +sun was high. He did not stop to eat one berry or one worm. He did not +fly high, nor fly low to talk with other birds. He went straight to the +people the hunter had told him of.</p> + +<p>The West Wind tried to blow him back. A black cloud came up to frighten +him, but he went through it. On, and on, and on, he went. Straight to +the wigwam of the chief, he carried his message.</p> + +<p>The chief had called together the young men who were fleet of foot, and +was about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> to send them forth to find the lost hunter. They were asking +the chief what trails they had best take. Before the chief could reply, +a beautiful dove-colored bird had flown close to his ear and had spoken +to him in soft, low tones.</p> + + + +<p>The chief told the young men what the bird had said, and they set off on +the trail the bird had named. Before sunset, they had found the lost +hunter.</p> + +<p>Carefully they freed him from the grasp of the great oak and bore him to +his people. That night there was a feast and a dance in his honor.</p> + +<p>Ever since, the Indians have loved the birds that carry the messages, +and they never shoot a pigeon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_OLD_MAN_WINTER_WAS_DRIVEN_BACK" id="HOW_OLD_MAN_WINTER_WAS_DRIVEN_BACK"></a>HOW OLD MAN WINTER WAS DRIVEN BACK</h2> + + +<p>Far away in the North Sky lives Old Man Winter. Every year he leaves his +wigwam in the sky and comes to earth.</p> + +<p>At the foot of a mountain, he builds a lodge of ice and snow, which no +human being, animal, or bird can enter. There he lives for a time.</p> + +<p>North Wind is the only friend of Old Man Winter. When he passes near Old +Man Winter's lodge, he gives a loud shriek, and with his blustering +breath he blows open the door and enters.</p> + +<p>Near a fire which glows, but does not warm, North Wind finds a seat. +There he and Old Man Winter sit and smoke, and lay their plans for the +next snowstorm.</p> + +<p>When the council is ended, North<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> Wind departs, to drive up the snow and +hail from the corners of the earth.</p> + +<p>Old Man Winter also leaves his lodge. He stalks over the mountains and +valleys of the Red Children. The land becomes white with his breath. The +rivers are stilled, and all the voices of the wood are hushed as he +passes. A deep sleep falls upon every living thing.</p> + +<p>No sound is heard in the forest but the rapping on the trees. Old Man +Winter carries a great hammer, and he strikes the trees a blow as he +passes. The colder it grows, the louder and more frequently he raps. The +trees snap, and the Indian lodges crack with his blows.</p> + +<p>One day, as Old Man Winter was stalking through a forest, he came upon a +hunter's lodge. For days the snow had been falling. No track of deer or +rabbit was to be seen, and the hunter and his little boy sat within, +weak from hunger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> They were also very cold, for the fire in the lodge +burned low.</p> + +<p>Old Man Winter laughed and shook his hammer in glee, as he drew near. +Once, twice, three times, he rapped. The little boy within heard him, +and rapped three times in reply,—just as Old Man Winter had done.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/img161.jpg" width="300" height="245" alt="pot" title="pot" /> +</div> + +<p>At this, the hunter spoke. He told the boy that he must not mock a +nature spirit, lest some harm should come to him. He might be captured +and made to serve that spirit.</p> + +<p>Now when Old Man Winter heard the mocking raps of the little boy within +the lodge, he was very angry. He breathed fiercely upon the little +lodge. It shrank and shivered at his touch like a living thing. He +struck it several sharp blows with his hammer, and passed on.</p> + +<p>The fire inside the lodge burned lower and lower. The hunter and his +little son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> drew closer and watched the last flame flicker and die out.</p> + + + +<p>As they sat by the ashes, numb with the cold, all of a sudden a new +warmth filled the lodge. The South Wind gently opened the door, and a +young chieftain, with a face like the sun, entered. He saw the dying +hunter and the boy, and he warmed them back to life. When they were +stronger, he helped them to rekindle the fire. Then he told them to take +a few dried blackberries that they had in the lodge, and boil them in +water.</p> + +<p>He said they must eat a portion of the blackberries, and throw the rest +at Old Man Winter when he returned. This would frighten him away, for he +was terribly afraid of blackberries.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img src="images/img162.jpg" width="366" height="600" alt="Old Man Winter" title="Old Man Winter" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>Blackberries mean sunshine and summer heat. Old Man Winter cannot stay +where they are. He never visits the earth at blackberry time.</p> + +<p>The hunter and the little boy said they would do as they had been told. +Soon the young chieftain left the lodge, with the South Wind.</p> + +<p>Not many days later, Old Man Winter returned, and again came rapping at +their lodge. But this time the hunter and the little boy were ready. +They threw the blackberries at him, as they had been told, and he ran in +fear to his ice lodge.</p> + +<p>The South Wind and the young chieftain with a face like the sun were +near. They followed close upon the Old Man's track. When he was again +inside the ice lodge, the South Wind rapped gently at the door.</p> + +<p>"Begone!" said the Old Man. "No one but North Wind is welcome to my +lodge."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the South Wind breathed soft and warm upon the door of the ice +lodge, and it melted at their feet. The young chieftain passed in and +sat down by the strange fire that had no heat. The South Wind stayed +without, and sang, soft and low.</p> + +<p>The Old Man was very angry. He raged about the lodge and ordered the +young chieftain with sunshine in his face and warmth in his breath to +depart.</p> + +<p>"I am great and powerful," said the Old Man. "When I touch the sky, the +snow falls. When I speak, hunters hide in their lodges; animals crawl +into their holes; and birds fly in fear.</p> + +<p>"When my hand touches the earth, it grows cold and hard, and all life +dies. Begone! or I will make an ice man or a snow man of you."</p> + +<p>But the young chieftain moved not. He only sat and smiled at the bluster +of the Old Man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Slowly he filled a pipe, and handed it to the Old Man, saying, "Here, +smoke with me. It will give you strength to go to your lodge in the +North Sky. It is time for you to depart. You are old, and tired, and +worn. You and North Wind have had your day. The days that are to come +belong to South Wind and to me.</p> + +<p>"I, too, am powerful, and I am young! I do not fear you. When I touch +the earth, it grows soft and warm. Every living thing stirs in its +sleep,—birds and bees, flowers and trees, animals and men. When I +speak, the sleeping sun awakes. See! already he begins to send down his +arrows. Hasten! that they may not find you, on the trail to the North +Sky."</p> + +<p>The Old Man trembled. His legs and arms grew weak. Icicles fell from his +beard. Great tears rolled down his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he whispered, as he was melting at the young chieftain's +feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am <i>Go hay</i>—the Spring," answered the young chieftain. "All the +earth is glad, when I come to drive you back to your lodge in the North +Sky, for I bring sunshine, and love, and joy."</p> + +<p>But the Old Man did not hear. He was far on the North Sky trail, and +Spring and South Wind were masters of earth.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img166.jpg" width="550" height="271" alt="flowers and bees" title="flowers and bees" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_LIGHTNING_SOMETIMES_STRIKES" id="WHY_LIGHTNING_SOMETIMES_STRIKES"></a>WHY LIGHTNING SOMETIMES STRIKES</h2> + + +<p>An old man of the Iroquois nation once wished to make a beautiful Indian +maiden his wife. The old man had many rare furs and valued strings of +wampum. These he brought and laid at the door of the wigwam where the +maiden lived.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 140px;"> +<img src="images/img167.jpg" width="140" height="400" alt="valued strings of +wampum" title="valued strings of +wampum" /> +</div> + +<p>The father and mother were pleased with the old man's gifts. They told +him that when the Planting Moon should come, the maiden should go to his +wigwam.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now the maiden did not love the old man. She did not wish him to make +her his wife. "I will never sit at his wigwam door," she said.</p> + +<p>It was midwinter, when the old man brought the gifts, the time of the +pale, cold moon. From that time, the maiden watched, with a heavy heart, +the moons wax and wane.</p> + +<p>At last the snows disappeared. No more was the North Wind heard +shrieking about the lodge. The gentle South Wind had come, bringing with +him the singing birds.</p> + +<p>The little brooks awoke and sang. They were happy that spring had come, +and all the earth children were glad,—except the maiden. Her heart grew +more heavy and sad, as the face of the sun grew brighter.</p> + +<p>Then the Planting Moon came. The maiden watched the moon hang her horn +in the sky. Then she ran swiftly to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> great river that flowed not far +from the lodge. Lightly she sprang into her canoe. A few quick strokes, +and the canoe was in midstream.</p> + +<p>The current ran swift and strong. The little craft was carried swiftly +down the river toward the great falls known as Niagara Falls. As the +canoe neared the falls, the maiden was seen to rise and stretch out her +arms, as though about to leap. A smile was on her face, and a song was +on her lips, as the canoe shot into the mist that overhung the water.</p> + +<p>Then, from the caverns below a dark blanket floated upward, as though +spread to catch the maiden. It was Heno, the Thunder Spirit, who dwelt +behind the falls. He had caught her in the folds of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> his blanket, and +had saved her from the great rocks below.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img169.jpg" width="550" height="162" alt="canoe" title="canoe" /> +</div> + +<p>Heno took the maiden to live with him, in his lodge behind the falls. +There she was very happy, so happy that her smile shone through the +mist, and the Indians cried, "See! A rainbow!"</p> + +<p>In her new home the maiden learned many wonderful things. She found she +possessed strange powers, not known to her before. She could float on a +cloud at will, and she seemed filled with a strange fire.</p> + +<p>One day, the young woman was given a son. Heno and she were very happy. +Many moons the mother and child played together. When Heno was away on +one of his journeys through the sky, they would ride the great bubbles +of foam that went dashing through the rocks. Sometimes they would catch +sunbeams in a net, as they sat on the edge of a cloud and fished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>One day, Heno asked the young woman if she would like to visit her +people.</p> + +<p>"If you wish," he said, "you shall return for a time, taking our son +with you. But remember, both of you possess powers unknown to the earth +children. Be careful how you use them. Never let another child strike +the boy, for that child would at once wither and die. Never strike the +boy yourself, for he would fall stunned to earth."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 215px;"> +<img src="images/img171.jpg" width="215" height="380" alt="Cradle Board" title="Cradle Board" /> +<span class="caption">Cradle Board</span> +</div> + +<p>The woman listened to Heno's words. Soon they were wrapped in his great +cloud blanket, and were floating over the river. When they came to the +home of her people, Heno left the woman and the boy by the river, and +went on further to the east.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>The people were glad to see the woman, whom they had mourned as dead. +She told them of the wonderful things she had learned in her new home. +She told them also how Heno was freeing their land of a monster serpent, +that trailed underneath the earth, poisoning their springs and causing +sickness. Always, she said, Heno carried a basket of great rocks on his +back, which he hurled at the monster whenever he saw him. Soon he would +kill the serpent, and they would be sick no more.</p> + +<p>During many days, the mother and the little boy stayed with the earth +people. Sometimes, when the child was playing by the river, he would see +a dark cloud approaching. Then he would clap his hands with joy and cry, +"There comes my father!"</p> + +<p>The black cloud would float earthward, and Heno would stop and have a +word with the mother and the boy. As he left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> them he always said, "Do +not let anyone strike the boy."</p> + +<p>But one day, the mother did not watch the boy, and he fell to playing +with some earth children. They grew angry as they played, and struck the +boy. Instantly these earth children fell dead to the ground. Then the +mother laid hands on the boy, to punish him, and he fell to earth.</p> + +<p>At this, there came a great rumbling and roaring through the sky, and +Heno appeared. He took the lifeless child in his arms, crying, "You have +disobeyed. No longer shall you have this great power I gave you. You +shall remain on earth and be simply an earth woman. I will take the boy +to my abode. Henceforth, our lodge shall be in the sky. There he will +return to life, and ever after he will go with me on my journeys through +the sky."</p> + +<p>Then the sky shook and trembled. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> door of the sky lodge opened, and +Heno and the boy were seen no more.</p> + +<p>Now, when a rumbling and rolling through the sky is heard, the Indians +say, "'Tis the voice of Heno! He is coming from his lodge in the sky!"</p> + +<p>But when a flash of fire is seen, and a loud crash is heard, they say, +"That is the boy! He is trying to hit the earth children with a fire +stone. He remembers how they struck him, a long time ago."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/img174.jpg" width="300" height="257" alt="carrying basket" title="carrying basket" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHY_THE_HARE_HAS_A_SPLIT_LIP_AND_SHORT_TAIL" id="WHY_THE_HARE_HAS_A_SPLIT_LIP_AND_SHORT_TAIL"></a>WHY THE HARE HAS A SPLIT LIP AND SHORT TAIL</h2> + + +<p>Once a rabbit began to run back and forth through the woods, calling for +snow, snow, snow! It was one of those large gray rabbits, with long +ears, that people call hares.</p> + +<p>As this hare ran back and forth through the woods, he sang at the top of +his voice, "<i>Ah gon ne yah—yeh! Ah gon ne yah-yeh! Ah gon ne yah—yeh! +dah gen, dah ton, Ah gon ne yah—yeh! Ah gon ne yah—yeh!</i>" This meant, +"Snow, snow, snow! How I would run if I had snow! Snow, snow, snow! How +I would run if I had snow!"</p> + +<p>Now, strange as it may seem, as this hare ran back and forth singing for +snow, snow, snow, some flakes of snow began to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> fall. The hare was so +delighted that he jumped up and down for joy.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ah gon ne yah—yeh! Ah gon ne yah—yeh! Ah gon ne yah—yeh!</i>" he sang, +in short, quick notes of joy. And the higher he jumped, and the louder +he sang, the faster and thicker the snow came.</p> + +<p>The hare was so delighted that he again began to run. All day long he +ran, back and forth through the woods, calling for "Snow, snow, snow! +How I would run if I had snow!" And the snow fell faster and faster. +Thicker and thicker it came. The path in which the rabbit ran grew +higher and higher, as the snow fell deeper and deeper.</p> + +<p>But at last the hare was so tired that he could run no longer. He no +longer sang for "Snow, snow, snow! How I would run if I had snow," for +he now had more snow than he wanted. The snow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> was up to the tiptops of +the trees, and it was very hard to run.</p> + +<p>The hare was very tired. He thought he must take a rest. Night was +coming on. He looked about him. Near the path were the top branches of a +willow tree, sticking out above the snow. He sprang into a crotch of +those branches. There he could sit and rest for a time. Soon he fell +asleep. He slept all night and part of the next day.</p> + +<p>That night it began to rain, and it rained very, very hard. The snow +began to melt, and it melted very, very fast, and when that hare awoke, +not a flake of snow was to be seen!</p> + +<p>But there was the hare away up in the tiptop of that willow tree! What +to do he did not know. He was very hungry. He wondered how long he could +stay there and not starve. He saw some tender buds on the branches. He +ate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> those, and then he gnawed bark for a time.</p> + +<p>However, sooner or later, the hare knew he must jump or starve. He +looked down at the earth. It looked very good to him. He could see some +fresh green moss and some beautiful grass. One jump, and they were his! +But what a jump!</p> + +<p>At last the hare whipped his courage up to the jumping point. He shut +his eyes, and gave one great jump to earth. But when he jumped, he +caught his tail on the branch of the willow tree and left part of it up +there. And when he jumped, he struck the front of his face on a sharp +stone, and the stone split his upper lip in two.</p> + +<p>Ever since then, hares have had split lips and short tails, and ever +since then, willow trees have had tails, or catkins, on them, in the +spring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CORN_PLUME_AND_BEAN_MAIDEN" id="CORN_PLUME_AND_BEAN_MAIDEN"></a>CORN PLUME AND BEAN MAIDEN</h2> + + +<p>The Great Spirit had smiled upon his Red Children. The land was filled +with plenty, for the Great Spirit had given to them the three sustainers +of life, the corn, the bean, and the squash. Flowers bloomed, birds +sang, and all the earth was glad with the Red Children, for the gifts of +the Great Spirit.</p> + +<p>On one side of a hill grew the tall, waving corn, with its silk tassels +and plumes. On another side, beans, with their velvety pods, climbed +toward the sky. Some distance down a third slope, beautiful yellow +squashes turned their faces to the sun.</p> + +<p>One day, the Spirit of the corn grew restless. There came a rustling +through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> the waving leaves, and a great sigh burst from the heart of the +tall stalks. The Spirit of the corn was lonely.</p> + +<p>After that, every morning at sunrise, a handsome young chief was seen to +come and stand on the brow of the hill. On his head were shining red +plumes. Tall, and strong, and splendid he stood, wrapped in the folds of +his waving blanket, whose fringed tassels danced to the summer breeze.</p> + +<p>"<i>Che che hen! Che che hen!</i> Some one I would marry! Some one I would +marry!" the young chieftain would sing, many, many times.</p> + +<p>One day, his voice reached the Squash Maiden, on the other side of the +hill. The Squash Maiden drew about her a rich green blanket, into which +she had woven many flaunting gold trumpet-shaped flowers. Then she ran +swiftly to the young chieftain.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/img181.jpg" width="365" height="600" alt="Marry me! Marry me" title="Marry me! Marry me" /> +</div> + + +<p>"Marry me! Marry me!" said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> Squash Maiden, as she spread her +beautiful gold and green blanket at his feet.</p> + +<p>Corn Plume looked down at the Squash Maiden sitting on her blanket at +his feet. She was good to look upon, and yet Corn Plume was not content. +He wanted a maiden who would stand by his side, not always sit at his +feet.</p> + +<p>Then Corn Plume spoke thus to the Squash Maiden.</p> + +<p>"Corn Plume cannot marry Squash Maiden. She is very beautiful, but she +will not make song in Corn Plume's heart. Squash Maiden will grow tired +of his lodge. She will not stay in his wigwam. She likes to go a long +trail, and wander far from the lodge.</p> + +<p>"Corn Plume cannot make Squash Maiden his wife, for he is not content +with her. But she shall be Corn Plume's sister, and sit in his lodge +whenever she will. The maiden Corn Plume weds must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> be ever at his side. +She must go where he goes, stay where he stays."</p> + +<p>Next morning at sunrise, the voice of Corn Plume was again heard, +singing from the hilltop, "<i>Che che hen! Che che hen!</i> Some one I would +marry! Some one I would marry! <i>Che che hen! Che che hen!</i>"</p> + +<p>This time his song reached the ears of the Bean Maiden. Her heart sang, +when she heard the voice of Corn Plume, for she knew that he was calling +her. So light of heart was Bean Maiden, that she ran like a deer up the +hillside. On and on, up and over the brow of the hill she climbed, till +she reached the young chieftain's side.</p> + +<p>Then Corn Plume turned and beheld the most beautiful maiden he had ever +seen. Her eyes were deep and dark, like mountain pools. Her breath was +sweet as the waters of the maple. She threw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> off her blanket of green, +and purple, and white, and stretched her twining arms to him.</p> + +<p>Corn Plume desired to keep Bean Maiden forever close to him. He bent his +tall plumed head to her. Her arms wound round and round the young +chieftain, and Corn Plume was content.</p> + +<p>So closely were the arms of Corn Plume and the Bean Maiden entwined, so +truly were they wed, that the Indians never attempted to separate them. +Ever after, corn and beans were planted in the same hill, and often a +squash seed was added.</p> + +<p>Since the Great Spirit had placed the corn, the bean, and the squash +together on a hill, the Indian said they should continue to live and +grow and occupy a hill together.</p> + +<p>The door of Corn Plume's lodge was ever open to the Squash Maiden, if +she chose to enter. But seldom did she stay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> in his wigwam. More often, +she was found running off on a long trail.</p> + +<p>But Bean Maiden remained true to Corn Plume. Always she was found by his +side. Never did she leave the lodge unless he went with her. Corn +Plume's lodge was her lodge, and her trail was his trail.</p> + +<p>And because the Spirits of the corn and the bean are as one, the Indians +not only plant and grow them together, but cook and eat them together. +"In life, they were one," they say, "We will not separate them in +death."</p> + +<p>And now, when a great rustling and sighing of the corn is heard in the +White man's land, the Indians often say, "'Tis the Spirit of Corn Plume, +crying for his lost Bean Maiden!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/img185.jpg" width="380" height="141" alt="corn ear" title="corn ear" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_ROBIN_BURNED_HIS_BREAST" id="HOW_THE_ROBIN_BURNED_HIS_BREAST"></a>HOW THE ROBIN BURNED HIS BREAST</h2> + + +<p>Some Indian hunters once made their way north, to hunt for moose. It was +at the time of Falling Leaves.</p> + +<p>They journeyed for several days, until they came to a lake. Close by the +lake they built a log cabin. Moss was placed between the logs to keep +out the wind, and a thick roof was made from hemlock boughs. In the +center of the roof, a small opening was left for the smoke from the +lodge fire to pass out.</p> + +<p>Here the hunters lived during the Moon of Falling Leaves. Every day they +went on the moose trail, but they found no moose. Their arrows brought +them little game of any kind. They became discouraged and sick, and one +by one the hunters lay down and died.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last there was but one hunter left. He, too, was sick, and he grew +weaker day by day. His food was nearly gone. It was growing cold, and +there was little wood in the cabin to burn.</p> + +<p>But the man did not give up. Again and again he cried aloud, "Some one +will come and help me! Some one will come and help me!"</p> + +<p>One day, as he lay there too weak to rise, the fire flickered and went +out. It seemed that he must die. But even then he did not give up. Again +and again, with his weak voice he cried, "Some one will come and help +me! Some one will come and help me!"</p> + +<p>And some one did come and help him. His cry was heard, for a bird came +flying in through the smoke hole in the roof of the lodge.</p> + +<p>The bird had such a cheery, brave voice that the man felt better the +moment he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> flew in. The bird said to the man, "I was near; I heard you +calling. I have come to help you."</p> + +<p>Then the bird saw that the fire was out, and that the man was cold. He +fluttered among the ashes until he found a bit of live coal. With a glad +chirp, he flew out through the roof. Soon he was back, with his bill +full of dried twigs. He placed them on the fire and began to fan them +into flame with his wings. Soon the twigs were blazing. Then he flew out +for more twigs,—and more, and more, and more.</p> + +<p>The brave little bird kept on carrying twigs until the fire burned hot, +and the lodge was warm once more.</p> + +<p>When the bird had flown into the lodge, he had had a clean, white +breast. After the fire was built, his breast was covered with red and +brown spots. He tried to pick them off with his bill, but they would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +not come off. Instead, they seemed to spread, and his whole breast +became red-brown. Then the bird knew that he must have burned his breast +to a red-brown, when he was fanning the fire into flame.</p> + +<p>But the little bird did not care if he had soiled his white breast, and +burned it red-brown. Had he not brought cheer and life to a dying man?</p> + +<p>He chirped a few glad notes, then said to the man, "I will go now, but I +shall be near your lodge. When you need me, call, and I will come +again."</p> + +<p>Later in the day, the man again called for help. The fire was getting +low, and he was not yet strong enough to go out and gather twigs. Again +the bird came to his aid. In and out he flew, many times, after small +branches and twigs, until they were piled high on the fire, and once +more it crackled and burned.</p> + +<p>There was a little wood in the lodge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> The man placed it on the fire, +and the warmth healed the man, so that soon he was well and strong +again.</p> + +<p>Every day the man talked with the bird, for he was always near, and his +cheery voice and brave words gave the man courage.</p> + +<p>Once more he went on the moose trail, and this time his arrows brought +him moose. In a short time the hunter had all the meat, skins, and moose +hair he wanted. The moose hair he was taking to his wife, to work into +pretty forms on moccasins.</p> + +<p>The first snow was falling, as the hunter started south on the home +trail. The bird hopped along by his side for a little way, then said, "I +must leave you now. Winter is coming, and I must be on my way to the +Southland, or the snow will catch me. In the spring you will see me +again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>When spring came, the bird with the red-brown breast came with his mate, +and built a nest close to the hunter's home lodge. In the nest, that +summer, there grew up five little birds, and they, too, had red and +brown breasts.</p> + +<p>And ever since, Robin Redbreast has continued to come and build his nest +close to the lodges of men, for Robin Redbreast is a friend to man.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img191.jpg" width="550" height="309" alt="Robin Redbreast" title="Robin Redbreast" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<h2><br /><br /><a name="IROQUOIS_FAIRY_STORIES" id="IROQUOIS_FAIRY_STORIES"></a>IROQUOIS FAIRY STORIES</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/img193.jpg" width="350" height="347" alt="Iroquois fairy stories" title="Iroquois fairy stories" /> +</div> + +<p><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_MORNING_STAR_LOST_HER_FISH" id="HOW_MORNING_STAR_LOST_HER_FISH"></a>HOW MORNING STAR LOST HER FISH</h2> + + +<p>Once the Little People, the Indian fairies, ran with the Red Children +through the woods, and played with them beside the streams. Now they are +not often seen, for the white man drove them out of the woods with the +Indians, and away from the waters, with his big steam noises.</p> + +<p>But before steamboats and great mills were on the streams, the Little +People were there. They were often seen paddling their tiny canoes, or +sliding down the great rocks on the banks. They loved to slide down a +bank where one rock jutted out, for then they had a big bounce. They +also liked to sport and jump with the fish.</p> + +<p>There was a young Indian girl whose name was Morning Star. She was +called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> Morning Star because her face was so bright, and she was always +up early in the morning.</p> + +<p>Morning Star lived with her father in a comfortable wigwam by a river. +Every day she would get up with the sun, and run down to the river where +the great rocks were, to catch fish for breakfast.</p> + +<p>Morning Star caught her fish in a basket. At night, she would go and +fasten her basket between the rocks, in a narrow place of the stream. +Then, when the fish swam through in the night, they would get caught in +it, and Morning Star would find plenty of fish waiting for her. In the +morning, she would take the basket of fish back to the wigwam, and soon +the smell of fish frying on hot coals would come from the lodge.</p> + +<p>Never since Morning Star began to fish with her basket, had Chief Little +Wolf, her father, had to wait for his fish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> breakfast before starting on +the chase. But one morning, neither Chief Little Wolf nor Morning Star +breakfasted on fish. This is how it happened.</p> + +<p>On this morning, the Indian girl was up as usual with the sun. She ran +down the river just as the Great Spirit lifted the sun's smiling face. +Morning Star had such a light heart that she was glad just to be alive, +and she sang a song of praise as she ran. All true Indians at sunrise +lift their arms and faces to the sun, and thank the Great Spirit that he +has smiled upon them again.</p> + +<p>Happy and fleet as a deer, Morning Star ran on until she came to the +great rocks. There she saw a whole tribe of tiny little folk gathered +about her basket. Some of them were perched on the sides of the basket, +laughing and singing. Others were lifting the fish from it and throwing +them into the stream. Still others were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> opening and closing the splints +of the basket for the fish to slip through.</p> + +<p>Morning Star knew that these tiny folk were the <i>Jo gah oh</i>. She knew +also that these Little People were friends of the fish. They know every +twist of a fish net and every turn of a hook. Often they have been known +to set fish free, and to guide them into deep, quiet places, far away +from the men who fish.</p> + +<p>Morning Star called to the Little People and begged them not to let all +the fish go. Then she began to climb down the rocks, as fast as she +could. The little Chief called up to her, "Fish, like Indian girls, like +to be alive."</p> + +<p>Then he told the Little People to keep on setting the fish free.</p> + +<p>When Morning Star reached her basket, a few fish were still in it. She +put out her hand to take them from the Little People,—and not a fish, +nor a <i>Jo gah oh</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> was to be seen. The Little People had darted into +the rocks, for they go through anything, and the fish had slipped +through the tiny spaces between the splints of the basket.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img src="images/img198.jpg" width="366" height="600" alt="Morning Star" title="Morning Star" /> +</div> + + +<p>Morning Star heard the laughter of the Little People echo deep within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +the rocks, for they like to play pranks with the earth children. And far +down the stream, she saw the fish leap with joy at being still alive. +She took up her empty basket and went back to the wigwam.</p> + +<p>That morning for breakfast, Morning Star baked corn cakes on the hot +coals. As she ate the hot cakes, she thought they tasted almost as good +as fish.</p> + +<p>Ever after, when Morning Star saw a fish leap from the stream, she +remembered what the <i>Jo gah oh</i> had said: "Fish, like Indian girls, like +to be alive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_LITTLE_SHOOTER_LOST_HIS_LUCK" id="HOW_LITTLE_SHOOTER_LOST_HIS_LUCK"></a>HOW LITTLE SHOOTER LOST HIS LUCK</h2> + + +<p>One day, an Indian boy was playing beside a stream, when one of the +little elf men came along in his canoe. The boy had his bow and arrow +with him; so had the little elf man.</p> + +<p>The little man stopped and offered to trade bows and arrows. The Indian +boy looked first at his bow, and then at that of the little man. His bow +was large. The little man's bow was very small. The boy thought his own +bow was better, so he said he would not trade.</p> + +<p>The little elf man laughed and drew his bow.</p> + +<p>"You think only big things are great," he said. "Some day you will learn +better. Some day you will want this little bow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> and these little arrows. +Some day you will wish you had traded."</p> + +<p>Then he shot an arrow into the clouds, sprang into his canoe, and +paddled off up the stream. As he disappeared, he called back to the boy, +"You will see me again, sometime!"</p> + +<p>The Indian boy ran to his wigwam home. He told his father about the +little man he had seen, and how the man wanted to trade bow and arrows.</p> + +<p>"And you did not trade?" exclaimed the father.</p> + +<p>"No," said the boy, "his bow was small; mine is large."</p> + +<p>"Foolish boy!" said the father. "That little man was a <i>Jo gah oh</i>, one +of the Little People. They do wonderful things. Their arrows are winged +with power. Had you traded bows, you would have become a great hunter, +and been able to get near the animals.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Those little arrows of the <i>Jo gah oh</i> fly swift and far, and always +bring back game. The boy who has a <i>Jo gah oh</i> bow and arrow always has +good luck. One arrow of theirs is worth a flight of yours. Had you +traded bow and arrows, you would have been called 'He shoots the sky.' +Now you shall be called 'Little Shooter.'"</p> + +<p>Little Shooter grew to be a man. He went often on the chase, but his +arrows did not bring much game.</p> + +<p>Many times, he wished he could meet the little elf man again, and trade +bow and arrows, for sometimes he ran for days and found no track of deer +or rabbit. But the little elf man never came.</p> + +<p>One day, when Little Shooter had grown to be quite an old man, he was +walking in the woods. He stopped under a tree to rest. Several times he +felt something fall on his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last he looked up to see what it was.</p> + +<p>There sat the little elf man, swinging on the tip of a branch, and +throwing nuts and twigs at him. He looked just as he did when Little +Shooter met him by the stream long before. He had not grown old or +changed at all.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been here?" asked Little Shooter.</p> + +<p>"I have always been here," said the little man. "I have been in the +world ever since the stones were soft."</p> + +<p>Then he laughed, and asked, "Does Little Shooter now like big bow and +arrows best, or has he learned that sometimes small things are great? +Next time, he had better trade with the little man," and aiming another +nut at Little Shooter's head, he disappeared in the tree trunk.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/img203.jpg" width="550" height="101" alt="Hazel nuts" title="Hazel nuts" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_AN_INDIAN_BOY_WON_HIS_NAME" id="HOW_AN_INDIAN_BOY_WON_HIS_NAME"></a>HOW AN INDIAN BOY WON HIS NAME</h2> + + +<p>It was bluebird time, many moons ago. Little brooks laughed and danced, +and all the forest was glad.</p> + +<p>An Indian boy came running through the forest. He, too, was glad, for it +was spring!</p> + +<p>As he ran down the trail, he saw something hanging from a bush. The bush +was but a few rabbit jumps from the trail, so he stopped to see what new +flower the spring had brought. He found the new flower to be a tiny +papoose cradle.</p> + +<p>The boy picked the cradle from the bush, and held it in the palm of his +hand. As he looked closer, he saw that there was a tiny papoose in the +little cradle. The wee papoose laughed in his face, as he spoke to it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy had never seen so tiny a papoose, and he thought he would take +it home to his mother, it was so cunning. She had but nine of her own. +He was sure she would like one more, and that there would be a place for +the tiny stranger in their wigwam.</p> + +<p>He started to run on down the trail, but something seemed to hold him +fast. He could not get away. Three times he tried to run, but each time +he only circled round that bush. Something held him to the spot.</p> + +<p>Just then there came a sharp cry from up the trail. The boy thought some +animal must be hurt or in pain. He turned to look and saw a little woman +coming. She was less than a foot high, but she ran like a deer to the +boy, and cried and begged him to give back her baby.</p> + +<p>Then the boy knew it was the love of that little mother that had held +him fast.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> He could not break the love cord between that mother and her +baby.</p> + +<p>Now the boy had a heart that was soft and kind. He liked to see +everything happy. When he saw the little mother crying and begging for +her baby, he felt sorry for her.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 227px;"> +<img src="images/img206.jpg" width="227" height="350" alt="beaded bag" title="beaded bag" /> +</div> + +<p>Many times he had heard his mother tell how every mother bird loves her +young; every mother bear, her cub; every mother deer, her fawn; every +Indian mother, her papoose. And he knew this little fairy mother must +also love her fairy baby, so he put it on the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> mother's back, and +told her she should have her papoose.</p> + +<p>The little mother gave a glad cry, as she felt the baby on her back once +more. Then she drew a stone from a bag which she carried, and slipped it +on a string of beads that hung from the boy's neck.</p> + +<p>The stone shone on his breast like a dewdrop.</p> + +<p>"Because you are good, and kind, and unselfish, and because you make +everything happy," she said, "you shall wear this good-luck stone. It +will bring you whatever you want.</p> + +<p>"We Little People give this stone to those earth children only, who are +strong and yet protect the weak. Wear it always on your breast. Never +take it off, and you will become a mighty chief."</p> + +<p>Then the little mother gave another glad cry, and with her baby on her +back she disappeared into an oak.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy ran on. His heart grew lighter and the stone brighter, as he +ran. Before he reached his mother's wigwam, his arrows had brought back +game for their evening meal.</p> + +<p>From the day when the boy met the little <i>Jo gah oh</i> mother in the wood, +and was given the stone, he had good luck. Whatever he did, all went +well with him. If he went on the chase, he brought back deer. If he +planted corn, it grew tall and fine. No boy could throw a ball as far, +or could run as fast as he. He could shoot his arrows to the sky, and +could send his snow-snakes skimming far beyond the rest.</p> + +<p>So lucky was this Indian boy, that his tribe called him +"Luck-in-all-moons." "He wears the good-luck stone," the old people said +as they sat around the fire, and they nodded their heads knowingly. But +they never knew how he came by it, or why he won the stone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>And when "Luck-in-all-moons" grew to be a man, his tribe made him a +great chief. Just as the little <i>Jo gah oh</i> mother had said, he became a +chief, though not in the chieftain line.</p> + +<p>Because he stood so strong and straight, serving the people, protecting +the weak, and doing great deeds, he was called the Pine-tree Chief.</p> + +<p>"His feet are planted deep in wisdom and strength," they said, "and his +head is not far from the sky. He sees far and points us the way. As the +topmost branch of the pine points always to the east, so +Luck-in-all-moons shall guide us to the sun rising. He shall be our +Pine-tree Chief."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_THE_FAIRIES_WORKED_MAGIC" id="HOW_THE_FAIRIES_WORKED_MAGIC"></a>HOW THE FAIRIES WORKED MAGIC</h2> + + +<p>Once a little Indian girl was very sad and unhappy. The Great Spirit had +taken her father and mother, and she had gone to live with relatives who +did not want her. Often she went to sleep hungry, for only the scraps of +food that were left from a meal were given to her.</p> + +<p>One day, the relatives of the little girl brought in a fine deer from +the chase, and made ready for a feast. They told the girl to get out of +the lodge, for there was neither room, nor meat for her.</p> + +<p>The little girl ran and hid herself in a great field of corn. There she +cried aloud.</p> + +<p>Soon a band of strange Little People gathered about her, to comfort her. +On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> all sides, from the folds of the green cornstalks they came.</p> + +<p>They stroked her head, wiped the tears from her eyes, and said, "Don't +cry, little girl. We will take care of you. You shall come and live with +us. We will make a feast for you. We know why you are sad, for we can +read the thoughts of all the earth children. Come with us, and we will +show you more wonderful things than you have ever seen."</p> + +<p>At this the little girl dried her tears, and smiled at the kind Little +People.</p> + +<p>"You are very good to me," she said. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"We are the <i>Jo gah oh</i>," they replied, "the Little People. Come, and we +will show you what we can do."</p> + +<p>Then they slipped some winged moccasins upon her feet. They wrapped her +in an invisible blanket and put a magic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> corn plume in her hair, and the +next moment all were flying through the air.</p> + +<p>They flew to a ledge of great rocks. At the touch of the Little People, +the rocks opened, and they passed within.</p> + +<p>The girl found herself in a beautiful lodge. Kind <i>Jo gah oh</i> mothers +were baking cakes and roasting meat. They welcomed the girl, and soon a +feast was spread in her honor.</p> + +<p>Now the heart of the little girl was so light that she danced with joy.</p> + +<p>"What wonderful people you are! Can you go anywhere, or do anything you +wish?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the little chief, "the <i>Jo gah oh</i> are small, but they are +great. Come with us, and you shall see what we can do."</p> + +<p>Again they were flying through the air. Soon they reached the lodge +where the little girl had lived. It was night, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> relatives were +asleep, but she could see the deer that hung outside ready for the +feast.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the <i>Jo gah oh</i> chief, "we will call out a pack of wolves +from the wood yonder, and there will be no fat deer for this selfish +feast, at sunrise."</p> + +<p>Now no wolves had been seen in that wood for many moons. But at the call +of the fairies, a pack sprang from it, ran to the lodge, seized the +deer, and tore it into shreds. Then they again disappeared in the wood.</p> + +<p>The little girl's eyes were large now with wonder, as they flew back to +the fairy lodge in the rocks, but she was not afraid of these strange +Little People. She was so happy with them she wished she might always +live in a <i>Jo gah oh</i> lodge.</p> + +<p>One morning, the little chief said, "Today we shall see more wonders."</p> + +<p>This time a tiny canoe was waiting.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> They stepped into it and sailed +down a river until they came to a great tree.</p> + +<p>"In that tree," said the little chief, "lives a great, black bear. Every +day he comes out that door you see high up in the bear tree. I will make +the door fast so he cannot open it. A deep sleep will fall on him. He +will sleep for many moons."</p> + +<p>Then the chief threw three stones through the open door of the bear +tree. Each time, a flame spread like a blanket over the door. A growling +and scratching was heard within. Then all became still.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the chief, "the bear will sleep until I call him in the +spring. He is locked up for the winter. Come, let us go on."</p> + +<p>The little girl drew her invisible blanket closer, as the canoe went +sailing with the birds through the clouds. The birds that were swift of +wing called loudly for a race.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" said the fairy chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he spread wide the invisible sails of his canoe, and they flew past +the birds like a streak of lightning. Even the eagle was left far +behind. They seemed to shoot through the sky.</p> + +<p>And, oh, what fun it was to be a bird! The little girl would have sailed +on forever, but the little chief said, "You shall now return to your +people. We have given them soft hearts and kind minds. They are calling +for you. They will be glad to see you."</p> + +<p>And soon the little girl was again in the wigwam of her relatives, +sitting by the warm fire.</p> + +<p>They greeted her with joy, spread a soft skin for her to sit upon, and +gave her the best food. And the little girl lived with them, ever after, +and was happy.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<blockquote><h3>FOOTNOTE</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Myths and Legends of the Iroquois</i>, by Harriet Maxwell +Converse.</p></div></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories the Iroquois Tell Their +Children, by Mabel Powers + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES THE IROQUOIS TELL *** + +***** This file should be named 22096-h.htm or 22096-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/9/22096/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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