shaped very like a lady’s hat. On this island, alone, for nearly fifty
years had lived Ani, who seldom spoke to any one, nor did she ever go
to the mainland to enter into the festivities of the other Indians
living in the vicinity of the settlement comprising two old Hudson’s
Bay forts, a store of the company that traded with the Indians, a log
church and a few straggling huts that fringed the woodlands on one side
and the lake on the other. In winter the Indians trapped and hunted
for the many valuable fur animals that roamed the desolate parts of
this great northern wilderness, and in the spring and summer fished for
their winter supply for their dogs that helped them drag the game from
the woods, often many miles from the settlement.
The women made white and colored moccasins of the most beautiful
designs, adorned with porcupine quills dyed in many colors, some of the
strands being almost as fine as a hair. These were braided and twisted
with silk cords also of many colors, making a charming adornment
for the feet, even of a queen. Because the Indian women were not
industrious, there were but few made, and these were all bought by the
trappers, so people of the Southland never saw them.
Far beyond the island on which Ani had made her home so long, was
another smaller one where Ani’s lover, a very handsome Beaver Indian,
had lived more than forty years before. He had gone on a long trail for
moose and caribou and had never returned; and every morning at dawn,
and in the evening at sunset Ani would take a wild flower that her
lover had given her, and which she had kept in a squirrel-skin bag, and
go to the edge of the lake when the sun made a path of gold away across
to the far shore, and call in her feeble voice to the Great Spirit to
send back her brown-eyed boy of so many dead years of long ago. But he
never came, and her heart grew more sad as the years passed. There were
so many reasons why she wanted him--her tipi needed repairing, it was
hard for her to cut wood, the path to the lake was stony and sometimes
she would bruise her feet and groan; but there was no one to hear or to
help her. She would not leave the island, fearing if she did her lover
would return and would not be able to find her.
One morning she heard the paddle of a canoe, and thinking perhaps he
had come, she threw down her pan in which she was frying a portion of
rabbit that she had snared two days before, and slowly crawled to the
opening of her tipi and looked out; but it was not he--only two boys
who were pointing their canoe directly to the path leading to her camp.
“Hello, Granny Ani!” called the boy plying the bow paddle, but Ani was
so disappointed she made only a grunt as a reply.
“Hello!” they called again.
Ani made no answer, standing with a worried look.
“Get some fagots,” called the boy in the bow. “We have brought a goose
and caribou tongues, and we will share them with you.”
[Illustration: “We have brought a goose and caribou tongues, and we
will share them with you”]
Ani seemed pleased and went for an armful of dry branches--she had not
eaten goose for so long, and caribou tongue she had almost forgotten.
She was so slow the boys went to help her, and gathered for her a fine
lot of branches, dry and just the right size to make a quick and hot
fire. The goose was prepared and strung on a birch branch, as also were
the tongues, just close enough to the fagots to roast without burning.
“I have no tinder,” said Ani.
“Never mind,” said the boy with the bright, flashing eyes, and with the
tip of his finger he touched the branches, at which they burst into
flame, much to the astonishment of Ani.
“Spirits,” thought she, “I’ll not go too near them.”
“Get a gourd,” demanded the other boy in a tone Ani did not like--but
she obeyed, and brought a fine big one hanging on long strings of
caribou sinew. She handed it to the boy, and as soon as he had taken
it, it filled to overflowing with clear, cool water.
“You are children of the Evil Spirit,” said Ani, looking first at one
and then at the other, and then at the fire.
This remark made the boys laugh.
The goose and tongues were by this time nicely browned, and the edge
of the fire had spread to a pile of dry leaves. This was put out by
a gesture of the hand of the boy who had so mysteriously filled the
gourd. But this Ani had not noticed as she was now anxious to know if
the boys would make a fair division of the food, as she was growing
very hungry.
[Illustration: Looking up to her he waved his hand and smiled]
The first boy reached out and tore from the goose a leg dripping
with rich juice while the other lad took from the stick a dainty
tongue, and began eating. Ani waited for them to invite her to join in
the feast, but they did not. This so offended her that she seized the
nearest boy (who made no resistance) by the hair of the head, and led
him to the water, pushing him into a deep hole where he sank to the
bottom. Looking up to her he waved his hand, and smiled, making strange
faces at the astonished old woman who was too startled to speak. Then
going back to her tipi, she collected a large armful of leaves and
piled bundle after bundle of branches until they mounted as high as she
could reach. Then she went to the other boy with her pipe, pretending
she wanted to smoke, and asked him to light it, which he did. Then she
put the fire from her pipe on the ground beneath the great pile and
blew until a flame burst out, the fire leaping high. Quickly seizing
the boy, she dragged him to the pile and pushed him into the burning
mass. He also did not resist, but sat without discomfort in the midst
of the flames until the fire had burned itself out. Then he shook the
ashes from his clothing and walked back to his friend who had returned
from the river, and they finished their meal together.
[Illustration: He sat without discomfort in the midst of the flames]
“Where is the old lady?” asked the boy whom Ani had tried to burn,
and they went in search, finding her sitting behind an old hut that
had been deserted before she came to live on the island. She was very
much worried by their coming, and told them so; but they only smiled,
and told her she was to have all the goose and the caribou tongues that
remained, and that they, who were the incarnation of fire and water,
the elements she needed most, had been sent to her by the spirit of her
lover to hunt, to make her fire, cook her food, and to water the island
so berries and herbs would grow--and to do all that fire and water
could do for her in her old age.
The old Indians who knew Ani said the boys served her in every way
as long as she lived, and that she was never so happy as when they were
with her; and some said her young lover came back, and they journeyed
together to the far-off land that the white man called heaven.
OLD SPOT AND THE CUPIDS
Arachnida, or “Spotted Spider,” the name given him by his neighbor
Yuti, who lived at the edge of the trail not far from the bear’s den,
had grown so large, and his legs so long that his snare was no longer
strong enough to bear his weight. Once in a while he would go back to
it, make a few extra turns, spin stronger strands, and try it out; but
it was no use, down it came every time he tried. After repairing it, he
would say to himself, “Never again.” Then he would go back to the dark
cave in the ledge that for many years had been the home of his friend,
Bruin, who had wandered away, and had never returned. Nor did any one
know of his whereabouts.
Old Spot, though having really no claims by right of possession to
Bruin’s premises, felt he was not trespassing. He had always been on
the most intimate terms with him, and had served him in many ways,
recalling how often he had nursed him when Black Bear had feasted,
not wisely, but too well in the garden of Yuti, who had cultivated a
well-ordered patch bordering the woodland near his lodge.
Yuti suspected Bruin--in fact had seen him leaving the patch where the
corn grew several nights before he had gone away; but being on friendly
terms with Spot, who was very devoted to Bruin, he never made any
complaint, feeling it was better to live in accord with his neighbors
rather than to plant the seed of hostility. “Bruin was hungry, so let
him eat. The sun and rain will cause more corn to grow.” This is what
Yuti would say.
Old Spot had always lived alone, weaving his snare in the most likely
place for his prey, just at the beginning of the trail as it entered
the wood, and in good view of his apartment in the ledge. His spinners
and spinnerets had the reputation of making the strongest silk thread
in that vicinity.
Of course, Spot was proud of this, but he was getting on in years--some
of his twelve eyes were losing focus, and he sometimes felt, though
not always, with Bruin away and Yuti not as sociable as he would have
liked him to be, that life did not have much attraction for him. His
mandibles did not serve him with the same dexterity that they had
possessed when he was younger, when he tried to seize his prey and
squeeze it: this depressed him. There were also symptoms of rheumatism
in two or three of his many legs, causing troublesome and disagreeable
pains; and having many legs and long ones, the chances were that his
suffering would be much more serious than if they had been fewer and
shorter.
Knowing that these symptoms without doubt meant the approach of age,
he became very blue at times, and for days would not stir from his
quarters to see if his snare held any food for him.
For two days and as many nights he slept with his long slender legs
wrapped about him. The fall was coming on and he would often wake
himself by chilly shudders, the nights being very, very cold. On the
morning of the third day he was wakened by a strange noise. The sound
came from the direction of his snare, but knowing that the young fox
and the lynx made noises like real babies he paid little heed. Changing
his position because three of his hind legs had gotten tangled, he
settled again for another sleep of a day or two. Again the sounds like
those of a crying child disturbed him, and again he said to himself:
“It’s only a young thing that has strayed from its mother.”
Before he had finished thinking, the cries became louder and more
appealing; so Spot, being of a kindly nature, though age had hardened
him as it does so many, decided to investigate.
He had been in one position so long that his legs, or a half-dozen of
them, refused to work as he would like to have had them; but being very
hungry from his long fast, he drew himself together, and with a big
effort and a bigger grunt, stood up, stretched himself, and walked to
the entrance to his den.
Just as he poked his face out Yuti, who was gathering fagots to make a
fire to roast a fat rabbit he had snared the night before, called out:
“You’ve got a fine catch this morning.”
[Illustration: “You’ve got a fine catch this morning”]
Spot did not answer. Turning in the direction of his snare that was
stretched from either side of the trail, attached to as fine a pair
of white birches as ever plumed a wood, he beheld two creatures with
great, tapering wings, beating and struggling for freedom, making at
the same time, wee, shrill cries that caused Spot to hurry his pace.
His first thought was for the safety of his snare.
“Here’s a pretty mess,” thought he. “How shall I ever repair it?”
All the time Spot was hobbling toward the strange, struggling things,
their cries increased. They were real heart-piercing cries. The more
they shrieked the more they struggled, and alas, poor Spot’s snare was
being torn to ribbons.
The cries were so terrifying that Spot was just a bit frightened, but
having been always very courageous, he rather resented the feeling of
timidity, and, quickening his steps, he approached the destroyers and
the destroyed.
“Bears and beetles!” ejaculated Spot, “What have I caught this time?”
Fast in the lashings of his great web a brace of Cupids were beating
their splendid wings vigorously against his snare. As he came near they
cried more lustily.
“Where does so much sound come from?” thought Spot, looking at their
rosy, plump little bodies.
Seeing Spot approaching them, they cried all the louder; but observing
his venerable and kindly face, they suddenly became quiet, waiting to
see what was to be their fate.
“Well, my children,” said Spot in a gentle tone, “you’ve made a pretty
kettle of fish of my only means of securing food. Where did you come
from, and what are your names?”
“Get us out of this tangle and we’ll tell you all about it,” said the
Cupids in chorus.
Old Spot gathered the end of a long strand of spider silk that was
floating with the wind, and began to wind.
“Hurry!” said one of the little prisoners. Spot hurried as fast as he
could, but the faster he worked his spinner the oftener he broke the
thread.
“Be patient,” said Spot, “The more haste the less speed.”
“Yes, but I’m cramped,” said the Cupid who was bound tighter than his
mate, as he struggled to free himself. Part of the great web fastened
to the birches began to sag from the weight of the chubby little
victims.
“Have a heart,” commanded Spot in a sterner voice than before. “There
will be nothing left of my trap if you don’t keep quiet.”
“But you are so slow,” observed the one with four dimples on his hand.
At last the sticky threads were tightly bound on Spot’s spinners, and
the poor tired little chubs, being free, stood up, slowly moving their
wings that had been so ruffled and mussed by old Spot’s food-catcher.
“You asked our names and where we came from,” straightening out their
wings and adjusting a few shaggy feathers.
“Yes,” said Spot, scratching his head with his hindermost leg in
meditation.
“Cupid is our name. We have no home.”
“No home?” echoed Spot. “What is your other name?”
“We have no other name, it’s just Cupid.”
“That’s news to me,” said Spot thoughtfully, adding:
“Aye, aye! You’re the little chaps that make a lot of trouble in the
world. I’ve heard of you very often.”
“Yes, and a lot of happiness,” they replied timidly, in a voice not
bigger than a wren’s.
Again the little fellows flapped their splendid wings, that were
gradually getting back to their original form.
“Not quite so much breeze; I’m very sensitive to drafts,” pled Spot,
eyeing the pair with a feeling of pity.
“No father or mother? Poor kiddies,” thought he.
“You have always been alone?”
“Always,” they replied.
“Have you nothing to wear to keep you warm?”
“Nope,” they replied, shivering just a little, seeing old Spot was
being moved to sympathy.
“We’ll see about that,” he said. “Come over to my house, and I’ll build
a fire for you.” So over they all went to Spot’s den.
“What a delightful place,” said the Cupids, looking around.
“You like it, do you?” said Spot.
“It’s very cosy,” said they as they entered the den, and cuddled in
one corner where the leaves had blown in as if to make a comfortable
bed for them.
“Would you like to make your home with me?”
They looked at each other with an expression of pleasure, each
anticipating the reply of the other to be “Yes.”
“Would you let us?”
Spot did not reply, he was so deep in thought. “What delightful little
things to have around,” he almost said aloud.
“Would you let us?” they repeated.
“I’d be glad to have you,” trying not to express too much emotion, as
he was pleased beyond all measure at the thought of having them for his
companions.
“What shall we do about our wings; they are so terribly in the way,” as
they tried to adjust them so they would not scrape the rough wall of
the cave.
“If you want them clipped my friend Yuti can attend to that,” said Spot.
“Would it hurt?” they asked.
“I think not.”
“All right; can we have it done now?”
“We’ll go and see if Yuti is at home,” replied Spot, looking in the
direction of Yuti’s moose-skin lodge.
Over they went across the cleared land, where they found Yuti mending
his moccasins.
“I’ve a job for you,” called Spot, as Yuti looked up very much
bewildered at the sight that to him was startling.
“I’ve a little job for you, Yuti,” repeated Spot. “Get your tomahawk
and clip the wings of my little friends.”
Yuti looked at Spot and then at the Cupids. “What a strange request,”
he thought.
Then Spot took Yuti aside and told him about his strange experience,
and Yuti only smiled, saying nothing.
Going to his lodge he got his tomahawk and led the party to an old
oak stump. Then taking the Cupid standing nearest to him, he gently led
him to the stump and placed his wing upon it. With one stroke off it
came.
“My! that was easy,” said his interested companion, looking to see if
it hurt.
“Now the other,” said Yuti, and Cupid turned around.
Down came the strong arm of Yuti, and off came the other wing.
“What a relief,” sighed the little fellow, now free of his troublesome
appendages. The other Cupid moved toward the stump. It was but the work
of a few seconds and all was over.
[Illustration: It was but the work of a few seconds and all was over]
Reaching up and each taking one of Yuti’s hands in his, the tiny
fellows thanked him; then the little party started back to the den.
On their arrival the conversation became more general and less
constrained, all becoming better acquainted.
“Something must be done about your clothing; we are liable to have snow
any day,” said Spot, in a tone burdened with solicitude, for spiders
have the reputation of being kind to their young and those they like,
even though the lady-spider sometimes devours her husband in a fit of
anger.
“Let’s go down to the snare and see how much there is left of it,” he
continued. “If it can’t be repaired I’ll have to weave another, for
clothing you must have.” After surveying the mass of tangled threads,
they decided it would be best to make a new web.
For days Spot worked upon it. Then he began the patterns for the
suits. Up and down, under and over, he wove, warp and woof, doubling it
and twisting the threads so that the garments would be warm; drawing
close and tight the strands that formed the strange little affairs to
be worn by his Cupids--perhaps the only Cupids that ever wore clothes.
They would sit in admiration. “How really clever old Spot is,” they
remarked.
[Illustration: “How really clever Old Spot is”]
As the wonder garments neared completion, he added pockets, and made
openings through which the little wings that were left could pass.
Realizing how good he was to them, they decided to be very helpful and
to serve him in every way possible as long as he lived, which was to be
for a very long time. When strangers passed and saw the little things
sitting close to Spot, some would ask: “How is it that their wings are
so small?”
Then Spot would smile and say: “The reason Cupids have no wings is
because--they do not want them.” And then Spot would look at the Cupids
and the Cupids would look at Spot, and they would giggle; but Spot
would look serious. Of course, the strangers did not understand the
cause of their merriment.
Sometimes when Spot put the Cupids to bed, and covered and tucked
them in with sweet grasses and scented moss flowers to keep them warm,
he would sit beside them when the tree-toad whistled his night song,
and wonder if they had their large wings again, whether they would fly
away, and leave him all alone.
THE UNDERWATER PEOPLE
One evening in the fall of the year, far-away in the North, on the
shores of a great lake, there were sitting around the camp-fire a party
of Beaver Indians. The winter had already set in, for the ice comes
early, and it is very cold when the sun has gone to rest.
Hocini, the oldest man of the party, had fallen asleep. Around the
moose-skin tents were scattered bits of wood, dried fish hung on racks,
and five dogs, used in winter for drawing moose and caribou, were
sleeping as near as they dared to be, to the warm fire, for the Indians
are very cruel to their dogs, who really are very good to work so hard
for masters who do not allow them to get near enough to the fire to
warm themselves. The hoot owls had begun to make their strange noises
and open their big, round eyes, for night was their day, and they must
hunt food when they could see best, which was in the dark.
Away on the far-flung reaches of the hills the wolf began to cry
and moan. He is a big animal of grayish color, sometimes seven and a
half feet from the tip of his tail to his nose-end. Many say he came
originally from Siberia when there was a land crossing from Alaska to
Siberia, and that his great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers and
many of his relations way back in the years of long ago came to visit
our Northland, and liked it so much they did not return to the land of
their birth. That land is now divided from Alaska by the waters that
flow from the Arctic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean, so if he did ever want
to go back to visit his relations in Siberia, he would have to swim,
for no craft that go to Siberia for furs would care to have him for a
passenger as he has a bad disposition, and cannot be depended upon when
he is hungry.
While the Indians were sitting by the fire they suddenly saw a man
passing along in the dusk. He was carrying on his back a strange
blanket which was sewn with caribou sinew for thread, as the Indians
had no cotton thread. It was made of dozens and dozens of muskrat
skins covered with fish-scales all sorted as to color and size, and
the lining was made of many, many squirrel-skins also covered with
fish-scales, which were also well matched for color, making a beautiful
and very warm water-proof covering for his body.
[Illustration: They suddenly saw a man passing along in the dusk]
“Where are you going and what are you going to do?” asked an old man of
the tribe.
“I’m going to become a young man again,” he replied.
“How will you do that?” asked another old person.
“We will go with you,” said one of the party, “for we like youth, for
then we can hunt the beaver and moose in far-away mountains.”
“Do as you please,” the stranger replied indifferently.
“Let us go,” said a young brave to two of his brothers-in-law, and they
got up and went to their tents to get their bows and quivers and long
hunting moccasins, for it had rained in the morning, and the ground was
not yet dry.
The stranger called to them, “Hurry!” and seemed out of sorts; but the
Indians paid no attention to his mood and smiled at his haste.
After saying good-by to their people, they joined the stranger and
walked through a dark wood until they came to a lake shore. Suddenly
the strange man who had been walking ahead of them, said: “Xwui!” and
went through a hole in the ice to the bottom of the deep lake where his
wife and many children were awaiting him. He did not greet his wife as
though he was fond of her, and to one of his children he said roughly:
“Tell the men on the shore to do as I have done.”
So the three men went to the hole through which the stranger had gone,
and dove to the bottom. Then they walked to a settlement on the sands
of the lake where there were many tents made of all kinds of skins--of
moose, caribou, white deer, muskrat, lynx, beaver, and many skins the
Indians had never seen before--and around the tents, walking about,
were many people, who did not look at them.
The children of the strange Underwater Man would take bits of tough
grass and make fish snares. Then they would wait for a big fish to
come swimming along, swishing his tail and looking many ways with his
strange eyes. The children would hold out the snare, saying, “To nai,”
which means “fish” in the beaver language. Then the fish would swim
into the snare and be caught, and would say, as he wriggled to free
himself, “Do ha-s tei-ul tuk,” which means, “Do not kill me.” Then the
children would take the fish to their mother, and she would cook it on
hot stones that lay near a spring of boiling water that came from the
bed of the lake.
[Illustration: “Do ha-s tei-ul tuk,” which means “Do not kill me”]
The stranger called to the three men to come to his tent and eat. They
did so, and he shared the fish with them.
Suddenly some one stepped on the foot of the man who had asked his
brothers-in-law to go with the stranger. He looked up, and saw a giant
frog standing on his left foot. He could not believe his own eyes, for
he had never seen a frog so large. The frog said to him:
“I was once a man like yourself, but years ago, while picking
berries on the shore of the lake, I fell into the water and became a
frog. I have the secret, and if you wish to become a frog who can live
both on land and in the water, which has its advantages, I will tell
you where you can get some wonderful berries, red and sweet. Eat of
them and lie down on the bottom of the lake, and after you have been
sound asleep you will awake and be as you see me.”
[Illustration: He looked up and saw a giant frog standing on his left
foot]