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diff --git a/35188-8.txt b/35188-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89cdffe --- /dev/null +++ b/35188-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2538 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fire Bird, by Gene Stratton-Porter + +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: The Fire Bird + +Author: Gene Stratton-Porter + +Illustrator: Gordon Grant + Lee Thayer + +Release Date: February 6, 2011 [EBook #35188] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRE BIRD *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Steve Read and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + THE FIRE BIRD + + + + + BOOKS BY + GENE STRATTON-PORTER + + _Nature Books_ + + THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL + FRIENDS IN FEATHERS + BIRDS OF THE BIBLE + MUSIC OF THE WILD + MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST + MORNING FACE + HOMING WITH THE BIRDS + + _Nature Stories_ + + FRECKLES + A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST + AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW + THE HARVESTER + LADDIE + MICHAEL O'HALLORAN + A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND + HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER + THE FIRE BIRD + + + + + [Illustration: + + "_Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Make for me a new, a sure medicine + That will ease my scorched heart + Of the fire of a flaming red bird + And take from my tortured hands + Their burden of moon white lilies._" + ] + + + + + THE FIRE BIRD + + GENE + STRATTON-PORTER, + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + BY GORDON GRANT + + DECORATIONS BY + LEE THAYER + + + GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO + DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + 1922 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY + GENE STRATTON-PORTER + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION + INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES + AT + THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + + _First Edition_ + + + + TO + + EDWARD SHERIFF CURTIS + + BLOOD BROTHER TO THE INDIANS BY CEREMONIAL + SPIRIT BROTHER TO HIS FELLOW MEN BY BIRTH + + + + + CONTENTS + + + PART I PAGE + THE LOVE DANCE OF PRINCESS YIADA 1 + + PART II + COÜY-OÜY AND MOUNTAIN LION 22 + + PART III + YIADA'S FLIGHT TO THE MANDANAS 49 + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + + Princess Yiada and the Medicine Man _Frontispiece_ + FACING PAGE + Coüy-oüy and Mountain Lion 22 + + Star Face and Dove Eye 49 + + + + + THE FIRE BIRD + + + + + PART I + + THE LOVE DANCE OF YIADA + + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Make for me High Magic. + I, Yiada, daughter of White Wolf, + Mighty Chief of the Canawacs, + Mate of Star Face, Brave of the Mandanas, + I of your blood, I have said it! + + From the roots of the white toluache lilies + Make me a strong medicine + That will drown my scorching spirit-fire + And empty my hands of their fulness. + Beat your sacred turtle drums + Loud and threateningly. + Drive back to the fear peopled forest + Of the far and dread Shadow Land + The flaming ghost of the fire bird + And the white flower of the still water. + Heal me of the dread head-sickness + Like the midsummer madness + Of foaming-mouthed quiota. + + I, Yiada, proud daughter of the fierce Canawacs, + I, mate of the Brave, Star Face, + Chief of a forest of wigwams, + With ponies like the sands of the sea, have said it. + Hear me, for the healing of my sickened spirit! + + Where the triumphant blue sea water, + Sky-gold all day in the slanting sunlight, + Silver-white in the uncertain moonlight, + Teases the pale sands of the craggy beaches, + Lay the lodge of my Father, White Wolf, + The savage hunter of beast and enemy, + First at the kill, Chief of great wealth, + Next in power to the high Sachem, + Chief of all Chiefs. + + Many were the strong sons + Who sprang from White Wolf's loins-- + I, Yiada, his one daughter, pride of Falcon Eye, + His daring chieftainess, from the far Mandanas. + + Tall our wigwams of deer and bear and elk skins, + Stout our warm lodges of cedar and pine tree, + Many our robes of beaver and buffalo and marten, + Heavy our necklaces with cunningly carved beads, + Polished elk teeth and eagle talons, + Shining black obsidian and precious blue shell; + Our war ponies flocking like birds fleeing winter. + + Always for me, the one daughter, + The warm spot by the storm fire, + The floating sweet fat from the cooking kettles, + The first crusty brown cake + From the smoking red baking stones, + The clear flowing gold sweet + From the tall nests of the wood bees; + The soft sun coloured robe of down fine doeskin + Embroidered with broad bands of white beads, + Luring beads of green, and blue, and yellow, + The red stained singing quills of the porcupine, + And downy snow white under feathers + From the breast of the white swan. + + I, first in the picking of the juicy berries + The fruits of earth and bush, + Most skilful in the weaving + Of the bright story baskets, + Swiftest at embroidering robes of doeskin + For chieftain or little fatling; + Leader in the ceremonial dances + Of the young women of our tribe, + In the great Assembly Lodge of our people. + + I, of slim body, willow smooth, oak strong, + With thick long hair of crow-back blackness, + And keen far eyes like the high eagle + Of the top crag of the cloud country + Spying in the gold hunting grounds of the sun. + + Many the gaily dressed young Braves + Who nightly crept close our lodges + And made soft eyes and sang wooing songs, + When the moon of full womanhood shone on me. + But always, when she braided ornaments + In my hair, for dancing, + And oiled me for high ceremonials, + In my ear Falcon Eye, my Mother, whispered: + "Keep your body for Mountain Lion, + Son of the High Sachem, + Chief of Chiefs when his Father makes his journey + To the far country of the Great Spirit." + + Mountain Lion was the tallest, + The strongest of our young men, + The fastest rider, the most skilful dancer, + The surest hunter among us, + The spy who never failed, + The warrior who always returned in triumph. + + Like the young trees of the sea shore + He was slim and straight. + Like the water rolling up the white sands + He was ever tireless. + Like the shining of the spirit sun + He lighted all the day with gold magic; + Like the kindly silver moon + He peopled all the night with friendly shadows. + The heart of every maiden was wingéd + In the wild breast of her, + If he but looked where her footsteps led her. + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Make for me a new, a sure medicine + That will ease my scorched heart + Of the fire of a flaming red bird + And take from my tortured hands + Their burden of moon white lilies. + + In the cool night of the fat, bloody moon of harvest + When the tribal storehouses were full heaped + With dried fish and bear, buffalo and deer meat, + With little mountains of maize for winter; + When the cakes and candles of yellow tallow + Were moulded past numbering, + When the wide-mouthed seed baskets + Were high heaped with richness, + And many deep nut baskets were overflowing, + When the dried berries from far thickets + Made little sun painted hills-- + Then all of the tribe of our hunting grounds + Bathed their hard worked bodies, + Oiled their smooth skins, painted their happy faces + And put on the wealth of their richest robes + For the Great Dance of Thanksgiving. + + When the robins made love chase that season, + In the secret ceremonial of the wise old women + My Maiden's Hour had been celebrated. + + Always had my proud, savage Mother + Taken me alone to the forest, + And there, beating hands and chanting, + She had carefully taught me + The Wonder Dance of the Maidens' Hour + Of the Mandanas, her people. + + It was a dance of moonlight and moon madness, + Of sign love talk, of eyes asking great gifts, + Of swift feet stamping like the roebuck + And singing bead and shell trinket music, + So that all the night was softly lighted + With strange visions flower sweet. + + On the day of the Thanksgiving Ceremonial + When my Mother oiled me to leaf fine smoothness, + And hung me heavy with bracelets of bone beads + And a necklace of precious carved blue shell, + As her skilled hands of love flew, + In my ear she made Canawac talk: + + "To-night, before the Great Sachem + On his high throne of prideful authority, + With the son who follows him in Council, + Sitting beside his knee, + When thou leadest the Thanksgiving Dance + At the head of the young women + Thou shalt wave all of them back to their places, + And alone, before the assembled Chieftains, + Thou shalt dance the Mating Dance + Of the rich and powerful Mandanas, + Ever keeping thine eye of glad submission, + Fast on the eye of Mountain Lion. + + "If the soft light in his eye strike fire for thee, + Then shalt thou forget all others + And dance out thy heart for him alone + And bow low as the young cedar before him, + And as the serpent charm him. + If he arise and stand facing thee + And dance love manifest before thee, + Then is the hour come for thy union with him. + + "Then shall I fly to set up thy wigwam + Of down-fine doeskin, bleached with love, + That many suns I have worked on in hiding for thee, + And gladly in the sand before it + Thou shalt set thy lighted candle, + Thy tall proud candle of gold bear tallow; + And if he come to thee with soft words + With words of wooing magic, + Then shalt thou bury thy candle flame + In the yielding sands before him. + + "Then art thou our Chieftainess in seasons to come, + And high shall thy sure heart beat + With pride of love and power, + And swift shall thy red blood run in leaping streams + With the flood-high tide of mighty Chieftains. + + "Braves shall thy many straight sons be, + Great Chiefs who shall rule other far nations; + And sweet shall thy tall strong women be + As the red honey-flower that grows in the forest, + And swift shall their hearts be + As the heart of the frightened fawn + That leaps with feathered feet before the hunter." + + Medicine Man, make me a sure medicine, + A strong medicine, new to our people, + That shall ease my weary eyes + Of a red bird and a white lily. + + When the Harvest Ceremonial Dance + Was cried through all the village, + When night crept, silent as the bat's wing, + From the blanketed heart of the forest, + When the great Assembly Lodge + Was lighted and filled with happy faces, + When the old chiefs and the wise men + Had spoken thanksgivings for fat harvest, + And the time was come for all the tribe to rejoice, + First came the dance of the little stumbling children; + The little fat bellied round faced serious children, + With shining black hair and wonder eyes, + And flower red cheeks and mouths, + And stout breath like short gusts of North Wind. + + When, worn out with swift dances, + They rolled in their soft blankets, + Came the shy youths' dance, + And the uncertain growing maidens' + All bravely tinkling little necklaces + Of squirrel and rabbit teeth, and bright rare shells. + + Then danced the carefully trained young women, + Grown and ripe for the Harvest of love. + In their lead I did as my Mother had told me. + + Straight I stood before the Great Sachem + And the son of the pride of his heart. + High I lifted my head like a proud pine tree, + And softly I shook my bracelets of beads + And rattled my necklace of blue shell, + And rustled the porcupine fringes + Of my fine robe of yellow, + In music like the little secret whispering + Among the dry grass under passing feet. + + I spoke as I had always been taught by my Mother: + "Great Chief, grant that I dance before thee + The Woman's Love Dance of the brave Mandanas, + A dance that I have learned + From the swift feet of my Mother." + + Searchingly, the Great Sachem looked at his son + And his son looked at me with understanding + And made a swift sign to his Father; + So raising his hands of authority, + The Great Sachem cried aloud: + "Yiada, daughter of Chief White Wolf, + Will dance the Woman's Dance of the Mandanas, + Let all others be seated. I have said it!" + + Alone, with the blood of heart red on lip and cheek + And with the pride of my asking heart + Beating like wings on my light feet, + With my Mother keeping time for me, + As she did in the secret forest, + Slowly I stepped into the great dance + Of the Mandanas, of the peace lands; + The strongest love medicine + Ever measured by the feet of wild women. + + As I danced, even as my Mother had long told me + I kept my eyes ever spying + Deep into the eyes of Mountain Lion. + When the dance grew to its swiftest wildest note, + When my proud head of certainty + And my willing arms were high lifted, + And the beads and obsidian and blue shell + Tinkled soft singing, like falling rain, + Mountain Lion sprang to his feet + And came down in the firelight before me. + + With no knowledge of the dance of the Mandanas, + And no teaching of step or of posture, + He fell into the strange measures + That my Mother had taught me; + With eyes upon eyes and heart near to heart, + Facing in the wide fire flaming circle + Where envious faces kept watch upon us, + We danced the wonder dance + Of the hour of full womanhood. + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Healer of the hearts of the Mandanas, + There, facing the chiefs and maidens + Of a thousand lodges of our tribe, + With the Great Sachem keenly watching + On his high throne of great power, + Darest say that was not my hour + My rightful moon of exultation? + + When I looked, near the close of the dance, + Toward my Mother for guidance + She gave me the swift happy sign of birds flying; + So I caught that joyful sign + And I gave it to the waiting maidens. + Like homing swallows they swept around me; + The young Braves came stamping, + Like roebucks before the does of Spring, + Then all of us changed the dance + To the love measures of the Canawacs. + + When the chattering maidens + Went back to their waiting mothers, + I stood there tall and straight and proud + Fresh as the wing of the eagle, + From the highest peak of dawn + Eye to eye, face to face with Mountain Lion. + His eyes burned deep into my eyes + With a look of quivering power. + Medicine Man, darest thou say + That was not the great understanding? + + So when all of the others + Went on with the Dance of Thanksgiving, + Soft as the veiling mists + From the dim breast of evening meadows + I slipped from the Council House + And I flew to our lodge. + + With hands of high satisfaction + My Mother set my wigwam beside her lodge. + I lighted my tall happy candle of bear fat; + I opened my doorway wide to the friendly moon; + Deep in the sands I set my love light to burning. + And there I waited--long and long I waited, + In burning eagerness of heart + Tremblingly listening with each breath + For the sure step of Mountain Lion. + + Then, Medicine Man, + With black angered sign talk + And fierce eyes of leaping fire, + Came my storm driven Mother. + As she came toward me, + Like a killing wind uprooting the cedars, + Arose high clamour from the Council Lodge. + + She caught up my hopeful waiting candle, + My living love token to Mountain Lion, my man, + She buried its flame deep in the white sands, + In rage she thrust it from her, + She snatched shut the welcoming doors + Before the eyes of anguish of my Mother + Of my willing doeskin wigwam, + And in the harsh low voiced Canawac tongue + She cried to me in choking anger: + + "Woe is upon us! Strangers have reached us. + Comes a great Chief from tribes of the far North, + From the camps of the powerful Killimacs, + From the home fires of the Ice God; + And with him on a snow white pony + Rides his beautiful raven haired daughter, + A tall proud Princess of a great warlike nation. + + "This night Mountain Lion will not come to thee: + His father has sent him to serve the rich strangers. + Get thee back to thy place in the Council Lodge + Before the venom tipped finger pointers miss thee, + For there will be great feasting and much talk, + The rejoicing will last for many suns and moons. + It was the wrong time for thy dance of allurement + Thy maiden proffer of prideful loving, + But I, thy Mother, taught thee thy undoing, + I, thy Mother, gave to thee the sign." + + Then, Medicine Man, + As fierce a storm as ever tore the forest, + As ever pitched the sea high in wild fury, + Broke in my heart, leaping to flee its lodging place. + I lifted my head high, and proudly and silently + I stepped into the moon tide, + But I trembled and shook with all-over sickness, + My blood ran hot angry gushes, + And I, who had never known pain + In any part of my strong body, + Now felt its rending arrows + Tearing my heart in sick torture, + As I crept through the restless whispering forest + Where the wise old yellow leaves + Talked over my shame with each other + And every mocking finger of night + Pointed in derision at my wounded side. + + I crept back to the Council Lodge + Still as a panther fending for her cubs, + I slipped in unseen by any, + And took up my place among the young women. + On the high throne of power + Beside our Great Sachem, Storm Wind, + Sat a tall Chief trailing rich robes + Of white fox, sealskin, and white bear. + A proud Chief of savage face, + Weighted with a heavy necklace of eagles' claws, + Many elk teeth, and lion talons, + Hanging across his broad shoulders. + + Standing still and straight before them, + First, I saw the stranger woman. + I heard the deep voice of her father, + Toned to soft talk, as among peace councils, + When he told the Great Sachem and Chieftains + And all the watching Canawacs: + + "This is my daughter, a Princess of seven tribes, + She who can run with the foot of the hare, + Who can dance as the gold birch leaves, + When spring comes stealing from the Southland; + Who can guide the swift canoes surely + And ride the wild ponies on the chase, + Whose fingers are skilful in basket weaving, + In beading, and braiding, and polishing ornaments. + She comes with me to make the friendship + Of a people of her mother's blood; + And her name is a name held sacred + Among all the tribes at peace with us. + Like music there fell from his smooth tongue + A name well known to council wise Canawacs, + 'Coüy-oüy'--a breath of sweetness-- + He spoke it like the easy tongue of a lazy brook + Softly singing among the small stones of its bed. + + Then every Canawac remembered the dark days + When the Great Spirit became justly angered, + And in the height of his deep wrath + Against the treachery of all tribes + Drew up the waters of destruction + Until they covered the earth's face, + Leaving upon the tallest tree + Only one Chief and his mate, + And one pair of every bird and climbing beast, + On the top of the highest mountain + Of all the earth known to man. + + When the water had come up to the top branches + Until only their heads were above it, + And had stood still for three weary suns, + Then slowly it drew back, and left the earth barren, + So there was no fire to cook food + For the hungry Sachem and his mate, + Nor to warm the water soaked camping grounds. + + Then the Sachem sent a beaver messenger + Far down to the underworld + To borrow only one coal + From the campfires of the dark spirits; + But the beaver was not able to bring it + For burning his mouth cruelly. + + Then he sent the fierce mountain lion, + Searching all over the earth for campfires, + But there was no fire to be found, + For the water had been everywhere. + + Then he sent a little gray bird to the spirit world + To bring from the campfires of the unseen country + One living coal with which to make a fire + For the cooking kettles and light-signals, + And to warm the lodges of all the tribes + That would follow him in suns to come. + + So the dauntless little gray bird + Slowly winged across the far spaces. + Three suns arose and set, and at the red evening + When the third sun plunged its face in the sea, + With all of its plumage burned a flame-tongue red, + With a beak of red like hot coals + And its face blackened with fire, + Came the brave panting bird + With a living coal held fast in its mouth, + A coal snatched from the high altars + Of the far country of the spirits. + + And so the fire gift was brought back to earth + To warm the hearts and the wigwams + Of every nation, for all seasons to come. + + The bird was sent from a stranger tribe + Far to the south of our hunting grounds, + Where the hot suns shine and the grass withers; + But travellers journeying northward to see us, + Had told our grandfathers about it, + Had shown us the bird of bloody red beak + And face still blackened with fire, + Singing gaily in our summer forests, + Singing even in the ice of winter. + + Often when we chanted songs of thanksgiving + To the Great Spirit, for rich gifts, + When we thanked him for the buffalo and beaver, + For the deer meat and fish and corn for winter, + Then our tribes made a ceremonial of glad rejoicing + For the bird that brought back + The great wonder gift of fire. + + Its sacred name fell on our ears + Like the peace of the Great Spirit, + Fell soft as flying snowflakes + When first squaw winter comes, + Soft as the hunting wing of the thieving owl, + Sweet as the breath of flowers in the nesting moon, + From the lips of the Great Chief: "Coüy-oüy." + + Before him, her shining head bowed, + Our people watched her in silent wonder. + She was tall, taller than any of our women, + Tall and slender like the singing wind reeds + That grow around the magic pool + Of the white spirit lily of the still water, + Far back in the valley pastures. + + She moved like the night hawk + Slowly sweeping across the moon sky. + From the proud lift of her head + And the eagle look of her dark eye + From the red flower flame of her soft lips + And the sureness of her being, + I could see that the heart of her + Was like a wiry little war pony + Swiftly racing up the steep trail of her breast + With the hunt blood of the soft chase + Fevering its questing nostrils. + + No woman among our people, + Had seen the beauty of her robe, + For she stood in flower white, flower fine doeskin, + Bleached and tanned like winter snowdrift, + Like the shining water flower face of far lakes, + Like the wide wing of a homing white swan, + Like the silver rays of the big cold hunting moon. + + All around her feet fell soft knotted fringes + Cut deep as the height of the first upstanding + Of papooses ready to walk. + And her belt and her neck were deeply embroidered + With a thousand green stained quills + From the backs of many porcupines, + While her long heavy necklace + Was got from traders crossing far seas, + For it lay soft dull jade like the green wave meadow + In the deepest bay of the leaf tinted big sea water. + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + When one looked upon her searchingly, + As I looked long upon her, + That night of fat harvest thanksgiving, + Slowly one saw creeping from her bare arms, + From her firm high breasts, + Over the dark gleaming bowed head + And sure slender shoulders of her, + A faint waving cloud like fine blue mist + That could have been none other + Than the secret power of the Great Spirit, + Stealing from her breast to wrap around her + So that any evil spirit magic + Might not be strong to work against her. + + I could see that she was softer + Than our hard working women, + Though she had learned from the bee + To be busy and useful, + Though she had learned from the hunted fawn + To travel far journeys in daring wingéd leaps. + + + + + PART II + + COÜY-OÜY AND MOUNTAIN LION + + + Medicine Man, it were not enough, + Ha! it were not enough + That the stranger bore the song name + Of the fire bird our tribe worshipped; + For on her breast, sheltered with one slim hand, + With flaming wings outspread, + And panting saw-edged beak like fire, + Lay a brother of the spirit bird, + Flame red, blood red, feathers like wounds-- + Dead coal black of face; + A wild thing, sheltered and unafraid. + + In her language and with wave smooth sign talk + She told the Great Sachem and our Chiefs + That she had found it in the forest + Wounded from the missed kill of the night bird + Or bare escaped from the eager claws + Of the hunger driven wildcat. + + [Illustration: + + "_Before the approving eyes of the watching Canawacs + Never had there been a sight so fair to see, + As when, clinging trustingly to her firm finger, + The broken bird fed from her hand of pity._" + ] + + Even as she told how she had found it, + She folded its wings against its full breast + And set it upright on her steady finger. + Medicine Man, it moved not, it fluttered not, + Though one bleeding wing hung broken. + + Where it had lain between her round breasts + Its red sign stained the front of her white robe, + The mark of her soft heart of pity. + + Medicine Man, the face of the Great Sachem + Changed slowly as he watched our visitor; + He looked with understanding upon her, + He marvelled at the quiet bird. + The heart of my Father, the White Wolf, + Grew tender as he studied her. + + My own heart lay strange in my tormented breast + Until swiftly she turned her face from the women + Ever the grinders of the meal in our jars, + Ever the curers of the deer meat, and salmon, + The fillers and the guardians of the storehouses; + And stretching her hand toward Mountain Lion, + By strange words and by pretty sign talk + She asked of him like coaxing birds: + "Coarse meal and water. Coüy-oüy is hungry." + + As a sudden wind bends a tall birch low, + Willing my man sprang to obey her bidding. + Before the approving eyes of the watching Canawacs + Never had there been a sight so fair to see, + As when, clinging trustingly to her firm finger, + The broken bird fed from her hand of pity. + + I could see the deep look, the inner trouble, + The battle in the heart of Mountain Lion, + When she held the bird toward him + That it should drink, as do the wounded, + From the polished mussel shell he had brought. + + He looked, not at the broken bird, as we did, + But far into the eyes of Coüy-oüy, + The Princess of the Killimacs. + Medicine Man, was it not a Brave's hour, + Was it not a Warrior's hour, + That hour in which I stood unflinching + And saw her take him from me? + I, whose heart had possessed him + Since we shot the play arrows of childhood, + And together chased the painted wings + Through the flower fields of the Canawacs. + + Then came Prairie Flower, + Mate of the Great Sachem, + To lead away the mighty strangers. + For many suns and as many moons + We feasted and danced gaily. + + Was I not brave to wear fine robes, + Nightly to chant boastful songs? + My breast was torn and bleeding + As the broken wing of the fire bird, + Yet many searing times + At the command of the Great Sachem + Was I made to smile in the Council Lodge, + And to dance the Love Dance of the Mandanas; + That dance that I had learned in secret + From the flying feet of my Mother, + Learned only for Mountain Lion, + For the great ceremonial of love giving. + + Medicine Man, Hear me! + Not again did the eyes of Mountain Lion + Travel across the Council Lodge + To seek my eyes in understanding. + Coüy-oüy had taken his eyes; + On her face she proudly kept them, + For he saw nought but the blue mist around her, + The gleam of her hair, the red bow of her lips. + He heard nought but the luring music + Of her echo sweet voice, + And the happy song of her quilled robe + As she hourly passed among our people; + While always clinging to her breast or shoulder + Proud and fearless as in freedom, + Rode the sacred wounded bird of blood redness. + + Her father homed in wigwams + Near the lodge of the Great Sachem, + Rode his hunting pony on the far chase beside him, + Sat on high in the councils of our Chieftains. + + When the dancing and feasting were over + It was known through the voices of the criers + That for many moons our visitors + Would home beside our campfires, + Learning of our wisdom from us, + Teaching, where their customs differed. + + The Great Sachem was swift to order, + The rarest fish from sea or river, + The juiciest of the small birds + From the snares of the children, + The tenderest fawn flesh + From the arrows of the hunters, + To be brought for the cooking kettles + Of the strangers who trusted us. + + Every day I watched the slow sun, + And at night I danced with the maidens, + But no sleep came to my eyes, + No hunger came to my body. + My Mother tempted me with bits as sweet + As the Sachem had commanded for Coüy-oüy, + But my parched throat refused them in scorn, + My dry tongue found no savour in juicy fatness, + My hot hands could not place the beads evenly. + + Then it was that my Mother came to my wigwam, + And closing the doorway she stood before me, + And long and long she looked far into my heart. + Deep in her eyes there gathered the black fury, + And a storm like the wildest storm + That ever twisted the cedars in wrath, + Raged in her rocking breasts + And her lightning flashing eyes. + + Fiercely in the silent Canawac motion tongue, + Her look burning into my living spirit, + She made the sign of the quick kill; + And turning she slipped like a vision + From my wigwam of torture. + As she crept into the mouth of darkness, + O Medicine Man, + I knew that she had but made the outward sign + For the savage inward purpose + Long hardening in my deepest heart. + + The next sun, when our mothers sent the maidens + With their baskets to the Fall nut gathering, + I kept ever close beside Coüy-oüy, my enemy, + And in my breast there flamed fierce anger, + That she had robbed my heart. + + Always at the door of her wigwam, + Rocking in the sunshine of each dawning, + Hung a yellow osier basket woven like a ball, + With its ribs placed wide enough apart + To give the gifts of light and air, + Close enough to prison a flame red bird. + + And there, healed of his wounds, + But forever broken for flight, + On a twig shaped and placed by Mountain Lion, + Coüy-oüy, the flame feathered voyager of air, + Sang a song filled with tears and wailing, + The cry of a broken bird heart + Pleading for wings and a mate. + + The Great Spirit heard his notes of sorrow, + But I hardened my heart against the sacred bird; + For his golden cage had been cunningly wrought + By hands of such great strength that naked + They had slain the mountain lion + And taken its yellow skin for a ceremonial robe, + Its fierce name for the sign of a great deed. + + Now I saw in dazed wonder + That Mountain Lion had grown papoose hearted. + He was not leading the hunters in the forest; + He was not at the head of the fishermen + Spearing and netting as of old. + He had proved his manhood in deadly combat; + He had won his name by the fiercest fight + Ever known among any of our warriors; + But now he chose to lie in his wigwam and dream, + And I knew what he dreamed, O Medicine Man! + + So with soft words and pretty sign talk + I led his evil spirit to the bright late flower; + I showed her the little flitting creatures. + And when I helped her fill her basket + With sweet nuts that were greatly desired, + My ear, quick for every sound of menace, + Marked the thing the softer one did not hear. + + By a slender beckoning blue flower, + I measured the distance, + And skilfully I led the other nut pickers + Far away from the spot of danger. + Then I dared her to race in turn with me + To leap the long leap across the nut bushes, + To land at the mark of the sky flower, + A fair thing to shelter death. + + I set down my heaped basket of furry nuts, + I gathered my robe to my knees and raced swiftly, + I made the leap to which I challenged her, + Before her and all of the wondering maidens. + + She followed my footsteps like a rift of white light. + She rose high in the air over the sweet nut bushes, + But she had not my strength, not my purpose. + My leap carried me far over the danger; + But as I turned quickly to watch her + I saw her touch earth in smiling confidence, + At the mark of the waving sky flower. + + When she tore away, her eyes wide in danger, + Dragging her robe from the clinging thicket, + With greedy eyed, death hungry heart + I watched her proud face. + + The Great Spirit had not pitied me, + If the curved death serpent had struck at her, + His awful fangs had missed her soft body. + O Medicine Man, make me magic for the fire bird, + Ease my spirit of the snaring water flower. + + Many suns I waited in hunger and spirit searching; + Far and alone I wandered over the meadows, + Beside the white sand shore of the sea water. + + One day I lost from my necklace + A carved piece of rare blue shell, + A beautiful heaven tinted shell, a treasure, + Got from traders from the Islands of the seas + Far to the south of us--across vast waters; + A big shell so precious among us that only one + Cost us the weaving of fifty blankets; + The greatest wealth known to our people. + + Slipping unseen from all the others, + I went alone through a trail of deep forest + To the back of a far secret cavern I knew, + Where lay hidden my precious blue shell, + And I cut one small piece from it, + For the mending of my necklace. + When I came back to the sun, O Medicine Man, + And through the forest followed my trail, + I heard the rushing thunder footsteps + And the death growl of Black Bear. + + I looked, and I saw at the welcoming cavern mouth, + Hurrying in from the forest, the bloody killer, + Mother black bear, gaunt and hard chased, + With far hanging tongue and foam dripping jaws; + And behind her, panting and whimpering, + Her pair of travel worn hungry little children. + + Some far tribe had driven her from her home, + And with her crying small ones following + She was seeking shelter in my treasure lodge. + + I watched her turn and forbid her children to enter; + Alone, bravely to the inner recesses she went. + Her nose must have told her of my recent body, + But she could lead her sleepy cubs no farther, + For the death weariness was upon all of them. + + So she came back to the cave's homing mouth, + Drove her panting cubs to the farthest wall, + And making fierce boastful war talk, + There she claimed the homing rights of the wild. + + I went back to where our women were working + And I began the Brave's task of drilling my shell. + Coüy-oüy came and lay beside me, watching. + Her tribes had no knowledge + Of such rare precious ornaments. + She greatly desired to possess one + For her most precious bracelet. + + When we were alone, as I worked + I told her how to find my cavern + And where the shell was hidden on a high ledge. + + Her heart knew no fear; + Her eyes shone with gladness + When I told her my great secret of blue treasure + And that, if she would go alone, + She might take for herself one piece. + The one I was drilling so carefully I must use + For the mending of my rarest necklace. + + When I thought of the dripping jaws + Of the killer, ravenous, tormented to frenzy, + And looked at the smoothness of her body, + I relented; I knew mercy. + It was in my softened heart + To say that the hunters must go with her; + But before my lips of compassion + Could speak the words my heart said, + With the joy light shining on her face, + She told me in happy confidence: + "I will take but one small piece + To ornament my richest bracelet, + And I will polish it smooth even as you do, + And Mountain Lion shall carve it for me." + + O Medicine Man, look in mercy upon me! + Darest say she drove not her own stake, + Lighted her torture fire with fearless hands? + + Darest say she knew not that Mountain Lion + Would now make her our Chieftainess? + Darest say the buzzing of a swarm of maidens + Had not told her many suns past + That Mountain Lion was my man, + That he had danced the Mating Dance + Of the Mandanas with me, + Before the assembly in the Council House + On the night of her coming among us? + + All that night my eyes surrounded her wigwam. + With first dawn ray she came slipping forth + And darted down the veiled trail + That led through the deep forest. + + Well had I marked the path + That ran to the cave's mouth. + When she had gone I closed the slender opening + Through which I had unceasingly watched + The moon's long journey for her, + And for the first time in many pitiless suns + I fell into the deep visionless sleep + Of the body tired past endurance. + + It was near evening when my Mother wakened me. + She told me, her eyes burning deep into mine, + How hunters in the forest had found Coüy-oüy + Fleeing like a doe before the furious black killer. + + When she fell, her utmost strength exhausted, + Over her raged the foaming black death. + Her beautiful breast and arms + Were forever shorn of their smoothness, + But she lived, and her hateful face of allurement + Her trouble-maker face, was untouched. + + I knew what my Mother knew + When she turned from my doorway. + Medicine Man, the killer had not struck + To the depth where life tented. + She had not sent my enemy to the Great Spirit. + She had only moved to compassion + The heart in the breast of Mountain Lion, + So that alone in his canoe he speared the rare fish, + Alone on the mountains he sought the tender bird, + Even the bright flower, the red leaf, + To lay at her doorway--love's offering. + + Well I knew that when she was healed + He would stand tall and straight before her, + And in his fierce pleading eyes + She would find the great understanding. + Then, Medicine Man, despair settled in my heart; + I shrivelled like the ungathered wild plum, + I burned with a fierce, hot inward fire. + + The day came when Coüy-oüy stood forth + Whitely robed in shining wonder, + Untouched in her courage and her beauty + Save that she hid her arms with deep fringes. + + In bitterness of spirit I turned from her, + I followed the long lonely trail + Through the fringed blue flower meadows. + I lay beside the small still waters of the flat lands, + And I talked to my sister, the tall blue Heron + While she hunted food among the water flowers; + And I told the wise old Heron + For the easement of my torture, + I told her, O Medicine Man, + This same tale I tell you. + + And then, Medicine Man, + The Heron gave me a sure sign. + + She stalked to where a great white flower + Was resting in serene beauty, + Like a sheaf of fallen moons upon the water, + And from beneath the safety of its shelter + She picked out my little frog brother so easily. + + She tossed him clear and high in the air, + And head first he shot down her long red gullet. + Then she looked at me questioningly + And awaited my understanding. + + So I slipped from my robe of doeskin, + And fighting my way through the black muck, + And the snares of the entangling round leaves, + I gathered the white flower riding like a spirit canoe + That had sheltered fatness for my sister Heron. + + Clean and white as storm foam I washed it, + Carefully on the home trail I carried it, + Like a living thing to my wigwam I took it, + And I put it in a cooking kettle + Overflowing cold water from mountain torrent, + Then I waited for the spirit to make me a sure sign. + + That night, when Coüy-oüy's shadow touched me, + Like a star fallen from on high was her beauty. + Her eyes rested for the first time + On the white flower of the still waters. + On her knees she made a little medicine over it; + In her throat she chanted a hushed song + Of exultation and worship, + Over the wonder beauty of the white flower + That she had never known + In the far, cold land of the Killimacs. + + On her face there was a veiling breath mist + Like the softest ray from the lovers' moon; + All around her wrapped the blue light blanket + That seemed to steal from her body + Creeping through her white robe. + + Then, Medicine Man, I told her this fair tale: + That I loved a young Brave + Son of the mighty Eagle Feather, + The Chief of a high mountain tribe far north of us, + And that when he saw me in the deep forest + Holding up high the fair water flower + The lure of its white magic + Would make in his cold heart + That strong medicine I needed, + To bring him face to face with me + In that great understanding + Which is followed by union, among our tribes. + + O Medicine Man, I told her by word + And by convincing sign talk + That if her heart ran soft as gold sweetness + At the coming of any of our young Braves, + And her roving eyes flew to them + Searching for loving understanding, + Until she feared they would betray her, + And the tongue of her heart pled for them, + And her willing hands thought sweet sign talk-- + If she would hold aloft the white flower, + That she had gathered from the water, + Deep in the thickness of the forest + Where none but her Brave could see it, + It would surely make for her the great magic + That would draw him straight to the flame + Of the candle she set before her wigwam. + + Long and long and long again + She watched the white flower. + All her heart melted at its gold heart sweetness; + And then she looked deep into my eyes, + To spirit depths she searched me carefully, + But pride would not let me quail before her. + + She knew she had barely missed + The peril of the death snake: + She had sent hunters to bring its rattles for her. + She knew she had faced the red death + By the black killer of the treasure cave; + Yet was my spirit so strong over her doubting + That once again in the chill of early morning + She set her proud feet confidently + On the forest trail I pictured for her. + + She knew not how the white flower + Of the still water lifted to the sun, + She knew not the wind reeds and flute rushes. + + I told her the path her feet must follow alone, + That when she saw a white flower + Like a rocking canoe cradled by soft wind, + Riding on the breast of the blue water, + She should leave her robe in the deep forest, + She should run like the chased antelope, + And leap from the sand shore + To the resting place of the flower. + She should snatch it in her hand, hold it high, + And swim back to the red beach of dawning. + + But Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + I sent her not on the meadow path + Where the war ponies fattened. + I sent her not to the still black water + Of the singing reeds and rushes, + Where the charmed spirit flowers + With sun hearts and snow faces + Spread in flocks like feeding gulls + Over the breast of the dark waters. + + Medicine Man, I sent her straight to that one spot + On the sands of the great sea water in the deep bay, + In the sheltered cove of the soundless depths + Where every Canawac knew there crouched waiting + The hungry Monster of the lazy sucking sands. + + Again I watched all the moon time + And in the gold red morning + She slipped from her wigwam + And entered the ancient forest. + Soft as flame ascending, swift as night bird flying, + I circled past her among my familiar tree brothers. + Long before her coming to the bay of torture, + I dropped the snaring white flower, + Fresh and lovely, a convincing decoy, + Far into the heart of the pitiless death pool + Where the eager mouths of the swallowing sands + Embrace and draw, quietly, but so surely + That no strength of arm can lift, + No power of spirit can save their victim. + + Behind the rocks I hid and waited; + In anguish I prayed to the Great Spirit + That the luring white flower of wonder + Might rest on the gently heaving water + Until the time of the coming of my enemy. + + As I waited with my eyes ever watching, watching + The wave cradled flower white as swan feathers, + Through the air shot the slim scarred form + Of Coüy-oüy, my hated enemy. + + Her slender feet touched the water + And went down softly as a diving bird, + Her reaching hand caught the white flower surely. + + She lifted her face to the face of the morning; + The beauty that shone upon her + Was like the beauty of the Great Spirit + When he had first the vision of the flower world + And the wonder of flower magic was sent to him. + + Coüy-oüy held the water flower in high triumph; + She gazed at it, she laughed to it, she kissed it, + She laid it against her glad face like a papoose, + And chanted to it throaty words of lullaby. + Then with the other hand and with her quick feet + She began swimming to reach the certain shore. + + When her light feet would not lift to the surface + And her strong stroke would not move her body, + Slowly the dawn light faded from her face + And a look like the look of a little hurt papoose + Came over her in slow wonder-- + A look of surprise, of doubt + That her strength could be unavailing. + + Then she struggled like an arrow stricken sea bird, + For the sure sands grip their captive cruelly. + + Then gray terrors came sweeping upon her, + And her face was white, white as the white flower + That she held at arm's length above her. + + Her black oiled braids floated out on the water, + While a cry, a shrill cry, a high screaming cry, + The voice of a wounded mountain lion, + Rang from her lips in quivering terror. + + I knew who had carefully taught her + To use that cry in time of trouble: + I knew that for my Brave she was calling. + And I knew, too, how the wood and the water + Carried sound far distances to wild ears. + + I wondered if Mountain Lion were on the water + Or if he were hunting the wide forest + Or if he were drilling ornaments of blue shell + Or weaving the sacred, singing fire bird + A new wigwam of gold osiers. + + Only once she screamed that awful wild cry, + Then her struggles were the final battle. + Already her face of anguish was even + With the treacherous water hiding death, + Already her slender body was forever encased. + + One arm slowly beat the fair bay helplessly; + But even as the gray terror closed in upon her, + The stealthy catlike death of the waves + And the little famished mouths of sand, + The slow mealy strangling sands, + She bravely held aloft the white flower. + + And then, Medicine Man, I cared not if he came, + The Mountain Lion, my faithless man! + The utmost reach of his strength could not save her, + He might go down to bottomless depths with her; + He might strive and bear me down to her. + Come was my just and rightful hour of triumph! + + I arose and went forth on the white shore + I smiled like a mother upon her, + Then I pointed my finger, I laughed in scorn, + I made bad sign talk at her, + I danced the Braves' triumph dance, with song, + I cried to her in the exultation of victory: + "He will not come again to you, + The faithless Mountain Lion, my man, + He who danced the sacred Mating Dance + Of the Mandanas with me in the Council Lodge, + He who read into my eyes the great understanding + Even upon the night of your coming among us. + Go thou back to the evil spirits who sent thee!" + + Until the last wave overran her eyes, + The slim thing of bone hardness, + Of arrow straightness, and sureness, + Of bird swiftness, would not look once upon me, + Would not plead with me for mercy + Nor sign for help at my hands. + When she saw me she suddenly ceased to struggle, + And with her eyes fixed upon the white flower, + The fallen moon that rides the still black water, + She went to bottomless depths silently; + Slowly, slowly, Medicine Man, she sank, + Until the flower again rested + On the breast of the unconscious water. + + Then I went into the forest on her trail, + I hunted her precious robe of snow white doeskin, + I rolled a heavy stone in its rich bead work: + I carried it back swiftly, + And upon the face of the white flower + Slowly sinking beneath the water I threw it. + + Then I knelt in cunning like the fox, + And swiftly working my way backward, + With my steady, careful fingers + I sifted the sands over our footsteps, + Until I came to the feather grass + And the dry leaves of the deep forest. + + Like the hunted I ran to the safety of my wigwam, + I buried myself in my soft robes of satisfaction, + My heart laughed in victory, + The sleep I had lost for many mocking moons + While my brain thought snares, + Now settled heavy, like sickness upon me. + + Even as I slept in deep stupor, + There came dreams and yet again dreams, + But they were not familiar dreams + Of the low humming rattler + Nor the foaming mouth of the knife footed killer. + I dreamed that over my heart flamed and scorched + And burned Coüy-oüy, the little sacred red bird; + While my hands could not braid + And put the gay ornaments in my hair, + Could not put on my robe, + Could not tie my moccasins, + Could not lift food to my hungry mouth, + Because they were full of the white flowers + From the land of the still water. + + When the alarum cries sounded + And the ponies' feet thundered, + When the hunting dogs raged + And shrill clamour arose in the camp, + My Mother shook me, + And long she looked deep into my eyes + And I looked into her eyes; + And then in the silent talk of our tribe + I made the swift going down sign + Of the Monster sands of the far bay. + + There was no triumph on her face + When she slowly turned from me, + And fear was born in my heart + Because I clearly saw its awful image + When it sprang into life in the deeps of her eyes. + + When the scouts and hunters were gathering, + When the visiting Chief was threatening, + And all of our Chiefs were in secret council, + While the women were wailing the death cry, + There came to my lodge in that hour, + The footsteps I had always awaited. + So I passed through my doorway + And in the revealing sunlight + I stood before Mountain Lion, + Terrible to face in his deep rage. + + With dazed hand I drew sleep from my eyes; + I met his gaze stupidly with smiling face; + When he saw this he was forced to doubt + The thing he had come expecting to see. + When he tried to look far into my eyes for a sign + He saw only stupid Old Man Sleep sitting there + Mocking the tortured heart in his breast. + + Then he caught me fiercely by the shoulders, + He drew me close to him, + He forced my eyes to meet his, + And low and hoarse he cried to me in torture: + "She jumped to the mark of the sky flower, + And the snake with death in its mouth was there; + The mark was the mark you set for her, Yiada. + + "She went to the far, lonely cave + Of the chased and hungry black death, + And the rare shell that she sought + Was a part of your treasure, Yiada. + + "Again she is missing, evil spirits know how long, + What torture death have you sent her seeking now-- + Coüy-oüy, my brave fire bird, my woman?" + + O Medicine Man, if he had not said soft words, + I might have told him as he held me before him. + I might have braved the storm of his wrath + And made my journey to the Great Spirit + In that menacing breath. + When I saw that she lived in my place + In the secret tent of his heart + I laughed at him and I cried tauntingly: + "She is chasing painted wings + In the pasture meadows of the valley. + She is at the still pool hunting the water flower: + She would use its white magic + To snare your wild heart, + Even as she used the red magic of the fire bird. + Go and seek her, O mighty hunter! + Go and seek--until you find her!" + + + + + PART III + + YIADA'S FLIGHT TO THE MANDANAS + + + When the hunters had raced from our village + Toward the land of ice, + Toward the land of hot suns, + Toward the land of dawn, + And where the sun dives in the sea, + In the conflicting cross winds + Between the paths of their going, + On their stoutest ponies + Rode the young women and the squaws + Who could be spared with safety + From the watch of the campfires + And the care of the little happy children. + + [Illustration: + + "_Like the wings of a snow white sea swallow + Writing mating signs on the blue sky of Heaven + Flashed his quick hands of entreaty, + In the little love sign talk he taught her._" + ] + + Foremost among these I rode on my fastest pony, + But to my Mother I made a secret sign + To remain in waiting by her campfire + And yet the swifter sign of the quick return. + + Because I was first in the fish drying + The berry picking of earth and mountain, + The gathering of seeds of all kinds + And the work of the women, + The other maidens went where I sent them. + Then swiftly I made a wide circle + And slipped back to the lodge of my Mother, + And leaving my pony in the tented forest + I crept to the door of my Father, + Unseen by any of the watchers. + + There I lay in hiding + While my Mother worked silently. + She rolled a bundle of my finest robes, + My moccasins, my best bow and full quiver, + Big strips of smoked venison, + Dried fish and bear and deer meat, + Nuts and tallow cake and dried berries, + And the last little sweet meal cake + That her hands would ever make me. + + When Old Man Moon made soft talk + In his canoe among the clouds, + From the back of the lodge of my Father I crept + After I had stood long and again long + Before my Mother, racked in fierce anguish, + And made her many signs of the great crossing, + For we knew that never again should I see her. + + We made long straight talk between us + That when the others returned from the search + I should be missing, as was Coüy-oüy, + So that a new search would be made for my body. + Then should she cry the death wail + Through the length of all our village for me; + And make high prayer to the Great Spirit + For my safe crossing to the Happy Lands. + + Thus her lodge and wigwams + And my Father and brothers + Would be saved from all suspicion of treachery, + And to the mourning of the Great Chief + Who visited our campfires in confidence, + Would be added the wailing of our tribe for Yiada. + + I rode my Father's swiftest remaining pony, + I turned my face between the sun's rising + And the hot suns of the South. + I slipped through the forest and on, and on, + Each moon on, and again on, + Fast and far as the pony could run, I journeyed + In the direction where my Mother had told me + Lay the encampment of her people, the Mandanas. + + When the tired pony could travel no farther + I let him feed and rest and drink; + And then again I rode, moon after moon, + Until he grew lean as deep snow gray wolf. + When I had eaten the last crumb of meal cake, + And there was nothing left in my bundle, + But tough strings of deer meat, + I came one sun-rising to signs of the Mandanas. + + Then, O Medicine Man, + I slipped from the pony and bathed carefully, + I oiled my body, braided my hair with ornaments + And I put on a snow white robe + Whose bleaching had been taught my Mother + By Coüy-oüy as a secret art. + I stripped the beads and the obsidian + From my heaviest necklace for ceremonials + And wore only the sky water blue + Of the precious blue shell. + + When I looked into the shining water + Above the white sands of the lake bed, + I saw in my face great beauty like high magic, + Wrought by the fear painter, the hunger moon, + The far stealthy journey, the anxious heart-- + Beauty even greater than the beauty of Coüy-oüy. + + And so, O Medicine Man, + At fire lighting I rode into the village. + The spies and the couriers raced before me, + Crying the wonder of my coming, + The fierce, snarling dogs yapped after me, + The frightened children ran from me, + Angered squaws with harsh voices + Cried threatening, forbidding words at me. + + When I came to the door of the Council House + At the head of the long village of fatness, + I slipped from my pony, and leading him after me + I walked to the feet of the Great Chief + Sitting in solemn state on his throne; + I gave him the deeps of my troubled spirit. + + My eyes slowly unfolded to his eyes + The tale of the robbed heart, + Of the tortured sleep, of the lone moon trail, + Of a fugitive from the arrows of an enemy. + + With Mandan speech and by the sign language + I told him that I was of his blood, + Of his tribe through my Mother; + Seeking refuge with her people, + And I told him, O Medicine Man, + These things of woe, I now tell you. + + Beside him came the Great Chiefs and wise men, + Around him the warriors, the spies and hunters; + While back of the chiefs, dim in the firelight, + Again and again I felt the eye of a mighty hunter, + A young Brave, with the broad shoulders + The round face of compassion, + And the softer eye of the Mandanas + Of the lands where peace homed securely. + + Little of my story had I told the Chieftain, + As straight and fearless I faced him, + Before I knew in my heart that over his head + I was speaking to the stirred heart of his son. + I was asking of him rest and meat, and tribe rights, + Even as Coüy-oüy had asked meal and water + Of Mountain Lion, instead of our women, + For the broken fire bird that rested on her breast. + + As I asked I knew the answer in his heart; + For I was tall and I was seasoned, + And I was tortured beyond bearing, + And I was beautiful with a living spirit beauty + Far above that of the Mandan women around me. + + When they learned that my Mother + Was of their tribe in her youth, + That I had fled as the hunted for cave rights, + They held counsel, and they set me a tall wigwam; + They gave me the rich food of a welcome guest, + And they led me to my wrinkled, gray grandfather. + + The great council of Chiefs and Medicine Men, + The wise men and all of the young Braves + Made Mandan sign talk to hold me securely, + As if born of their tribe and village, + Even if Mountain Lion suspected treachery + And rode in war paint against them for vengeance. + + Then was my body lazy with rich comfort + But my spirit was gray ashes + Burned out by the flames of the fire bird + Nesting in the heart of my breast. + I was all over sick for my Mother, + For my brothers and my Father, who loved me, + For the clear sky, the heavy clouds, + And the taunting water of the restless sea, + For the fat grass, the flower valleys + And the tall mountains, with head-bands of snow, + For the night fires of village and Council Lodge, + And the little honey cakes of my Mother; + While I dared not even remember + The face of Mountain Lion's agony, + As I tortured him in derision, + And he turned from me in hot anger. + + As the sign was in the deep eyes of Star Face, + Son of the Great Chief, the night of my coming, + So it was in the suns that followed. + Well I knew that in the day + When he saw candle lighting in my eyes + His willing feet would dance before me + The hated Love Dance of the Mandanas. + + He was a broad Brave, a fierce Brave, a warrior. + He would sit at the council in the seat of his father + When he had made his last journey + To the far Spirit Lands of final peace. + His earth-lodge would be warm + With the skins of beaver, mink and otter; + While the white dress of a great Princess + From the bleached and softened doeskin, + Beaded with the sign of the Chief's mate, + Would cover my sick heart with the robe of pride. + + So hard I worked, O Medicine Man, + From the lifting to the setting of every sun, + So long I danced at night in the Assembly Lodge, + That when I walked to my wigwam + Sleep came swift and deep upon me. + + Sometimes I lay visionless, + My body worn to stone heaviness; + Sometimes the flaming bird burned my breast + To gray ashes, like dead campfires, + And the white lilies overflowed my unwilling hands + Until I fought to keep from choking among them, + Even as Coüy-oüy was smothered + By the little yielding wave hidden sands. + + When I had worked that season + Until the troubling mating moon + Sailed like a polished pearl canoe in the Spring sky, + When the hurrying blood of the trees + Ran fast in the red and yellow osiers, + When the birches, givers of large gifts, + Put out their little talking leaves of gold, + When strange birds made love chase in the forest + And the fish leaped high from the shallow water + As the yellow spawn they planted and quickened, + There came a night of quivering moon magic + When, after all the others had assembled, + Star Face entered the Council Lodge, + His head lifted to face the star country, + And the great wealth of his riches + Rode flauntingly from head-band to moccasins. + + He had scoured his skin to fatling softness, + He had oiled his body to birch bark smoothness, + His braided hair was filled with eagle feathers, + With quill feathers of white swan + And wing pinions of wild turkey. + + He was robed in the soft gray skins of the otter; + On his feet were beaded moccasins of deerskin; + In his hand was a broad fan of the wing feathers + Of the proud and contented white swan, + Round his neck lay heavy shining ornaments + Made from the teeth and the cutting claws + Of many black and brown bear, + Of fierce mountain lion and wildcat, + And the big teeth of the elk and moose, + Carved copper and cunningly pierced bone beads, + From obsidian and little singing shells. + + The dance of the maidens was beginning + When he entered in high pride. + He came through the long Lodge + And stood with compelling eye before me, + And before his Father on the throne, + And his Mother, his brothers and sisters, + The whole council of Chiefs and wise men + And all the assembled people of his tribe. + + Slowly he began the Mating Dance + Of the Mandana who would prevail, + While his eyes like coals from the campfire + Seared my body to action-- + The eyes of black bear when he is facing the hunter, + The fierce eyes of the starving panther + When the hunger moon is shining, + The scouting eyes of the eagle of high spaces, + Seeking a mate in the far country of the stars. + + When he had danced the dance of allurement + To the last stamped out measure, + Straightway I walked to the feet + Of his powerful Father, on his throne, + And in the speech of the Mandanas I said to him: + "Great Chief, thou hast seen the dance + Of thy mighty son, Star Face. + If I dance the ancient Mating Dance + Of the unconquered Mandanas + This night before thee, for Star Face, + Even as he has danced before thee, for me, + Great and powerful Chief, am I of thy people?" + + The Great Chief looked into my eyes and said: + "Thou art of mine, even as Star Face is my son; + With our last arrow, with our last battle axe, + With the stoutest blood of our hearts + Will our Braves defend thee forever." + + The next sun, the young women + Set me a tall prideful wigwam apart. + They bathed and oiled my heart sick body; + They beaded and feathered fine robes + For the mating ceremonials of a rich Brave. + + In another tent all of the young men + Were busy preparing Star Face for our union. + + Down the long wide trail + Of the swarming, bee like village + The painted criers on swift horses + Were announcing the marriage of Yiada, + Daughter of the far and friendly Canawacs, + And Star Face, the son of the Head Chief + Of the boastful Mandanas--the proud ones! + + So, with the full Mandan ceremonial, + I gave my tortured body to Star Face. + + There was no heart left in me, O Medicine Man, + And that Star Face might not miss it, + When he looked in my eyes in tenderness, + I gave to him such willing and sure service + As no other Chief of the Mandanas had ever known. + + Soft were the skins that bedded his wigwams, + Warm his earth-lodge against the sting of winter, + Sweet was the crisp squaw bread + That bubbled in his fat kettles, + Gold was the mountain of tallow + Stacked in his storehouse for winter, + High heaped were the nuts of tree and bush + Gathered and husked against the Ice Chief, + Rich were the berries dried with sunshine, + Boiled back to tenderness, honey sweetened. + + And, Medicine Man, + No other Brave served his mate as Star Face. + High and boastful was his pride + When I gave him a straight little chieftain, + And great to pain was my joy + When I oiled the little fatling: + For the fire ever burning in my heart + Had not scorched his small body, + The fulness of my hands had set no mark upon him. + + He was a young chieftain of spirit magic + Who in suns before his coming to my lodge, + Had ridden on the backs of milk white fawns + Over the floating thistle seed trail + That we saw nightly in the country of the stars, + Who had played with baby beavers + In their village at the creek's mouth, + Who had hunted canyon ways, + Stout heart with bear and panther, + Who had sailed over tall mountains with the eagle, + Who had hung in the eye of the sun + With the silver winged falcon, + Who had fished angry waters with the crafty mink, + Who had raced among the white birches + With the soft eyed does of Spring, + And slept deep with his tall blue heron brothers + In their rough nests among the wailing cedars. + + Every sun I watched him, + Every moon my fear-filled hand was on him. + Ever his gay cradle was light in my eye + Its tinkling shells sweet music in my ears. + When he could walk with strength + I led him to the meadows, to the forest, + And I taught him--thou knowest, + O Medicine Man, thou knowest well, + How carefully I taught him + Our every custom and tradition; + And how Star Face trained him with the bow, + To fish the rough waters, to ride the wild ponies, + And how he taught him all the laws and customs + For young Braves who would be warriors. + + Thou knowest how all of the tribe shouted + When first he sat his pony alone, + And rode it through the village at its racing speed. + And then, O Medicine Man, thou knowest the day + When first he strayed far from me + With the little curious feet of childhood, + And now, now, I hear the wild shrieks of terror + When the snake that has death in its mouth + Struck its pitiless fangs into his tender flesh. + + When his little blanket wrapped body, + Looking so long and straight, and lonely, + Was carried to the far, haunted death village + All the forest echoed wild cries of mourning + From a thousand wigwams of desolation + And earth-lodges that loved him. + + My stiff lips made no sound, + My robbed hands lay death's captive, + For my eyes saw again the nut thicket, + And the thing the sky flower sheltered, + My ears again heard the soft buzzing menace. + Well I knew that Coüy-oüy + Had escaped the watchful Great Spirit, + That she had come back to earth + To strike me through the death snake, + That hers were the fangs of poison + Buried deep in my little fatling. + + Thou knowest, Medicine Man, + How another little chief came to me, + And how again, with all the wild magic + All the wisdom of our tribe, + All the strength in our power + And the cunning of our hearts of love, + The great Star Face, and I, his strong mate, + Strove over the life of our son. + + Thou knowest how he shouted + When to us there came a little sister. + And then the black day, that dread day + Thou knowest well as any, + When tall and straight he entered the forest alone + To strive for the first vision from the Great Spirit. + + Without food and without sleep + I knelt silent in my lonely wigwam; + With one hand ever easing my burning breast + With the other I fought back + The slowly rising tide of the white flowers, + The luring spirit flowers of destruction + That home on the still lake waters. + I needed not the chilling death cry + That came to my ears three suns later: + I knew surely that my little chieftain + Would not come back to me from the forest. + + He still breathed when the hunters + Brought before me his stout body + Ripped deep by the cruel knives of the killer. + + The black death, man's height and buffalo heavy, + Lay dead in the far uptorn pitying forest + Where they had battled for their lives. + It had been the greatest fight + That youth had ever waged in our tribe. + + All night the anxious Medicine Men + Made their strongest Medicine for him; + But the green sickness was eating his slender body. + In the morning, O Medicine Man, + Coüy-oüy again danced her triumph dance, + Again scored victory over me, + When our unavailing death wail + Beat against the copper face of heaven + For my little chieftain, my brave little warrior. + + Because of her pointing finger no cry would I utter. + Silently in my tortured wigwam + I writhed in the flame of the fire bird + And choked with the rising sick sweetness + Of the hated water flower of the pasture lands. + + But ever I held in a tight grasp + The clutching hand of little fat face, + And my ears ached with her shrill wail + For the long journey of her brother; + For she had ridden his racing pony + Before him on the saddle on far trails, + And gathered gay flowers in the valleys + On the coloured faces of high hills, + And brought me the little juicy birds + From the snares of cunning set in the valleys, + And chased the war painted wings + Where the hunting ponies pastured. + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Darest say I had not killing torture? + + When the burning of the fire bird was past bearing, + When the stifling cloud of the white flowers + Sickened my body to leanness, + I arose and began skin dressing and fish drying + And seed grinding and weaving blankets. + + All of the squaws and the young women + Pointed taunting mischievous fingers + When, silent, I passed among them. + They said: "She is possessed of a devil; + Evil spirits drive her with secret arrows, + It is with strength stolen from the Spirits + That she works every sun at the fish drying, + The meat curing, the seed gathering + And the making of tents not needed. + + But ever, when far grown I carried little Dove Eye, + Little cooing bird, on my aching shoulders, + Ever I pressed her against my burning heart: + I would not trust her to the stoutest cradle. + Tightly I held her that from my fear strong hands + She might not be pushed out by the white flowers. + + When her stumbling little feet of uncertainty + Carried her to the willing knees of Star Face, + Like the first dawn of Spring long awaited + Came the light to his hungry eyes, + Like the soft talking brook water + Came the sweet words in his throat; + Like the wings of a snow white sea swallow + Writing mating signs on the blue sky of heaven + Flashed his quick hands of entreaty, + In the little love sign talk he taught her. + Many suns he sat grinding small beads of bone + Every little rare white shell he found, + And polishing squirrel and otter teeth + For the necklace she wore so proudly. + + Never did I leave my hands free of her + Unless the hands of Star Face were upon her. + When he made signs of soft pale-faces + I made signs of the passing of spirits, + So he saw that my hands ever upon her + Were only that I might hold her back + From the land of the great Unseen; + For only these three, Medicine Man, + Only these three little people, + The Great Spirit sent to my lodge, + From the far land of cradle filling. + + Always when we came near still or running water + I held her with the hug of black bear. + Before she might chase the little fishes, + Even in the shallow inshore water of the bays, + Or hunt the clinging mussel for food, + Or bathe with the small people, + I went before her every step + And always my feet were feeling, searching, + For any sign of the sands of treachery. + In my heart I said: "They shall not have her, + The ravenous Monster mouths, + They shall not have her, the pitiless death sands!" + + Thou knowest, Medicine Man, + The season of the great pow-wow + When I was needed at the fires roasting deer meat, + When I was needed to set the forest of wigwams + For seven tribes, seeking our welcome, + When I was needed to make swift preparation, + To use all the store of my knowledge, + For the coming of a cloud of peoples + From far countries to our village, + To teach us of their experience + And to learn of our wisdom from us, + Thou knowest that day, Medicine Man-- + The greatest day of the life of our nation. + + I held little Dove Eye tight + Then set her on the pony of Star Face before him + That she might ride to meet the friendly people. + Thou knowest how she danced to him, + And beat her little hands in triumph, + How she snatched at the sunbeams + And fluttered her fingers to me, + Like the flying painted wings + Honey gathering over the valley pastures; + How she made me the sign of birds far flying, + When she rode away at the head of our Braves, + On the proud pony of Star Face. + + Thou knowest how again and again, harshly, + I made the sign of full cradling arms, + Of tight holding, of unsleeping spying, + To Star Face as he left me. + + All day the fire bird burned my heart + All day I heard his prison song; + I stopped work at the smoking baking stones, + To push back the hated water flowers + Like fulling wool from the wild sheep's back. + Ever I pleadingly prayed the Great Spirit + To have her in his safe keeping. + + And thou knowest how the mighty Chiefs + Rode with bowed, sorrowing heads before me. + Thou knowest how Star Face, my man, + Stood stricken and mourning at our doorway, + His empty hands turned down in sign of torture. + + Thou knowest the tale the old wise man made + Of how her glad voice chanted with the birds + And her little hands clamoured and begged, + When they passed the white flowered still pool, + The magic ornament of the valley breast, + Where first she saw the flowers of dawn growing. + Thou knowest how she whimpered, + How she reached pleading hungry hands, + How she fought to be put down to pick them. + + On his pony, Star-Face left her with the Braves, + While he made the welcome sign talk to the visitors, + While he spoke the brothers' friendly greeting, + While he smoked the contented peace pipe + That warmed the hearts of our visitors. + Thou knowest how she turned his war pony + And flew back over the trail, wind driven. + Thou knowest how the frightened hunters + Rode at racing speed to catch her, + And how they saw only one little hand + Not yet swallowed by the sand mouths + The living sign of coming mourning, + Tightly clutching the white flower of destruction + With its lying heart of the gold of happiness. + + And thou knowest how three of our young Braves + Went down in the fierce sand mouths, + Fighting with full man strength to save her, + Until the mighty Chief, her grandfather, cried: + "It is enough. The Great Spirit has spoken. + He has taken her back to the land of short shadows. + We cannot have her. I have said it!" + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Is there no magic in the toluache lily? + Is there no medicine in thy heaped storehouse, + Fat with all the harvest of field and forest, + That will quench the flaming fire bird, + That will ease its coal hot scorching? + + Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, + Is there no magic granted by the Great Spirit + That will take from my tortured hands + This curse of snowy sweetness? + Call Coüy-oüy and ask if she has finished. + Tell her she has taken my all, my last little fatling, + Ask her, O Medicine Man, ask her in mercy + To send you High Magic from the Spirits, + That will empty my hands of the white flower, + That will ease from my sickened heart + The gnawing flame of the Fire Bird. + + +The names of the tribes used in "The Fire Bird" are fictitious. The +country described begins in the land of the Salish tribes of Alaska, +runs south to the lowest extent of British Columbia, and east to the +vicinity north of North Dakota. All tribes and country described are +Alaskan or Canadian. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + +The following changes have been made in the text: + + Page 2: comma added + Pages 16, 66: closing quote missing - no alteration + Page 26: printer typo - name spelling corrected + Page 34: printer typo - kille changed to killer + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fire Bird, by Gene Stratton-Porter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRE BIRD *** + +***** This file should be named 35188-8.txt or 35188-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/8/35188/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Steve Read and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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