In the old days there was no fire on earth, and the world was a cold
and a dreary place, especially at night and in the winter. Think what
it would be if we had no hearth at which to warm ourselves, no coals
to broil our venison!
One night, in the midst of a thunderstorm, the lightning struck a
great hollow sycamore, and it began to burn. When the people saw it,
they all wanted to get some fire, but the tree stood in a swamp where
there was no firm ground for them to walk on. Many tried and were
stuck fast in the bog.
The Raven easily flew across and got so close to the blaze that his
feathers were burnt black, and black they have been to this day, but
he brought back no fire. Then the Screech Owl tried, and he flew to
the top of the burning tree from which he looked down on the hot
coals, and got the red eyes that he has had ever since. The large
Hooting Owl followed his brother, and the smoke gave him those white
rings around his eyes that you have all noticed. The Black Snake said
he would try, and he wriggled into a small hole at the foot of the
tree, but he was immediately burnt black, and was scorched so badly
into the bargain that he has done nothing but twist and squirm to this
day. Not one of them brought back any fire.
At last the little Water Spider wove a silken basket which he placed
on his back, and then he spun a fine silken thread for a bridge and
ran across on it. He reached the tree safely, put a tiny live coal in
the basket, and brought it back to the waiting tribes of earth.