him, but he went through it. On, and on, and on, he went. Straight to
the wigwam of the chief, he carried his message.
The chief had called together the young men who were fleet of foot, and
was about to send them forth to find the lost hunter. They were asking
the chief what trails they had best take. Before the chief could reply,
a beautiful dove-colored bird had flown close to his ear and had spoken
to him in soft, low tones.
[Illustration]
The chief told the young men what the bird had said, and they set off on
the trail the bird had named. Before sunset, they had found the lost
hunter.
Carefully they freed him from the grasp of the great oak and bore him to
his people. That night there was a feast and a dance in his honor.
Ever since, the Indians have loved the birds that carry the messages,
and they never shoot a pigeon.
HOW OLD MAN WINTER WAS DRIVEN BACK
Far away in the North Sky lives Old Man Winter. Every year he leaves his
wigwam in the sky and comes to earth.
At the foot of a mountain, he builds a lodge of ice and snow, which no
human being, animal, or bird can enter. There he lives for a time.
North Wind is the only friend of Old Man Winter. When he passes near Old
Man Winter's lodge, he gives a loud shriek, and with his blustering
breath he blows open the door and enters.
Near a fire which glows, but does not warm, North Wind finds a seat.
There he and Old Man Winter sit and smoke, and lay their plans for the
next snowstorm.
When the council is ended, North Wind departs, to drive up the snow and
hail from the corners of the earth.
Old Man Winter also leaves his lodge. He stalks over the mountains and
valleys of the Red Children. The land becomes white with his breath. The
rivers are stilled, and all the voices of the wood are hushed as he
passes. A deep sleep falls upon every living thing.
No sound is heard in the forest but the rapping on the trees. Old Man
Winter carries a great hammer, and he strikes the trees a blow as he
passes. The colder it grows, the louder and more frequently he raps. The
trees snap, and the Indian lodges crack with his blows.
One day, as Old Man Winter was stalking through a forest, he came upon a
hunter's lodge. For days the snow had been falling. No track of deer or
rabbit was to be seen, and the hunter and his little boy sat within,
weak from hunger. They were also very cold, for the fire in the lodge
burned low.
Old Man Winter laughed and shook his hammer in glee, as he drew near.
Once, twice, three times, he rapped. The little boy within heard him,
and rapped three times in reply,--just as Old Man Winter had done.
At this, the hunter spoke. He told the boy that he must not mock a
nature spirit, lest some harm should come to him. He might be captured
and made to serve that spirit.
Now when Old Man Winter heard the mocking raps of the little boy within
the lodge, he was very angry. He breathed fiercely upon the little
lodge. It shrank and shivered at his touch like a living thing. He
struck it several sharp blows with his hammer, and passed on.
The fire inside the lodge burned lower and lower. The hunter and his
little son drew closer and watched the last flame flicker and die out.
[Illustration]
As they sat by the ashes, numb with the cold, all of a sudden a new
warmth filled the lodge. The South Wind gently opened the door, and a
young chieftain, with a face like the sun, entered. He saw the dying
hunter and the boy, and he warmed them back to life. When they were
stronger, he helped them to rekindle the fire. Then he told them to take
a few dried blackberries that they had in the lodge, and boil them in
water.
He said they must eat a portion of the blackberries, and throw the rest
at Old Man Winter when he returned. This would frighten him away, for he
was terribly afraid of blackberries.
[Illustration]
Blackberries mean sunshine and summer heat. Old Man Winter cannot stay
where they are. He never visits the earth at blackberry time.
The hunter and the little boy said they would do as they had been told.
Soon the young chieftain left the lodge, with the South Wind.
Not many days later, Old Man Winter returned, and again came rapping at
their lodge. But this time the hunter and the little boy were ready.
They threw the blackberries at him, as they had been told, and he ran in
fear to his ice lodge.
The South Wind and the young chieftain with a face like the sun were
near. They followed close upon the Old Man's track. When he was again
inside the ice lodge, the South Wind rapped gently at the door.
"Begone!" said the Old Man. "No one but North Wind is welcome to my
lodge."
Then the South Wind breathed soft and warm upon the door of the ice
lodge, and it melted at their feet. The young chieftain passed in and
sat down by the strange fire that had no heat. The South Wind stayed
without, and sang, soft and low.
The Old Man was very angry. He raged about the lodge and ordered the
young chieftain with sunshine in his face and warmth in his breath to
depart.
"I am great and powerful," said the Old Man. "When I touch the sky, the
snow falls. When I speak, hunters hide in their lodges; animals crawl
into their holes; and birds fly in fear.
"When my hand touches the earth, it grows cold and hard, and all life
dies. Begone! or I will make an ice man or a snow man of you."
But the young chieftain moved not. He only sat and smiled at the bluster
of the Old Man.
Slowly he filled a pipe, and handed it to the Old Man, saying, "Here,
smoke with me. It will give you strength to go to your lodge in the
North Sky. It is time for you to depart. You are old, and tired, and
worn. You and North Wind have had your day. The days that are to come
belong to South Wind and to me.
"I, too, am powerful, and I am young! I do not fear you. When I touch
the earth, it grows soft and warm. Every living thing stirs in its
sleep,--birds and bees, flowers and trees, animals and men. When I
speak, the sleeping sun awakes. See! already he begins to send down his
arrows. Hasten! that they may not find you, on the trail to the North
Sky."
The Old Man trembled. His legs and arms grew weak. Icicles fell from his
beard. Great tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Who are you?" he whispered, as he was melting at the young chieftain's
feet.
"I am _Go hay_--the Spring," answered the young chieftain. "All the
earth is glad, when I come to drive you back to your lodge in the North
Sky, for I bring sunshine, and love, and joy."
But the Old Man did not hear. He was far on the North Sky trail, and
Spring and South Wind were masters of earth.
[Illustration]
WHY LIGHTNING SOMETIMES STRIKES
An old man of the Iroquois nation once wished to make a beautiful Indian
maiden his wife. The old man had many rare furs and valued strings of
wampum. These he brought and laid at the door of the wigwam where the
maiden lived.
[Illustration]
The father and mother were pleased with the old man's gifts. They told
him that when the Planting Moon should come, the maiden should go to his
wigwam.
Now the maiden did not love the old man. She did not wish him to make
her his wife. "I will never sit at his wigwam door," she said.
It was midwinter, when the old man brought the gifts, the time of the
pale, cold moon. From that time, the maiden watched, with a heavy heart,
the moons wax and wane.
At last the snows disappeared. No more was the North Wind heard
shrieking about the lodge. The gentle South Wind had come, bringing with
him the singing birds.
The little brooks awoke and sang. They were happy that spring had come,
and all the earth children were glad,--except the maiden. Her heart grew
more heavy and sad, as the face of the sun grew brighter.
Then the Planting Moon came. The maiden watched the moon hang her horn
in the sky. Then she ran swiftly to the great river that flowed not far
from the lodge. Lightly she sprang into her canoe. A few quick strokes,
and the canoe was in midstream.
The current ran swift and strong. The little craft was carried swiftly
down the river toward the great falls known as Niagara Falls. As the
canoe neared the falls, the maiden was seen to rise and stretch out her
arms, as though about to leap. A smile was on her face, and a song was
on her lips, as the canoe shot into the mist that overhung the water.
Then, from the caverns below a dark blanket floated upward, as though
spread to catch the maiden. It was Heno, the Thunder Spirit, who dwelt
behind the falls. He had caught her in the folds of his blanket, and
had saved her from the great rocks below.
[Illustration]
Heno took the maiden to live with him, in his lodge behind the falls.
There she was very happy, so happy that her smile shone through the
mist, and the Indians cried, "See! A rainbow!"
In her new home the maiden learned many wonderful things. She found she
possessed strange powers, not known to her before. She could float on a
cloud at will, and she seemed filled with a strange fire.
One day, the young woman was given a son. Heno and she were very happy.
Many moons the mother and child played together. When Heno was away on
one of his journeys through the sky, they would ride the great bubbles
of foam that went dashing through the rocks. Sometimes they would catch
sunbeams in a net, as they sat on the edge of a cloud and fished.
One day, Heno asked the young woman if she would like to visit her
people.
"If you wish," he said, "you shall return for a time, taking our son
with you. But remember, both of you possess powers unknown to the earth
children. Be careful how you use them. Never let another child strike
the boy, for that child would at once wither and die. Never strike the
boy yourself, for he would fall stunned to earth."
[Illustration: CRADLE BOARD]
The woman listened to Heno's words. Soon they were wrapped in his great
cloud blanket, and were floating over the river. When they came to the
home of her people, Heno left the woman and the boy by the river, and
went on further to the east.
The people were glad to see the woman, whom they had mourned as dead.
She told them of the wonderful things she had learned in her new home.
She told them also how Heno was freeing their land of a monster serpent,
that trailed underneath the earth, poisoning their springs and causing
sickness. Always, she said, Heno carried a basket of great rocks on his
back, which he hurled at the monster whenever he saw him. Soon he would
kill the serpent, and they would be sick no more.
During many days, the mother and the little boy stayed with the earth
people. Sometimes, when the child was playing by the river, he would see
a dark cloud approaching. Then he would clap his hands with joy and cry,
"There comes my father!"
The black cloud would float earthward, and Heno would stop and have a
word with the mother and the boy. As he left them he always said, "Do
not let anyone strike the boy."
But one day, the mother did not watch the boy, and he fell to playing
with some earth children. They grew angry as they played, and struck the
boy. Instantly these earth children fell dead to the ground. Then the
mother laid hands on the boy, to punish him, and he fell to earth.
At this, there came a great rumbling and roaring through the sky, and
Heno appeared. He took the lifeless child in his arms, crying, "You have
disobeyed. No longer shall you have this great power I gave you. You
shall remain on earth and be simply an earth woman. I will take the boy
to my abode. Henceforth, our lodge shall be in the sky. There he will
return to life, and ever after he will go with me on my journeys through
the sky."
Then the sky shook and trembled. The door of the sky lodge opened, and
Heno and the boy were seen no more.
Now, when a rumbling and rolling through the sky is heard, the Indians
say, "'Tis the voice of Heno! He is coming from his lodge in the sky!"
But when a flash of fire is seen, and a loud crash is heard, they say,
"That is the boy! He is trying to hit the earth children with a fire
stone. He remembers how they struck him, a long time ago."
[Illustration]
WHY THE HARE HAS A SPLIT LIP AND SHORT TAIL
Once a rabbit began to run back and forth through the woods, calling for
snow, snow, snow! It was one of those large gray rabbits, with long
ears, that people call hares.
As this hare ran back and forth through the woods, he sang at the top of
his voice, "_Ah gon ne yah--yeh! Ah gon ne yah-yeh! Ah gon ne yah--yeh!
dah gen, dah ton, Ah gon ne yah--yeh! Ah gon ne yah--yeh!_" This meant,
"Snow, snow, snow! How I would run if I had snow! Snow, snow, snow! How
I would run if I had snow!"
Now, strange as it may seem, as this hare ran back and forth singing for
snow, snow, snow, some flakes of snow began to fall. The hare was so
delighted that he jumped up and down for joy.
"_Ah gon ne yah--yeh! Ah gon ne yah--yeh! Ah gon ne yah--yeh!_" he sang,
in short, quick notes of joy. And the higher he jumped, and the louder
he sang, the faster and thicker the snow came.
The hare was so delighted that he again began to run. All day long he
ran, back and forth through the woods, calling for "Snow, snow, snow!
How I would run if I had snow!" And the snow fell faster and faster.
Thicker and thicker it came. The path in which the rabbit ran grew
higher and higher, as the snow fell deeper and deeper.
But at last the hare was so tired that he could run no longer. He no
longer sang for "Snow, snow, snow! How I would run if I had snow," for
he now had more snow than he wanted. The snow was up to the tiptops of
the trees, and it was very hard to run.
The hare was very tired. He thought he must take a rest. Night was
coming on. He looked about him. Near the path were the top branches of a
willow tree, sticking out above the snow. He sprang into a crotch of
those branches. There he could sit and rest for a time. Soon he fell
asleep. He slept all night and part of the next day.
That night it began to rain, and it rained very, very hard. The snow
began to melt, and it melted very, very fast, and when that hare awoke,
not a flake of snow was to be seen!
But there was the hare away up in the tiptop of that willow tree! What
to do he did not know. He was very hungry. He wondered how long he could
stay there and not starve. He saw some tender buds on the branches. He
ate those, and then he gnawed bark for a time.
However, sooner or later, the hare knew he must jump or starve. He
looked down at the earth. It looked very good to him. He could see some
fresh green moss and some beautiful grass. One jump, and they were his!
But what a jump!
At last the hare whipped his courage up to the jumping point. He shut
his eyes, and gave one great jump to earth. But when he jumped, he
caught his tail on the branch of the willow tree and left part of it up
there. And when he jumped, he struck the front of his face on a sharp
stone, and the stone split his upper lip in two.
Ever since then, hares have had split lips and short tails, and ever
since then, willow trees have had tails, or catkins, on them, in the
spring.
CORN PLUME AND BEAN MAIDEN
The Great Spirit had smiled upon his Red Children. The land was filled
with plenty, for the Great Spirit had given to them the three sustainers
of life, the corn, the bean, and the squash. Flowers bloomed, birds
sang, and all the earth was glad with the Red Children, for the gifts of
the Great Spirit.
On one side of a hill grew the tall, waving corn, with its silk tassels
and plumes. On another side, beans, with their velvety pods, climbed
toward the sky. Some distance down a third slope, beautiful yellow
squashes turned their faces to the sun.
One day, the Spirit of the corn grew restless. There came a rustling
through the waving leaves, and a great sigh burst from the heart of the
tall stalks. The Spirit of the corn was lonely.
After that, every morning at sunrise, a handsome young chief was seen to
come and stand on the brow of the hill. On his head were shining red
plumes. Tall, and strong, and splendid he stood, wrapped in the folds of
his waving blanket, whose fringed tassels danced to the summer breeze.
"_Che che hen! Che che hen!_ Some one I would marry! Some one I would
marry!" the young chieftain would sing, many, many times.
One day, his voice reached the Squash Maiden, on the other side of the
hill. The Squash Maiden drew about her a rich green blanket, into which
she had woven many flaunting gold trumpet-shaped flowers. Then she ran
swiftly to the young chieftain.
[Illustration]
"Marry me! Marry me!" said the Squash Maiden, as she spread her
beautiful gold and green blanket at his feet.
Corn Plume looked down at the Squash Maiden sitting on her blanket at
his feet. She was good to look upon, and yet Corn Plume was not content.
He wanted a maiden who would stand by his side, not always sit at his
feet.
Then Corn Plume spoke thus to the Squash Maiden.
"Corn Plume cannot marry Squash Maiden. She is very beautiful, but she
will not make song in Corn Plume's heart. Squash Maiden will grow tired
of his lodge. She will not stay in his wigwam. She likes to go a long
trail, and wander far from the lodge.
"Corn Plume cannot make Squash Maiden his wife, for he is not content
with her. But she shall be Corn Plume's sister, and sit in his lodge
whenever she will. The maiden Corn Plume weds must be ever at his side.
She must go where he goes, stay where he stays."
Next morning at sunrise, the voice of Corn Plume was again heard,
singing from the hilltop, "_Che che hen! Che che hen!_ Some one I would
marry! Some one I would marry! _Che che hen! Che che hen!_"
This time his song reached the ears of the Bean Maiden. Her heart sang,
when she heard the voice of Corn Plume, for she knew that he was calling
her. So light of heart was Bean Maiden, that she ran like a deer up the
hillside. On and on, up and over the brow of the hill she climbed, till
she reached the young chieftain's side.
Then Corn Plume turned and beheld the most beautiful maiden he had ever
seen. Her eyes were deep and dark, like mountain pools. Her breath was
sweet as the waters of the maple. She threw off her blanket of green,
and purple, and white, and stretched her twining arms to him.
Corn Plume desired to keep Bean Maiden forever close to him. He bent his
tall plumed head to her. Her arms wound round and round the young
chieftain, and Corn Plume was content.
So closely were the arms of Corn Plume and the Bean Maiden entwined, so
truly were they wed, that the Indians never attempted to separate them.
Ever after, corn and beans were planted in the same hill, and often a
squash seed was added.
Since the Great Spirit had placed the corn, the bean, and the squash
together on a hill, the Indian said they should continue to live and
grow and occupy a hill together.
The door of Corn Plume's lodge was ever open to the Squash Maiden, if
she chose to enter. But seldom did she stay in his wigwam. More often,
she was found running off on a long trail.
But Bean Maiden remained true to Corn Plume. Always she was found by his
side. Never did she leave the lodge unless he went with her. Corn
Plume's lodge was her lodge, and her trail was his trail.
And because the Spirits of the corn and the bean are as one, the Indians
not only plant and grow them together, but cook and eat them together.
"In life, they were one," they say, "We will not separate them in
death."
And now, when a great rustling and sighing of the corn is heard in the
White man's land, the Indians often say, "'Tis the Spirit of Corn Plume,
crying for his lost Bean Maiden!"
[Illustration]
HOW THE ROBIN BURNED HIS BREAST
Some Indian hunters once made their way north, to hunt for moose. It was
at the time of Falling Leaves.
They journeyed for several days, until they came to a lake. Close by the
lake they built a log cabin. Moss was placed between the logs to keep
out the wind, and a thick roof was made from hemlock boughs. In the
center of the roof, a small opening was left for the smoke from the
lodge fire to pass out.
Here the hunters lived during the Moon of Falling Leaves. Every day they
went on the moose trail, but they found no moose. Their arrows brought
them little game of any kind. They became discouraged and sick, and one
by one the hunters lay down and died.
At last there was but one hunter left. He, too, was sick, and he grew
weaker day by day. His food was nearly gone. It was growing cold, and
there was little wood in the cabin to burn.
But the man did not give up. Again and again he cried aloud, "Some one
will come and help me! Some one will come and help me!"
One day, as he lay there too weak to rise, the fire flickered and went
out. It seemed that he must die. But even then he did not give up. Again
and again, with his weak voice he cried, "Some one will come and help
me! Some one will come and help me!"
And some one did come and help him. His cry was heard, for a bird came
flying in through the smoke hole in the roof of the lodge.
The bird had such a cheery, brave voice that the man felt better the
moment he flew in. The bird said to the man, "I was near; I heard you
calling. I have come to help you."
Then the bird saw that the fire was out, and that the man was cold. He
fluttered among the ashes until he found a bit of live coal. With a glad
chirp, he flew out through the roof. Soon he was back, with his bill
full of dried twigs. He placed them on the fire and began to fan them
into flame with his wings. Soon the twigs were blazing. Then he flew out
for more twigs,--and more, and more, and more.
The brave little bird kept on carrying twigs until the fire burned hot,
and the lodge was warm once more.
When the bird had flown into the lodge, he had had a clean, white
breast. After the fire was built, his breast was covered with red and
brown spots. He tried to pick them off with his bill, but they would
not come off. Instead, they seemed to spread, and his whole breast
became red-brown. Then the bird knew that he must have burned his breast
to a red-brown, when he was fanning the fire into flame.
But the little bird did not care if he had soiled his white breast, and
burned it red-brown. Had he not brought cheer and life to a dying man?
He chirped a few glad notes, then said to the man, "I will go now, but I
shall be near your lodge. When you need me, call, and I will come
again."
Later in the day, the man again called for help. The fire was getting
low, and he was not yet strong enough to go out and gather twigs. Again
the bird came to his aid. In and out he flew, many times, after small
branches and twigs, until they were piled high on the fire, and once
more it crackled and burned.
There was a little wood in the lodge. The man placed it on the fire,
and the warmth healed the man, so that soon he was well and strong
again.
Every day the man talked with the bird, for he was always near, and his
cheery voice and brave words gave the man courage.
Once more he went on the moose trail, and this time his arrows brought
him moose. In a short time the hunter had all the meat, skins, and moose
hair he wanted. The moose hair he was taking to his wife, to work into
pretty forms on moccasins.
The first snow was falling, as the hunter started south on the home
trail. The bird hopped along by his side for a little way, then said, "I
must leave you now. Winter is coming, and I must be on my way to the
Southland, or the snow will catch me. In the spring you will see me
again."
When spring came, the bird with the red-brown breast came with his mate,
and built a nest close to the hunter's home lodge. In the nest, that
summer, there grew up five little birds, and they, too, had red and
brown breasts.
And ever since, Robin Redbreast has continued to come and build his nest
close to the lodges of men, for Robin Redbreast is a friend to man.
[Illustration]
IROQUOIS FAIRY STORIES
[Illustration]
HOW MORNING STAR LOST HER FISH
Once the Little People, the Indian fairies, ran with the Red Children
through the woods, and played with them beside the streams. Now they are
not often seen, for the white man drove them out of the woods with the
Indians, and away from the waters, with his big steam noises.
But before steamboats and great mills were on the streams, the Little
People were there. They were often seen paddling their tiny canoes, or
sliding down the great rocks on the banks. They loved to slide down a
bank where one rock jutted out, for then they had a big bounce. They
also liked to sport and jump with the fish.
There was a young Indian girl whose name was Morning Star. She was
called Morning Star because her face was so bright, and she was always
up early in the morning.
Morning Star lived with her father in a comfortable wigwam by a river.
Every day she would get up with the sun, and run down to the river where
the great rocks were, to catch fish for breakfast.