shake my curling locks, I call the leaves back on the branches. The
plants come out of the brown earth and bring forth their flowers and
fruit."
Old Winter frowned. "I speak, and the birds fly away. I command, and
the wild beasts obey me. They hide in caves. They burrow in the
earth. They do not venture to look upon my face!"
"I call back the birds you have sent away," replied the stranger.
"They hear my voice and return to their nesting places. I speak, and
the beasts leave their shelters and fill the forests and the plains
with life."
"I am the king," shouted Winter, "for even man obeys me. When I send
the tempest, the mightiest warriors turn and flee. They close the
doors of their lodges, and I imprison them with drifts of snow."
"I also have power over man," replied the stranger. "My name is
Spring. I melt your snow and open the wigwam doors. All men rejoice,
and they come forth to hunt and feast and dance."
The night waned, and the sun came from his lodge like a painted
warrior. The air grew warm and pleasant, and the bluebird and the
robin sang on the lodge poles.
But the giant! What was taking place? He was growing smaller. Now he
was no larger than a common man. His war bonnet was no longer white,
but old and gray, and its feathers were falling one by one.
Still the giant dwindled. Smaller and smaller he grew. Tears flowed
from his eyes. He vanished from sight, and fled away with a noise like
the rush of waters. Far to the north he flew where the snow never melts.
Thus did Spring, the beautiful youth, conquer the great and mighty
Winter.
"Thus it was that in the Northland
Came the Spring with all its splendor,
All its birds and all its blossoms,
All its flowers and leaves and grasses."
THE GIFT OF CORN
A tribe of Indians once lived on the beautiful islands of a large
lake. They were driven from their homes by hostile tribes. Men, women,
and children left everything they owned and paddled their canoes
westward to the mainland.
But Manabush, the bravest of the warriors, remained behind. It was his
purpose to keep close watch of the enemy, and to send warning in time
to prevent surprise.
Every day he paddled his birch canoe close to the shore, hiding in
nooks and bays. He had with him two boys, and with their aid the canoe
was hauled every night into the thick woods.
As they walked, they carefully covered their footprints with sand.
Each day Manabush thought of his suffering people, whose supplies of
food had been stolen by the enemy. The brave warrior prayed to the
spirits of earth and air, asking that food be given to his tribe.
One morning Manabush rose early, leaving the two boys asleep. He went
out from the tent and walked in the forest, where he could not be seen.
Suddenly he came out upon an open plain. Approaching him was a
handsome youth dressed in garments of green and yellow. In his hair he
wore a red plume.
Truly this stranger must come from skyland, he thought. What answer
does he bring?
"I am Mondamin," said the strange man. "Your prayers are heard, for
you pray, not for yourself, but for your people. I have come to show
you how by labor and struggle you can gain what you have prayed for.
You must wrestle with me."
Long they strove together. The man of the red feather was strong and
active, but at last he was thrown to the earth.
[Illustration]
"I have thrown you! I have thrown you!" shouted Manabush.
"You have gained a great gift for your people," said Mondamin, "for I
am the spirit of the corn."
Even as he spoke, a wonderful change took place. Gone was the man who
had wrestled with such strength. His garments had turned into green
and yellow corn husks, and his body to a ripe red ear of corn. But the
red plume was still waving.
Again the voice of Mondamin was heard from the ground. "Take from me
my covers. Scatter my kernels over the plain. Break my spine and throw
it all about you.
"Make the earth soft and light above me. Let no bird disturb me, and
let no weed share my resting place. Watch me till I stand once more
tall and beautiful. Then you shall have food for your people."
Manabush obeyed all that the voice had commanded. On the way back to
his canoe he killed a deer, but he said no word to his companions of
his strange adventure with the man of the red feather.
When the new moon hung like a bow in the west, he visited the field
alone. What were the wide grass-like blades making green the plain?
What were the vines that sent their runners all about?
Carefully he tilled the field. The stems grew strong, and the broad
leaves gleamed in the sunshine. Still he kept the secret, spending
many hours in watching for his enemies.
When summer drew near its close, Manabush paddled his canoe to the
shore nearest the wrestling ground. He found the corn clad in green
and yellow, with red plumes waving. And great yellow pumpkins were
ripening on the green vines.
As he picked the ripe red ears he heard a voice from the field,
saying: "Victory has crowned your struggles, O Manabush. The gift of
corn is to your people, and will always be their food."
THE MAGIC CANOE
One night, as Manabush was lying on the ground in the thick woods, he
heard strange voices. "This is no common enemy," he said to himself.
But he lay motionless and listened.
The evil spirits were plotting to take his life. By his magic power he
was able to defend himself from their attacks, and they slipped away
unseen.
In the morning he went to the open shore. There he saw a canoe drawn
up on the beach. Coming near, he found a man in the bow and another in
the stern. They had been changed into stone images as a punishment for
their wicked deeds.
The canoe was the largest and finest that Manabush had ever seen. It
was full of bags of the most beautiful clothing and stores of the
rarest food.
Manabush carried all the treasures into the wood and concealed them
in a cave. Then he took the magic canoe and hid it among the rocks.
[Illustration]
A voice was heard from one of the stone images: "In this way will the
canoes of your people be loaded when they pass again along this coast."
Manabush returned to his two young companions, bidding them arise and
cook. He showed them the abundance of meat and fish, the bags of maple
sugar and dried berries, and other foods liked by the Indians.
Then he thought of his aged father and mother, who had fled far from
their homes. Danger seemed past, and he wished them to return and
share his gifts.
Westward he sailed in the magic canoe. He needed no paddles, for his
wishes guided him, and the boat flew through the water with amazing
speed.
Before daylight he was at the lodge of his parents. He found them
asleep, and he carried them to his canoe so gently that they did not
awaken.
When they awoke in the morning, they could hardly believe their eyes.
They had left behind hunger and a barren lodge. They found themselves
in their own country, with abundance all about them.
Food was placed before them. Then the bags were opened. There were
beaded dresses for the mother and war bonnets for the father. There
were moccasins and warm blankets. There were skins as soft as the
most skilled work could produce.
Manabush built his parents a lodge near the cornfield and filled it
with every comfort. Then he brought ears of corn and pumpkins and laid
before them. He told them of his wrestling with Mondamin, and he
showed them the field where the corn stood in its garments of green
and yellow, waving its red plumes.
The secret of the magic canoe, the stone images, and the wonderful
gifts was shared by Manabush with his father and mother.
When spring returned a large cornfield grew and prospered. The exiled
tribe came back, and from that time they were noted for their fine
crops of maize.
THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS
All who leave the earth must follow the death trail. Each walks
alone--warrior, squaw, or child. All but papoose. The good spirits
carry papoose.
The trail goes on and on to the place where the sun slips over the
edge of the earth plane. There it comes to a deep, rapid stream, and
the only bridge is a slippery pine log.
On the other side of the river are six strange beings with rocks in
their hands. These rocks are magic stones which can injure only those
who have done evil, but can never touch nor harm the good.
When the one who follows the death trail reaches the middle of the
log, he sees the stones come flying toward him.
If his life has been evil, he tries to dodge; therefore, he slips off
the log and falls into the black, swirling water.
Sometimes he crawls out of the stream and climbs to the top of the
rocks. But he can never reach the country of the good spirits.
There is only one trail to the Happy Hunting Grounds, and that is over
the narrow, slippery log. But if the one who is crossing has brought
good to his kinsmen and his tribe, he does not fear.
He knows that no harm can come from the stones that fly around him,
and so he keeps his footing and walks safely over.
The trail winds on over high rocks to the beautiful land. No storms
and no winter enter the Happy Hunting Grounds. The sky is always blue,
and the grass never grows dry with heat nor brown with frost.
The trees are full of birds, the bushes of fruit, and the forests are
alive with game. Feasting and dancing fill the day, and the war cry is
heard no more.
ABOUT THE BOOK
The facts and stories which have made this little book possible
are found in the works of Schoolcraft and in the Government
reports of Ethnology. Especial credit is due to Albert E. Jenks,
author of "The Wild-Rice Indians of the Upper Lakes," and to
James Mooney, who reported for the Government the tribal myths
told by famous Cherokee story-tellers.
There is evidence that the Indians of early times had regular
trade routes across the continent, north and south, and east and
west. It was the custom of their story-tellers to exchange
stories, and it is therefore possible that some of the myths told
in the south found their way in northern wigwams. The story of
the birds welcoming a papoose, for example, is obtained in part
from the Cherokee collection, and in part from Schoolcraft, who
lived among the Ojibways, or Chippewas as they are often called.
That certain tales are similar to fables of AEsop is explained by
the theory that a primitive people, observing nature, would
originate similar myths.
The forests where rice grew wild in the shallow water of lakes
and streams, were coveted lands and the cause of many Indian
wars. Here game was abundant, and maple sugar, berries, and nuts
could be obtained in season.
After years of conflict for the rice lands, peace was made
between the Ojibways of the Great Lakes and the Sioux, or
Dakotahs, farther west. Trade with the whites had begun, but
there were many villages which the white men had never entered,
and where the primitive customs were still unchanged.
As Hiawatha was not the only Indian who married a Dakotah, it
follows that there were homes where the family life was
influenced by the customs of both tribes.
The author has endeavored to describe child life in the Wild-Rice
region west of the Great Lakes at this period, and to retell some
of the most interesting stories enjoyed by Indian children.
The aim of the book is to gratify the American child's natural
interest in primitive life by stories of our own land and to
increase his respect for all that is original and worthy in the
lives of the First Americans.
End of Project Gutenberg's Two Indian Children of Long Ago, by Frances Taylor