IT was long ago, so long that the books of the white men cannot tell
the time, that all the animals in the forest could talk with the red
men. There was a time when the animals came to the great council-fires
and lent to the Indians the knowledge they possessed of the woods and
streams. The wise beaver taught the Indian women and children where
to snare the pike and salmon, and how to build houses that would keep
out the rain and frosts. The bear and the wolf led the braves out on
the plains and through the forests and imparted to them their skill in
following the trail. The dog, by patient example, gave to the red men the
tact and power to watch for many suns without weariness. From the raccoon
the red men learned to mount the trunks of the largest trees. The horse
consorted with the Indians on the plains and showed them the secret of
swift running. The panther taught them how to conceal themselves in the
thicket, on the branches of an overhanging tree or behind the ledge of
rocks, and to rush forth upon their enemies like the sudden burst of the
whirlwind.
Thus from every beast of the forest the red men took lessons in the
craft of the woods and plains, and when they had finished all the other
lessons, the fox led them far away into the forest and taught them the
cunning necessary to make use of each. In this way they lived while the
summer and the winter came many times, and they were happy.
But there came a time when the animals saw that the red man was their
master. He had the wisdom of the beaver, the keen scent of the bear
and the wolf, the patience and fidelity of the dog, the agility of the
raccoon, the speed and endurance of the horse, the spring of the panther
and the cunning of the fox.
Often the beaver would be surprised to find that the Indian boys and
women had not been content with fishing in the places he had pointed out
to them, but had wandered away to streams which he had hoped to keep for
himself. Furthermore, they were looking with envious eyes upon his warm
coat of fur, and he feared that they might want it for a covering. Their
houses were built with even more skill than his own, and as they had
learned to fashion boats out of the trees he had felled for them and had
made for their use paddles shaped like his tail, they could dart across
the lake or along the river faster than he could ever hope to. And the
beaver was saddened because he had taught the Indians wisdom.
The bear and the wolf, wandering in the woods, often saw the Indians
following the trail far into the forest. At the same time the Indians
so cunningly disguised their own trail that the wolf howled with anger
when he tried to follow the red men, and the bear grew surly and retired
to his den in the rocks. With the keen scent the bear had trained, the
Indians sought out the trees where the bees stored their honey, and thus
he was robbed of much of the food he loved best. The wolf heard a young
brave promise a maiden that if she would live in his wigwam she should
rest on a couch made of wolf skins and be covered with the warm fur of
the bear. So the wolf and the bear took their little ones into dark caves
and kept away from the homes of the red men.
The dog, too, found that he no longer held first honors for faithfulness
at the watch. But he was not angered at the knowledge that his brother
could rival him, but lay with him many nights on guard in the wilderness,
vying with him in vigilance. When their long vigils were ended the dog
and the Indian would play together and make merry with each other over
the result of their friendly contest.
The panther was jealous and raged through the forests with fury.
Sometimes, to his surprise and wrath, when he had taken every precaution
to conceal himself from his brother, the red man, the branches of the
young trees would part as silently as if swayed by the breath of summer,
and between them would appear his red brother, laughing at him for hiding
himself so ill.
When the raccoon reached the highest point to which he dared climb,
the Indian boys would follow him with shouts of laughter, and go still
further toward the ends of the swaying and bending branches, hanging
from them in such a dangerous and reckless manner that it made the old
raccoon's head turn dizzy, and he went away to the hills by himself.
The Indians learned their lessons so thoroughly of the horse and
practiced them with so much patience that finally that animal found he
could no longer play when they had races on the plains. But he enjoyed
the contests with his red brothers, and when they returned to the village
he would follow and the Indian maidens would mount his back and ride
proudly to the council-fire.
The fox was greatly chagrined to find that his cunning and tricks were
matched on the part of his red brothers with others equally shrewd. No
matter how carefully he concealed his trail--though he walked in the beds
of the streams or circled the mountains till he had almost lost his own
pathway--the Indians would track him through all his windings. When he
tried to lead them astray by subtle tales they laughed at his deceptions
and put him to shame before his friends and neighbors.
So it came to pass that the Indians possessed the knowledge of all the
animals. They could follow the trail with the scent of the bear or the
wolf; build more wisely than the beaver; climb more daringly than the
raccoon; watch more faithfully than the dog; crouch more closely and
spring more surely than the panther; race the plains as swiftly as the
horse, and outwit the cunning of the fox.
Then the animals held a council, but the fire was not lighted in its
accustomed place and the red men were in heavy slumbers while their
brothers of the forest talked.
The jealous wolf opened the discussion and declared that when he had
carefully looked on all sides of the existing state of affairs he saw
but one course for the animals to pursue. They ought to rush in upon the
villages and kill all the Indians and their women and papooses.
The bear was more noble, and said that he thought this proposition was
unfair. He declared, however, that the animals could not stand still any
longer and look without fear upon the dangers which confronted them. It
was their duty to challenge the Indians to an open war.
The beaver argued that the better way would be to wait till the chilling
blasts should come and then in the night tear away the houses the Indians
had built to protect themselves and their little ones from the cold.
The storms of winter, the beaver said, would very soon put these smart
fellows in a condition that would make them anxious enough to come to
some terms advantageous to the animals.
The horse said it would not be right to cause the Indians pain or death.
The Indians were not bad neighbors, though perhaps a trifle too apt and
smart for the rest of them. For a great many years, said the horse, his
ancestors and the red men had been on the best of terms--not so much as
a ripple of trouble having disturbed their relations. He could not for a
moment think of entering into any plan whereby he would be called upon
to help take his brother's life or cause him pain. He had heard that
away over beyond the great mountains there was a pleasant country--not
as pleasant and fertile as the one in which they now lived, but a fairly
good place to live in. He would therefore propose that the animals invite
the Indians to go there on a great harvest expedition, and when once the
red men were safely over the mountains the animals could steal away in
the night and return to their loved homes. The panther scoffed at the
horse for advancing what he was pleased to call a silly and senseless
plan. The beaver, too, the panther said, was much too leniently inclined.
The Indians were to be feared, and if the animals were to retain any of
their freedom and independence they must follow the advice of the wolf.
Only total extermination of the Indian race could be depended upon to
warrant them from further molestation from the red men. What good would
it do, forsooth, to lure the red men over the mountains and then run away
from them? Did the horse think the Indians sick nurslings or women to lie
down on the big plains over the mountains and make no effort to return
to their loved streams, lakes and forests? Why, the Indians would come
back as quickly as could the horse himself, and then the very ground
would be made red with the blood of those who had decoyed them away from
homes that had for generations been held in such high reverence by the
Indians. He advocated an immediate advance upon the villages and would
give quarter to none.
All eyes were turned toward the raccoon as he rose to speak, for his
was a very old family and had long been held in high respect by all
the inhabitants of the forest. He said he could not exactly side with
the panther, for the Indians had never done him any great harm. He was
convinced, however, that the country ought to be rid of them, for they
were becoming altogether too well skilled in the craft of the woods. Too
much power in the hands of one individual, said the raccoon, was apt to
make it unpleasant for those with whom he lived. He favored the plan
advanced by the beaver. They could lay their plans carefully, and in this
manner bring about a treaty that would keep the Indians within proper
bounds.
The fox felt sure that the better plan would be for the animals to put
themselves under his training. He would teach them how to cheat and steal
while pretending friendship. They could then easily strip the red men's
fields of the corn that had been planted for the winter. They could take
from their moorings on the river banks the boats and fishing nets of bark
and float them far away down the stream where they would be lost in the
rapids. In this manner they could soon have the Indians at their mercy
and bring about a treaty on the plan proposed by the beaver and seconded
by the raccoon. The plan, he continued, offered no danger to them, as did
the contests proposed by the panther and the wolf; and he thought that
mature deliberation would convince all that it was the best one to adopt.
The dog said that not until the present time had he ever realized what
it was to be a beast. He felt ashamed to think he had been weak enough
to be prevailed upon to attend a council to which their red brothers
were not bidden. It was contrary to the custom that had existed since
the Great Spirit first sent them to this fair and beautiful country.
He expected that they would all be punished for such treachery, and
indeed they ought to be. The Indians had as yet treated them only with
kindness and respect. Many times in winter, when the snows lay so deep
on the ground that no food could be found the Indians had opened their
homes to the animals who had not made suitable provision for food, and
had fed them and kept them from perishing with hunger. There had never
been a time, said the dog, as he looked around the circle of listeners
and waited for a denial of his assertion, when any Indian had refused
shelter, food or aid to a needy, sick or suffering animal. To be sure
the Indians had acquired all the knowledge that the animals possessed,
but their doing this had in no manner impoverished the animals. As they
had lost nothing by this, he saw no reason why they should be jealous
and fault-finding about it. Would it not be far wiser for the animals to
profit by the example set by the Indians and teach each other the various
traits and characteristics each possessed than to be consumed by jealousy
and revenge, and in the heat of passion break a peace that had existed
for so many years? He could not, and would not be a party to any of the
plans proposed, and if the other animals persisted in following out any
of those cruel and treacherous schemes he should consider it his duty to
leave the council and go to the village to warn his sleeping brothers of
their danger. More than that, he would fight on the side of the red men
if it became necessary, and help them defend their lives and homes from
the attack of any force that might be brought against them.
When the dog had ceased speaking the wolf and the panther were in
a terrible rage. They accused the dog of cowardice, bad faith,
bribe-taking, desertion and treachery. They said he had been made foolish
and silly by the praise that had been lavished upon him by the Indian
maidens. They reviled him and stuck out their tongues at him for being
lovesick after the Indian women. They said he had turned nurse for the
papooses and hereafter would better stay in the villages of his new-found
friends and lie in the sun with the old men. They dared him to go to the
village and expose the proceedings of the council, saying that if he
attempted it they would set upon and kill him. "For a poor and meagre
crust of maize-cake, too hard for the teeth of the red men to crush,"
said the panther; "you have been bought, and you give up all claim to the
rights that have been held sacred by the dogs of all times. We should
think that the memory of your forefathers and the long line of noble dogs
who have lived before you came on earth to disgrace them would stir you
to action for the honor of your race."
"No," said the wolf; "he can remember nothing but the soft caresses of
the Indian girls upon his head. I saw him the other day lying at the feet
of Garewiis, the daughter of the chief Teganagen, and when he raised his
eyes and looked at her she took his head in her arms and laid her cheek
against him, all the time stroking his back and singing to him as she
will sing to her papooses when they come to her wigwam. Not only has he
sold himself to be the friend of the Indians and sit quietly by while we
are enslaved, but he is lovesick and his head is turned."
This warm and intemperate language caused much confusion and something of
a sensation, though the dog remained calm and dignified. He showed by no
outward sign that the uncivil and untruthful charges of the panther and
the wolf had even been heard, much less heeded.
The horse instantly sprang into the open place before the fire and hurled
at the two false accusers his most powerful eloquence. "I come as a
champion of my friend, the dog," he said. "You have insulted and maligned
him in a manner that calls for the condemnation of all honorable beasts.
He is my brother. Because there is some difference in our tastes and I
am his superior in size, it makes him none the less my brother. I love
him, for he is gentle, affectionate, trustworthy, noble and brave. You,
the panther, and you, the wolf, boast of your bravery; yet which of you
dared rush into the burning forests as did my brother, the dog, and lead
the blind doe to a place of safety? Which of you dared plunge into the
river, made deep and dangerous by the melting snows as winter died and
the warm winds came to bury--him when the waters boiled and foamed to the
very tops of the high banks and spread out over the plains like a great
lake--and from the midst of that angry flood bring safely to the shore a
weak and drowning companion who had stumbled and fallen over the bank?
I have heretofore loved you all, but henceforth I shall be ashamed to
acknowledge the wolf and panther as my brothers. They seem to think that
bravery consists in cruel attack and glistening teeth, but I can tell
them that it is more surely found in noble deeds. I will follow the dog
to the homes of the red men, and together we will fight against the cruel
practices you design to put in force."
As the horse ceased speaking the Great Spirit came suddenly to the
council-fire and said that the loud voices of the disputants had been
borne to his ears by the message-bearers and he had listened in sorrow to
all that had been said. He had therefore left the Happy Hunting-Grounds
and come to their council. He was grieved that the pleasant relations
heretofore existing between the Indians and the animals would now have
to be broken and disturbed. When they had been given life the intention
was formed that eventually all would dwell together in the Happy
Hunting-Grounds. Now he would be compelled to alter his plans. He would
change the language of his red children so that the beasts could never
talk with them again. He would go to his children in the villages and
tell them all that had been said at this clandestine council in the
woods. For all time the wolf and panther should be hunted and killed by
the Indians. They should be looked upon and warred against as the most
dangerous of foes. The bear might be counted as an honorable antagonist,
and the red men would be ready to fight him in open battle whenever the
opportunity offered. The red men would not disturb or molest him, but
if he should come and demand a battle the Indians would not refuse. The
beaver and raccoon, on account of the heartless plan they had set forth
for the vanquishing of their brethren, should be considered the prey of
the Indian and should yield their thick furs to keep his children warm.
The fox would be looked upon as a thief. He had proposed to steal the
food of the Indians and bring them to want; now he might practice his
desire. But the Indians would be warned and would set traps and snares
for him. When caught his fur would be used like the fur of the beaver and
raccoon. The horse and the dog might still retain their understanding
of speech of I the Indians, but as they had been guilty of breaking an
ancient treaty by attending a council to which all the parties of the
treaty had not been bidden, they must receive some punishment, and would
no longer be permitted to speak the Indian language. But they should
always be the champions and friends of the red men; they should live
in the Indians' homes, be present at the great feasts and festivals,
share the products of their hunt, be loved and petted by the maidens
and papooses, fight with the Indians when they fought and be partakers
and sharers in the victories or defeats. In a word, they should be the
companions and brothers of the Indians forever, here and in the Happy
Hunting-Grounds.