there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops." All look as he points and
seem to see the Beaver going.
Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their dances and
are killed as before. Then the Crow comes out, hopping, flopping,
cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and says: "You are too thin. You are no
good. You don't need any more wings," and so sends him to sit down.
Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance, imitating Coyote,
etc.; but he is very suspicious and, in answer to the questions, says:
"No; I don't want wings. The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I am
satisfied"; then goes back to his seat.
Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc., come out and are killed; while all the
rest are persuaded that the victims flew away. But the Coyote and the
Loon have their doubts. They danced in their turns, but said they didn't
want any change. They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. They
are slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and realize that it
is all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou is killing us! It is all
a trick! Fly for your lives!"
As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon, hitting him behind
with the club, which is the reason that the Loon has no tail and has
been lame behind ever since.
The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched quavering
LUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the animals rally around the Loon
and the Coyote to attack the magician. All point their fingers at him
shouting "Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the circle.
They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket, and all the animals
do their dances around him.
Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told to the
audience.
TALE 97
The Caribou Dance
[Illustration: Horns for the Caribou Dance]
The easiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best for quick
presentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been put on for public
performance after twenty minutes' rehearsing, with those who never saw
it before, because it is all controlled and called off by the Chief. It
does equally well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods.
In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs of horns and
four cheap bows. Real deer horns may be used, but they are scarce and
heavy. It is better to go out where you can get a few crooked limbs of
oak, cedar, hickory or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near like
those in the cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inch
thick at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off all
sharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs, as shown. A pair,
of course, is needed for each Caribou. These are held in the hand and
above the head, or in the hand resting on the head.
The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four hunters are needed.
They should have bows, but no arrows. The Chief should have a drum and
be able to sing the Muje Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or two
persons who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side, and
another that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the other side, well
away from the ring. Otherwise the Chief or leader can do the imitations.
Now we are ready for
THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU
The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to call attention;
then says in a loud, singing voice: "The Caribou have not come on our
hunting grounds for three snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bring
them back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the power of the
White Caribou."
He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds, beckoning,
remonstrating, and calling them by name; Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din
(North); Wabani-nodin (East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to the
quarter whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with a long
KO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single beat the four Caribou come in
in single file, at a stately pace timed to the drum. Their heads are
high, and they hold the horns on their heads, with one hand, as they
proudly march around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!"
After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun), they go
each to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour the symbol of the Great
Spirit." The drum stops; all four march to the fire. They bow to it
together, heads low, and utter a long bellow.
Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds, the Messengers."
Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly and make a short
bow, with a short bellow, then turn and again face the fire.
The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on the plain." He
begins any good dance song and beats double time. The Caribou dance
around once in a circle.
The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves."
The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close in combat.
They lower their heads, lock horns held safely away from the head,
snort, kick up the dust, and dance around each other two or three
times.
The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance in a circle
once more.
The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again." Now the first and
fourth and second and third lock horns and fight.
After a round or so the music begins again and they cease fighting and
again circle, dancing as before.
The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track."
Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from the fellows
already posted.
The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row, threatening,
with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick up the dust.
The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious. The Chief shouts:
"They have driven off the Wolves." They turn away and circle once to the
music, holding their heads high.
Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard in the other
direction. The Chief shouts: "But now the Panthers have found them out."
Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it ceases, the Chief
cries out: "They have driven off the Panther." Now they dance proudly
around, heads up, chests out as they step, for they have conquered every
foe.
Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy comes. The
hunters are on their trail." The hunters appear, crawling very low and
carrying bows. They go half around the ring, each telling those behind
by signs, "Here they are; we have found them," "Four big fellows," "Come
on," etc. When they come opposite the Caribou, the first hunter lets off
a short "yelp." The Caribou spring to the opposite side of the ring, and
then line up to defy this new noise; but do not understand it, so gaze
as they prance about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, and
make as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou drops, the
others turn in fear and run around about half of the ring, heads low,
and not dancing; then they dash for the timber. The hunters run forward
with yells. The leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around the
fallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene.
The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou dance brings
the Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there is meat in the lodge and
the children cry no longer."
TALE 98
The Council Robe
The Woodcraft Council Robe is something which every one may have, and
should make for himself. It may be of any shade, of gray, buff, orange,
or scarlet. The best ones are of a bright buff. In size they are about
five feet by six feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or a
mixture. My own is of soft or blanket cotton.
The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed spread, and
has for the first purpose two or more tag-loops sewn on the top. For the
second, it has a head-hole or poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end
(hh), and for the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings to
close the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the robe.
The ornamental features are the records on it. While these vary with
each owner, the following usually appear: The Fourfold fire, near the
middle; the Woodcraft shield, the owner's totem, the symbols of each
coup and each degree won by the owner.
To this many add a pictographic record of great events or of camps they
have visited.
[Illustration: The Council Robe]
The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the cotton fabric.
The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use appliques of
coloured cloths for the design.
The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized cotton. But the
last is very slow, and calls for much labour as well as some money.
On the preceding page are shown four different styles of robe; you may
choose or adapt which you please, except that only a Sagamore may use
the one with the 24 feathers in the centre.
THINGS TO REMEMBER
Things to Remember
TALE 99
How the Wren Became King of the Birds
The story is very old, and it may not be true, but this is how they tell
it in many countries.
The animals had chosen the lion for their King because his looks and his
powers seemed to fit him best of all for the place. So the birds made up
their minds that they also would have a royal leader.
After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong opposition
from the Ostrich and his followers, the one with the greatest powers of
flight should be King. And away all flew to see which could go the
highest.
One by one they came down tired out, till only two were to be seen in
the air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still going up. At last they
got so high that the Turkey-buzzard froze his ears off for they were
naked. Then he gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show how
strong he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours.
But just as they were about to give him the crown, the Wren hopped off
the top of the Eagle's head, where he had been hiding in the long
feathers, and squeaked out, "No matter how high he was, I was a little
bit higher, so I am King."
"You," said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up."
"Nothing to do with it," said the Wren.
"Then let's try it over," said the Eagle.
"No, no," said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's settled now, I
was higher than you."
And they have been disputing over it ever since. The lawyers take the
Wren's side and the soldiers take the Eagle's side.
The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle as "the King of the
Birds," but they always call the Wren the "Little King." And that is why
we call our gold-crowned Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I suppose
that is why they wear a crown of gold.
TALE 100
The Snowstorm
It was at the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long ago. Looking
out of a window on a stormy day were five children of different races:
an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian, an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers of
the Carnival had brought the first four with their parents; but the
Yankee was the son of a rich visitor.
"Look," cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he pointed to the
driving snow. "Look at the ivory chips falling! El Sol is surely carving
a big Walrus tusk into a fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles,
and sends the white dust flying."
Of course he didn't say "El Sol," but used the Eskimo name for him.
Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That is Mother Earth
getting ready for sleep. Those are the goose feathers of her feather
bed, shaken up by her servants before she lies down and is covered with
her white mantle."
The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shook his head
gravely and said: "My father taught me that these are the ashes from
Nana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his smoke and is wrapping his
blanket about him to rest. And my father always spake true."
"Nay, you are all wrong," said the little Russian. "My grandmother told
me that it is Mother Carey. She is out riding in her strongest, freshest
steed, the White Wind. He has not been out all summer; he is full of
strength and fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foam
from his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides him, and
spurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and know that she is filling
the air with strength and with messages. They carry me back to my own
dear homeland. It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness."
But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing."
TALE 101
The Fairy Lamps
There was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all his
time in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He used
to look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the
singing bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an
insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds'
eggs.
But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts of
song, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noises
and movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks,
and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very
tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it a
great rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned that
the woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quick
to avoid him.
One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found a
bird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seen
it; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I
could see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If I
could see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only every
bird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!"
The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on the
path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in a
long robe, and in her hand a rod.
She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of this
Woods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to be
different from other boys. Your request shall be granted."
Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over with
wonderful little lamps--long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green,
high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked were
lamps--twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forest
shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and here
and there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. A
beautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and
found a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, and
there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weird
song he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were the
marvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reached
forth to clutch the wonderful prize, and--in an instant all the lights
went out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on the
pathway shone again the soft light. It grew brighter, till in the
middle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady--the Fairy of the Woods. But
she was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I
fear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep this
in mind:
"Who reverence not the
lamp of life can never
see its light."
Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again.
TALE 102
The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods
Once a great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetest
voice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is the
calling of the Screech Owl."
Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most often
makes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night,
especially in the autumn nights.
It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-bye
to the dear dying summer.
Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his
little soul into a song that seemed to be
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
The leaves are falling:
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
A sad voice calling;
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
The Woodbirds flying;
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
Sweet summer's dying,
Dying, Dying.
[Illustration: The Lament of the Owl.
Notation by Ann Seton]
A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear
voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say;
but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."
TALE 103
Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol
Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood
seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were
laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on
them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little
glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their
green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to
glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in
volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard
of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked
limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and
spread the news.
All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells of
pleasure in another's joy.
The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know their
speech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyful
happening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, the
highest rank of happiness impended.
Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of the
bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the wedding
day had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not her
peers? And the Evil One--he came, but slunk away, for the blessing of
the one Great Oversoul was on them.
Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth,
the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet;
renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye
wanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green,
but find it mostly in your souls, and _sing_!
TALE 104
Running the Council
Every good Woodcrafter should know the way of the Council Ring.
Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if possible,
for it is so much better if surrounded by trees.
Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less than 12 feet
or more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat on the number to take
part.
In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a special seat
for the Chief; this is called the Council Rock.
On very important occasions take white sand or lime, and draw a circle
around the fire. Then from that draw the four lamps and the twelve laws
as in Tale 105.
When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock, and the Scouts in
their seats, the Guide stands up and says: "Give ear my friends, we are
about to hold a council. I appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire and
so-and-so, Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the fire."
Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the business part of
the Council is carried on exactly the same as any ordinary meeting,
except that instead of addressing the "Chairman," they say, "O Chief";
instead of "yes" they say "ho," instead of "no" they say "wah."
The order of doings in Council is:--
Opening and fire-lighting
Roll Call
Reading and accepting tally of last Council
Reports of Scouts (things observed or done)
Left-over business
New business
Honours
Honourable mention
(For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions.
(_Here business ends and entertainment begins._)
Challenges
Games, contests, etc.
Close by singing Omaha Prayer (Tale 108)
TALE 105
The Sandpainting of the Fire
[Illustration: The Sandpainting of the Fire]
When I was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met John Wetherall, the
trader. He had spent half his life among them, and knew more of their
ways than any other white man that I met. He told me that part of the
education of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings of his
tribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground or floor with dry
sands of different colours--black, white, gray, yellow, red, etc. It
looks like a rug or a blanket on the ground, and is made up of many
curious marks which stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, the
first sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew it, with
rivers and hills that are important in their history. These
sandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch spoils them, and a gust
of wind can wipe them out. They endure only in the hearts and memories
of the people who love them.
In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting that is much used;
that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold Fire. When I make it in camp,
I use only white sand or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I use
yellow (or orange) and white.
This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol of the
Great Spirit; around that we draw a great circle, as in the diagram.
At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four are called
Fortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come from the Fire through
Spirit, Body, Mind, and Service.
Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These stand for the
twelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named in this way:
Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey;
Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway;
Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive!
Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive.
And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course the names are not
written on the real thing though the Woodcraft scout should know them.
TALE 106
The Woodcraft Kalendar
[Illustration: The Woodcraft Kalendar]
The Woodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way of noting the
months. Our own ancestors called them "Moons" much as the Indians did.
Our word "month" was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a
"moon or moon's time of lasting." The usual names for the moons to-day
are Latin, but we find we get closer to nature if we call them by
their Woodcraft names, and use the little symbols of the Woodcraft
Kalendar.
TALE 107
Climbing the Mountain
Afar in our dry southwestern country is an Indian village; and in the
offing is a high mountain, towering up out of the desert. It is
considered a great feat to climb this mountain, so that all the boys of
the village were eager to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys,
you you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain. Start right
after breakfast, and go each of you as far as you can. Then when you are
tired, come back: but let each one bring me a twig from the place where
he turned."
Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely could reach the
top.
But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his hand he held out
to the Chief a leaf of cactus.
The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach the foot of the
mountain; you did not even get across the desert."
Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush.
"Well," said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's foot but you did not
climb upward."
The next had a cottonwood spray.
"Good," said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs."
Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief smiled when he saw it
and spoke thus: "You were climbing; you were up to the first slide
rock."
Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray, and the old man
said: "Well done. You went half way up."
An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To him the Chief
said: "Good; you went to the third belt; you made three quarters of the
climb."
The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall, splendid boy of
noble character. His hand was empty as he approached the Chief, but his
countenance was radiant, and he said: "My father, there were no trees
where I got to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea."
Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and almost sang: "I
knew it. When I looked on your face, I knew it. You have been to the
top. You need no twigs for token. It is written in your eyes, and rings
in your voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the glory
of the mountain."
* * * * *
Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges that we offer
for attainment, are not "_prizes_"; prizes are things of value taken by
violence from their rightful owners. These are merely tokens of what you
have done, of where you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail to
show how far you got in climbing the mountain.
[Illustration: THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER.
Harmonized by PROF. J. C. FILLMORE.]
Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa dhin a-ton-he.