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diff --git a/338-0.txt b/338-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b98af5 --- /dev/null +++ b/338-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2537 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala-Sa + +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: Old Indian Legends + +Author: Zitkala-Sa + +Release Date: July 5, 2008 [EBook #338] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD INDIAN LEGENDS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss + + + + + +OLD INDIAN LEGENDS + +Retold By Zitkala-Sa + + + + +ITKALA-SA. + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS + IKTOMI'S BLANKET + IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT + IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE + IKTOMI AND THE FAWN + THE BADGER AND THE BEAR + THE TREE-BOUND + SHOOTING OF THE RED EAGLE + IKTOMI AND THE TURTLE + DANCE IN A BUFFALO SKULL + THE TOAD AND THE BOY + IYA, THE CAMP-EATER + MANSTIN, THE RABBIT + THE WARLIKE SEVEN + + + + + +OLD INDIAN LEGENDS + + + + +IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS + + +IKTOMI is a spider fairy. He wears brown deerskin leggins with long soft +fringes on either side, and tiny beaded moccasins on his feet. His long +black hair is parted in the middle and wrapped with red, red bands. +Each round braid hangs over a small brown ear and falls forward over his +shoulders. + +He even paints his funny face with red and yellow, and draws big black +rings around his eyes. He wears a deerskin jacket, with bright colored +beads sewed tightly on it. Iktomi dresses like a real Dakota brave. In +truth, his paint and deerskins are the best part of him--if ever dress +is part of man or fairy. + +Iktomi is a wily fellow. His hands are always kept in mischief. He +prefers to spread a snare rather than to earn the smallest thing with +honest hunting. Why! he laughs outright with wide open mouth when some +simple folk are caught in a trap, sure and fast. + +He never dreams another lives so bright as he. Often his own conceit +leads him hard against the common sense of simpler people. + +Poor Iktomi cannot help being a little imp. And so long as he is a +naughty fairy, he cannot find a single friend. No one helps him when +he is in trouble. No one really loves him. Those who come to admire his +handsome beaded jacket and long fringed leggins soon go away sick and +tired of his vain, vain words and heartless laughter. + +Thus Iktomi lives alone in a cone-shaped wigwam upon the plain. One day +he sat hungry within his teepee. Suddenly he rushed out, dragging after +him his blanket. Quickly spreading it on the ground, he tore up dry tall +grass with both his hands and tossed it fast into the blanket. + +Tying all the four corners together in a knot, he threw the light bundle +of grass over his shoulder. + +Snatching up a slender willow stick with his free left hand, he started +off with a hop and a leap. From side to side bounced the bundle on his +back, as he ran light-footed over the uneven ground. Soon he came to the +edge of the great level land. On the hilltop he paused for breath. With +wicked smacks of his dry parched lips, as if tasting some tender meat, +he looked straight into space toward the marshy river bottom. With a +thin palm shading his eyes from the western sun, he peered far away into +the lowlands, munching his own cheeks all the while. “Ah-ha!” grunted +he, satisfied with what he saw. + +A group of wild ducks were dancing and feasting in the marshes. With +wings outspread, tip to tip, they moved up and down in a large circle. +Within the ring, around a small drum, sat the chosen singers, nodding +their heads and blinking their eyes. + +They sang in unison a merry dance-song, and beat a lively tattoo on the +drum. + +Following a winding footpath near by, came a bent figure of a Dakota +brave. He bore on his back a very large bundle. With a willow cane he +propped himself up as he staggered along beneath his burden. + +“Ho! who is there?” called out a curious old duck, still bobbing up and +down in the circular dance. + +Hereupon the drummers stretched their necks till they strangled their +song for a look at the stranger passing by. + +“Ho, Iktomi! Old fellow, pray tell us what you carry in your blanket. Do +not hurry off! Stop! halt!” urged one of the singers. + +“Stop! stay! Show us what is in your blanket!” cried out other voices. + +“My friends, I must not spoil your dance. Oh, you would not care to see +if you only knew what is in my blanket. Sing on! dance on! I must not +show you what I carry on my back,” answered Iktomi, nudging his own +sides with his elbows. This reply broke up the ring entirely. Now all +the ducks crowded about Iktomi. + +“We must see what you carry! We must know what is in your blanket!” + they shouted in both his ears. Some even brushed their wings against the +mysterious bundle. Nudging himself again, wily Iktomi said, “My friends, +'t is only a pack of songs I carry in my blanket.” + +“Oh, then let us hear your songs!” cried the curious ducks. + +At length Iktomi consented to sing his songs. With delight all the ducks +flapped their wings and cried together, “Hoye! hoye!” + +Iktomi, with great care, laid down his bundle on the ground. + +“I will build first a round straw house, for I never sing my songs in +the open air,” said he. + +Quickly he bent green willow sticks, planting both ends of each pole +into the earth. These he covered thick with reeds and grasses. Soon the +straw hut was ready. One by one the fat ducks waddled in through a small +opening, which was the only entrance way. Beside the door Iktomi stood +smiling, as the ducks, eyeing his bundle of songs, strutted into the +hut. + +In a strange low voice Iktomi began his queer old tunes. All the ducks +sat round-eyed in a circle about the mysterious singer. It was dim in +that straw hut, for Iktomi had not forgot to cover up the small entrance +way. All of a sudden his song burst into full voice. As the startled +ducks sat uneasily on the ground, Iktomi changed his tune into a minor +strain. These were the words he sang: + +“Istokmus wacipo, tuwayatunwanpi kinhan ista nisasapi kta,” which is, +“With eyes closed you must dance. He who dares to open his eyes, forever +red eyes shall have.” + +Up rose the circle of seated ducks and holding their wings close against +their sides began to dance to the rhythm of Iktomi's song and drum. + +With eyes closed they did dance! Iktomi ceased to beat his drum. He +began to sing louder and faster. He seemed to be moving about in the +center of the ring. No duck dared blink a wink. Each one shut his eyes +very tight and danced even harder. Up and down! Shifting to the right of +them they hopped round and round in that blind dance. It was a difficult +dance for the curious folk. + +At length one of the dancers could close his eyes no longer! It was a +Skiska who peeped the least tiny blink at Iktomi within the center of +the circle. “Oh! oh!” squawked he in awful terror! “Run! fly! Iktomi is +twisting your heads and breaking your necks! Run out and fly! fly!” + he cried. Hereupon the ducks opened their eyes. There beside Iktomi's +bundle of songs lay half of their crowd--flat on their backs. + +Out they flew through the opening Skiska had made as he rushed forth +with his alarm. + +But as they soared high into the blue sky they cried to one another: +“Oh! your eyes are red-red!” “And yours are red-red!” For the warning +words of the magic minor strain had proven true. “Ah-ha!” laughed +Iktomi, untying the four corners of his blanket, “I shall sit no more +hungry within my dwelling.” Homeward he trudged along with nice fat +ducks in his blanket. He left the little straw hut for the rains and +winds to pull down. + +Having reached his own teepee on the high level lands, Iktomi kindled +a large fire out of doors. He planted sharp-pointed sticks around the +leaping flames. On each stake he fastened a duck to roast. A few he +buried under the ashes to bake. Disappearing within his teepee, he came +out again with some huge seashells. These were his dishes. Placing one +under each roasting duck, he muttered, “The sweet fat oozing out will +taste well with the hard-cooked breasts.” + +Heaping more willows upon the fire, Iktomi sat down on the ground with +crossed shins. A long chin between his knees pointed toward the red +flames, while his eyes were on the browning ducks. + +Just above his ankles he clasped and unclasped his long bony fingers. +Now and then he sniffed impatiently the savory odor. + +The brisk wind which stirred the fire also played with a squeaky old +tree beside Iktomi's wigwam. + +From side to side the tree was swaying and crying in an old man's voice, +“Help! I'll break! I'll fall!” Iktomi shrugged his great shoulders, but +did not once take his eyes from the ducks. The dripping of amber oil +into pearly dishes, drop by drop, pleased his hungry eyes. Still the old +tree man called for help. “He! What sound is it that makes my ear ache!” + exclaimed Iktomi, holding a hand on his ear. + +He rose and looked around. The squeaking came from the tree. Then he +began climbing the tree to find the disagreeable sound. He placed his +foot right on a cracked limb without seeing it. Just then a whiff of +wind came rushing by and pressed together the broken edges. There in a +strong wooden hand Iktomi's foot was caught. + +“Oh! my foot is crushed!” he howled like a coward. In vain he pulled and +puffed to free himself. + +While sitting a prisoner on the tree he spied, through his tears, a pack +of gray wolves roaming over the level lands. Waving his hands toward +them, he called in his loudest voice, “He! Gray wolves! Don't you come +here! I'm caught fast in the tree so that my duck feast is getting cold. +Don't you come to eat up my meal.” + +The leader of the pack upon hearing Iktomi's words turned to his +comrades and said: + +“Ah! hear the foolish fellow! He says he has a duck feast to be eaten! +Let us hurry there for our share!” Away bounded the wolves toward +Iktomi's lodge. + +From the tree Iktomi watched the hungry wolves eat up his nicely browned +fat ducks. His foot pained him more and more. He heard them crack the +small round bones with their strong long teeth and eat out the oily +marrow. Now severe pains shot up from his foot through his whole body. +“Hin-hin-hin!” sobbed Iktomi. Real tears washed brown streaks across his +red-painted cheeks. Smacking their lips, the wolves began to leave the +place, when Iktomi cried out like a pouting child, “At least you have +left my baking under the ashes!” + +“Ho! Po!” shouted the mischievous wolves; “he says more ducks are to be +found under the ashes! Come! Let us have our fill this once!” + +Running back to the dead fire, they pawed out the ducks with such rude +haste that a cloud of ashes rose like gray smoke over them. + +“Hin-hin-hin!” moaned Iktomi, when the wolves had scampered off. All +too late, the sturdy breeze returned, and, passing by, pulled apart the +broken edges of the tree. Iktomi was released. But alas! he had no duck +feast. + + + + +IKTOMI'S BLANKET + + +ALONE within his teepee sat Iktomi. The sun was but a handsbreadth from +the western edge of land. + +“Those, bad, bad gray wolves! They ate up all my nice fat ducks!” + muttered he, rocking his body to and fro. + +He was cuddling the evil memory he bore those hungry wolves. At last he +ceased to sway his body backward and forward, but sat still and stiff as +a stone image. + +“Oh! I'll go to Inyan, the great-grandfather, and pray for food!” he +exclaimed. + +At once he hurried forth from his teepee and, with his blanket over one +shoulder, drew nigh to a huge rock on a hillside. + +With half-crouching, half-running strides, he fell upon Inyan with +outspread hands. + +“Grandfather! pity me. I am hungry. I am starving. Give me food. +Great-grandfather, give me meat to eat!” he cried. All the while he +stroked and caressed the face of the great stone god. + +The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes the trees and grass, can hear +the voice of those who pray in many varied ways. The hearing of +Inyan, the large hard stone, was the one most sought after. He was the +great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the hillside many, many seasons. +He had seen the prairie put on a snow-white blanket and then change it +for a bright green robe more than a thousand times. + +Still unaffected by the myriad moons he rested on the everlasting hill, +listening to the prayers of Indian warriors. Before the finding of the +magic arrow he had sat there. + +Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before the great-grandfather, the sky in +the west was red like a glowing face. The sunset poured a soft mellow +light upon the huge gray stone and the solitary figure beside it. It +was the smile of the Great Spirit upon the grandfather and the wayward +child. + +The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it. “Now, grandfather, accept my +offering; 'tis all I have,” said Iktomi as he spread his half-worn +blanket upon Inyan's cold shoulders. Then Iktomi, happy with the smile +of the sunset sky, followed a footpath leading toward a thicketed +ravine. He had not gone many paces into the shrubbery when before him +lay a freshly wounded deer! + +“This is the answer from the red western sky!” cried Iktomi with hands +uplifted. + +Slipping a long thin blade from out his belt, he cut large chunks of +choice meat. Sharpening some willow sticks, he planted them around a +wood-pile he had ready to kindle. On these stakes he meant to roast the +venison. + +While he was rubbing briskly two long sticks to start a fire, the sun in +the west fell out of the sky below the edge of land. Twilight was over +all. Iktomi felt the cold night air upon his bare neck and shoulders. +“Ough!” he shivered as he wiped his knife on the grass. Tucking it in a +beaded case hanging from his belt, Iktomi stood erect, looking about. +He shivered again. “Ough! Ah! I am cold. I wish I had my blanket!” + whispered he, hovering over the pile of dry sticks and the sharp stakes +round about it. Suddenly he paused and dropped his hands at his sides. + +“The old great-grandfather does not feel the cold as I do. He does not +need my old blanket as I do. I wish I had not given it to him. Oh! I +think I'll run up there and take it back!” said he, pointing his long +chin toward the large gray stone. + +Iktomi, in the warm sunshine, had no need of his blanket, and it had +been very easy to part with a thing which he could not miss. But the +chilly night wind quite froze his ardent thank-offering. + +Thus running up the hillside, his teeth chattering all the way, he drew +near to Inyan, the sacred symbol. Seizing one corner of the half-worn +blanket, Iktomi pulled it off with a jerk. + +“Give my blanket back, old grandfather! You do not need it. I do!” This +was very wrong, yet Iktomi did it, for his wit was not wisdom. Drawing +the blanket tight over his shoulders, he descended the hill with +hurrying feet. + +He was soon upon the edge of the ravine. A young moon, like a bright +bent bow, climbed up from the southwest horizon a little way into the +sky. + +In this pale light Iktomi stood motionless as a ghost amid the thicket. +His woodpile was not yet kindled. His pointed stakes were still bare as +he had left them. But where was the deer--the venison he had felt warm +in his hands a moment ago? It was gone. Only the dry rib bones lay on +the ground like giant fingers from an open grave. Iktomi was troubled. +At length, stooping over the white dried bones, he took hold of one and +shook it. The bones, loose in their sockets, rattled together at his +touch. Iktomi let go his hold. He sprang back amazed. And though he wore +a blanket his teeth chattered more than ever. Then his blunted sense +will surprise you, little reader; for instead of being grieved that he +had taken back his blanket, he cried aloud, “Hin-hin-hin! If only I had +eaten the venison before going for my blanket!” + +Those tears no longer moved the hand of the Generous Giver. They were +selfish tears. The Great Spirit does not heed them ever. + + + + +IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT + + +BESIDE a white lake, beneath a large grown willow tree, sat Iktomi on +the bare ground. The heap of smouldering ashes told of a recent open +fire. With ankles crossed together around a pot of soup, Iktomi bent +over some delicious boiled fish. + +Fast he dipped his black horn spoon into the soup, for he was ravenous. +Iktomi had no regular meal times. Often when he was hungry he went +without food. + +Well hid between the lake and the wild rice, he looked nowhere save into +the pot of fish. Not knowing when the next meal would be, he meant to +eat enough now to last some time. + +“How, how, my friend!” said a voice out of the wild rice. Iktomi +started. He almost choked with his soup. He peered through the long +reeds from where he sat with his long horn spoon in mid-air. + +“How, my friend!” said the voice again, this time close at his side. +Iktomi turned and there stood a dripping muskrat who had just come out +of the lake. + +“Oh, it is my friend who startled me. I wondered if among the wild rice +some spirit voice was talking. How, how, my friend!” said Iktomi. The +muskrat stood smiling. On his lips hung a ready “Yes, my friend,” when +Iktomi would ask, “My friend, will you sit down beside me and share my +food?” + +That was the custom of the plains people. Yet Iktomi sat silent. He +hummed an old dance-song and beat gently on the edge of the pot with his +buffalo-horn spoon. The muskrat began to feel awkward before such lack +of hospitality and wished himself under water. + +After many heart throbs Iktomi stopped drumming with his horn ladle, and +looking upward into the muskrat's face, he said: + +“My friend, let us run a race to see who shall win this pot of fish. If +I win, I shall not need to share it with you. If you win, you shall have +half of it.” Springing to his feet, Iktomi began at once to tighten the +belt about his waist. + +“My friend Ikto, I cannot run a race with you! I am not a swift runner, +and you are nimble as a deer. We shall not run any race together,” + answered the hungry muskrat. + +For a moment Iktomi stood with a hand on his long protruding chin. His +eyes were fixed upon something in the air. The muskrat looked out of the +corners of his eyes without moving his head. He watched the wily Iktomi +concocting a plot. + +“Yes, yes,” said Iktomi, suddenly turning his gaze upon the unwelcome +visitor; “I shall carry a large stone on my back. That will slacken my +usual speed; and the race will be a fair one.” + +Saying this he laid a firm hand upon the muskrat's shoulder and started +off along the edge of the lake. When they reached the opposite side +Iktomi pried about in search of a heavy stone. + +He found one half-buried in the shallow water. Pulling it out upon dry +land, he wrapped it in his blanket. + +“Now, my friend, you shall run on the left side of the lake, I on the +other. The race is for the boiled fish in yonder kettle!” said Iktomi. + +The muskrat helped to lift the heavy stone upon Iktomi's back. Then +they parted. Each took a narrow path through the tall reeds fringing the +shore. Iktomi found his load a heavy one. Perspiration hung like beads +on his brow. His chest heaved hard and fast. + +He looked across the lake to see how far the muskrat had gone, but +nowhere did he see any sign of him. “Well, he is running low under the +wild rice!” said he. Yet as he scanned the tall grasses on the lake +shore, he saw not one stir as if to make way for the runner. “Ah, has he +gone so fast ahead that the disturbed grasses in his trail have quieted +again?” exclaimed Iktomi. With that thought he quickly dropped the heavy +stone. “No more of this!” said he, patting his chest with both hands. + +Off with a springing bound, he ran swiftly toward the goal. Tufts of +reeds and grass fell flat under his feet. Hardly had they raised their +heads when Iktomi was many paces gone. + +Soon he reached the heap of cold ashes. Iktomi halted stiff as if he had +struck an invisible cliff. His black eyes showed a ring of white about +them as he stared at the empty ground. There was no pot of boiled fish! +There was no water-man in sight! “Oh, if only I had shared my food like +a real Dakota, I would not have lost it all! Why did I not know the +muskrat would run through the water? He swims faster than I could ever +run! That is what he has done. He has laughed at me for carrying a +weight on my back while he shot hither like an arrow!” + +Crying thus to himself, Iktomi stepped to the water's brink. He stooped +forward with a hand on each bent knee and peeped far into the deep +water. + +“There!” he exclaimed, “I see you, my friend, sitting with your ankles +wound around my little pot of fish! My friend, I am hungry. Give me a +bone!” + +“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the water-man, the muskrat. The sound did not rise +up out of the lake, for it came down from overhead. With his hands still +on his knees, Iktomi turned his face upward into the great willow tree. +Opening wide his mouth he begged, “My friend, my friend, give me a bone +to gnaw!” + +“Ha! ha!” laughed the muskrat, and leaning over the limb he sat upon, +he let fall a small sharp bone which dropped right into Iktomi's throat. +Iktomi almost choked to death before he could get it out. In the tree +the muskrat sat laughing loud. “Next time, say to a visiting friend, 'Be +seated beside me, my friend. Let me share with you my food.'” + + + + +IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE + + +AFAR off upon a large level land, a summer sun was shining bright. Here +and there over the rolling green were tall bunches of coarse gray weeds. +Iktomi in his fringed buckskins walked alone across the prairie with +a black bare head glossy in the sunlight. He walked through the grass +without following any well-worn footpath. + +From one large bunch of coarse weeds to another he wound his way about +the great plain. He lifted his foot lightly and placed it gently forward +like a wildcat prowling noiselessly through the thick grass. He stopped +a few steps away from a very large bunch of wild sage. From shoulder to +shoulder he tilted his head. Still farther he bent from side to side, +first low over one hip and then over the other. Far forward he stooped, +stretching his long thin neck like a duck, to see what lay under a fur +coat beyond the bunch of coarse grass. + +A sleek gray-faced prairie wolf! his pointed black nose tucked in +between his four feet drawn snugly together; his handsome bushy tail +wound over his nose and feet; a coyote fast asleep in the shadow of a +bunch of grass!--this is what Iktomi spied. Carefully he raised one foot +and cautiously reached out with his toes. Gently, gently he lifted the +foot behind and placed it before the other. Thus he came nearer and +nearer to the round fur ball lying motionless under the sage grass. + +Now Iktomi stood beside it, looking at the closed eyelids that did not +quiver the least bit. Pressing his lips into straight lines and nodding +his head slowly, he bent over the wolf. He held his ear close to the +coyote's nose, but not a breath of air stirred from it. + +“Dead!” said he at last. “Dead, but not long since he ran over these +plains! See! there in his paw is caught a fresh feather. He is nice +fat meat!” Taking hold of the paw with the bird feather fast on it, he +exclaimed, “Why, he is still warm! I'll carry him to my dwelling and +have a roast for my evening meal. Ah-ha!” he laughed, as he seized the +coyote by its two fore paws and its two hind feet and swung him over +head across his shoulders. The wolf was large and the teepee was far +across the prairie. Iktomi trudged along with his burden, smacking his +hungry lips together. He blinked his eyes hard to keep out the salty +perspiration streaming down his face. + +All the while the coyote on his back lay gazing into the sky with wide +open eyes. His long white teeth fairly gleamed as he smiled and smiled. + +“To ride on one's own feet is tiresome, but to be carried like a warrior +from a brave fight is great fun!” said the coyote in his heart. He +had never been borne on any one's back before and the new experience +delighted him. He lay there lazily on Iktomi's shoulders, now and then +blinking blue winks. Did you never see a birdie blink a blue wink? This +is how it first became a saying among the plains people. When a bird +stands aloof watching your strange ways, a thin bluish white tissue +slips quickly over his eyes and as quickly off again; so quick that you +think it was only a mysterious blue wink. Sometimes when children grow +drowsy they blink blue winks, while others who are too proud to look +with friendly eyes upon people blink in this cold bird-manner. + +The coyote was affected by both sleepiness and pride. His winks were +almost as blue as the sky. In the midst of his new pleasure the swaying +motion ceased. Iktomi had reached his dwelling place. The coyote +felt drowsy no longer, for in the next instant he was slipping out +of Iktomi's hands. He was falling, falling through space, and then he +struck the ground with such a bump he did not wish to breathe for a +while. He wondered what Iktomi would do, thus he lay still where he +fell. Humming a dance-song, one from his bundle of mystery songs, Iktomi +hopped and darted about at an imaginary dance and feast. He gathered dry +willow sticks and broke them in two against his knee. He built a large +fire out of doors. The flames leaped up high in red and yellow streaks. +Now Iktomi returned to the coyote who had been looking on through his +eyelashes. + +Taking him again by his paws and hind feet, he swung him to and fro. +Then as the wolf swung toward the red flames, Iktomi let him go. Once +again the coyote fell through space. Hot air smote his nostrils. He saw +red dancing fire, and now he struck a bed of cracking embers. With a +quick turn he leaped out of the flames. From his heels were scattered a +shower of red coals upon Iktomi's bare arms and shoulders. Dumbfounded, +Iktomi thought he saw a spirit walk out of his fire. His jaws fell +apart. He thrust a palm to his face, hard over his mouth! He could +scarce keep from shrieking. + +Rolling over and over on the grass and rubbing the sides of his head +against the ground, the coyote soon put out the fire on his fur. +Iktomi's eyes were almost ready to jump out of his head as he stood +cooling a burn on his brown arm with his breath. + +Sitting on his haunches, on the opposite side of the fire from where +Iktomi stood, the coyote began to laugh at him. + +“Another day, my friend, do not take too much for granted. Make sure the +enemy is stone dead before you make a fire!” + +Then off he ran so swiftly that his long bushy tail hung out in a +straight line with his back. + + + + +IKTOMI AND THE FAWN + + +IN one of his wanderings through the wooded lands, Iktomi saw a rare +bird sitting high in a tree-top. Its long fan-like tail feathers +had caught all the beautiful colors of the rainbow. Handsome in the +glistening summer sun sat the bird of rainbow plumage. Iktomi hurried +hither with his eyes fast on the bird. + +He stood beneath the tree looking long and wistfully at the peacock's +bright feathers. At length he heaved a sigh and began: “Oh, I wish I had +such pretty feathers! How I wish I were not I! If only I were a handsome +feathered creature how happy I would be! I'd be so glad to sit upon a +very high tree and bask in the summer sun like you!” said he suddenly, +pointing his bony finger up toward the peacock, who was eyeing the +stranger below, turning his head from side to side. + +“I beg of you make me into a bird with green and purple feathers like +yours!” implored Iktomi, tired now of playing the brave in beaded +buckskins. The peacock then spoke to Iktomi: “I have a magic power. My +touch will change you in a moment into the most beautiful peacock if you +can keep one condition.” + +“Yes! yes!” shouted Iktomi, jumping up and down, patting his lips with +his palm, which caused his voice to vibrate in a peculiar fashion. “Yes! +yes! I could keep ten conditions if only you would change me into a +bird with long, bright tail feathers. Oh, I am so ugly! I am so tired of +being myself! Change me! Do!” + +Hereupon the peacock spread out both his wings, and scarce moving them, +he sailed slowly down upon the ground. Right beside Iktomi he alighted. +Very low in Iktomi's ear the peacock whispered, “Are you willing to keep +one condition, though hard it be?” + +“Yes! yes! I've told you ten of them if need be!” exclaimed Iktomi, with +some impatience. + +“Then I pronounce you a handsome feathered bird. No longer are you +Iktomi the mischief-maker.” Saying this the peacock touched Iktomi with +the tips of his wings. + +Iktomi vanished at the touch. There stood beneath the tree two handsome +peacocks. While one of the pair strutted about with a head turned aside +as if dazzled by his own bright-tinted tail feathers, the other bird +soared slowly upward. He sat quiet and unconscious of his gay plumage. +He seemed content to perch there on a large limb in the warm sunshine. + +After a little while the vain peacock, dizzy with his bright colors, +spread out his wings and lit on the same branch with the elder bird. + +“Oh!” he exclaimed, “how hard to fly! Brightly tinted feathers are +handsome, but I wish they were light enough to fly!” Just there the +elder bird interrupted him. “That is the one condition. Never try to fly +like other birds. Upon the day you try to fly you shall be changed into +your former self.” + +“Oh, what a shame that bright feathers cannot fly into the sky!” cried +the peacock. Already he grew restless. He longed to soar through space. +He yearned to fly above the trees high upward to the sun. + +“Oh, there I see a flock of birds flying thither! Oh! oh!” said he, +flapping his wings, “I must try my wings! I am tired of bright tail +feathers. I want to try my wings.” + +“No, no!” clucked the elder bird. The flock of chattering birds flew by +with whirring wings. “Oop! oop!” called some to their mates. + +Possessed by an irrepressible impulse the Iktomi peacock called out, +“He! I want to come! Wait for me!” and with that he gave a lunge into +the air. The flock of flying feathers wheeled about and lowered over the +tree whence came the peacock's cry. Only one rare bird sat on the tree, +and beneath, on the ground, stood a brave in brown buckskins. + +“I am my old self again!” groaned Iktomi in a sad voice. “Make me over, +pretty bird. Try me this once again!” he pleaded in vain. + +“Old Iktomi wants to fly! Ah! We cannot wait for him!” sang the birds as +they flew away. + +Muttering unhappy vows to himself, Iktomi had not gone far when he +chanced upon a bunch of long slender arrows. One by one they rose in the +air and shot a straight line over the prairie. Others shot up into the +blue sky and were soon lost to sight. Only one was left. He was making +ready for his flight when Iktomi rushed upon him and wailed, “I want +to be an arrow! Make me into an arrow! I want to pierce the blue Blue +overhead. I want to strike yonder summer sun in its center. Make me into +an arrow!” + +“Can you keep a condition? One condition, though hard it be?” the arrow +turned to ask. + +“Yes! Yes!” shouted Iktomi, delighted. + +Hereupon the slender arrow tapped him gently with his sharp flint beak. +There was no Iktomi, but two arrows stood ready to fly. “Now, young +arrow, this is the one condition. Your flight must always be in a +straight line. Never turn a curve nor jump about like a young fawn,” + said the arrow magician. He spoke slowly and sternly. + +At once he set about to teach the new arrow how to shoot in a long +straight line. + +“This is the way to pierce the Blue overhead,” said he; and off he spun +high into the sky. + +While he was gone a herd of deer came trotting by. Behind them played +the young fawns together. They frolicked about like kittens. They +bounced on all fours like balls. Then they pitched forward, kicking +their heels in the air. The Iktomi arrow watched them so happy on the +ground. Looking quickly up into the sky, he said in his heart, “The +magician is out of sight. I'll just romp and frolic with these fawns +until he returns. Fawns! Friends, do not fear me. I want to jump and +leap with you. I long to be happy as you are,” said he. The young fawns +stopped with stiff legs and stared at the speaking arrow with large +brown wondering eyes. “See! I can jump as well as you!” went on Iktomi. +He gave one tiny leap like a fawn. All of a sudden the fawns snorted +with extended nostrils at what they beheld. There among them stood +Iktomi in brown buckskins, and the strange talking arrow was gone. + +“Oh! I am myself. My old self!” cried Iktomi, pinching himself and +plucking imaginary pieces out of his jacket. + +“Hin-hin-hin! I wanted to fly!” + +The real arrow now returned to the earth. He alighted very near Iktomi. +From the high sky he had seen the fawns playing on the green. He had +seen Iktomi make his one leap, and the charm was broken. Iktomi became +his former self. + +“Arrow, my friend, change me once more!” begged Iktomi. + +“No, no more,” replied the arrow. Then away he shot through the air in +the direction his comrades had flown. + +By this time the fawns gathered close around Iktomi. They poked their +noses at him trying to know who he was. + +Iktomi's tears were like a spring shower. A new desire dried them +quickly away. Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he looked closely at +the little brown spots all over the furry face. + +“Oh, fawn! What beautiful brown spots on your face! Fawn, dear little +fawn, can you tell me how those brown spots were made on your face?” + +“Yes,” said the fawn. “When I was very, very small, my mother marked +them on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a large hole in the ground +and made a soft bed of grass and twigs in it. Then she placed me gently +there. She covered me over with dry sweet grass and piled dry cedars on +top. From a neighbor's fire she brought hither a red, red ember. This +she tucked carefully in at my head. This is how the brown spots were +made on my face.” + +“Now, fawn, my friend, will you do the same for me? Won't you mark my +face with brown, brown spots just like yours?” asked Iktomi, always +eager to be like other people. + +“Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it with dry grass and sticks. If +you will jump into the pit, I'll cover you with sweet smelling grass and +cedar wood,” answered the fawn. + +“Say,” interrupted Ikto, “will you be sure to cover me with a great deal +of dry grass and twigs? You will make sure that the spots will be as +brown as those you wear.” + +“Oh, yes. I'll pile up grass and willows once oftener than my mother +did.” + +“Now let us dig the hole, pull the grass, and gather sticks,” cried +Iktomi in glee. + +Thus with his own hands he aids in making his grave. After the hole was +dug and cushioned with grass, Iktomi, muttering something about brown +spots, leaped down into it. Lengthwise, flat on his back, he lay. While +the fawn covered him over with cedars, a far-away voice came up through +them, “Brown, brown spots to wear forever!” A red ember was tucked under +the dry grass. Off scampered the fawns after their mothers; and when a +great distance away they looked backward. They saw a blue smoke rising, +writhing upward till it vanished in the blue ether. + +“Is that Iktomi's spirit?” asked one fawn of another. + +“No! I think he would jump out before he could burn into smoke and +cinders,” answered his comrade. + + + + +THE BADGER AND THE BEAR + +ON the edge of a forest there lived a large family of badgers. In the +ground their dwelling was made. Its walls and roof were covered with +rocks and straw. + +Old father badger was a great hunter. He knew well how to track the deer +and buffalo. Every day he came home carrying on his back some wild game. +This kept mother badger very busy, and the baby badgers very chubby. +While the well-fed children played about, digging little make-believe +dwellings, their mother hung thin sliced meats upon long willow racks. +As fast as the meats were dried and seasoned by sun and wind, she packed +them carefully away in a large thick bag. + +This bag was like a huge stiff envelope, but far more beautiful to see, +for it was painted all over with many bright colors. These firmly +tied bags of dried meat were laid upon the rocks in the walls of the +dwelling. In this way they were both useful and decorative. + +One day father badger did not go off for a hunt. He stayed at home, +making new arrows. His children sat about him on the ground floor. Their +small black eyes danced with delight as they watched the gay colors +painted upon the arrows. + +All of a sudden there was heard a heavy footfall near the entrance way. +The oval-shaped door-frame was pushed aside. In stepped a large black +foot with great big claws. Then the other clumsy foot came next. All the +while the baby badgers stared hard at the unexpected comer. After the +second foot, in peeped the head of a big black bear! His black nose was +dry and parched. Silently he entered the dwelling and sat down on the +ground by the doorway. His black eyes never left the painted bags on +the rocky walls. He guessed what was in them. He was a very hungry bear. +Seeing the racks of red meat hanging in the yard, he had come to visit +the badger family. + +Though he was a stranger and his strong paws and jaws frightened the +small badgers, the father said, “How, how, friend! Your lips and nose +look feverish and hungry. Will you eat with us?” + +“Yes, my friend,” said the bear. “I am starved. I saw your racks of red +fresh meat, and knowing your heart is kind, I came hither. Give me meat +to eat, my friend.” + +Hereupon the mother badger took long strides across the room, and as she +had to pass in front of the strange visitor, she said: “Ah han! Allow me +to pass!” which was an apology. + +“How, how!” replied the bear, drawing himself closer to the wall and +crossing his shins together. + +Mother badger chose the most tender red meat, and soon over a bed of +coals she broiled the venison. + +That day the bear had all he could eat. At nightfall he rose, and +smacking his lips together,--that is the noisy way of saying “the food +was very good!”--he left the badger dwelling. The baby badgers, peeping +through the door-flap after the shaggy bear, saw him disappear into the +woods near by. + +Day after day the crackling of twigs in the forest told of heavy +footsteps. Out would come the same black bear. He never lifted the +door-flap, but thrusting it aside entered slowly in. Always in the same +place by the entrance way he sat down with crossed shins. + +His daily visits were so regular that mother badger placed a fur rug in +his place. She did not wish a guest in her dwelling to sit upon the bare +hard ground. + +At last one time when the bear returned, his nose was bright and black. +His coat was glossy. He had grown fat upon the badger's hospitality. + +As he entered the dwelling a pair of wicked gleams shot out of his +shaggy head. Surprised by the strange behavior of the guest who remained +standing upon the rug, leaning his round back against the wall, father +badger queried: “How, my friend! What?” + +The bear took one stride forward and shook his paw in the badger's face. +He said: “I am strong, very strong!” + +“Yes, yes, so you are,” replied the badger. From the farther end of the +room mother badger muttered over her bead work: “Yes, you grew strong +from our well-filled bowls.” + +The bear smiled, showing a row of large sharp teeth. + +“I have no dwelling. I have no bags of dried meat. I have no arrows. All +these I have found here on this spot,” said he, stamping his heavy foot. +“I want them! See! I am strong!” repeated he, lifting both his terrible +paws. + +Quietly the father badger spoke: “I fed you. I called you friend, though +you came here a stranger and a beggar. For the sake of my little ones +leave us in peace.” + +Mother badger, in her excited way, had pierced hard through the buckskin +and stuck her fingers repeatedly with her sharp awl until she had laid +aside her work. Now, while her husband was talking to the bear, she +motioned with her hands to the children. On tiptoe they hastened to her +side. + +For reply came a low growl. It grew louder and more fierce. “Wa-ough!” + he roared, and by force hurled the badgers out. First the father badger; +then the mother. The little badgers he tossed by pairs. He threw them +hard upon the ground. Standing in the entrance way and showing his ugly +teeth, he snarled, “Be gone!” + +The father and mother badger, having gained their feet, picked up +their kicking little babes, and, wailing aloud, drew the air into their +flattened lungs till they could stand alone upon their feet. No sooner +had the baby badgers caught their breath than they howled and shrieked +with pain and fright. Ah! what a dismal cry was theirs as the whole +badger family went forth wailing from out their own dwelling! A little +distance away from their stolen house the father badger built a small +round hut. He made it of bent willows and covered it with dry grass and +twigs. + +This was shelter for the night; but alas! it was empty of food and +arrows. All day father badger prowled through the forest, but without +his arrows he could not get food for his children. Upon his return, the +cry of the little ones for meat, the sad quiet of the mother with bowed +head, hurt him like a poisoned arrow wound. + +“I'll beg meat for you!” said he in an unsteady voice. Covering his +head and entire body in a long loose robe he halted beside the big black +bear. The bear was slicing red meat to hang upon the rack. He did not +pause for a look at the comer. As the badger stood there unrecognized, +he saw that the bear had brought with him his whole family. Little cubs +played under the high-hanging new meats. They laughed and pointed with +their wee noses upward at the thin sliced meats upon the poles. + +“Have you no heart, Black Bear? My children are starving. Give me a +small piece of meat for them,” begged the badger. + +“Wa-ough!” growled the angry bear, and pounced upon the badger. “Be +gone!” said he, and with his big hind foot he sent father badger +sprawling on the ground. + +All the little ruffian bears hooted and shouted “ha-ha!” to see the +beggar fall upon his face. There was one, however, who did not even +smile. He was the youngest cub. His fur coat was not as black and glossy +as those his elders wore. The hair was dry and dingy. It looked much +more like kinky wool. He was the ugly cub. Poor little baby bear! he had +always been laughed at by his older brothers. He could not help being +himself. He could not change the differences between himself and his +brothers. Thus again, though the rest laughed aloud at the badger's +fall, he did not see the joke. His face was long and earnest. In his +heart he was sad to see the badgers crying and starving. In his breast +spread a burning desire to share his food with them. + +“I shall not ask my father for meat to give away. He would say 'No!' +Then my brothers would laugh at me,” said the ugly baby bear to himself. + +In an instant, as if his good intention had passed from him, he was +singing happily and skipping around his father at work. Singing in his +small high voice and dragging his feet in long strides after him, as if +a prankish spirit oozed out from his heels, he strayed off through the +tall grass. He was ambling toward the small round hut. When directly in +front of the entrance way, he made a quick side kick with his left hind +leg. Lo! there fell into the badger's hut a piece of fresh meat. It +was tough meat, full of sinews, yet it was the only piece he could take +without his father's notice. + +Thus having given meat to the hungry badgers, the ugly baby bear ran +quickly away to his father again. + +On the following day the father badger came back once more. He stood +watching the big bear cutting thin slices of meat. + +“Give--” he began, when the bear turning upon him with a growl, thrust +him cruelly aside. The badger fell on his hands. He fell where the grass +was wet with the blood of the newly carved buffalo. His keen starving +eyes caught sight of a little red clot lying bright upon the green. +Looking fearfully toward the bear and seeing his head was turned away, +he snatched up the small thick blood. Underneath his girdled blanket he +hid it in his hand. + +On his return to his family, he said within himself: “I'll pray the +Great Spirit to bless it.” Thus he built a small round lodge. Sprinkling +water upon the heated heap of sacred stones within, he made ready to +purge his body. “The buffalo blood, too, must be purified before I ask +a blessing upon it,” thought the badger. He carried it into the sacred +vapor lodge. After placing it near the sacred stones, he sat down beside +it. After a long silence, he muttered: “Great Spirit, bless this little +buffalo blood.” Then he arose, and with a quiet dignity stepped out of +the lodge. Close behind him some one followed. The badger turned to +look over his shoulder and to his great joy he beheld a Dakota brave +in handsome buckskins. In his hand he carried a magic arrow. Across his +back dangled a long fringed quiver. In answer to the badger's prayer, +the avenger had sprung from out the red globules. + +“My son!” exclaimed the badger with extended right hand. + +“How, father,” replied the brave; “I am your avenger!” + +Immediately the badger told the sad story of his hungry little ones and +the stingy bear. + +Listening closely the young man stood looking steadily upon the ground. + +At length the father badger moved away. + +“Where?” queried the avenger. + +“My son, we have no food. I am going again to beg for meat,” answered +the badger. + +“Then I go with you,” replied the young brave. This made the old badger +happy. He was proud of his son. He was delighted to be called “father” + by the first human creature. + +The bear saw the badger coming in the distance. He narrowed his eyes +at the tall stranger walking beside him. He spied the arrow. At once he +guessed it was the avenger of whom he had heard long, long ago. As they +approached, the bear stood erect with a hand on his thigh. He smiled +upon them. + +“How, badger, my friend! Here is my knife. Cut your favorite pieces from +the deer,” said he, holding out a long thin blade. + +“How!” said the badger eagerly. He wondered what had inspired the big +bear to such a generous deed. The young avenger waited till the badger +took the long knife in his hand. + +Gazing full into the black bear's face, he said: “I come to do justice. +You have returned only a knife to my poor father. Now return to him his +dwelling.” His voice was deep and powerful. In his black eyes burned a +steady fire. + +The long strong teeth of the bear rattled against each other, and his +shaggy body shook with fear. “Ahow!” cried he, as if he had been shot. +Running into the dwelling he gasped, breathless and trembling, “Come +out, all of you! This is the badger's dwelling. We must flee to the +forest for fear of the avenger who carries the magic arrow.” + +Out they hurried, all the bears, and disappeared into the woods. + +Singing and laughing, the badgers returned to their own dwelling. + +Then the avenger left them. + +“I go,” said he in parting, “over the earth.” + + + + +THE TREE-BOUND + + +IT was a clear summer day. The blue, blue sky dropped low over the edge +of the green level land. A large yellow sun hung directly overhead. + +The singing of birds filled the summer space between earth and sky with +sweet music. Again and again sang a yellow-breasted birdie--“Koda Ni +Dakota!” He insisted upon it. “Koda Ni Dakota!” which was “Friend, +you're a Dakota! Friend, you're a Dakota!” Perchance the birdie meant +the avenger with the magic arrow, for there across the plain he strode. +He was handsome in his paint and feathers, proud with his great buckskin +quiver on his back and a long bow in his hand. Afar to an eastern camp +of cone-shaped teepees he was going. There over the Indian village +hovered a large red eagle threatening the safety of the people. Every +morning rose this terrible red bird out of a high chalk bluff and +spreading out his gigantic wings soared slowly over the round camp +ground. Then it was that the people, terror-stricken, ran screaming +into their lodges. Covering their heads with their blankets, they sat +trembling with fear. No one dared to venture out till the red eagle had +disappeared beyond the west, where meet the blue and green. + +In vain tried the chieftain of the tribe to find among his warriors a +powerful marksman who could send a death arrow to the man-hungry bird. +At last to urge his men to their utmost skill he bade his crier proclaim +a new reward. + +Of the chieftain's two beautiful daughters he would have his choice who +brought the dreaded red eagle with an arrow in its breast. + +Upon hearing these words, the men of the village, both young and old, +both heroes and cowards, trimmed new arrows for the contest. At gray +dawn there stood indistinct under the shadow of the bluff many human +figures; silent as ghosts and wrapped in robes girdled tight about their +waists, they waited with chosen bow and arrow. + +Some cunning old warriors stayed not with the group. They crouched low +upon the open ground. But all eyes alike were fixed upon the top of the +high bluff. Breathless they watched for the soaring of the red eagle. + +From within the dwellings many eyes peeped through the small holes in +the front lapels of the teepee. With shaking knees and hard-set teeth, +the women peered out upon the Dakota men prowling about with bows and +arrows. + +At length when the morning sun also peeped over the eastern horizon at +the armed Dakotas, the red eagle walked out upon the edge of the cliff. +Pluming his gorgeous feathers, he ruffled his neck and flapped his +strong wings together. Then he dived into the air. Slowly he winged his +way over the round camp ground; over the men with their strong bows and +arrows! In an instant the long bows were bent. Strong straight arrows +with red feathered tips sped upward to the blue sky. Ah! slowly moved +those indifferent wings, untouched by the poison-beaked arrows. Off to +the west beyond the reach of arrow, beyond the reach of eye, the red +eagle flew away. + +A sudden clamor of high-pitched voices broke the deadly stillness of +the dawn. The women talked excitedly about the invulnerable red of the +eagle's feathers, while the would-be heroes sulked within their wigwams. +“He-he-he!” groaned the chieftain. + +On the evening of the same day sat a group of hunters around a bright +burning fire. They were talking of a strange young man whom they spied +while out upon a hunt for deer beyond the bluffs. They saw the stranger +taking aim. Following the point of his arrow with their eyes, they +beheld a herd of buffalo. The arrow sprang from the bow! It darted into +the skull of the foremost buffalo. But unlike other arrows it pierced +through the head of the creature and spinning in the air lit into the +next buffalo head. One by one the buffalo fell upon the sweet grass they +were grazing. With straight quivering limbs they lay on their sides. The +young man stood calmly by, counting on his fingers the buffalo as they +dropped dead to the ground. When the last one fell, he ran thither and +picking up his magic arrow wiped it carefully on the soft grass. He +slipped it into his long fringed quiver. + +“He is going to make a feast for some hungry tribe of men or beasts!” + cried the hunters among themselves as they hastened away. + +They were afraid of the stranger with the sacred arrow. When the +hunter's tale of the stranger's arrow reached the ears of the chieftain, +his face brightened with a smile. He sent forth fleet horsemen, to learn +of him his birth, his name, and his deeds. + +“If he is the avenger with the magic arrow, sprung up from the earth out +of a clot of buffalo blood, bid him come hither. Let him kill the red +eagle with his magic arrow. Let him win for himself one of my beautiful +daughters,” he had said to his messengers, for the old story of the +badger's man-son was known all over the level lands. + +After four days and nights the braves returned. “He is coming,” they +said. “We have seen him. He is straight and tall; handsome in face, with +large black eyes. He paints his round cheeks with bright red, and wears +the penciled lines of red over his temples like our men of honored rank. +He carries on his back a long fringed quiver in which he keeps his magic +arrow. His bow is long and strong. He is coming now to kill the big red +eagle.” All around the camp ground from mouth to ear passed those words +of the returned messengers. + +Now it chanced that immortal Iktomi, fully recovered from the brown +burnt spots, overheard the people talking. At once he was filled with a +new desire. “If only I had the magic arrow, I would kill the red eagle +and win the chieftain's daughter for a wife,” said he in his heart. + +Back to his lonely wigwam he hastened. Beneath the tree in front of his +teepee he sat upon the ground with chin between his drawn-up knees. His +keen eyes scanned the wide plain. He was watching for the avenger. + +“'He is coming!' said the people,” muttered old Iktomi. All of a sudden +he raised an open palm to his brow and peered afar into the west. The +summer sun hung bright in the middle of a cloudless sky. There across +the green prairie was a man walking bareheaded toward the east. + +“Ha! ha! 'tis he! the man with the magic arrow!” laughed Iktomi. And +when the bird with the yellow breast sang loud again--“Koda Ni Dakota! +Friend, you're a Dakota!” Iktomi put his hand over his mouth as he threw +his head far backward, laughing at both the bird and man. + +“He is your friend, but his arrow will kill one of your kind! He is a +Dakota, but soon he'll grow into the bark on this tree! Ha! ha! ha!” he +laughed again. + +The young avenger walked with swaying strides nearer and nearer toward +the lonely wigwam and tree. Iktomi heard the swish! swish! of the +stranger's feet through the tall grass. He was passing now beyond the +tree, when Iktomi, springing to his feet, called out: “How, how, my +friend! I see you are dressed in handsome deerskins and have red paint +on your cheeks. You are going to some feast or dance, may I ask?” Seeing +the young man only smiled Iktomi went on: “I have not had a mouthful of +food this day. Have pity on me, young brave, and shoot yonder bird for +me!” With these words Iktomi pointed toward the tree-top, where sat +a bird on the highest branch. The young avenger, always ready to help +those in distress, sent an arrow upward and the bird fell. In the next +branch it was caught between the forked prongs. + +“My friend, climb the tree and get the bird. I cannot climb so high. I +would get dizzy and fall,” pleaded Iktomi. The avenger began to scale +the tree, when Iktomi cried to him: “My friend, your beaded buckskins +may be torn by the branches. Leave them safe upon the grass till you are +down again.” + +“You are right,” replied the young man, quickly slipping off his +long fringed quiver. Together with his dangling pouches and tinkling +ornaments, he placed it on the ground. Now he climbed the tree +unhindered. Soon from the top he took the bird. “My friend, toss to +me your arrow that I may have the honor of wiping it clean on soft +deerskin!” exclaimed Iktomi. + +“How!” said the brave, and threw the bird and arrow to the ground. + +At once Iktomi seized the arrow. Rubbing it first on the grass and then +on a piece of deerskin, he muttered indistinct words all the while. +The young man, stepping downward from limb to limb, hearing the low +muttering, said: “Iktomi, I cannot hear what you say!” + +“Oh, my friend, I was only talking of your big heart.” + +Again stooping over the arrow Iktomi continued his repetition of charm +words. “Grow fast, grow fast to the bark of the tree,” he whispered. +Still the young man moved slowly downward. Suddenly dropping the arrow +and standing erect, Iktomi said aloud: “Grow fast to the bark of the +tree!” Before the brave could leap from the tree he became tight-grown +to the bark. + +“Ah! ha!” laughed the bad Iktomi. “I have the magic arrow! I have the +beaded buckskins of the great avenger!” Hooting and dancing beneath the +tree, he said: “I shall kill the red eagle; I shall wed the chieftain's +beautiful daughter!” + +“Oh, Iktomi, set me free!” begged the tree-bound Dakota brave. But +Iktomi's ears were like the fungus on a tree. He did not hear with them. + +Wearing the handsome buckskins and carrying proudly the magic arrow in +his right hand, he started off eastward. Imitating the swaying strides +of the avenger, he walked away with a face turned slightly skyward. + +“Oh, set me free! I am glued to the tree like its own bark! Cut me +loose!” moaned the prisoner. + +A young woman, carrying on her strong back a bundle of tightly bound +willow sticks, passed near by the lonely teepee. She heard the wailing +man's voice. She paused to listen to the sad words. Looking around she +saw nowhere a human creature. “It may be a spirit,” thought she. + +“Oh! cut me loose! set me free! Iktomi has played me false! He has made +me bark of his tree!” cried the voice again. + +The young woman dropped her pack of firewood to the ground. With her +stone axe she hurried to the tree. There before her astonished eyes +clung a young brave close to the tree. + +Too shy for words, yet too kind-hearted to leave the stranger +tree-bound, she cut loose the whole bark. Like an open jacket she drew +it to the ground. With it came the young man also. Free once more, he +started away. Looking backward, a few paces from the young woman, he +waved his hand, upward and downward, before her face. This was a sign of +gratitude used when words failed to interpret strong emotion. + +When the bewildered woman reached her dwelling, she mounted a pony and +rode swiftly across the rolling land. To the camp ground in the east, to +the chieftain troubled by the red eagle, she carried her story. + + + + +SHOOTING OF THE RED EAGLE + + +A MAN in buckskins sat upon the top of a little hillock. The setting sun +shone bright upon a strong bow in his hand. His face was turned toward +the round camp ground at the foot of the hill. He had walked a long +journey hither. He was waiting for the chieftain's men to spy him. + +Soon four strong men ran forth from the center wigwam toward the +hillock, where sat the man with the long bow. + +“He is the avenger come to shoot the red eagle,” cried the runners to +each other as they bent forward swinging their elbows together. + +They reached the side of the stranger, but he did not heed them. Proud +and silent he gazed upon the cone-shaped wigwams beneath him. Spreading +a handsomely decorated buffalo robe before the man, two of the warriors +lifted him by each shoulder and placed him gently on it. Then the four +men took, each, a corner of the blanket and carried the stranger, with +long proud steps, toward the chieftain's teepee. + +Ready to greet the stranger, the tall chieftain stood at the entrance +way. “How, you are the avenger with the magic arrow!” said he, extending +to him a smooth soft hand. + +“How, great chieftain!” replied the man, holding long the chieftain's +hand. Entering the teepee, the chieftain motioned the young man to the +right side of the doorway, while he sat down opposite him with a center +fire burning between them. Wordless, like a bashful Indian maid, the +avenger ate in silence the food set before him on the ground in front +of his crossed shins. When he had finished his meal he handed the empty +bowl to the chieftain's wife, saying, “Mother-in-law, here is your +dish!” + +“Han, my son!” answered the woman, taking the bowl. + +With the magic arrow in his quiver the stranger felt not in the least +too presuming in addressing the woman as his mother-in-law. + +Complaining of fatigue, he covered his face with his blanket and soon +within the chieftain's teepee he lay fast asleep. + +“The young man is not handsome after all!” whispered the woman in her +husband's ear. + +“Ah, but after he has killed the red eagle he will seem handsome +enough!” answered the chieftain. + +That night the star men in their burial procession in the sky reached +the low northern horizon, before the center fires within the teepees +had flickered out. The ringing laughter which had floated up through +the smoke lapels was now hushed, and only the distant howling of wolves +broke the quiet of the village. But the lull between midnight and dawn +was short indeed. Very early the oval-shaped door-flaps were thrust +aside and many brown faces peered out of the wigwams toward the top of +the highest bluff. + +Now the sun rose up out of the east. The red painted avenger stood ready +within the camp ground for the flying of the red eagle. He appeared, +that terrible bird! He hovered over the round village as if he could +pounce down upon it and devour the whole tribe. + +When the first arrow shot up into the sky the anxious watchers thrust a +hand quickly over their half-uttered “hinnu!” The second and the third +arrows flew upward but missed by a wide space the red eagle soaring with +lazy indifference over the little man with the long bow. All his arrows +he spent in vain. “Ah! my blanket brushed my elbow and shifted the +course of my arrow!” said the stranger as the people gathered around +him. + +During this happening, a woman on horseback halted her pony at the +chieftain's teepee. It was no other than the young woman who cut loose +the tree-bound captive! + +While she told the story the chieftain listened with downcast face. “I +passed him on my way. He is near!” she ended. + +Indignant at the bold impostor, the wrathful eyes of the chieftain +snapped fire like red cinders in the night time. His lips were closed. +At length to the woman he said: “How, you have done me a good deed.” + Then with quick decision he gave command to a fleet horseman to meet the +avenger. “Clothe him in these my best buckskins,” said he, pointing to a +bundle within the wigwam. + +In the meanwhile strong men seized Iktomi and dragged him by his long +hair to the hilltop. There upon a mock-pillared grave they bound him +hand and feet. Grown-ups and children sneered and hooted at Iktomi's +disgrace. For a half-day he lay there, the laughing-stock of the people. +Upon the arrival of the real avenger, Iktomi was released and chased +away beyond the outer limits of the camp ground. + +On the following morning at daybreak, peeped the people out of half-open +door-flaps. + +There again in the midst of the large camp ground was a man in beaded +buckskins. In his hand was a strong bow and red-tipped arrow. Again the +big red eagle appeared on the edge of the bluff. He plumed his feathers +and flapped his huge wings. + +The young man crouched low to the ground. He placed the arrow on the +bow, drawing a poisoned flint for the eagle. + +The bird rose into the air. He moved his outspread wings one, two, three +times and lo! the eagle tumbled from the great height and fell heavily +to the earth. An arrow stuck in his breast! He was dead! + +So quick was the hand of the avenger, so sure his sight, that no one had +seen the arrow fly from his long bent bow. + +In awe and amazement the village was dumb. And when the avenger, +plucking a red eagle feather, placed it in his black hair, a loud shout +of the people went up to the sky. Then hither and thither ran singing +men and women making a great feast for the avenger. + +Thus he won the beautiful Indian princess who never tired of telling to +her children the story of the big red eagle. + + + + +IKTOMI AND THE TURTLE + + +THE huntsman Patkasa (turtle) stood bent over a newly slain deer. + +The red-tipped arrow he drew from the wounded deer was unlike the arrows +in his own quiver. Another's stray shot had killed the deer. Patkasa had +hunted all the morning without so much as spying an ordinary blackbird. + +At last returning homeward, tired and heavy-hearted that he had no meat +for the hungry mouths in his wigwam, he walked slowly with downcast +eyes. Kind ghosts pitied the unhappy hunter and led him to the newly +slain deer, that his children should not cry for food. + +When Patkasa stumbled upon the deer in his path, he exclaimed: “Good +spirits have pushed me hither!” + +Thus he leaned long over the gift of the friendly ghosts. + +“How, my friend!” said a voice behind his ear, and a hand fell on his +shoulder. It was not a spirit this time. It was old Iktomi. + +“How, Iktomi!” answered Patkasa, still stooping over the deer. + +“My friend, you are a skilled hunter,” began Iktomi, smiling a thin +smile which spread from one ear to the other. + +Suddenly raising up his head Patkasa's black eyes twinkled as he asked: +“Oh, you really say so?” + +“Yes, my friend, you are a skillful fellow. Now let us have a little +contest. Let us see who can jump over the deer without touching a hair +on his hide,” suggested Iktomi. + +“Oh, I fear I cannot do it!” cried Patkasa, rubbing his funny, thick +palms together. + +“Have no coward's doubt, Patkasa. I say you are a skillful fellow who +finds nothing hard to do.” With these words Iktomi led Patkasa a short +distance away. In little puffs Patkasa laughed uneasily. + +“Now, you may jump first,” said Iktomi. + +Patkasa, with doubled fists, swung his fat arms to and fro, all the +while biting hard his under lip. + +Just before the run and leap Iktomi put in: “Let the winner have the +deer to eat!” + +It was too late now to say no. Patkasa was more afraid of being called +a coward than of losing the deer. “Ho-wo,” he replied, still working his +short arms. At length he started off on the run. So quick and small were +his steps that he seemed to be kicking the ground only. Then the leap! +But Patkasa tripped upon a stick and fell hard against the side of the +deer. + +“He-he-he!” exclaimed Iktomi, pretending disappointment that his friend +had fallen. + +Lifting him to his feet, he said: “Now it is my turn to try the high +jump!” Hardly was the last word spoken than Iktomi gave a leap high +above the deer. + +“The game is mine!” laughed he, patting the sullen Patkasa on the +back. “My friend, watch the deer while I go to bring my children,” said +Iktomi, darting lightly through the tall grass. + +Patkasa was always ready to believe the words of scheming people and to +do the little favors any one asked of him. However, on this occasion, +he did not answer “Yes, my friend.” He realized that Iktomi's flattering +tongue had made him foolish. + +He turned up his nose at Iktomi, now almost out of sight, as much as to +say: “Oh, no, Ikto; I do not hear your words!” + +Soon there came a murmur of voices. The sound of laughter grew louder +and louder. All of a sudden it became hushed. Old Iktomi led his young +Iktomi brood to the place where he had left the turtle, but it was +vacant. Nowhere was there any sign of Patkasa or the deer. Then the +babes did howl! + +“Be still!” said father Iktomi to his children. “I know where Patkasa +lives. Follow me. I shall take you to the turtle's dwelling.” He ran +along a narrow footpath toward the creek near by. Close upon his heels +came his children with tear-streaked faces. + +“There!” said Iktomi in a loud whisper as he gathered his little ones on +the bank. “There is Patkasa broiling venison! There is his teepee, and +the savory fire is in his front yard!” + +The young Iktomis stretched their necks and rolled their round black +eyes like newly hatched birds. They peered into the water. + +“Now, I will cool Patkasa's fire. I shall bring you the broiled venison. +Watch closely. When you see the black coals rise to the surface of the +water, clap your hands and shout aloud, for soon after that sign I shall +return to you with some tender meat.” + +Thus saying Iktomi plunged into the creek. Splash! splash! the water +leaped upward into spray. Scarcely had it become leveled and smooth +than there bubbled up many black spots. The creek was seething with the +dancing of round black things. + +“The cooled fire! The coals!” laughed the brood of Iktomis. Clapping +together their little hands, they chased one another along the edge of +the creek. They shouted and hooted with great glee. + +“Ahas!” said a gruff voice across the water. It was Patkasa. In a large +willow tree leaning far over the water he sat upon a large limb. On the +very same branch was a bright burning fire over which Patkasa broiled +the venison. By this time the water was calm again. No more danced those +black spots on its surface, for they were the toes of old Iktomi. He was +drowned. + +The Iktomi children hurried away from the creek, crying and calling for +their water-dead father. + + + + +DANCE IN A BUFFALO SKULL + + +IT was night upon the prairie. Overhead the stars were twinkling bright +their red and yellow lights. The moon was young. A silvery thread among +the stars, it soon drifted low beneath the horizon. + +Upon the ground the land was pitchy black. There are night people on the +plain who love the dark. Amid the black level land they meet to frolic +under the stars. Then when their sharp ears hear any strange footfalls +nigh they scamper away into the deep shadows of night. There they are +safely hid from all dangers, they think. + +Thus it was that one very black night, afar off from the edge of the +level land, out of the wooded river bottom glided forth two balls of +fire. They came farther and farther into the level land. They grew +larger and brighter. The dark hid the body of the creature with those +fiery eyes. They came on and on, just over the tops of the prairie +grass. It might have been a wildcat prowling low on soft, stealthy feet. +Slowly but surely the terrible eyes drew nearer and nearer to the heart +of the level land. + +There in a huge old buffalo skull was a gay feast and dance! Tiny little +field mice were singing and dancing in a circle to the boom-boom of a +wee, wee drum. They were laughing and talking among themselves while +their chosen singers sang loud a merry tune. + +They built a small open fire within the center of their queer dance +house. The light streamed out of the buffalo skull through all the +curious sockets and holes. + +A light on the plain in the middle of the night was an unusual thing. +But so merry were the mice they did not hear the “king, king” of sleepy +birds, disturbed by the unaccustomed fire. + +A pack of wolves, fearing to come nigh this night fire, stood together +a little distance away, and, turning their pointed noses to the stars, +howled and yelped most dismally. Even the cry of the wolves was unheeded +by the mice within the lighted buffalo skull. + +They were feasting and dancing; they were singing and laughing--those +funny little furry fellows. + +All the while across the dark from out the low river bottom came that +pair of fiery eyes. + +Now closer and more swift, now fiercer and glaring, the eyes moved +toward the buffalo skull. All unconscious of those fearful eyes, the +happy mice nibbled at dried roots and venison. The singers had started +another song. The drummers beat the time, turning their heads from +side to side in rhythm. In a ring around the fire hopped the mice, each +bouncing hard on his two hind feet. Some carried their tails over their +arms, while others trailed them proudly along. + +Ah, very near are those round yellow eyes! Very low to the ground they +seem to creep--creep toward the buffalo skull. All of a sudden they +slide into the eye-sockets of the old skull. + +“Spirit of the buffalo!” squeaked a frightened mouse as he jumped out +from a hole in the back part of the skull. + +“A cat! a cat!” cried other mice as they scrambled out of holes both +large and snug. Noiseless they ran away into the dark. + + + + +THE TOAD AND THE BOY + + +THE water-fowls were flying over the marshy lakes. It was now the +hunting season. Indian men, with bows and arrows, were wading waist +deep amid the wild rice. Near by, within their wigwams, the wives were +roasting wild duck and making down pillows. + +In the largest teepee sat a young mother wrapping red porcupine +quills about the long fringes of a buckskin cushion. Beside her lay a +black-eyed baby boy cooing and laughing. Reaching and kicking upward +with his tiny hands and feet, he played with the dangling strings of his +heavy-beaded bonnet hanging empty on a tent pole above him. + +At length the mother laid aside her red quills and white sinew-threads. +The babe fell fast asleep. Leaning on one hand and softly whispering +a little lullaby, she threw a light cover over her baby. It was almost +time for the return of her husband. + +Remembering there were no willow sticks for the fire, she quickly +girdled her blanket tight about her waist, and with a short-handled ax +slipped through her belt, she hurried away toward the wooded ravine. She +was strong and swung an ax as skillfully as any man. Her loose buckskin +dress was made for such freedom. Soon carrying easily a bundle of long +willows on her back, with a loop of rope over both her shoulders, she +came striding homeward. + +Near the entrance way she stooped low, at once shifting the bundle to +the right and with both hands lifting the noose from over her head. +Having thus dropped the wood to the ground, she disappeared into her +teepee. In a moment she came running out again, crying, “My son! My +little son is gone!” Her keen eyes swept east and west and all around +her. There was nowhere any sign of the child. + +Running with clinched fists to the nearest teepees, she called: “Has any +one seen my baby? He is gone! My little son is gone!” + +“Hinnu! Hinnu!” exclaimed the women, rising to their feet and rushing +out of their wigwams. + +“We have not seen your child! What has happened?” queried the women. + +With great tears in her eyes the mother told her story. + +“We will search with you,” they said to her as she started off. + +They met the returning husbands, who turned about and joined in the +hunt for the missing child. Along the shore of the lakes, among the +high-grown reeds, they looked in vain. He was nowhere to be found. After +many days and nights the search was given up. It was sad, indeed, to +hear the mother wailing aloud for her little son. + +It was growing late in the autumn. The birds were flying high toward the +south. The teepees around the lakes were gone, save one lonely dwelling. + +Till the winter snow covered the ground and ice covered the lakes, the +wailing woman's voice was heard from that solitary wigwam. From some far +distance was also the sound of the father's voice singing a sad song. + +Thus ten summers and as many winters have come and gone since the +strange disappearance of the little child. Every autumn with the hunters +came the unhappy parents of the lost baby to search again for him. + +Toward the latter part of the tenth season when, one by one, the teepees +were folded and the families went away from the lake region, the mother +walked again along the lake shore weeping. One evening, across the lake +from where the crying woman stood, a pair of bright black eyes peered at +her through the tall reeds and wild rice. A little wild boy stopped his +play among the tall grasses. His long, loose hair hanging down his brown +back and shoulders was carelessly tossed from his round face. He wore a +loin cloth of woven sweet grass. Crouching low to the marshy ground, he +listened to the wailing voice. As the voice grew hoarse and only sobs +shook the slender figure of the woman, the eyes of the wild boy grew dim +and wet. + +At length, when the moaning ceased, he sprang to his feet and ran like a +nymph with swift outstretched toes. He rushed into a small hut of reeds +and grasses. + +“Mother! Mother! Tell me what voice it was I heard which pleased my +ears, but made my eyes grow wet!” said he, breathless. + +“Han, my son,” grunted a big, ugly toad. “It was the voice of a weeping +woman you heard. My son, do not say you like it. Do not tell me it +brought tears to your eyes. You have never heard me weep. I can please +your ear and break your heart. Listen!” replied the great old toad. + +Stepping outside, she stood by the entrance way. She was old and badly +puffed out. She had reared a large family of little toads, but none +of them had aroused her love, nor ever grieved her. She had heard +the wailing human voice and marveled at the throat which produced the +strange sound. Now, in her great desire to keep the stolen boy awhile +longer, she ventured to cry as the Dakota woman does. In a gruff, coarse +voice she broke forth: + +“Hin-hin, doe-skin! Hin-hin, Ermine, Ermine! Hin-hin, red blanket, with +white border!” + +Not knowing that the syllables of a Dakota's cry are the names of loved +ones gone, the ugly toad mother sought to please the boy's ear with the +names of valuable articles. Having shrieked in a torturing voice and +mouthed extravagant names, the old toad rolled her tearless eyes with +great satisfaction. Hopping back into her dwelling, she asked: + +“My son, did my voice bring tears to your eyes? Did my words bring +gladness to your ears? Do you not like my wailing better?” + +“No, no!” pouted the boy with some impatience. “I want to hear the +woman's voice! Tell me, mother, why the human voice stirs all my +feelings!” + +The toad mother said within her breast, “The human child has heard and +seen his real mother. I cannot keep him longer, I fear. Oh, no, I cannot +give away the pretty creature I have taught to call me 'mother' all +these many winters.” + +“Mother,” went on the child voice, “tell me one thing. Tell me why my +little brothers and sisters are all unlike me.” + +The big, ugly toad, looking at her pudgy children, said: “The eldest is +always best.” + +This reply quieted the boy for a while. Very closely watched the old +toad mother her stolen human son. When by chance he started off alone, +she shoved out one of her own children after him, saying: “Do not come +back without your big brother.” + +Thus the wild boy with the long, loose hair sits every day on a marshy +island hid among the tall reeds. But he is not alone. Always at his feet +hops a little toad brother. One day an Indian hunter, wading in the deep +waters, spied the boy. He had heard of the baby stolen long ago. + +“This is he!” murmured the hunter to himself as he ran to his wigwam. “I +saw among the tall reeds a black-haired boy at play!” shouted he to the +people. + +At once the unhappy father and mother cried out, “'Tis he, our boy!” + Quickly he led them to the lake. Peeping through the wild rice, he +pointed with unsteady finger toward the boy playing all unawares. + +“'Tis he! 'tis he!” cried the mother, for she knew him. + +In silence the hunter stood aside, while the happy father and mother +caressed their baby boy grown tall. + + + + +IYA, THE CAMP-EATER + + +FROM the tall grass came the voice of a crying babe. The huntsmen who +were passing nigh heard and halted. + +The tallest one among them hastened toward the high grass with long, +cautious strides. He waded through the growth of green with just a head +above it all. Suddenly exclaiming “Hunhe!” he dropped out of sight. In +another instant he held up in both his hands a tiny little baby, wrapped +in soft brown buckskins. + +“Oh ho, a wood-child!” cried the men, for they were hunting along the +wooded river bottom where this babe was found. + +While the hunters were questioning whether or no they should carry it +home, the wee Indian baby kept up his little howl. + +“His voice is strong!” said one. + +“At times it sounds like an old man's voice!” whispered a superstitious +fellow, who feared some bad spirit hid in the small child to cheat them +by and by. + +“Let us take it to our wise chieftain,” at length they said; and the +moment they started toward the camp ground the strange wood-child ceased +to cry. + +Beside the chieftain's teepee waited the hunters while the tall man +entered with the child. + +“How! how!” nodded the kind-faced chieftain, listening to the queer +story. Then rising, he took the infant in his strong arms; gently he +laid the black-eyed babe in his daughter's lap. “This is to be your +little son!” said he, smiling. + +“Yes, father,” she replied. Pleased with the child, she smoothed the +long black hair fringing his round brown face. + +“Tell the people that I give a feast and dance this day for the naming +of my daughter's little son,” bade the chieftain. + +In the meanwhile among the men waiting by the entrance way, one said in +a low voice: “I have heard that bad spirits come as little children into +a camp which they mean to destroy.” + +“No! no! Let us not be overcautious. It would be cowardly to leave +a baby in the wild wood where prowl the hungry wolves!” answered an +elderly man. + +The tall man now came out of the chieftain's teepee. With a word he sent +them to their dwellings half running with joy. + +“A feast! a dance for the naming of the chieftain's grandchild!” cried +he in a loud voice to the village people. + +“What? what?” asked they in great surprise, holding a hand to the ear to +catch the words of the crier. + +There was a momentary silence among the people while they listened to +the ringing voice of the man walking in the center ground. Then broke +forth a rippling, laughing babble among the cone-shaped teepees. All +were glad to hear of the chieftain's grandson. They were happy to attend +the feast and dance for its naming. With excited fingers they twisted +their hair into glossy braids and painted their cheeks with bright red +paint. To and fro hurried the women, handsome in their gala-day dress. +Men in loose deerskins, with long tinkling metal fringes, strode in +small numbers toward the center of the round camp ground. + +Here underneath a temporary shade-house of green leaves they were to +dance and feast. The children in deerskins and paints, just like their +elders, were jolly little men and women. Beside their eager parents they +skipped along toward the green dance house. + +Here seated in a large circle, the people were assembled, the proud +chieftain rose with the little baby in his arms. The noisy hum of voices +was hushed. Not a tinkling of a metal fringe broke the silence. The +crier came forward to greet the chieftain, then bent attentively over +the small babe, listening to the words of the chieftain. When he paused +the crier spoke aloud to the people: + +“This woodland child is adopted by the chieftain's eldest daughter. His +name is Chaske. He wears the title of the eldest son. In honor of Chaske +the chieftain gives this feast and dance! These are the words of him you +see holding a baby in his arms.” + +“Yes! Yes! Hinnu! How!” came from the circle. At once the drummers beat +softly and slowly their drum while the chosen singers hummed together to +find the common pitch. The beat of the drum grew louder and faster. The +singers burst forth in a lively tune. Then the drumbeats subsided and +faintly marked the rhythm of the singing. Here and there bounced up men +and women, both young and old. They danced and sang with merry light +hearts. Then came the hour of feasting. + +Late into the night the air of the camp ground was alive with the +laughing voices of women and the singing in unison of young men. Within +her father's teepee sat the chieftain's daughter. Proud of her little +one, she watched over him asleep in her lap. + +Gradually a deep quiet stole over the camp ground, as one by one the +people fell into pleasant dreams. Now all the village was still. Alone +sat the beautiful young mother watching the babe in her lap, asleep with +a gaping little mouth. Amid the quiet of the night, her ear heard the +far-off hum of many voices. The faint sound of murmuring people was in +the air. Upward she glanced at the smoke hole of the wigwam and saw +a bright star peeping down upon her. “Spirits in the air above?” she +wondered. Yet there was no sign to tell her of their nearness. The fine +small sound of voices grew larger and nearer. + +“Father! rise! I hear the coming of some tribe. Hostile or friendly--I +cannot tell. Rise and see!” whispered the young woman. + +“Yes, my daughter!” answered the chieftain, springing to his feet. + +Though asleep, his ear was ever alert. Thus rushing out into the open, +he listened for strange sounds. With an eagle eye he scanned the camp +ground for some sign. + +Returning he said: “My daughter, I hear nothing and see no sign of evil +nigh.” + +“Oh! the sound of many voices comes up from the earth about me!” + exclaimed the young mother. + +Bending low over her babe she gave ear to the ground. Horrified was she +to find the mysterious sound came out of the open mouth of her sleeping +child! + +“Why so unlike other babes!” she cried within her heart as she slipped +him gently from her lap to the ground. “Mother, listen and tell me if +this child is an evil spirit come to destroy our camp!” she whispered +loud. + +Placing an ear close to the open baby mouth, the chieftain and his wife, +each in turn heard the voices of a great camp. The singing of men and +women, the beating of the drum, the rattling of deer-hoofs strung like +bells on a string, these were the sounds they heard. + +“We must go away,” said the chieftain, leading them into the night. +Out in the open he whispered to the frightened young woman: “Iya, the +camp-eater, has come in the guise of a babe. Had you gone to sleep, he +would have jumped out into his own shape and would have devoured our +camp. He is a giant with spindling legs. He cannot fight, for he cannot +run. He is powerful only in the night with his tricks. We are safe as +soon as day breaks.” Then moving closer to the woman, he whispered: “If +he wakes now, he will swallow the whole tribe with one hideous gulp! +Come, we must flee with our people.” + +Thus creeping from teepee to teepee a secret alarm signal was given. At +midnight the teepees were gone and there was left no sign of the village +save heaps of dead ashes. So quietly had the people folded their wigwams +and bundled their tent poles that they slipped away unheard by the +sleeping Iya babe. + +When the morning sun arose, the babe awoke. Seeing himself deserted, he +threw off his baby form in a hot rage. + +Wearing his own ugly shape, his huge body toppled to and fro, from side +to side, on a pair of thin legs far too small for their burden. Though +with every move he came dangerously nigh to falling, he followed in the +trail of the fleeing people. + +“I shall eat you in the sight of a noon-day sun!” cried Iya in his vain +rage, when he spied them encamped beyond a river. + +By some unknown cunning he swam the river and sought his way toward the +teepees. + +“Hin! hin!” he grunted and growled. With perspiration beading his brow +he strove to wiggle his slender legs beneath his giant form. + +“Ha! ha!” laughed all the village people to see Iya made foolish with +anger. “Such spindle legs cannot stand to fight by daylight!” shouted +the brave ones who were terror-struck the night before by the name +“Iya.” + +Warriors with long knives rushed forth and slew the camp-eater. + +Lo! there rose out of the giant a whole Indian tribe: their camp ground, +their teepees in a large circle, and the people laughing and dancing. + +“We are glad to be free!” said these strange people. + +Thus Iya was killed; and no more are the camp grounds in danger of being +swallowed up in a single night time. + + + + +MANSTIN, THE RABBIT + + +MANSTIN was an adventurous brave, but very kind-hearted. Stamping +a moccasined foot as he drew on his buckskin leggins, he said: +“Grandmother, beware of Iktomi! Do not let him lure you into some +cunning trap. I am going to the North country on a long hunt.” + +With these words of caution to the bent old rabbit grandmother with whom +he had lived since he was a tiny babe, Manstin started off toward +the north. He was scarce over the great high hills when he heard the +shrieking of a human child. + +“Wan!” he ejaculated, pointing his long ears toward the direction of the +sound; “Wan! that is the work of cruel Double-Face. Shameless coward! he +delights in torturing helpless creatures!” + +Muttering indistinct words, Manstin ran up the last hill and lo! in the +ravine beyond stood the terrible monster with a face in front and one in +the back of his head! + +This brown giant was without clothes save for a wild-cat-skin about his +loins. With a wicked gleaming eye, he watched the little black-haired +baby he held in his strong arm. In a laughing voice he hummed an Indian +mother's lullaby, “A-boo! Aboo!” and at the same time he switched the +naked baby with a thorny wild-rose bush. + +Quickly Manstin jumped behind a large sage bush on the brow of the hill. +He bent his bow and the sinewy string twanged. Now an arrow stuck above +the ear of Double-Face. It was a poisoned arrow, and the giant fell +dead. Then Manstin took the little brown baby and hurried away from the +ravine. Soon he came to a teepee from whence loud wailing voices +broke. It was the teepee of the stolen baby and the mourners were its +heart-broken parents. + +When gallant Manstin returned the child to the eager arms of the mother +there came a sudden terror into the eyes of both the Dakotas. They +feared lest it was Double-Face come in a new guise to torture them. +The rabbit understood their fear and said: “I am Manstin, the +kind-hearted,--Manstin, the noted huntsman. I am your friend. Do not +fear.” + +That night a strange thing happened. While the father and mother slept, +Manstin took the wee baby. With his feet placed gently yet firmly upon +the tiny toes of the little child, he drew upward by each small hand the +sleeping child till he was a full-grown man. With a forefinger he traced +a slit in the upper lip; and when on the morrow the man and woman awoke +they could not distinguish their own son from Manstin, so much alike +were the braves. + +“Henceforth we are friends, to help each other,” said Manstin, shaking a +right hand in farewell. “The earth is our common ear, to carry from its +uttermost extremes one's slightest wish for the other!” + +“Ho! Be it so!” answered the newly made man. + +Upon leaving his friend, Manstin hurried away toward the North country +whither he was bound for a long hunt. Suddenly he came upon the edge of +a wide brook. His alert eye caught sight of a rawhide rope staked to the +water's brink, which led away toward a small round hut in the distance. +The ground was trodden into a deep groove beneath the loosely drawn +rawhide rope. + +“Hun-he!” exclaimed Manstin, bending over the freshly made footprints in +the moist bank of the brook. “A man's footprints!” he said to himself. +“A blind man lives in yonder hut! This rope is his guide by which he +comes for his daily water!” surmised Manstin, who knew all the peculiar +contrivances of the people. At once his eyes became fixed upon the +solitary dwelling and hither he followed his curiosity,--a real blind +man's rope. + +Quietly he lifted the door-flap and entered in. An old toothless +grandfather, blind and shaky with age, sat upon the ground. He was +not deaf however. He heard the entrance and felt the presence of some +stranger. + +“How, grandchild,” he mumbled, for he was old enough to be grandparent +to every living thing, “how! I cannot see you. Pray, speak your name!” + +“Grandfather, I am Manstin,” answered the rabbit, all the while looking +with curious eyes about the wigwam. + +“Grandfather, what is it so tightly packed in all these buckskin bags +placed against the tent poles?” he asked. + +“My grandchild, those are dried buffalo meat and venison. These are +magic bags which never grow empty. I am blind and cannot go on a hunt. +Hence a kind Maker has given me these magic bags of choicest foods.” + +Then the old, bent man pulled at a rope which lay by his right hand. +“This leads me to the brook where I drink! and this,” said he, turning +to the one on his left, “and this takes me into the forest, where I feel +about for dry sticks for my fire.” + +“Grandfather, I wish I lived in such sure luxury! I would lean back +against a tent pole, and with crossed feet I would smoke sweet willow +bark the rest of my days,” sighed Manstin. + +“My grandchild, your eyes are your luxury! you would be unhappy without +them!” the old man replied. + +“Grandfather, I would give you my two eyes for your place!” cried +Manstin. + +“How! you have said it. Arise. Take out your eyes and give them to me. +Henceforth you are at home here in my stead.” + +At once Manstin took out both his eyes and the old man put them on! +Rejoicing, the old grandfather started away with his young eyes while +the blind rabbit filled his dream pipe, leaning lazily against the tent +pole. For a short time it was a most pleasant pastime to smoke willow +bark and to eat from the magic bags. + +Manstin grew thirsty, but there was no water in the small dwelling. +Taking one of the rawhide ropes he started toward the brook to quench +his thirst. He was young and unwilling to trudge slowly in the old man's +footpath. He was full of glee, for it had been many long moons since he +had tasted such good food. Thus he skipped confidently along jerking the +old weather-eaten rawhide spasmodically till all of a sudden it gave way +and Manstin fell headlong into the water. + +“En! En!” he grunted kicking frantically amid stream. All along the +slippery bank he vainly tried to climb, till at last he chanced upon the +old stake and the deeply worn footpath. Exhausted and inwardly disgusted +with his mishaps, he crawled more cautiously on all fours to his wigwam +door. Dripping with his recent plunge he sat with chattering teeth +within his unfired wigwam. + +The sun had set and the night air was chilly, but there was no fire-wood +in the dwelling. “Hin!” murmured Manstin and bravely tried the other +rope. “I go for some fire-wood!” he said, following the rawhide rope +which led into the forest. Soon he stumbled upon thickly strewn dry +willow sticks. Eagerly with both hands he gathered the wood into his +outspread blanket. Manstin was naturally an energetic fellow. + +When he had a large heap, he tied two opposite ends of blanket +together and lifted the bundle of wood upon his back, but alas! he had +unconsciously dropped the end of the rope and now he was lost in the +wood! + +“Hin! hin!” he groaned. Then pausing a moment, he set his fan-like ears +to catch any sound of approaching footsteps. There was none. Not even a +night bird twittered to help him out of his predicament. + +With a bold face, he made a start at random. + +He fell into some tangled wood where he was held fast. Manstin let go +his bundle and began to lament having given away his two eyes. + +“Friend, my friend, I have need of you! The old oak tree grandfather +has gone off with my eyes and I am lost in the woods!” he cried with his +lips close to the earth. + +Scarcely had he spoken when the sound of voices was audible on the outer +edge of the forest. Nearer and louder grew the voices--one was the clear +flute tones of a young brave and the other the tremulous squeaks of an +old grandfather. + +It was Manstin's friend with the Earth Ear and the old grandfather. +“Here Manstin, take back your eyes,” said the old man, “I knew you would +not be content in my stead, but I wanted you to learn your lesson. I +have had pleasure seeing with your eyes and trying your bow and arrows, +but since I am old and feeble I much prefer my own teepee and my magic +bags!” + +Thus talking the three returned to the hut. The old grandfather crept +into his wigwam, which is often mistaken for a mere oak tree by little +Indian girls and boys. + +Manstin, with his own bright eyes fitted into his head again, went on +happily to hunt in the North country. + + + + +THE WARLIKE SEVEN + + +ONCE seven people went out to make war,--the Ashes, the Fire, the +Bladder, the Grasshopper, the Dragon Fly, the Fish, and the Turtle. As +they were talking excitedly, waving their fists in violent gestures, a +wind came and blew the Ashes away. “Ho!” cried the others, “he could not +fight, this one!” + +The six went on running to make war more quickly. They descended a deep +valley, the Fire going foremost until they came to a river. The Fire +said “Hsss--tchu!” and was gone. “Ho!” hooted the others, “he could not +fight, this one!” + +Therefore the five went on the more quickly to make war. They came to a +great wood. While they were going through it, the Bladder was heard +to sneer and to say, “He! you should rise above these, brothers.” With +these words he went upward among the tree-tops; and the thorn apple +pricked him. He fell through the branches and was nothing! “You see +this!” said the four, “this one could not fight.” + +Still the remaining warriors would not turn back. The four went boldly +on to make war. The Grasshopper with his cousin, the Dragon Fly, went +foremost. They reached a marshy place, and the mire was very deep. As +they waded through the mud, the Grasshopper's legs stuck, and he pulled +them off! He crawled upon a log and wept, “You see me, brothers, I +cannot go!” + +The Dragon Fly went on, weeping for his cousin. He would not be +comforted, for he loved his cousin dearly. The more he grieved, the +louder he cried, till his body shook with great violence. He blew his +red swollen nose with a loud noise so that his head came off his slender +neck, and he was fallen upon the grass. + +“You see how it is,” said the Fish, lashing his tail impatiently, “these +people were not warriors!” + +“Come!” he said, “let us go on to make war.” + +Thus the Fish and the Turtle came to a large camp ground. + +“Ho!” exclaimed the people of this round village of teepees, “Who are +these little ones? What do they seek?” + +Neither of the warriors carried weapons with them, and their unimposing +stature misled the curious people. + +The Fish was spokesman. With a peculiar omission of syllables, he said: +“Shu... hi pi!” + +“Wan! what? what?” clamored eager voices of men and women. + +Again the Fish said: “Shu... hi pi!” Everywhere stood young and old with +a palm to an ear. Still no one guessed what the Fish had mumbled! + +From the bewildered crowd witty old Iktomi came forward. “He, listen!” + he shouted, rubbing his mischievous palms together, for where there was +any trouble brewing, he was always in the midst of it. + +“This little strange man says, 'Zuya unhipi! We come to make war!'” + +“Uun!” resented the people, suddenly stricken glum. “Let us kill the +silly pair! They can do nothing! They do not know the meaning of the +phrase. Let us build a fire and boil them both!” + +“If you put us on to boil,” said the Fish, “there will be trouble.” + +“Ho ho!” laughed the village folk. “We shall see.” + +And so they made a fire. + +“I have never been so angered!” said the Fish. The Turtle in a whispered +reply said: “We shall die!” + +When a pair of strong hands lifted the Fish over the sputtering water, +he put his mouth downward. “Whssh!” he said. He blew the water all over +the people, so that many were burned and could not see. Screaming with +pain, they ran away. + +“Oh, what shall we do with these dreadful ones?” they said. + +Others exclaimed: “Let us carry them to the lake of muddy water and +drown them!” + +Instantly they ran with them. They threw the Fish and the Turtle into +the lake. Toward the center of the large lake the Turtle dived. There +he peeped up out of the water and, waving a hand at the crowd, sang out, +“This is where I live!” + +The Fish swam hither and thither with such frolicsome darts that his +back fin made the water fly. “E han!” whooped the Fish, “this is where I +live!” + +“Oh, what have we done!” said the frightened people, “this will be our +undoing.” + +Then a wise chief said: “Iya, the Eater, shall come and swallow the +lake!” + +So one went running. He brought Iya, the Eater; and Iya drank all day at +the lake till his belly was like the earth. Then the Fish and the Turtle +dived into the mud; and Iya said: “They are not in me.” Hearing this the +people cried greatly. + +Iktomi wading in the lake had been swallowed like a gnat in the water. +Within the great Iya he was looking skyward. So deep was the water +in the Eater's stomach that the surface of the swallowed lake almost +touched the sky. + +“I will go that way,” said Iktomi, looking at the concave within arm's +reach. + +He struck his knife upward in the Eater's stomach, and the water falling +out drowned those people of the village. + +Now when the great water fell into its own bed, the Fish and the Turtle +came to the shore. They went home painted victors and loud-voiced +singers. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala-Sa + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD INDIAN LEGENDS *** + +***** This file should be named 338-0.txt or 338-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/338/ + +Produced by Judith Boss + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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