That beautiful phenomenon known to the white man as the Aurora Borealis,
or Northern Lights, is called by the Chippeway Indians
_Je-bi-ne-me-id-de-wand_, or the Dancing Ghosts. The legends accounting
for it are numerous, and the following, which was related to the
translator by a Chippeway hunter, named _Keesh-Chock_, or Precipice
Leaper, is quite as fantastic as the phenomenon itself. That it is a
very ancient tradition is evident from the fact that the sacrifice to
which it alludes has not been practiced by the Chippeways for at least a
century.
There was a time when all the inhabitants of the far North were
afflicted by a famine. It was in the depth of winter, and the weather
had for a long time been so cold that even the white bear was afraid to
leave his hiding place. The prairies were so deeply covered with snow
that the deer and the buffalo were compelled to wander to a warmer
climate, and the lakes and rivers were so closely packed with ice that
it was only once in a while that even a fish could be obtained. Such
sorrow as reigned throughout the land had never before been known. The
magicians and wise men kept themselves hidden in their cabins. The
warriors and hunters, instead of boasting of their exploits, crowded
around their camp-fires, and in silence meditated upon their unhappy
doom. Mothers abandoned their children to seek for berries in the
desolate forests, and the fingers of the young women had become stiff
from idleness, for they had not any skins out of which to make the
comfortable moccasin. From one end of the Chippeway country to the other
was heard the cry of hunger and distress. That the Great Spirit was
angry with his people was universally believed, but for what reason none
of the magicians could tell. The chief of the Chippeways was the oldest
man in the nation, and he was consulted in regard to the impending
calamity. He could give no reason for the famine, but stated that he had
been informed in a dream that the anger of the Great Spirit could be
appeased by a human sacrifice. How this should come to pass, however, he
could not tell, and therefore concluded to summon to his lodge all the
medicine-men who lived within a day’s journey, for the purpose of
consulting with them. He did so, and when the council was ended it was
proclaimed that three Chippeways should be immediately bound to the
stake and consumed. They were to be selected by lot from among the
warriors of the tribe; and, when this sad intelligence was promulgated,
a national assembly was ordered to convene.
The appointed time arrived, and, in the presence of a large multitude,
the fatal lots were cast, and three of the bravest men of the tribe were
thus appointed to the sacrifice. They submitted to their fate without a
murmur. Whilst their friends gathered around them with wild
lamentations, and decked them with the costliest robes and ornaments to
be found in all the tribe, the youthful warriors uttered not a word
about their untimely departure, but only spoke in the most poetical
language of the happy hunting grounds upon which they were about to
enter. The spot selected for the sacrifice was the summit of a
neighboring hill which was covered with woods. Upon this spot had three
stakes been closely erected, around which there had been collected a
large pile of dry branches and other combustible materials. To the
stakes, at the hour of midnight, and by the hands of the magicians,
unattended by spectators, were the three warriors securely fastened.
They performed their cruel duty in silence, and the only sounds that
broke the stillness of that winter night were the songs and the
shoutings of the multitude assembled in the neighboring village. The
incantations of the priests being ended, they applied a torch to the
fagots, and, returning to their village, spent the remainder of the
night in performing a variety of strange and heart-sickening ceremonies.
Morning dawned, and upon the hill of sacrifice was to be seen only a
pile of smouldering ashes. On that day the weather moderated, and an
unusual number of hunters went forth in pursuit of game. They were all
more successful than they had been for many seasons, and there was an
abundance of sweet game, such as the buffalo, the bear, and the deer in
every wigwam. A council was called, and the patriarch chief proclaimed
the glad tidings that the Great Spirit had accepted their sacrifice, and
that it was now the duty of his children to express their gratitude by a
feast—the feast of _bitter roots_.
The appointed night arrived, and the bitterest roots which could be
found in the lodges of the magicians were collected together and made
into a soup. The company assembled to partake of this feast, was the
largest that had ever been known, and, as they were to conclude their
ceremony of thankfulness by dancing, they had cleared the snow from the
centre of their village, and on this spot were they duly congregated. It
was a cold and remarkably clear night, and their watch-fires burnt with
uncommon brilliancy. It was now the hour of midnight, and the bitter
soup was all gone. The flutes and the drums had just been brought out,
and the dancers, decked in their most uncouth dresses, were about to
enter the charmed ring, when a series of loud shoutings were heard, and
the eyes of the entire multitude were intently fixed upon the northern
sky, which was illuminated by a most brilliant and unearthly light. It
was a light of many colors, and as changeable as the reflections upon a
summer sea at the sunset hour. Across this light were constantly dancing
three huge figures of a crimson hue, and these did the magicians
proclaim to be the ghosts of the three warriors who had given up their
bodies for the benefit of their people, and who had thus become great
chiefs in the spirit-land. The fire by which their bodies had been
consumed had also consumed every feeling of revenge; and ever since that
remote period it has been their greatest pleasure to illume by their
appearance on winter nights the pathway of the hunters over the snowy
plains of the north.