softly to the back of the eagle, and hid in the thick feathers near the
neck. So small and light was the thrush, that the eagle did not feel his
weight. He did not know that the little brown thrush was on his
back,--and the other birds did not tell him.
The eagle spread his great wings. Up, and up, and up, they soared. The
council wood became a little speck and then was seen no more. Over, and
under, and through the clouds, on, and on, and on, they sailed, along
the Great Sky Trail.
[Illustration]
At last the eagle's strength began to fail. He could go no further. The
great wings of the chief of birds could beat the air no longer. They
fell at his side.
The little brown thrush felt the eagle quiver and begin to drop toward
the earth.
Then away flew the little brown thrush. The air was so light it seemed
easy to fly. On and on he went, for he was not tired. He had had a ride
almost to heaven.
"Now," he thought, "I will go on and will get the song."
For some time, the little brown thrush flew along the Great Sky Trail.
All at once the air seemed full of song. He knew he was nearing the
Happy Hunting Ground.
He listened. One song seemed more beautiful to him than the rest. Again
and again he listened. He caught the notes. He sang them many times,
until he was sure that he could carry the song to earth.
Then down, and down, and down, he floated, through clouds and storms and
sunshine, back to Mother Earth.
Very happy, he flew toward the council wood. He was so full of his
beautiful song and the wonderful Sky Trail, he thought he must pour out
his song at once.
But when he reached the council wood, he dared not open his mouth! He
remembered that he had stolen his ride part way to heaven,--and he knew
the other birds knew it.
But that song! he must sing it! He thought his throat would burst, if he
did not sing!
So the little brown thrush flew off by himself, into a deep, dark part
of the wood. There, hidden by the brush and the bushes, he poured forth
the song he had heard on the Great Sky Trail.
Men hearing it to-day, say, "Listen, a hermit thrush! What a beautiful
song! But he is such a shy bird, one seldom can catch a glimpse of him."
They do not know why he keeps so close under cover.
HOW GOOD AND EVIL CAME TO BE
Every boy has wondered how there came to be two of him.
Every girl has puzzled over how she happened to be twins. Sometimes she
is the good girl,--sometimes a naughty one.
The Indians say this is how it happened.
The world was very young. There was no earth, only a cloud-like sea.
The sea was filled with water animals, and water birds flew over it. All
was dark. Light had not yet come.
Then the cloud-sea began to call for light. The Great Spirit heard, and
said, "It shall be so. I will make a new place for man to live in."
The Great Spirit called the beautiful Sky Mother to Him. Her face was
like the sun, she was so light of heart.
The Great Spirit told the Sky Mother to look down. She, too, heard the
cloud-sea calling, and she said, "I will go."
As she began to descend, the animals saw her coming. "See the light,"
they cried. "Where will it rest?"
One of the water animals said, "I will go to the bottom of the sea and
get something for it to rest on."
He went down, but he never came back.
Other animals followed him. But they, too, did not come back.
Then the muskrat said, "I will go. I will be the earth bringer."
He returned, with some mud in his mouth and claws.
"It will grow fast," he cried, in a weak voice. "Who will carry it?"
The turtle offered his back. As the muskrat placed the mud on the
turtle's shell he died. But the beaver came and slapped the mud down
with his tail.
The mud on the turtle's back grew very fast. Soon it was a small island.
The turtle became the earth bearer. He has continued to hold up the
earth ever since.
Now, when the sea rises in great waves, or the earth shakes, the Indians
say, "The turtle is stretching. He is wiggling his back!"
Now, since there was a place for the light to rest on, the birds flew up
to meet it. They found that the light was the beautiful Sky Mother.
Then the birds spread wide their great wings, and bore the Sky Mother
through the air to the cloud-sea. They placed her on the island on the
turtle's back. There the Sky Mother had rested some time, when she felt
something stirring beneath her heart. She heard voices. One was soft and
kind and full of love, the other was harsh and quarrelsome.
Soon the Sky Mother looked into the faces of the first-born of earth,
for she had borne the twin brothers, the spirits of Good and Evil. As
she looked into the face of the Good Mind, she said, "You shall be
called the Light One."
Then she looked into the face of his brother, and said, "You shall be
named the Dark One."
The island became a beautiful land.
The twin brother Light One grew up happy, loving, peaceful, and kind. He
wanted to make the new land the most beautiful place in which to live.
The twin brother Dark One grew up sullen, quarrelsome, hateful, and
unkind. He tried to make the land the worst place in which to live.
From his mother's beautiful face the Light One made the sun. He set it
in the eastern sky, that it might shine forever. Then the Dark One put
darkness in the west to drive the sun from the sky.
The Light One gave his mother's body to the earth, the Great Mother from
which springs all life. He made great mountains, and covered them with
forests from which beautiful rivers ran. The Dark One threw down the
mountains, gnarled the forests, and bent the rivers which his brother
had made.
Every beautiful thing which the good brother Light One made, the bad
brother Dark One tried to destroy and ruin.
And because the first-born of earth were the twin spirits, the Good Mind
and the Evil Mind, there has been a good and bad spirit born into every
boy and girl who has come into the world since.
So the Indians say!
HOW A BOY WAS CURED OF BOASTING
There was once an Indian boy, who thought he knew more and could do more
than anyone else. He was so proud of himself that he walked around like
a great chief, who wears a war shirt with many scalp locks on it.
The other Indian boys and girls called him Spread Feather, because he
strutted about like a big turkey or a peacock.
One day, Spread Feather was playing ball with the other boys. Not once
had he failed to drive or catch the ball with his crosse stick. Twice he
had thrown the ball with such force that some one had been hurt.
Spread Feather grew more and more pleased with himself, as he played. He
began to use tricks and to talk very large.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
"No one can play ball as I," he said. "I can catch the swiftest ball
that can be thrown. I can throw the ball to the sky. I can run faster
than the deer."
Spread Feather boasted so loudly that a rabbit heard him. The rabbit
came out of the bushes and sat up on his hind legs. He watched Spread
Feather play, and listened to his boasting.
Soon a strange boy was standing where the rabbit had sat.
The stranger said to Spread Feather, "I would like to play ball with
you."
"Come on, then!" taunted the boastful boy. "Spread Feather will show the
strange ball player how to catch a ball."
They began to play.
The stranger could run like a deer. His balls were so swift and so
curved that Spread Feather could not see them. He could not catch one.
They seemed to come from the sky.
At last one ball hit Spread Feather on the mouth. He fell to the ground.
His face was red with anger, and his lips were red with blood.
He sprang to his feet and shouted to the stranger, "Though I do not like
the taste of your ball, yet I can throw you."
"Very well, then," said the stranger. "We will have a game of 'Catch as
catch can.'" This is the Indian name for a game of wrestling.
Spread Feather set his feet very hard on the ground.
"My legs are as strong as the legs of a bear," he boasted.
They began to wrestle. Soon Spread Feather's arms fell at his sides. He
panted for air. He had no breath and no strength.
The stranger picked Spread Feather up and tossed him over his head like
a ball. The boy fell without a word.
When Spread Feather opened his eyes, a rabbit sprang into the bushes.
All night, Spread Feather lay and thought, and thought. He was too weak
and too sore to go back to his wigwam. Nor was he eager to meet the
other boys.
At sunrise a rabbit hopped near. The rabbit slyly suggested that he
might like to play another game of ball.
The boy sat up and said to the rabbit, "Spread Feather is no more. He no
longer struts like a turkey. He has nothing to say. He will win a new
name. It will not be Spread Feather."
WHY THE CUCKOO IS SO LAZY
The land was lean and hungry. The Old Man of the North Lodge had
breathed upon the valley. His breath had frozen the corn, and there was
no bread for the people.
The Indian hunters took to the chase. They followed every track of deer
or rabbit. If their arrows brought them meat, they threw it over their
shoulders and ran to the village, that the hungry women and children
might eat.
But one Indian remained in his wigwam. He sat by the fire with his wife
and child, and waited for the hunters to bring game.
This man refused to go on the hunt. He was lazy. All day he sat by the
fire and smoked his pipe. Once in a while, he would stir the water in
the kettle which he kept boiling for the meat that he hoped the hunters
might bring. Whenever the child, his little son, begged him for food, he
would say, "It isn't done yet."
At last the little Indian boy grew so sick and faint for want of food
that he cried aloud.
[Illustration]
The lazy Indian father was angry. He seized the pudding stick, and
struck the child to the ground. Instantly a bird flew up and perched on
the pole over the fire, from which the kettle hung.
"Now it's done!" said the bird solemnly, for it did not seem to have a
light heart like other birds.
Now, strange as it may seem this father was no longer cruel and lazy.
His lazy spirit seemed to have gone. He wanted to go at once on the
chase, and hunt food for his wife and little boy.
"To-night you shall have deer meat to eat," he said, as he spread a soft
skin by the fire, for the boy to lie on. Then he turned to place the
child on the skin,--but no boy was there. He had no son. Only that
strange bird perched, joyless and alone, over the fire, on the pole from
which the kettle hung.
"Now it's done!" the bird cried again, and with that it flew out of the
wigwam.
* * * * *
That spring the Indians discovered a new bird in the woods. The bird was
too lazy to build a real nest.
This bird did not weave together twigs and moss, leaves and ferns, bits
of hair and thistledown, to make a cozy, warm, safe nest for its eggs
and young, as did the other birds. This bird would lay its eggs
anywhere. Wherever a few sticks lay crosswise in a track, or in a little
hollow of the ground, or where some twigs or dried ferns were caught
loosely in a bush, there this lazy bird would lay its eggs and rear its
young.
It was too lazy to build a real nest, that was safe and warm for its
little ones.
[Illustration]
The Indians called the bird "the cuckoo." But only one Indian knew how
the cuckoo came to be, and why it is too lazy to build a real nest.
HOW THE COON OUTWITTED THE FOX
A wise old raccoon sat up in a tree near the river where the bear lost
his tail. The coon saw the fox play his foxy trick on the bear, and he
did not like it.
"The fox is getting a big head," said the coon. "This must not be. His
head must be made smaller. Some of the foxiness must be taken out of it.
He is getting too foxy. He thinks he has the cunning of all the animals,
and that no one can outwit him. Some one must play a 'fox' trick on
him."
Not many days later, the coon saw the fox coming down the trail. The
coon was eating some juicy yellow apples that he had found on a tree not
far away. As soon as he saw the fox, he ran up a tree, and began to
smack his lips as the fox had done to tempt the bear.
The fox stopped under the tree, just as the bear had stopped.
"What tastes so good?" he asked.
For answer the coon threw down an apple to the fox, just as the fox had
thrown the piece of fish down to the bear.
The fox took the apple and ate it.
"Fine! Fine!" said the fox, when he had finished the last mouthful.
"Where did you get it?"
[Illustration]
The coon then told the fox how to find the apple tree. He must follow
the trail along the river, down to the pine bluff. Then he must climb
the bluff and run toward the setting sun, until he came to an open
field. In the center of that field stood a great apple tree. It was
filled with juicy yellow apples.
[Illustration]
"But you can climb the tree and pick your own apples. How can I get them
off the tree?" whined the fox.
"Oh, that's easy," said the coon. "Just back off two bow shots from the
tree, then lower your head,--so. Run hard and butt the tree with your
head. You have such a big head, it will shake the tree so hard that all
the apples will fall at once. Do as I tell you, and you will have all
the apples you want for a long time."
The fox thanked the coon and started at once.
He found the apple tree, just as the coon had said.
[Illustration]
"What a fine open place to run in," thought the fox. "I will get such a
fine start that when I hit the tree it will shake the world."
Already he began, in his mind, to see the apples falling, like pine
needles, and to feel the earth shake under his feet.
The fox did as the coon had told him. One arrow flight he backed off,
then another. Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and ran swiftly
over the thick grass. He struck the tree as hard as ever he could, with
his big head.
Not an apple fell, but a dazed, foolish-looking fox fell to the ground.
Next morning as the sun rose, a shame-faced fox was seen running toward
the woods beyond the pine bluff. He carried his head low, and he seemed
to be playing no foxy tricks.
WHY THE GOLDFINCHES LOOK LIKE THE SUN
It was some moons after the coon outwitted the fox, before they again
met. The coon was hurrying by, when the fox saw him.
Now the fox had not forgotten the trick the coon had played on him. His
head was still sore from that great thump against the apple tree. So the
fox started after the coon. He was gaining, and would have caught him,
had they not come to a tall pine tree.
The coon ran to the very tiptop of the pine tree. There he was safe, for
the fox could not climb.
The fox lay down on the soft pine needles and waited for the coon to
come down. The coon stayed up in the pine tree so long that the fox grew
tired and sleepy. He closed his eyes and thought he would take a short
nap.
The coon watched, until he saw that the fox was sound asleep. Then he
took in his mouth some of the pitch from the pine tree. He ran down the
tree and rubbed the pitch over the eyes of the sleeping fox.
The fox awoke. He sprang up and tried to seize the coon, but, alas! he
could not see what he was doing. The lids of his eyes were held fast
with the pine gum. He could not open them.
The coon laughed at the fox's plight, then ran and left him.
The fox lay for some time under the tree. The pine gum, as it dried,
held the lids of his eyes closer and closer shut. He thought he should
never again see the sun.
Some birds were singing near by. He called them, and told them of his
plight. He asked if they would be so kind as to pick open his eyes.
The birds flew off and told the other birds. Soon many of the little
dark songsters flew back to where the fox lay. Then peck, peck, peck,
went the little bills on the eyelids of the fox. Bit by bit they
carefully pecked away the pine gum. If one grew tired, another bird
would take its place.
[Illustration]
At last the fox saw a streak of light. Soon the lid of one eye flew
open, then the other. The sun was shining, and the world looked very
beautiful to the fox, as he opened his eyes.
He was very grateful to the little birds for bringing him light. He told
them to ask what they would, and he would give it to them.
The little birds said, "We do not like the plain, dark suits which the
Turkey Buzzard brought us. Make us look like the sun we have brought to
you."
The fox looked about him. Beautiful yellow flowers were growing near. He
pressed some of the sun color from them, and with the tip of his tail as
a brush, he began to paint the dark little birds like the sun.
The birds fluttered so with joy, he thought he would paint the bodies
first. Before he could brush the wings and tails with the sun paint,
each little bird had darted away, like a streak of sunshine. So happy
and light of heart were the birds, that they could not wait for the fox
to finish the painting.
This is why goldfinches are yellow like the sun. It is why they have
black wings and tails, why they flutter so with joy, and why they never
finish their song.
WHAT THE ASH AND THE MAPLE LEARNED
Long ago, birds, trees, animals, and men knew each the language of the
other, and all could talk together.
In those days, the trees of the forest grew very large and strong. At
last they came to know their strength too well. They became selfish, and
proud, and quarrelsome. Each tree boasted that he was the greatest and
strongest. Each one struggled to gain for himself the most earth, the
best air, the brightest sun. No tree had a thought for the other.
One day the trunk of a great Maple tried to crowd out an Ash. The Ash,
of course, thought he had as much right to stand there as the Maple, and
he said he would not stir a limb.
"Get out of my way," cried the Maple. "I am greater than you, and of
more use to man; for I furnish the sweet water for him to drink."
"Indeed, I will not!" said the Ash. "I am greater than you, and of more
use to man than you; for I furnish the tough wood from which he makes
his bow."
At this the trees fell to wrestling. Back and forth, in and out they
swayed, each trying to throw the other. They forgot that they were
brothers in the wood.
Then the South Wind came along. He heard the loud voices and stopped to
find out what the quarrel was about.
"I am greater than you, for I furnish the sweet water for man to drink,"
came the angry voice of the Maple, as he threw his huge trunk against
the Ash.
"No, you are not," retorted the Ash, and he sent the Maple back with a
great push of his strong elbow. "I am greater than you, for I furnish
the tough wood from which he makes his bow."
[Illustration]
For a time, the South Wind watched them writhe and twist and try to
throw each other to the ground. Then he said, softly, "You, O Maple, do
not cause the sweet water to flow for man; nor do you, O Ash, make your
wood to grow pliant and tough for his bow."
"Who does, then?" they asked defiantly.
"Listen," said the South Wind, "and you shall hear."
Then the Maple and Ash forgot their quarrel. They bent their heads so
low and close to listen, that an arm of the Maple slipped through an arm
of the Ash.
[Illustration]
And as they stood thus listening, each with an arm locked in an arm of
the other, the South Wind gently swayed them to and fro. Then a voice
was heard, singing, "_San noh-eh! San noh-eh! San noh-eh!_" which
means, "The Mother of all things."
Thus it was that the Ash and the Maple learned that it was Mother Earth
who gave them their life, and power, and strength, and that they were
brothers, because they had one Mother.
The Ash and the Maple whispered the secret to the birds. The birds came
and listened to the voice, and went and told the animals. The animals
came and listened, and went and told men. And thus all the earth
children learned that there is one Great Mother of every living thing,
and that all are brothers.
And now, whenever two trees lock arms lovingly, and the South Wind sways
them gently to and fro, that same voice may be heard, singing, "_San
noh-eh! San noh-eh! San noh-eh!_"
HOW THE WOMAN OVERCAME THE BEAR
An Indian woman built a wigwam in the deep wood. She was a brave woman.
She had no fear.
One night, she heard something coming along the trail. Thump, thump,
thump, it came, to the very door of her wigwam.
There was a rap.
"Come in," said the woman, but no one entered.
Again there came a rap.
Again the woman called, "Come in." Again the latch was not lifted.
A third time the rap came. A third time the woman called, "Come in," but
no one entered.
Then the strange thump, thump, thump, was heard going down the trail.
The next night, the same thing occurred. Soon after dark, the woman
heard the thump, thump, thump, coming along the trail. Up to the very
door of the wigwam it came.
Three times, a rap, rap, rap, was heard as before. Three times the woman
answered, "Come in," but no one entered.
Then the same strange thump, thump, thump, was heard going down the
trail again.
The third night, the woman thought she would make sure who was calling.
She stood for a long time, with her hand on the latch.
At last she heard the visitor coming. Thump, thump, thump, it came along
the trail. There were three raps.
"Come in," called the woman, but the latch did not move in her hand. She
waited. Again came the raps.
This time she threw wide open the door, and there stood a great black
bear. He showed his sharp teeth and growled, "Are you at home?"
The woman looked him straight in the eye and replied, "I am at home."
At once the bear turned on his heel and went down the trail, as fast as
he could go.
Never again did the woman hear that strange thump, thump, thump; and
never again did the bear call to see if she were at home.
[Illustration]
WHY THE WOODPECKER BORES FOR ITS FOOD
Once upon a time, the Great Spirit left the Happy Hunting Ground and
came to earth. He took the form of a poor, hungry man. He went from
wigwam to wigwam, asking for food.
Sometimes he found the Indians sitting around the fire, telling stories
and talking of the Great Spirit. Then the man would pass by unseen.
One day, he came to a wigwam in which a woman was baking cakes.
"I am very hungry," the man said. "Will you please give me a cake?"
The woman looked at the man, and then at the cake. She saw that it was
too large to give away.
She said, "I will not give you this cake, but I will bake you one, if
you will wait."
The hungry man said, "I will wait."
[Illustration]
Then the woman took a small piece of dough and made it into a cake and
baked it. But when she took this cake from the coals, it was larger than
the first.
Again the woman looked at her cake. Again she saw it was too large to
give away. Again she said, "I will not give you this one, but I will
bake you one, if you will wait."
Again the man said, "I will wait."
This time the woman took a very, very, tiny bit of dough, and made it
into a cake.
"Surely, this will be small enough to give away," she thought, yet when
baked it was larger than both the others.
The woman stood and looked at the three cakes. Each was too large to
give away.
"I will not give you any of the cakes," she said to the man. "Go to the
woods, and find your food in the bark of trees."
Then the man stood up and threw off his ragged blanket and worn
moccasins. His face shone like the sun, and he was very beautiful. The
woman shrank into the shadow of the wigwam. She could not look upon his
face, for the light.
"I am the Great Spirit," said he, "and you are a selfish woman. Women
should be kind, and generous, and unselfish. You shall no longer be a
woman and live in a warm wigwam, with plenty of cakes to bake. _You_
shall go to the forest and hunt _your_ food in the bark of trees. Summer
and winter, you shall eat worms of the same size as the cake you would
have made for me."
The woman began to grow smaller and smaller. Feathers grew upon her
body, and wings sprang from it. The Great Spirit touched her head, and
it became red.
[Illustration]
"Always shall you wear this red hood," he said, "as a mark of your
shame. Always shall you hide from man. Always shall you hunt for little
worms, the size of the cake you made for me."
At this a sharp cry was heard, and a bird flew into the fireplace of the
wigwam, and up the chimney. As it passed out of the chimney, the soot
left those long streaks of black which we see now on the woodpecker's
back.
Ever since then, this woodpecker has had a red head, and has been hiding
from man on the farther side of the tree trunk, and boring in the bark
for _little_ worms.
WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL
A great many winters ago, there lived at the foot of a certain lake a
tribe of wicked Indians. These Indians were so fierce, and warlike, and
wasteful, they went about destroying everything.
They laid low a tract of beautiful forest trees, for no good purpose.
They tore up shrubs and plants that gave them food and medicine. They
shot their arrows into every bird or animal they saw, just for sport.
[Illustration]