and but half eaten. They cut the flesh from it with their stone
knives and axes, and carried it to their caves. Porcupine Killer
worked with the others and carried two great lumps of meat to his
cave; but he kept his eye on the burning tree. He soon noticed that
it was quickly lessening in size and heat. All the branches were
gone and the great trunk alone glowed on the rocky ground. Flames
and sparks still shot up from it in places, and here and there it had
crumbled to masses of red coals. Dark night had fallen by now, and
the light from the fire was drawing in, narrower and narrower, every
minute. By the failing glow of it, Porcupine-Killer gathered a great
many pieces of wood-roots and fallen branches and stumps, and heaped
them close beside the mouth of his cave. He told Broken Arrow (who
was a clever young warrior) and old Winter Morning, the chief, how
fire could be kept inside one's cave and fed with sticks; and he
lighted two long branches at the glowing coals and gave one into the
hands of each. Many of the other men, seeing this and hearing
Porcupine Killer's words, lit sticks for themselves and ran back to
their caves, waving them in the air.
"It was quite dark, and the great beasts were roaring and howling and
barking on all sides, when the first man who had ever made fire in
this part of the world returned to his cave.
"He found the fire burning very low,--just a bed of coals,--for the
woman was afraid to feed it with sticks. He soon had it blazing
brightly; and then, sitting very close to it, he began to cut one of
the big lumps of caribou meat into small pieces, so that he and his
wife might eat after their long hunger. One of the pieces fell close
to the red coals at the edge of the fire. He did not notice it, but
soon he began to sniff and look about on every side.
"'What is that queer smell?' he asked. 'It is a smell that increases
my hunger. What new thing have you in the cave?'
"The squaw told him that there was nothing new in the cave except the
fire and the caribou meat. But she, too, noticed the smell and began
to sniff and sniff. Her husband (who had not the baby to hold) was
so attracted by the strange smell that he laid aside the flint knife
and the big lump of meat and went sniffing around the cave, as a
hungry dog sniffs around the outside of a store-house. But he was
soon back at the fire again, where the smell was much stronger than
anywhere else; and then he happened to see the small piece of meat
that had fallen close to the red coals. Its color had changed. It
was red no longer, but brown as a ripe nut; and from it floated up
the smell that made him feel even more hungry than he had felt
before. He touched it with his finger. It was very hot, so of
course he stuck his finger in his mouth. Hah, but it tasted good!
He had never really liked the taste of flesh before, but had always
eaten it quickly, in big mouthfuls, simply to fill his stomach; but
this piece, that had been turned from red to brown by the fire, had a
taste to it that made him think of eating with joy. With a small
stick he drew it away from the hot coals, and soon the sting of the
fire went out of it and he could hold it in his hands without feeling
any pain. He cut it in two with his flint knife and gave one half to
his wife. And they were the first people to eat roasted caribou meat
that I ever heard of! They liked it so well that they cut many more
slices and placed them close to the red coals of the fire; and the
good, hunger-making smell floated out of the cave and set all sorts
of animals to sniffing and howling. They liked the strange smell,
too (though they never learned to like it as well as the smell of raw
meat); but they were afraid to go near the cave in the rocky
hill-side from which the smell came, for out of that same cave shone
the red glare of that terrible thing which had eaten up the dead
spruce tree. They saw the same red glare at the mouths of other
caves and what was left of the spruce tree still glowing angrily in
the dark; so they crouched in a great circle and howled and roared."
Old Squat-by-the-fire stopped her talk suddenly, and began cutting
tobacco for her pipe. Little Flying Plover sat very still, gazing
into the fire. He could see all sorts of queer things under the
dancing flames, deep among the red coals--lodges, and hunters running
beside dog-sledges, and warriors fighting mighty battles.
"Why were the animals afraid of the fire?" he asked.
"It was their nature to fear it," replied his grandmother.
"Why didn't it frighten the men, too?" asked the boy.
Squat-by-the-fire wrinkled her forehead and puffed hard at her pipe,
but did not answer. Flying Plover waited for a minute, and then
asked, "Are animals afraid of fire now?"
His grandmother nodded her head.
"But dogs are not afraid of it. Dogs like to lie by the fire, all
day and all night," said the boy.
"Dogs were not always fond of fire. When they were wild--before they
had been tamed by man--they did not like it at all," replied the old
woman.
She puffed very fiercely at her pipe. "But you must not ask me any
more questions now," she said. "I must boil the medicine for Red
Cloud's baby again. It is a very great medicine and has to be boiled
five times, in all, and let cool after each boiling. So you must not
disturb me, little son of a chief. Carve at your caribou again, if
the snow is still falling, and I will tell you another story
to-night, if you are a good boy."
VI
WHY OLD KING WALRUS WENT AWAY
FROM THE MOUNTAINEERS' COUNTRY
Flying Plover was a good boy. He carved at the stubborn block of
wood until it looked quite unlike a block of wood and had four legs,
like a caribou. Then he whittled away at two arrows, and mended one
of his snowshoes. He did not once disturb his grandmother at her
medicine-making; so after the evening meal the old woman said that,
as he had behaved himself so well and worked so busily, she would
tell him another story.
"I want to know why all the animals are smaller now than they used to
be," said the boy. "I want to know how that happened and when--and
who did it."
"Easy, easy!" cried Squat-by-the-fire. "You go too fast with your
'want to know this' and your 'want to know that.' Stories are not
told by the answering of questions. You will hear about the changing
of the animals later--but to-night I am going to tell you why old
King Walrus went back to his own country."
She scratched her head, and stared very hard at the fire, as if she
found a good deal of difficulty in remembering the facts. And that
is not to be wondered at, considering how long ago it was that King
Walrus went away from Labrador, and how many queer things had
happened since then. Little Flying Plover often wondered at the way
his grandmother remembered those very ancient happenings, and yet
sometimes forgot little things that he could remember perfectly
clearly. Well, she scratched her head, and stared at the fire--and,
presently, she remembered.
"When King Walrus heard about the strange thing in front of the
two-legged people's hillside," she said, "he floundered to the top of
a near-by hummock and looked at it in wonder and with a queer feeling
inside him. The queer feeling was fear--and King Walrus had never
felt it before. He looked at the leaping flames and wondered if the
sky had broken and the red sunset had fallen on the world. He looked
at the smoke which poured up in black clouds and white clouds and
blue clouds; and he thought that they, too, had fallen from the sky
and were now hurrying back to it. And the sparks? Why, the stupid
old fellow thought those were stars. His people--the smaller
walruses and bears and arctic foxes that had followed him from the
ice-fields--told him that the terrible creature was eating a tree
just as they would eat a fresh cod-fish. They told him to listen,
and they would hear it growling and cracking the dry wood with its
red teeth. The old Walrus listened, and sure enough, he heard those
terrible sounds. So it was certainly not the sky. 'I hope it will
not stay in this country,' he said. 'Where did it come from?'
"A fox said 'One of the man-creatures carried it out to the dead tree
from his den. It was very small at first--no bigger than my
tongue--and danced on the end of a long stick. But it was frightful
to look at, even then.'
"'Why did you not jump upon it, and kill it, when it was so small?'
asked old King Walrus. But he did not speak in his usual loud voice.
"'I had not the courage,' said the fox. 'And I saw some animals, who
are much larger and stronger than I am, turn around and run away,
too,' he added.
"Old blubber-sides could not think of anything just then but the
roaring fire in the valley below. Though he had believed, at first,
that it was a piece of the red, sunset sky, now that he could hear it
growling and biting the wood with its teeth, he felt sure that it was
some terrible, new animal that would want to fight him as soon as it
had finished eating the tree. But what had it been doing in the den
of one of the little, miserable, two-legged men-folk? He lay there
on the hummock and stared and stared, expecting, every moment, to see
it move toward him.
"Then the fox who had spoken before said, 'The same man who put it in
the branches of the tree has another creature of the same kind in his
den. I smelt it--and I saw its breath rising through a crack in the
rocks.'
"For a moment King Walrus turned his great head from the direction of
the blazing tree and looked at the fox. 'Go down and examine it
closely, and see if it has any legs,' he said. For a few seconds the
fox did not know what to do or say, and felt very foolish. He was
afraid of King Walrus--but he was much more afraid of the awful, new
thing down in the valley. But his wits soon came back to him. He
told the walrus that, of course, he would gladly obey his command;
and he immediately started off at a brisk trot toward the burning
tree. He kept on in that direction for about a hundred yards, and
then, reaching a thicket of alders, he skipped in among the twisted
stems, changed his course, and ran for fully a mile in a great
half-circle. That brought him out on a hilltop at a safe distance
from both the fire and the walrus, and yet in sight of both. Then he
sat down comfortably to see what would happen.
"Well, as the wood burned away, and fell to coals and ashes, the
great fire in the valley became smaller and smaller. Night grew dark
over all the wilderness, save where the sparks broke from the
bursting timber and the mouths of several of the men-folk's caves
shone red with the little fires within.
"'See, it gets smaller and smaller, every minute,' said King Walrus
to his people. It is but a poor creature, after all, and will soon
be dead. It is nothing but some foolish little magic of the
miserable two-legged people.'
"Then a wolf said, 'Yes, it may die, but I think it has cubs in every
one of the frightened people's dens. And they will grow, quick as
water running over a stone, and they, too, may have many cubs.'
"At last the flames ceased to dance at all on the ashes of the dead
spruce tree, and the watching animals could see only a few red spots
here and there. Hours went by, and still they sat on every hilltop
overlooking the valley, howling and snarling and roaring, and staring
with their wide, yellow eyes. At last they could see no sign of life
at all in the fire. Then they shouted, one to another, that the
terrible creature was dead; and a number of the bravest of
them--three walruses, and several bears and wolves--stole down to see
what kind of a dinner the body would make. That is what they were
always thinking about everything--how it would feel in their stomachs.
On the way down to the valley, a bear and a walrus pushed against
each other and immediately began to fight. Soon the smell of blood
was strong in the air, and all the animals that had started down to
try to eat the dead body of the fire tried to eat one another
instead. Two great bears, with their claws and their teeth deep in
each other's hides, went rolling down a steep side of a hill straight
into the coals and ashes of the spruce tree. Of course the fire was
not dead! There was a great bed of hot, red coals under the ashes.
Little flames sprang up around the bodies of the fighting bears, and
began to eat the long, thick coats of fur. The bears felt the awful
stings, and quickly let go of each other and scrambled to their feet.
Their backs and sides were smarting and their noses and paws were
terribly blistered. They saw the red and yellow coals all about
them, blinking and shining like the eyes of wicked devils--and their
hearts melted with fear. Away they ran, howling and roaring, with
the flames leaping high on their backs. It was a frightful sight.
The animals that saw it, all dashed away to their dens, fearing that
the dreadful red creatures might chase them and spring upon their
backs as they had sprung upon the backs of the fighting bears. Even
old King Walrus went heaving and lumbering away, and hid between two
hummocks of rock. As for the unfortunate bears who had rolled into
the fire, they ran straight ahead, without caring or seeing or
thinking where they were running to. They were blind with terror and
mad with pain. They ran and ran until at last one of them fell into
Beaver River and the other into Black Fox Pond. Of course the water
killed the fire on their backs and sides, but for a long time they
just swam around and around in the cold water. At last, though they
still smarted and ached all over, they knew that the terrible
creatures had gone away from them. So they swam ashore--one to the
bank of the river and one to the bank of the pond--and ran seaward as
hard as they could. All they thought about was the quickest way of
getting out of that terrible country.
[Illustration: "Away they ran, howling and roaring"]
"Now it happened that Porcupine Killer and the other men of the tribe
knew nothing about the trouble of the two bears and the fright which
all the other animals had received. If they had known they would
have felt very happy. They had heard more howls and yells and roars
than usual, but did not know what the trouble was. When Porcupine
Killer awoke he fed the coals of his fire with sticks of dry wood,
and broiled several slices of caribou meat for breakfast. He was
very merry, and could not help singing when he thought of how life
had changed since the morning before. Now he and his wife and baby,
and nearly every one in the tribe, had food to eat, and a warmth like
sunlight in their caves, and a friend that struck terror to the
hearts of the fierce animals. His wife awoke at the noise of his
song (for he was not a very fine singer) and she, too, was happy as
soon as the fog of sleep had passed from her mind and she remembered
the wonderful thing that had happened. After they had eaten,
Porcupine Killer said, 'I am going out to frighten the animals
again--and to-day they shall be frightened more than they were
yesterday. This wonderful thing that dances and whispers so
peacefully on the floor of our cave is greater than all the fangs and
claws and tusks of all the animals in the world. And it is my
friend--the friend of the tribe. I shall hunt old King Walrus
himself, and cause him to repent of the evil he has done.'
"The woman begged him not to be rash. The giant animals had ruled
the country so long, and hunted men as men hunt hares and foxes now,
that she could not believe that anything was stronger than the
animals. But Porcupine Killer had no fear, since he had seen the
power of the fire. He looked out of the mouth of the cave, and saw
the ashes of the fire lying black and gray on the rocky ground. He
looked all around the sides of the valley, lying quiet in the
brightness of the autumn morning, and could not see so much as a
skulking fox. He crawled out and looked to the right and left, at
the holes in the rocky hillside where so many of his own people
lived. He saw little wisps of smoke rising here and there from among
the boulders and from the mouths of some of the caves. He shouted
for the hidden warriors to come out. Winter Morning, the chief, and
Broken Arrow were the first to appear. Porcupine Killer called to
them that he was going on a great hunt, and that they should see
wonderful things happen before the sun had reached the top of the sky.
"'We saw many wonders yesterday, great Magician,' said Winter
Morning. 'What new wonders will you show us to-day?'
"'I am not a magician,' replied Porcupine Killer, who was an honest
young man. 'But the wonder you shall see to-day will be the hunting
of the fierce animals that have hunted us since the beginning of
time.'
"Six warriors joined Porcupine Killer in front of his cave. They
looked at every hill and wood and rock, but could not see one of
their enemies. 'We are the masters of the world,' said Porcupine
Killer. He took a burning stick in his hand, from his own fire, and
led the warriors to the other side of the little valley. They passed
the long heap of dead ashes and coals, where the tree had burned the
night before. The ashes were still warm, and deep in the middle of
the mass a few coals were still alive. At the far side of the valley
they threw together a great heap of dry bushes and moss and fallen
logs. To this Porcupine Killer set a flame from the torch in his
hand; and in a minute it was crackling and breathing and blazing, and
lifting clouds of black smoke into the air. Then each warrior took a
blazing stick from the heap, and again Porcupine Killer led them
forward. They had not gone far before two wolves sprang from a grove
of spruces in front of them and went galloping away. At that, the
warriors shouted and laughed, and waved their blazing sticks. It
made them feel great and brave to see the very same beasts that were
in the habit of hunting them turn tail and run at the sight of them.
They went up to the top of the hill and there built another fire in a
rocky place. And so they moved forward over hills and hummocks and
barrens, and through patches of dark forest, sending all manner of
animals fleeing before them. Here and there they built and lit new
fires, to protect their homeward trail; but Porcupine Killer chose
the places for these fires with great care. 'It does not eat rocks,'
he said. So all the fires were made on rocky places, away from trees
and bushes. Porcupine Killer had a thought in the back of his head
that it would not be wise for all the forests in the country to be
devoured by this wonderful new creature.
"At last the warriors came upon old King Walrus himself, lying sound
asleep in a narrow valley between two small hills. He was all alone,
for his followers had deserted him during the night. Porcupine
Killer made a sign to his companions to be very quiet. They hid
along the crest of one of the hills, above the great, round back of
King Walrus. Then Porcupine Killer gathered a huge armful of dry
moss and twigs, set it alight with his torch, and threw it down upon
the walrus's back. Then, standing on a high rock and waving his
torch so that the smoke and sparks flew thick and fast, he shouted,
'Wake up, old blubbersides, and return to your own country! Wake up
and see the Red Spirit sitting on your back!'
"Through his heavy, troubled dreams old King Walrus heard the voice
and felt a horrible sting in his fat back. He lifted his huge head
and cast one glance at Porcupine Killer and the flaming stick. He
felt the teeth of the terrible red creature, and knew that it had
caught him in his sleep. With a bellow of terror that nearly
deafened the hidden warriors, he floundered out of the valley and
travelled seaward as fast as he could go."
Squat-by-the-fire puffed hard at her pipe, and stared into the fire.
"Did he get home?" asked Flying Plover.
"Yes. He reached the sea, and dashed into the deep water, and swam
straight home to his lands of ice and snow," replied the old woman.
"And what did Porcupine Killer do?" asked the little boy.
"He went home, too, and cooked a fine caribou steak for his dinner."
"Did all the animals run out of the country?"
"No. In time they lost some of their fear of the fire. But they
were always afraid to go very close to it."
"When were the animals made as small as they are now?"
"That belongs to another story. If I tell you any more now, my brain
will split and the skin will come off my throat again," replied the
old woman.
VII
ANOTHER STORY OF GLUSKAP AND HIS PEOPLE
"A time came when the great animals in Gluskap's own country broke
the good rules he had made for them," began old Squat-by-the-fire.
"They were so big and strong, and had become so accustomed to seeing
Gluskap in the form of a small young man, that they forgot how
powerful he was. They were by nature fierce and bloodthirsty, though
they had hidden the evil deep in their hearts for many years. The
trouble was started by a great wolf. He stuck his head into a man's
lodge and glared at the man's children until they all began to cry
with fright. Then the man was angry, and struck the wolf on the
snout with a club. At that, the wolf caught the man between his
cruel jaws and killed him. The taste of the human blood awoke all
the evil that had been sleeping for so long in his heart. Then he
ran about the country, chasing men and women and every animal smaller
or weaker than himself, and killing many of them. At sight of that
all the other wolves and fierce animals felt a madness in their
brains, and began to hunt and kill. Gluskap left his lodge at the
noise and looked about him with eyes that could see for the distance
of a four days' journey. At sight of the blood and the hunting
beasts he was filled with anger. By his magic he made himself as
high as a mountain. Then he caught the animals in his great hands,
reaching here and there after them, across hills and valleys; and as
he returned each animal to the ground it was as small as its kind is
to-day. And this he did all over the world; and from that day to
this the animals have no more been masters of the wilderness. Then
he led the men and women and children of the tribe, who had been in
his care for so many years, far away to a country of thick forest and
broad rivers--a finer country, I have heard, than even this land of
ours. There they built villages and prospered, and for many hundreds
of years Gluskap continued to be as a father to them."
"What did his people do, in their fine new country?" asked Flying
Plover.
"They did many things," replied the old woman. "I have heard from
Micmacs on the coast that in time there came to be many magicians in
that country. Some of the magic was good, such as Gluskap himself
knew; and some was bad--and that was practiced by his enemies. Yes,
he had many enemies--evil people who hated him because he always
fought against evil."
"Please tell me something about the magic," begged the little boy.
The old medicine woman thought for a long time, and scratched her
head very hard.
"I know only one story about the magic of Gluskap's people--and I am
not sure if it is a true story or not, for I heard it from a Micmac
fisherman on the coast," she said.
"Long ago, in the country of Gluskap's people--the new country to
which he had led them from the barren lands--there lived three boys
in one big lodge. They were the sons of the chief of the village.
One day, while they were at play in the woods at some distance from
their father's lodge, they heard a sudden squeak and a sound of
struggling in a nearby thicket. They ran swiftly to the place, and
were in time to save a little brown hare from the hunger of a
wildcat. They beat the wildcat with sticks until it sprang away.
They carried the wounded hare to their lodge, and there washed and
dressed its hurts. In a day or two it was able to hop about the
lodge. One morning, when the father and mother were fishing in the
river, the hare spoke to the children with a human voice. 'My
friends,' it said, 'to-day I must journey far to the northward, on
Gluskap's business. For your kindness to me each of you shall
receive a magic gift. I shall name the gifts, so each can make his
choice, and to-night you will find them at the door of your lodge.'
The boys were dumb with wonder, for they knew that the little brown
hare must be a great magician. 'First,' the hare continued, 'are the
moccasins of the wind. With these on his feet a man can run above
the tree-tops, on the currents of the air. Second, is the wallet of
plenty. With this at his belt, a man will never lack either food or
water. The third gift is an arrow of red wood, feathered with red
and barbed with yellow metal.'
"The oldest boy chose the moccasins of the wind. The second in age
said that the wallet of plenty seemed a fine thing to him. So the
youngest got the red arrow. Then the hare hopped away into the
bushes; and at night the three gifts lay by the door of the lodge.
The seasons passed. The boy who possessed the moccasins of the wind
became a great hunter and warrior.