yours?" asked White Cloud. "Last moon my father visited a friendly
camp. There were thirty lodges and more dogs than he could count. I
wish he had brought me another big one."
White Cloud did not say "thirty," for she knew no word for so large a
number. She raised her ten fingers three times, just as she had seen
her father do.
Flying Squirrel called her dogs, and they came running to her. She had
begun to train them to draw loads, and they stood quite still while
the girls harnessed them for moving. The bark covers of the two lodges
were taken off and carefully rolled. Then the lodge poles were corded
in two long straight bundles. Flying Squirrel crossed the small ends
and fastened them above the dog's back. The large ends dragged on the
ground.
[Illustration]
Back of the dog the sticks were held in place by two cross pieces of
wood carefully tied a little way apart. Between the cross pieces was a
strong netting that hung down like a shallow bag. The dolls and rolls
of bark were laid in one of the nets. What should the other dog carry?
"I know," exclaimed White Cloud. "My puppy shall have a ride." He was
caught and firmly tied. The net was a comfortable bed, and he made no
objection.
Soon the camp was packed, and the children started. The dogs trotted
along quietly, and everything went well for a time. As they came near
the little stream where they wished to set their camp, a rabbit ran
across the trail. Away went the dogs.
The rabbit leaped over the narrow stream. One of the dogs plunged
after him, and out went the dolls and bark into the water.
The other dog shook himself free from his harness. The lodge poles he
was dragging turned upside down, holding the howling puppy in the mud.
"Oh, my puppy will drown!" cried White Cloud as she dashed down the
muddy banks in rescue.
"My dolls! My best dolls are spoiled!" mourned Flying Squirrel.
Soon the dogs were called back, everything found, the dolls bathed and
laid out to dry. Then the lodges were set up, and the children rested
in the sun.
As they looked about, White Cloud saw a feather lying on the grass.
It was painted, as if it had fallen from a warrior's bonnet.
"You had better take that feather to your father now," said Flying
Squirrel. "Perhaps there is going to be a war, and a spy has passed this
way. I am afraid. I shall pack all my things and go home with my dogs.
"Here, put this leaf around it and run to your mother. She will know
what to do."
Away ran White Cloud, holding a sprawling puppy in her arms and trying
to protect the feather, which she had concealed in a large leaf.
FINDING A WAR FEATHER
"Look, Mother; look at the big feather I have found. It is not like
the ones in my father's war bonnet."
Good Bird took the feather and examined it carefully.
"Where did you find it, White Cloud?" she asked.
"Near the little stream that runs into the lake. Flying Squirrel and I
have moved our dolls' lodges this morning."
"You must take the feather to your father at once. It may be that some
enemy is planning war and getting ready to surprise our camp.
"Then you must move your dolls and their lodge near by where I can see
you play. You may be in danger.
"Your father is spearing fish in the lake. Now run to him. Let no one
see the feather, and do not turn aside to talk to any one like the
little hare that did not mind its mother."
"When will you tell me the story of the hare?" asked White Cloud.
"Do not talk about stories now. Run along. You must not wait a minute.
I will watch you all the way. Your father, I think, will come back
with you."
White Cloud soon found her father. He left his fishing and returned
with his little daughter.
A council of the tribe was called, for the strange feather had been
dropped by no friendly Indian.
Then the medicine drum was beaten to call the people together. They
were told of the danger, and there was a great stir in the village.
Everything was made ready for sudden moving in case of attack. All the
trained dogs were called and tied in the wigwams of their owners.
A guard of young Indians was placed on watch for the night. Fleet Deer
came late to his lodge, and after eating he joined the warriors.
As nothing more could be done, Good Bird comforted her frightened
little daughter by stories. Swift Elk pretended to be very brave. He
did not run out of the wigwam as usual, but lay on the ground and
listened to his mother.
"Now, my daughter," she said, "I'll tell you the story you asked for
this morning."
THE LYNX AND THE HARE
Once a little hare asked her mother if she might play on the big rock
near the lodge.
"Yes, little one, but you must not leave the rock. And be sure that
you do not speak to any stranger who passes by," replied her mother.
Now the rock was low near the lodge, but very high on the other side,
where it overlooked a stream.
A hungry lynx saw the little hare jumping on the high rock. "I must
have that hare for my dinner," he said. So he spoke in a kind voice.
"Wabose, Wabose. Come here, my little white one."
The hare went to the edge of the rock and looked down.
"Come here, pretty Wabose. I want to talk with you," said the lynx in
a coaxing voice.
"Oh, no," said the hare. "I am afraid of you. My mother told me not
to talk to strangers."
"You are very pretty, and you are a good, obedient child. But I am not
a stranger. I am a relative of yours. Go down the rock and come to the
stream where I can see you better. I want to send some word to your
lodge. Come down and see me, you pretty little hare."
The hare was pleased to be praised and called pretty. When she heard
that the lynx was a relative, she forgot to obey her mother.
She jumped down from the rock where she stood and trotted to the
stream. There the lynx pounced upon her and tore her to pieces.
"Don't you know any war stories?" asked Swift Elk.
"Yes; I heard one in the moon of snow that you will like," answered
his mother.
HOW THE ANIMALS SAVED THE TRIBE
Once there was an Indian village in great danger. The trail of the
enemy had been found on every side of the camp.
The women were making ready for flight. They had harnessed their dogs
to the dragging poles. The rawhide netting between the braces that
held the poles in place was packed with household goods.
An attack was expected in the early morning. Guards were stationed to
call the men to battle, and to tell the women which way to flee with
their children.
The warriors all were ready. Their chief went out alone under the
stars, and prayed that he might be able to save his people from death.
Suddenly a deer with branching horns stood before him. "I have come to
tell you that your prayers are heard," he said.
"We, the animals, invite you to our council. We shall give you the
power to save your tribe."
[Illustration]
They traveled on together until they came to a cave under a rocky
bluff near the river. Here the warrior chief was welcomed and given
the seat of honor.
Every animal of field and forest, and every bird of the air, had
gathered in the immense cavern. There was silence for a moment. Then a
great eagle flapped his wings. He stood on a jutting rock in sight of
all.
"Your acts of kindness, oh, warrior, are known to us," said the
eagle. "You have hunted only for food, as the animals hunt. Your
arrows have not been shot to take life without a reason. No bird nor
beast has been left by you to suffer and die.
"Therefore, I, the eagle, king of birds, give you of my courage. You
shall fear no warlike band, however many. Alone you shall conquer the
enemy."
"And I," said the bear, "give you of my gift of healing. You shall be
able to cure yourself, and also your fellow warriors, of any wounds
you may receive in battle."
"My fleetness is yours," said the deer. "You shall outstrip all others
and run like the wind."
The wolf stretched himself and walked noiselessly into the circle.
"When you creep into the enemy's camp," he said, "no eye shall be able
to see you. Thus may you rout your enemies, and no one shall know who
is striking the blows."
"I am small," said the field mouse; "I leave no tracks on the grass,
and send no sound into the air. I give you my power, that none may
follow your trail nor hear your footfall."
"No one can give a better gift than I," said the owl. "You shall see
in the dark as I do. The night shall be to you like the day."
"You have fed me," said the dog. "You have taken me into your lodge
and let me lie by the warm fire. I give you in return my power of
smell that you may follow the trail of your enemy."
Suddenly there was no cave in sight, no animals in council. Where he
had been praying under the open sky, the warrior chief stood alone.
Was it all a dream?
From the grass came a faint strange smell. He followed it fast as the
fleetest deer. In what seemed but a moment he was in sight of the
sleeping foe.
He entered their camp as silently as the field mouse. Like the eagle
he had no fear. He struck out with his weapons. In great surprise the
painted Indians awoke and jumped to their feet.
Wounded men fell under blows that could not be seen nor heard. Their
chief lay still upon the ground.
"There is magic here," they cried. "We cannot fight against magic."
And they aroused their band and fled, leaving everything behind them.
Then the victor sped with the fleetness of the deer to his own tribe.
The men, waiting for the battle signal, followed him to the deserted
camp. They returned laden with weapons, the finest of bows and arrows,
spears, war bonnets, stores of food, and other spoils of war.
Joy spread among the people. In the village of wigwams feasting took
the place of fear.
"I wish I had been that warrior," said Swift Elk.
"You may have a chance to be just as brave to-morrow," answered his
mother. "I depend on you to take your father's place here if he goes
into battle."
The children could keep awake no longer, but Good Bird did not close
her eyes. The dawn came on, the sun rose, and there was no attack.
For many days and nights the young braves took their turn in watching.
There were no further signs of an enemy, and no one ever found out how
the strange feather came to be dropped near the camp.
WINTER EVENINGS
The wind roared in the trees, and the snow was falling. But Fleet
Deer's lodge was warm and comfortable. Good Bird, his wife, knew how
to make a lodge, and how to keep it from being smoky.
She had sewed heavy skins together for the outside cover of the
wigwam. Inside, the lower walls were of tanned doeskin, nearly white.
The cold air passing between the lining and the cover ventilated the
room and carried the smoke out of the smoke hole.
In the middle of the circular floor was a stone-lined fire pit, now
filled with glowing coals that gave light to the room.
Warm skins with the fur uppermost covered the three long platforms
that were used for seats in the daytime and for beds at night.
Good Bird took great pride in her home. She kept the floor swept with
a cedar broom and everything in its place.
[Illustration]
When not busy in preparing food, she made clothing and moccasins. She
stained porcupine quills for trimmings, and made necklaces of shells.
The teeth of wild animals were used for ornaments.
On this cold winter evening Good Bird was dressed in a handsome
garment trimmed with fringe and colored quills. Her moccasins and
leggings were also ornamented.
She had braided her hair neatly, and drawn a line of fresh red paint
along the parting. Her forehead and cheeks were also touched with red.
"Are you going to a dance, Mother?" asked White Cloud.
Good Bird said nothing, but smiled as she thought of the guest who was
expected and the pleasant surprise in store for her children.
The evening meal was over. Nokomis had opened her stores of maple sugar
and corn in honor of Swift Elk, who had won the game of tops that day.
Whipping his winter top over level snow and high drifts alike, he had
outdistanced his companions by fifty paces.
White Cloud sat by the fire drying her moccasins. She had been out
sliding with her playmates until the sun left the sky. You would have
thought their sleds very funny, for they were made of the curved rib
bones of a large deer.
Swift Elk was studying the strange signs and markings on the lining
of the wigwam. He was never tired of hearing the pictures explained,
for they showed in order the chief events in his father's life.
Here was the grizzly bear that Fleet Deer had killed single-handed.
For this deed of bravery he was entitled to wear an eagle's feather.
Here was the deer that was killed in time of famine, after a long and
dangerous hunt.
Other pictures showed Indians in the war dance, on the war trail,
surprising the foe, returning with the honors of battle, holding a
council, and smoking the peace pipe.
Fleet Deer was master of the Indian art of picture writing, and he had,
that very day, added new paintings to the record. His children had never
heard of any other way to read or write, and they had never seen a book.
The flap of skin covering the lodge entrance was raised and a man
entered.
"The story-teller! The story-teller!" shouted the children with
delight. He was given the seat of honor and the best food that Good
Bird could provide.
When the guest was warm and his meal over, favorite stories were asked
for.
"We ought to hear again of the great gift of corn to our people," said
Good Bird.
"New stories, I want new stories. Will you tell us some new stories?"
asked White Cloud.
"War stories, I want, and stories of boys," said Swift Elk.
Then Fleet Deer, the father, spoke: "I wish my son to know the tale of
the White Canoe and how a great warrior honored his parents."
Nokomis had no request. She was a fine story-teller herself and
interested in hearing everything that might be related.
Then, to the joy of his hearers, the story-teller began.
First he delighted the children by telling of the ground hog that
saved his own life by teaching a new dance.
The next tale was about the first animals and how they came to live in
the forests and on the plains.
After the story-teller had explained how sickness came into the world,
Fleet Deer wanted to be a medicine man and find all the plants that
cure disease.
And so they all listened to one tale after another until the midnight
stars shone overhead and the embers grew white where the burning logs
had sparkled.
Now you may read for yourselves the stories that were told in an
Indian lodge on a winter evening.
THE GROUND-HOG DANCE
Seven wolves once caught a ground hog. "Now we'll kill you and have
something good to eat," they said.
But the ground hog replied: "When we find good food we must rejoice
over it, as people do in the green-corn dance. I know you mean to kill
me, and I can't help myself, but if you want to dance I'll sing for you.
"I will teach you a new dance. I'll lean up against seven trees in
turn, and you will dance away, then come back toward me. At the last
turn you may kill me."
The wolves were very hungry, but they wanted to learn the new dance.
So they told the ground hog to go ahead. The ground hog leaned up
against the first tree and began the song.
All the wolves danced away from the trees. When the signal was given
they danced back in line.
[Illustration]
"That's fine!" said the ground hog, as he went to the second tree and
began the second song. The wolves danced away, then turned at the
signal and danced back again.
"That's very fine," said the ground hog; and he went to another tree
and started the third song.
The wolves danced their best, and were praised by the ground hog. At
each song he took another tree, and each tree was a little nearer to
his hole under a stump.
At the seventh song he said, "Now this is the last dance. When I give
the signal you will all turn and come after me. The one who catches me
may have me."
So the ground hog began the last song, and kept it up until the wolves
were many steps away. Just as the signal was given he made a jump for
his hole.
The wolves turned and were after him. But the ground hog reached his
hole and dived in. He was scarcely inside when the foremost wolf
caught him by the tail and pulled so hard that it broke off.
And the ground hog's tail has been short ever since.
THE LUCKY HUNTER
Soon after the world was made, a hunter lived with his wife and only
son near a high mountain. No matter when the man went into the woods
he was sure to come back with plenty of meat. And so he went by the
name of the Lucky Hunter.
The little boy used to play every day by a river not far from the
house. One morning the old people thought they heard laughing and
talking in the bushes as if two children were playing together.
When the boy came home at night he was asked who had been with him all
day.
"A wild boy comes out of the water," answered the son. "He says he is
my elder brother."
The father and mother wished very much to see their son's companion,
but the wild boy always ran into the river when he heard them coming.
"This must not go on," said the father.
That night the Lucky Hunter said to his son: "To-morrow when the wild
boy comes to play, ask him to wrestle with you. When you have your
arms around him, you must hold him and call us."
In this way the wild boy was caught and kept in the house until he was
tamed. He was full of mischief, and he led the smaller boy into all
kinds of trouble.
One day the wild boy said to his brother: "I wonder where our father
gets all his game. Let's follow him and find out."
A few days afterward the Lucky Hunter took a bow and some feathers in
his hand and went toward a swamp. After waiting a short time, the boys
followed.
The old man cut reeds, fitted the feathers to them, and made arrows.
"What are those things for, I wonder?" said the wild boy.
When the Lucky Hunter had finished his arrows, he went on over the
low hills and up the mountain.
Keeping out of sight, the boys watched him. When he was halfway to the
top he stopped and lifted a large rock in the side of the mountain.
At once a deer ran out. The Lucky Hunter killed it with his first
arrow. Then he carefully replaced the heavy stone and pulled a strong
vine over it to conceal the cracks.
"Oho," said the boys. "He keeps the deer shut up inside of the
mountain. When he wants meat he lets one out and kills it with the
arrows he made in the swamp."
They hurried to reach home before their father, who had the heavy deer
to carry.
A few days later the boys went to the swamp, made arrows, and started
up the mountain. When they came to the hole, they lifted the rock and
a deer came running out.
Before they could shoot him another came, and another. The boys could
not stop them, and they could not shoot them.
[Illustration]
Other animals made a rush for the entrance. There were elk, antelope,
raccoons, wolves, foxes, panthers, and many others. They scattered in
all directions and disappeared in the wilderness.
Then a great flock of birds came flying out of the hole. There were
turkeys, geese, ducks, quail, eagles, robins, hawks, and owls.
They darkened the air like a cloud and made such a noise with their
wings that the Lucky Hunter heard them.
"My bad boys have got into trouble," he cried. "I must go and see what
they are doing."
So he went up the mountain and found the two boys standing by the
opening. Not an animal nor a bird was to be seen.
Their father was very angry. Without a word he went into the cave and
kicked off the covers of four jars. Out swarmed wasps, hornets, gnats,
flies, mosquitoes, and all manner of stinging and biting insects and
bugs.
The boys screamed with pain. They rolled over and over on the ground,
trying to brush off their tormentors.
Their father looked on until he thought they had been punished enough.
Then he spoke.
"See what you have done, you rascals. Always before you have had
enough to eat without working for it. Whenever you were hungry, all I
had to do was to come up here and take home anything your mother
wanted to cook.
"After this when you want a deer to eat, you will have to hunt all
over the woods for it, and then may not find one.
"Now you may go and take care of yourselves."
[Illustration]
HOW SICKNESS CAME
In the old days when the beasts, birds, fishes, insects, and plants
could talk, they lived in peace and friendship with the children of men.
But, as time went on, the people increased in number, and they crowded
the animals out of their homes.
This was bad enough, but, to make it worse, man invented bows and
arrows, spears, knives, and hooks, and began to kill the animals.
They were killed for clothing, and they were killed for food, and
still they were patient. But when man began to kill them for sport,
they determined to unite for common safety.
The bears first met in council with their chief. After each in turn
had complained of the cruel treatment of man, they all declared war
against him.
Some of the bears proposed to make weapons and use them. But the chief
said: "It is better to trust to the teeth and claws which Nature has
given us."
As no one could think of other plans, their chief dismissed the
council. The bears returned to the woods, and have done little harm to
man ever since.
The deer next held a council. They decided that any one who killed a
deer without asking his pardon should be lame with many pains.
The reptiles and the fish talked the matter over. They agreed to
punish man by making him dream of snakes and of eating raw fish.
In the last council the birds, rabbits, squirrels, ducks, and the
smaller animals came together. All complained of stolen nests, stones,
and arrows.
The ground squirrel alone said a good word for man. This made the others
so angry that they fell upon the little animal and tore him with their
claws. You can see the stripes on his back even to this day.
Then all the squirrels that had lost legs or tail by arrows, all
rabbits running on three legs, all birds that had seen their little
ones die, all wild ducks lamed, and all animals that had ever been
wounded for sport rose up and called for revenge.
"Let the pains and the trouble that man has sent to us and our
children be sent to him and his children," they demanded.
"But how can we do this?" asked the others. "We cannot turn man's
weapons against him."
"Let us send new diseases," proposed a limping fox.
All rose up with pleasure at this proposal. And they commenced to
invent diseases so fast that they had soon named every kind of
sickness that you ever heard of. Had they thought of many more, no
human beings would now be alive.
The grubworm, who had been stepped on by man, was so delighted that he
fell over backwards and has had to wriggle on his back ever since.
But the plants continued friendly to man. When they heard what the
animals had done, they promised to help him and his children forever.
Every tree and plant, even the grass and the moss, agreed to furnish a
cure for one of the diseases sent by the animals.
Each said in turn: "I shall help man when he calls on me in his need."
Thus came medicine. And if we only knew where to look, we might find
among the plants a cure for every kind of sickness.
HOW SPRING CONQUERED WINTER
Far to the North lives the terrible giant, Winter. When he leaves his
home, all people dread his coming. He whistles, and the storms roar
about him. Where he steps, the ground turns to rock and plants bow
their heads to the earth.
All the animals flee before him and hide in caves and hollow trees. The
children leave their happy play and sit shivering by the wigwam fire.
One day old Winter looked about him. He saw no life in field or
forest. The wind raged, and the drifts almost hid the lodges of the
Indians.
"The world is conquered; I am the only king," said giant Winter. He
sat alone in his lodge. The fire was white with ashes, and the tempest
howled.
A step was heard, and a young warrior entered the lodge.
He was tall and straight and youthful.
Old Winter welcomed the stranger. "Sit here on the mat beside me," he
said. "Let us pass the night together. You shall tell me of your
strange adventures, and of the lands in which you have traveled."
The old man drew his long peace pipe from its pouch. It was made of
red sandstone, and its stem was a smooth reed. He lighted the pipe
from the dying embers and passed it to his guest.
Long they talked and smoked together, each boasting of his power.
"When I blow my breath about me," said old Winter, "rivers stop their
flowing, and water turns to stone."
The young man smiled. "When I blow my breath about me," he replied, "I
free your prisoned waters, and they rush onward to the seas."
"My power is greater than yours," boasted Winter. "I have only to
shake my long hair and the leaves die on the branches. Plants bow
their heads before me and go back into the earth."
[Illustration]