she thought of all the stitches she had put into the coat. And the
little First Woman stamped her little foot at the sun, and she, too,
said it should stay up in the sky no longer. The sun should be pulled
down.
The next thing was to arrange how to do it. They were such small
people, and the sun was so great and so far away. But they began
plaiting a long rope of grass that should be long enough to catch the
sun, and after they had worked for many moons, the rope was quite long.
Then they could not carry it, because it made such a heavy coil; so the
little First Man tried to think of one of the beasts who could help
him, and he decided that the Field Mouse would be the most willing.
In those far away days, the Field Mouse was much larger than he is
now, as large as a buffalo. The little First Man found the Field Mouse
asleep under a tree, and he had great trouble awaking him, but the
Field Mouse was very obliging. He took the coil of rope upon his back,
allowed the two little people to sit, one on each ear, and they started
away to find the woods where the sun first drops down in the evening.
It was a journey of many moons, and most tiresome. There were many
rivers to be forded, and at each one the Field Mouse was obliged to
take one end of the rope in his mouth, and swim over with it. Then he
would coil it up, and go back for the little First Man, and the little
First Woman.
But at last they came to some deep, dark woods where the beasts, the
elk, the hedgehog, and the others, assured them the great sun dropped
down every night, last of all.
Then the little First Man climbed to the tops of the trees, making slip
knots of the rope, and fastening it to the branches until he had made a
huge net, larger than any fish net you ever saw. When it was done, they
all hid to wait for evening, and to see what would happen.
Such a terrible thing happened! Lower, and lower, fell the sun toward
the woods that he always touched the last thing at night. And before he
could stop himself—down into the little First Man’s net he dropped, and
he could not get out.
No one had ever thought what would happen if the sun were caught. Of
course everything was set on fire. The trees smoked, and the grasses
blazed. The little First Man and the little First Woman started
running toward home as fast as ever they could, because of all the
mischief they had done. The elk had his antlers scorched. The hedgehog
was obliged to dance to keep his feet from burning, and the other
beasts crowded around the Field Mouse.
“Good, kind Field Mouse,” they cried, “will you not set the sun free?
Your teeth are sharp. Gnaw the rope, and loose him, we pray of you.”
So the Field Mouse, who was always most good natured, climbed to the
top of a tree and gnawed the rope with his sharp teeth, although it was
very hot and uncomfortable for him. Gnaw, gnaw, and at last the sun was
loose. With a bound it jumped to the sky, and there it has stayed ever
since.
But what do you think happened to the Field Mouse? The heat melted him
down to the size he is now, and that is the reason the Field Mouse is
so very little.
HOW THE FIRST BEARS CAME.
Once upon a time, there were only Indians upon the earth, and the
tribes had a Great Spirit who was their ruler. He had a little
daughter, the Wind-Child.
It was thought that the Great Spirit and his daughter lived in the
largest wigwam of the world. It was a mountain that stood, tall and
pointed, on the edge of the sea. The winds raged about the sea coast,
and no one seemed to have any power over them except the Wind-Child.
They would sometimes obey her, if she came out of her father’s wigwam,
the mountain, and begged them to be still.
No wonder the winds obeyed the Wind-Child. Her eyes were as bright
as the stars when the west wind blew the clouds away from the sky at
night. She was as fleet and strong as the north wind. She could sing as
sweetly as did the south wind. And her hair was as long and soft as the
mists that the east wind carried.
The Wind-Child had only one fault. She was very curious about matters
which did not concern her.
One day, when the winter was almost over, there was a gale at sea. The
surf rolled up and beat against the Great Spirit’s mountain. The wind
was so strong that the mountain shook. It seemed as if it would topple
over. The Great Spirit spoke to his daughter.
“Go out to the lodge of the cave, at the base of the mountain,” he
said, “and reach out your arm and ask the wind to cease. But do not go
beyond the cave, for the storm rages and it is not safe for you to go
any farther.”
So the Wind-Child did as her father had asked her. She stood at the
edge of the cave. She stretched out her arm and the wind quieted. Then
the Wind-Child forgot to obey her father. The sun came out, and she
saw many bright shells lying on the sand. The waves had washed them
up during the storm. She left the mountain, and ran along the beach
gathering shells.
As soon as the Wind-Child had picked up one shell, she dropped it to
go on farther in search of one that was larger. On and on she went,
always looking for a shell that was brighter. She suddenly found that
she had gone a long way from home. She could not see the wigwam. She
found herself, where the magic trail of the shells had led her, in a
deep, dark forest. It was a frightful place, and the trees shut the
Wind-Child in on all sides.
[Illustration: They seemed glad to see the Wind-Child.]
The forest was settled by a strange race of grizzly people. They were
dark, rough in their ways, and wore shaggy fur clothing. Their wigwams
were made of the trunks of trees. They had great fires in the open
places of the woods about which they sat. They seemed glad to see the
Wind-Child. The mothers crowded around her, and the children brought
her nuts. They gave her a fur cloak and one of the best wigwams in
which to live. When the Wind-Child begged to go home to her father,
these grizzly people of the forest gave her sweets to eat. They let
her taste of the thick, sweet maple syrup that they cooked in their
kettles. They gave her wild honey that the bees had left the season
before in the hollow trees. After eating these, the Wind-Child forgot
all about her home, and lived with and learned the ways of these forest
people. Years and years passed and she was still among them, grown as
wild and savage as they themselves were.
The Great Spirit looked for his daughter season after season all over
the earth, and still he could not find her. His mountain was deserted.
His voice could be heard calling her in every wind that blew. Great
drought and famine came upon the land because he neglected the earth.
It was a time of great suffering. But one day he came upon the grizzly
people. They were moving their camp from one part of the forest to
another. In their midst was the Wind-Child, looking almost like one of
them. She knew her father, though, and ran to him, begging to go home
with him. He took her in his arms, but he turned in anger toward her
captors.
As the Great Spirit gazed in anger upon the grizzly people they drew
their fur cloaks over their heads. They dropped down to the ground at
his feet to beg for mercy. The Great Spirit left the forest. As he
did so these wild people of the woods found that they could not rise
to their feet again. They were not able to draw their fur cloaks from
their heads. They went about on all fours, covered from head to foot
with shaggy fur. They could not speak, but could only growl.
They were the first bears, and there have been bears ever since in
place of the strange savages who captured the Wind-Child.
The Great Spirit took the Wind-Child to the top of the mountain and
they lived there always. On her return the rain fell and the sun shone,
and there was plenty in the earth again. But the bear tribe prowled the
earth, hunted by the Indians, because of the Wind-Child’s curiosity.
WHY THE BEAR HAS A STUMPY TAIL.
Once upon a time, in the far away days, when the beasts walked the
land, and talked like real people, the bear had a long, beautiful,
bushy tail, as fine as the tail of any other creature, and you may be
sure he was very proud of it.
One winter day the bear was out traveling, and whom should he meet but
Brother Fox, hastening along with a string of fish dangling down his
back.
“Ah,” said Bruin, “stop a bit, friend; where did you find such fat
fish?”
Now, very likely Brother Fox had helped himself to the fish from some
one’s larder, but he never told the bear; not he.
“It is a secret, about these fish,” he said to Bruin; “come close, and
I will tell you.”
So Bruin went close to Brother Fox, and Brother Fox said:
“You must go to the river where the ice is thick, make a hole in the
ice, sit down with your tail in the hole, and wait for the fish to
bite. When your tail smarts, pull it out, quickly. That is the way to
fish.”
“Oh, is it?” said Bruin. “Well, if you say it is so, it must be true,
Brother Fox,” and he walked toward the river swinging his tail as he
went, and Brother Fox hid behind a tree to laugh up his sleeve, and
watch.
Well, poor old Bruin got a stick, and made a hole in the ice. Then he
sat down with his long, beautiful, bushy tail in the water and waited,
and, oh, it was very cold indeed.
He waited, and waited, and then his tail began to smart. He gave a
quick pull to bring up the fish, and, alas, the ice had frozen fast
again.
Off came the bear’s beautiful, long, bushy tail, and he never was able
to put it on again.
And that is why the bear has a short, stumpy tail, because he tried to
fish, as Brother Fox told him to, through the ice.
WHY THE BEAR SLEEPS ALL WINTER.
Once upon a time, little Brother Rabbit lived, quite sober and
industrious, in the woods, and just close by lived a big, brown Bear.
Now little Brother Rabbit never troubled his neighbors in those days,
nor meddled with their housekeeping, nor played any tricks the way he
does now. In the fall, he gathered his acorns, and his pig nuts, and
his rabbit tobacco. On a frosty morning, he would set out with Brother
Fox for the farmer’s; and while Brother Fox looked after the chicken
yards, little Brother Rabbit picked cabbage, and pulled turnips, and
gathered carrots and parsnips for his cellar. When the winter came,
he never failed to share his store with a wandering field mouse, or a
traveling chipmunk.
Now, in those days, old Bear was not content to do his own
housekeeping, and doze in the sun, and gather wild honey in the summer,
and dig for field mice in the winter. He was full of mischief, and was
always playing tricks. Of all the beasts of the wood, the one he loved
best to trouble was sober little Brother Rabbit.
Just as soon as Brother Rabbit moved to a new tree stump, and filled
his bins with vegetables, and his pantry with salad, along came old
Bear and carried off all his stores.
Just as soon as Brother Rabbit filled his house with dry, warm leaves
for a bed, creepy, creepy, crawly, along came old Bear, and tried to
squeeze himself into the bed, too, and of course he was too big.
At last, Brother Rabbit could stand it no longer, and he went to all
his friends in the wood to ask their advice.
The first one he met was Brother Frog, sitting on the edge of the pond,
and sticking his feet in the nice, cool mud.
“What shall I do, Brother Frog?” asked Brother Rabbit; “Brother Bear
will not leave me alone.”
“Let us ask Brother Squirrel,” said Brother Frog.
So the two went to Brother Squirrel, cracking nuts in the hickory tree.
“What shall we do, Brother Squirrel?” asked Brother Frog; “Brother Bear
will not leave Brother Rabbit alone.”
“Let us ask Brother Mole,” said Brother Squirrel, dropping his nuts.
So the three went to where Brother Mole was digging the cellar for a
new house, and they said:
“What shall we do, Brother Mole? Brother Bear will not leave Brother
Rabbit alone.”
“Let us ask Brother Fox,” said Brother Mole.
So Brother Mole, and Brother Squirrel, and Brother Frog, and Brother
Rabbit went to where Brother Fox was combing his brush behind a bush,
and they said to him:
“What shall we do, Brother Fox? Brother Bear will not leave Brother
Rabbit alone.”
“Let us go to Brother Bear,” said Brother Fox.
So they all went along with little Brother Rabbit, and they hunted
and hunted for old Bear, but they could not find him. They hunted and
hunted some more, and they peeped in a hollow tree. There lay old Bear,
fast asleep.
“Hush,” said Brother Fox.
Then he whispered to Brother Frog, “Bring a little mud.”
And he whispered to Brother Squirrel, “Bring some leaves.”
And he whispered to Brother Mole, “Bring some dirt, little brother.”
And to Brother Rabbit he said, “Stand ready to do what I tell you.”
So Brother Frog brought mud, Brother Squirrel brought leaves, Brother
Mole brought dirt, and Brother Rabbit stood ready.
Then Brother Fox said to Brother Rabbit, “Stop up the ends of Brother
Bear’s log.”
So Brother Rabbit took the mud and the leaves and the dirt, and he
stopped up the ends of the log. Then he hammered hard with his two
back feet, which are good for hammering. And they all went home, for
they thought that old Bear would never, never get out of the log.
Well, old Bear slept and slept, but after a while he awoke, and he
opened one eye. He saw no sunshine, so he thought it was still night,
and he went to sleep again.
After another while, he awoke again, but he heard the rain and sleet
beating outside, and it was very warm and dry inside.
“What a very long night,” said old Bear, and he curled up his paws, and
he went to sleep again.
This time, he just slept, and slept, until it began to be very warm
inside the log, and he heard in his dreams the footsteps of birds
outside.
Then he awoke, and he stretched himself, and he shook himself. He
rubbed his eyes with his paws, and he poked away the mud, and the
leaves, and the dirt, and he went outside.
But was he not surprised?
It had been a frosty night when he had gone to sleep, and now the woods
were green. Old Bear had slept all winter.
“That was a fine, long sleep,” said old Bear, as he set out for little
Brother Rabbit’s house to see if he had anything good for breakfast; “I
shall sleep again, next fall.”
So every summer, old Bear plays tricks on little Brother Rabbit, but
when the fall comes, he creeps away to a warm, dark place to sleep
until spring.
And so have his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren ever since.
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 25 Changed: “The rice is too salt,”
to: “The rice is too salty,”