|THERE was an old man living in the depth of a forest with his grandson,
whom he had taken in charge when quite an infant. The child had no
parents, brothers, or sisters; they had all been destroyed by six large
giants, and he was informed that he had no other relative living besides
his grandfather. The band of Indians to whom he had belonged had put up
their children on a wager in a race against those of the giants, and had
thus lost them. But there was an old tradition in the tribe, that one
day it would produce a great man, who would wear a white feather, and
who would astonish every one by his feats of skill and bravery.
The grandfather, as soon as the child could play about, gave him a bow
and arrows to amuse himself with. He went into the edge of the woods
one day and saw a rabbit; but not knowing what it was, he ran home and
described it to his grandfather, who told him that its flesh was good to
eat, and that if he would shoot one of his arrows into its body he would
kill it. The boy went out again and brought home the little animal,
which he asked his grandfather to boil, that they might feast on it. The
old man humored the boy in this and encouraged him to go on acquiring
the knowledge of hunting, until he could kill deer and the larger kinds
of game. And thus he became, as he grew up, an expert hunter.
As they lived alone, and away from other Indians, the curiosity of the
stripling was excited to know what was passing in the world. One day
he came to the edge of a prairie, where he saw ashes like those at his
grandfather's lodge, and lodge-poles left standing. He returned and
inquired whether his grandfather had put up the poles and made the fire.
"No," answered the old man, "nor do I believe that you have seen
anything of the kind; you must have lost your sense to be thinking of
such things."
Another day the youth went out to see what there was, within a day's
hunt, that was curious; and on entering the woods he heard a voice
calling out to him:
"Come here, you who are destined to wear the White Feather. You do not
wear it, yet, but you are worthy of it. Return home and take a short
nap. You will dream of hearing a voice, which will tell you to rise and
smoke. You will see in your dream a pipe, a smoking-sack, and a large
white feather. When you awake you will find these articles. Put the
feather on your head, and you will become a great hunter, a great
warrior, and a great man, able to do anything. As a proof that these
things shall come to pass, when you smoke, the smoke will turn into
pigeons."
The voice then informed the youth who he was, and made known the
character of his grandfather, who was imposing upon him to serve his own
ends.
The voice-spirit then caused a vine to be laid at his side, and told him
that he was now of an age to avenge the wrongs of his kindred.
"When you meet your enemy," the spirit added, "you will run a race with
him. He will not see the vine, because it is enchanted. While you are
running, you will throw it over his head and entangle him, so that you
will win the race."
Long before this speech was ended the youth had turned to the quarter
from which the voice proceeded, and was astonished to behold a man; as
yet he had never seen any human being besides his grandfather.
As he looked more keenly, he saw that this man, who had the looks of
great age, was wood from the breast downward, and that he appeared to
be fixed in the earth. As the youth's eye dwelt upon this strange being,
the countenance by degrees faded away, and when he advanced to the spot
whence it had addressed him, it was gone.
He returned home; slept, and in the midst of his slumbers, as from
the hollow of the air, heard the voice; wakened and found the promised
gifts. It was all just as the old man had said. The grandfather on
awakening was greatly surprised to find the youth with a white feather
on his forehead, and to see flocks of pigeons flying out of the lodge.
He then remembered the old tradition, and knowing that now the day had
come when he should lose control of his charge, he bitterly bewailed the
hour.
Possessed of his three magic gifts, the young man departed the next
morning, to seek his enemies and to demand revenge.
The six giants lived in a very high lodge in the middle of a wood. He
traveled on with good heart till he reached this lodge, where he found
that his coming had been made known by the little spirits who carry
the news. The giants hastened out and gave a cry of joy as they saw him
drawing near. "When he approached within hail, they began to make sport
of him, saying:
"Here comes the little man with the white feather, who is to achieve
such wonderful wonders."
When, however, he had arrived among them, they spoke him fair, saying he
was a brave man and would do brave things. Their object was to encourage
him, so that he would be bold to engage in some foolhardy trial of
strength.
Without paying much heed to their fine speeches, White Feather went
fearlessly into their lodge; and without waiting for invitation, he
challenged them to a foot-match. They agreed; and by way of being easy
at first, told him to begin the race with the smallest of their number.
The point to which they were to run was a peeled tree toward the rising
sun, and then back to the starting-place, which was a war-club of iron.
Whoever won this stake was empowered to use it in despatching the
defeated champion. If White Feather should overcome the first giant, he
was to try the second, and so on, until they had all measured speed with
him. To this the giants agreed without a thought that he would survive
the first trial. But White Feather feared nothing and, by a dexterous
use of the vine, gained the race, struck down his competitor, and cut
off his head.
The next morning he raced with the second giant, whom he also outran,
killed and beheaded.
He went on in this way for five mornings, always conquering by the aid
of his vine, and lopping off the heads of the vanquished.
Finally the last of the giants who was yet to run with him acknowledged
his power, but prepared secretly to deceive him. By way of parley, he
proposed that White Feather should leave the heads with him, and offered
to give him a handsome start for odds. This White Feather declined, as
he preferred to keep the heads as trophies of his victory.
On his way to the giant's lodge the sixth morning, White Feather met
his old counsellor in the woods. He was standing rooted in the earth,
as before. He told White Feather that he was about to give him a word of
warning.
"On your way this morning," he said, "you will meet the most beautiful
woman in the world, but do not trust her or pay the least attention to
her. As soon as you catch her eye you must wish yourself changed into an
elk. The change will take place immediately. Do not look at her again."
White Feather thanked his kind adviser, who even as he spoke was
disappearing as before, then proceeded toward the lodge. He had not
gone far before he met the maiden, who was, indeed, as lovely as the
morning's light. This was White Feather's first sight of a maiden, and
he was greatly disposed to linger. But remembering the counsellor's
words, he lost no time in becoming an elk. At this the maiden began to
reproach him that he had cast aside the form of a man so that he might
avoid her.
"I have traveled a great distance," she said, "to see you and to become
your wife; for I have heard of your great achievements and admire you
very much."
Now this woman was the sixth giant, who had assumed this disguise to
entrap White Feather. But without a suspicion of her real character, her
reproaches and her beauty affected him so deeply that he wished himself
a man again, and at once resumed his natural shape. Then they sat down
and began to talk together.
Soothed by her smiles and gracious manner, he laid his head on her lap,
and in a little while fell into a deep slumber.
Even then, such was her fear of White Feather, she doubted whether his
sleep might not be feigned. To assure herself she pushed his head aside,
and seeing that he remained unconscious, she quickly assumed the form
of the sixth giant. He took the plume from the brow of White Feather and
placed it upon his own head. Then with a sudden blow of his war-club the
giant changed White Feather into a dog, in which form he followed his
enemy to the lodge.
While these things were passing, there were living in an Indian village
at some distance two sisters, the daughters of a chief. These sisters
were rivals, and they were at that very time fasting to acquire power
for enticing the wearer of the white feather to visit their lodge. They
each secretly hoped to win his love, and each had built a lodge on the
border of the village encampment.
The giant, knowing this and having become possessed of the magic plume,
went immediately to visit them. As he approached, the sisters, who were
on the look-out at their lodge-doors, espied and recognized the feather.
The elder sister had prepared her lodge with great show, and all the
finery she could command, so as to attract the eye. The younger touched
nothing in her lodge, but left it in its ordinary state.
The elder went out to meet the giant and invited him in. He accepted
her invitation and made her his wife. The younger sister invited the
enchanted dog into her lodge, prepared him a good supper and a neat bed,
and treated him with much attention.
The giant, supposing that whoever possessed the white feather possessed
also all its virtues, went out upon the prairie to hunt, hallooing
aloud to the game to come and be killed; but the great hubbub he kept up
scared them away, and he returned at night with nothing but himself; for
he had shouted so lustily all day long that he had been obliged to leave
even the mighty halloo behind.
The dog went out the same day hunting upon the banks of a river. He
stole quietly along to a certain spot, and stepping into the water drew
out a stone, which instantly became a beaver.
The next day the giant followed the dog, and hiding behind a tree,
watched the manner in which the dog hunted in the river and drew out a
stone, which at once turned into a beaver.
"Ah, ha!" said the giant to himself, "I will catch some beaver for
myself."
So as soon as the dog had left the place, the giant went to the river,
and, imitating the dog, drew out a stone. He was delighted to see it
change into a fine fat beaver as soon as it touched the land.
Tying it to his belt he hastened home, shouting a good deal and
brandishing the white feather about, as if he were prepared now to show
them what he could do when he once tried. And when he reached home he
threw the beaver down, as is the custom, at the door of the lodge before
he entered.
After being seated a short time, he gave a dry cough and bade his wife
bring in his hunting girdle. She made despatch to obey him and presently
returned with the girdle, with nothing tied to it but a stone.
The next day the dog, finding that his method of catching beavers had
been discovered, went to a wood at some distance and broke off a charred
limb from a burned tree. This limb instantly became a bear. The giant,
who appeared to have lost faith in his hullaba-looing, again watched
him, did exactly as the dog had done, and carried a bear home; but his
wife, when she came to go out for it, found nothing but a black stick
tied to his belt.
And so it happened with everything. Whatever the dog undertook,
prospered; whatever the giant attempted, failed. And even his brave
halloo had now died away to a feeble chirp. Every day the younger sister
had reason to be more proud of the poor dog she had asked into her
lodge, and every day the elder sister was made more aware that, though
she had married the white feather, the virtues of the magic plume were
not the personal property of the noisy giant.
At last the wife determined that she would go to her father and make
known to him what a valuable husband she had, and how he furnished her
lodge with a great abundance of sticks and stones, which he would pass
upon her for bear and beaver. So, when her husband had started for the
hunt, she set out.
As soon as these two had gone away from the neighborhood, the dog made
signs to his mistress to sweat him after the manner of the Indians.
He had always been a good dog, and she was willing to oblige him. She
accordingly made a lodge just large enough for him to creep in. She then
put in heated stones and poured water upon them, raising a vapor that
filled the lodge and searched with its warmth to the very heart's core
of the enchanted dog.
When this had been kept up for the customary time, the enchanted dog was
completely sweated away, and out came in his stead a very handsome young
man. But unhappily he was without the power of speech. In taking away
the form of the dog, it appears that the sweating-lodge had also carried
off his voice with it.
Meantime the elder sister had reached her father's lodge and had told
him with much circumstance and a very long face how her sister was
supporting an idle dog, and entertaining him as her husband. In her
anxiety to make known her sister's affairs and the great scandal she was
bringing upon the family, the elder sister forgot to say anything of
the sticks and stones which her own husband brought home for bears and
beavers. The old man listening to his daughter and suspecting that there
was magic about, sent a deputation of young men and women to ask his
younger daughter to come to him and to bring her dog along with her.
When the deputation reached the lodge, they were surprised to find in
the place of the dog a fine young man; and on announcing their message,
they all returned to the old chief, who was no less surprised at the
change.
He immediately assembled all the old and wise beads of the nation to
come and be witnesses to the exploits which it was reported that the
young man could perform. The sixth giant, although neither very old nor
very wise, thrust himself in among the relations of the old chief.
When they were all assembled and seated in a circle, the old chief took
his pipe and filled it, and passed it to the Indians around, to see if
anything would happen when they smoked. They passed it on until it came
to the Dog, who made a sign that it should be handed first to the giant,
and this was done. And the giant puffed with all his might, and shook
the white feather upon his head, and swelled his chest; but nothing came
of it, except a great deal of smoke. The Dog then took it himself. He
made a sign to them to put the white feather upon his head. This was no
sooner done than he recovered his speech, and, beginning to draw upon
the pipe at the same moment, behold! immense flocks of white and blue
pigeons rushed from the smoke.
[Illustration: 0183]
Then White Feather, at the request of the company, faithfully recounted
his history, and the sixth giant was known for what he was. So the old
chief, who was a magician too, ordered that he should be transformed
into a dog and turned into the middle of the village, where the boys
could pelt him to death with clubs. This being done, the whole six
giants were at an end, and never troubled that neighborhood again,
forever after.
The chief then gave out a further command, at the request of White
Feather, that all the young men should employ themselves four days in
making arrows. White Feather also asked for a buffalo robe. This he cut
into thin shreds, and in the night went secretly and sowed them about
the prairie in every direction.
At the end of the four days he invited the young men to gather together
all of their arrows and to accompany him to a buffalo hunt. When they
got out upon the prairie, they found it covered with a great herd of
buffalos. Of these they killed as many as they pleased, and afterward
they had a grand festival in honor of White Feather's triumph over the
giants.
All this being pleasantly over, White Feather got his wife to ask her
father's permission to go with him on a visit to his grandfather. The
old chief replied that a woman must follow her husband into whatever
quarter of the world he may choose to go.
So bidding farewell to all his friends, White Feather placed the plume
in his frontlet, took his war-club in his hand, and led the way into the
forest, followed by his faithful wife.