Chapter II: Part 2

“And I,” said his sister, “will look down upon you and watch over you every morning. When you see the rosy clouds you will say, ‘My sister is painting her face’.”

They bade each other good-bye, and He-of-the-Little-Shell ran up the mountain side, for he was a Pukwudjee, a “little man of the mountains,” as the Indians call them.

The four winds of heaven carried the sister to the eastern sky, where she became the Morning Star, and there she watches over her brother and all his people.

THE WHITE HAWK

(Shawnee)

WAUPEE was an Indian youth, and a mighty hunter. The meaning of his name was White Hawk. He was tall, and strong as the great oaks of the forest. He was fleet of foot, and keen of sight. When he drew his bow, his arrow went swiftly to the mark.

The Chief of the tribe said, “White Hawk will provide well for the maiden he chooses as his wife. He has the flesh of every animal for food. He has the skin of every animal for his lodge and for his clothing.”

But Waupee lived alone in his lodge. He loved the chase, but as yet he cared for no maiden.

One day, as he followed a deer through the forest, he went far away from his lodge; far away from his usual hunting ground. Beyond the forest he saw an open space where the grass grew green, and yellow blossoms studded it like stars in the sky.

Waupee passed swiftly through the forest until he came to the open space, and there, as he looked about, he discovered a curious thing. It was a circle, where the grass bent down as though many feet had passed lightly over it. He wondered what dancing feet could have made this circle in the grass. And he wondered still more when he looked all about and could find no trace of a footstep outside it.

“How did they come? How did they go?” questioned Waupee in amazement. “I must know more of this.”

So he hid himself among the trees in the edge of the forest and waited.

He had hunted long: the drowsy insects droned about him, and at length Waupee fell asleep. Soon he was aroused by the sound of tinkling music. It was like the ringing of a silver bell.

He started up and listened. It seemed to come from the sky. He looked up; then he stood still and waited.

Directly over the circle upon the prairie grass there was descending something--Waupee knew not what. It was like a boat, but its colors were like the colors of a sea shell, changing from silver to green, to pink, and to blue.

The wonderful boat came to rest in the center of the circle, and out of it stepped twelve maidens, more beautiful than any Waupee had seen before.

Taking hold of hands, they danced lightly round and round, while the silver bells kept time to their steps. Their eyes were bright as the stars, and a star rested upon the breast of each maiden. But though all were beautiful, Waupee was attracted by one alone, and she was the youngest.

“I must have this maiden for my own!” cried Waupee. He ran from the shelter of the trees and would have clasped her in his arms, but he was too late.

The startled maidens sprang into their boat, which lifted instantly and carried them away.

Waupee watched until they disappeared among the clouds. Then slowly he returned to his lodge, but he could think only of the beautiful maiden with eyes like stars, and he determined to use all his powers to win her.

The next day, at the same hour, he was again at the edge of the forest, but this time he had changed to the form of the white hawk, whose name he bore.

“I will wait until they dance,” he said to himself, “and then I will fly to the maiden of my choice. I will change to my own form and clasp her in my arms.”

So Waupee waited, and as before he heard music like the tinkling of silver bells, and the boat with its changing silvery colors floated down within the circle.

Out stepped the twelve maidens and began their dance.

Waupee was too eager to wait, and he flew at once from the tree. But the moment the maidens heard the sound of his wings, they sprang into their boat and were carried swiftly back to the sky.

Waupee, resuming his form as a man, sat down in the forest, and drew his blanket over his head, as the Indians do when they mourn. He feared that the maidens would nevermore return.

But after a time his courage and hope came back, and he determined that he would not give up until he had captured the maiden who had won his heart.

On the third day he was again at the edge of the forest, and there he noticed the half-decayed stump of a tree. In and out, about the stump, a dozen field mice were playing.

“Now you must help me, little brothers,” said Waupee. He lifted the stump and set it down near the magic circle in the field. The little field mice continued to play about it as before. Waupee changed himself into the form of a field mouse, and began running about with the others.

He soon heard the tinkling music, and looking up saw once more the silvery boat floating down from the sky.

When it touched the earth the star maidens sprang out and began their dance. But one of them saw the old stump.

“That was not there before!” she cried, and running from the circle she looked closely at it.

“Let us return!” said the youngest maiden, but the others replied, “But look! Here are field mice running about. Let us chase them!”

The little mice ran in all directions, and the maidens ran after them, laughing, and threatening them with their silver wands.

And the one that the youngest maiden chased ran far from the others. Then, just as the maiden reached him, and would have struck him with her wand, the little field mouse changed suddenly to the form of a man,--and it was Waupee.

He caught the maiden in his arms, and he told her how she had won his heart by her loveliness, and begged her to stay with him.

The other maidens, frightened at the sight of Waupee, sprang into their boat, and it rose and bore them away.

Then the youngest maiden wept, but Waupee comforted her, for he was strong and brave, and a mighty hunter. And her heart was won, and she went with him to the village.

So Waupee was wedded to the Star Maiden, and she was the loveliest maiden in all the tribe.

The next year Waupee and his bride were made still happier by the coming of a baby boy, and the White Hawk was the proudest father in all the tribe.

But after many moons had passed, the Star Maiden grew lonely for her father, and for the scenes of her star home in the sky. And so, one day, she took her little son by the hand and led him to the magic circle in the grass of the prairie. In the center of the circle she placed a boat which she had woven from the grass and rushes of the meadow, and she and her little son stepped into it. Then she sang the song of the silvery bells which had been always in her heart, and the boat of woven rushes began to rise.

Up and up it went until it carried the Star Maiden and her son far away to the Sky Land.

Waupee, far away at the chase, heard the strains of the magic song and ran to the spot, but he was too late. He saw the boat with its occupants disappear among the clouds, and then he sat down upon the prairie, covered his head with his blanket, and mourned. And no one in all the tribe could comfort him.

The Star Maiden and her son were welcomed by her father, and for some time they were happy. Then the boy began to long for his father, the White Hawk, who was so strong and brave. And his mother, too, secretly longed for Waupee and the home he had made for her.

One day her father, who had noticed, said to her, “Go, my daughter, back to the Earth country. Tell your husband that I want him to visit me in the land of stars, and bring him here to dwell with you and your son. But before he comes have him shoot one of every kind of bird and beast, and bring a specimen of each to our Sky Land.”

So the Star Maiden gladly took her son and stepped into her boat. Then singing the magic song which was always in her heart, they were carried back to Earth.

Waupee’s heart leaped up like a deer when he heard the music of the song, and running to the magic circle he clasped his wife and his son in his strong, loving arms.

The Star Maiden gave him the message from her father, and though Waupee loved the forests and the prairies, he prepared to go to the Sky Land. He hunted day after day, and from each bird or animal that he shot he cut a wing, or a foot, or a tail, to carry with him. At last he was ready, and with the Star Maiden and their son, he stepped into the magic boat and was carried far up to the land of stars.

All the people of that far-off country gathered to greet him, and to welcome the return of the Star Maiden and her boy. Her father took the great bundle of strange objects that Waupee had brought, and he said to his people: “Come, I will let you choose! Those of you who wish to stay in the Star Land may remain as you are. The others may select one object from this strange bundle, and according to your choice, so shall you be in the future.”

Many of the people crowded forward, and one took the tail of a deer, and immediately he was changed into a deer, and bounded away to the Earth country. Another took the claw of a bear, and at once he became a bear, and shuffled off to find his way to the Earth. And so it was with the choice of every one. Some became birds and flew away.

“Come,” said Waupee, to the Star Maiden, “let me choose the wing of the White Hawk, and do you the same, and our son. Then we may visit both the Earth and the Sky, and be always together.”

So they chose. And so they have lived, ever since.

HOW MOSQUITOES CAME TO BE

(Iroquois)

IN the long-ago time, the Red Men tell us that their fathers were greatly troubled by the visits of an enormous bird called Mosquito. No one knew whence it came, or where it went. But always it brought terror and destruction.

Sometimes it would fly over the growing corn and with the great force of its wings beat it all to the earth. Sometimes it would swoop down and strike a child playing beside the lodge. Again it would come swiftly and throw a man or a woman of the tribe to the earth, and leave them bleeding and torn.

At length its visits became so frequent that the people were afraid to leave their lodges, and so a great council was called, to see what could be done to get rid of the monster.

At this council one of the young braves said, “I will go out and try to snare the bird. I will offer my life to save my people.”

The young man cut strong bands of rawhide. He said, “I will try to throw one of these bands about the great bird, and snare him before he ends my life. Then you must come and kill him.”

So the young brave started out, and when he reached a bare place on the mountain side he sat down on the ground and sang his death-song while he waited.

Presently, with a terrible cry, the great Mosquito flew down with his enormous wings outstretched, and just as he buried his talons in the young warrior’s flesh, the brave youth sprang erect, threw one of the rawhide thongs about the foot of the bird and bound him to the rock.

The men of the tribe who had watched the conflict ran to the mountain side and let fly their arrows. Soon the great Mosquito lay dead upon the rocks.

There was great rejoicing in the village. The news was spread by runners, so that braves both young and old came from neighboring tribes to see the body of the monstrous bird.

“The body should be burned,” counseled one of the old men of the tribe; but so proud were they of the young warrior who had given his life to free the Red Men of this great foe, and so eager were they to show the huge size of the monster, that they gave no heed to his advice.

One day they noticed that small stinging flies began to buzz about. Nothing like them had ever been seen before. Their number increased, and then the people noticed that they came from the body of the great bird. And the insects bit and stung them.

“It is a new plague,” said the Indians. “We should have given heed to the counsel of the old man of the tribe, and burned the body, for we know that all evil things are cleansed by fire.”

And so the little stinging insects were called mosquitoes, and to this day they are a trouble and an annoyance to mankind.

HOW BIRDS AND FAIRIES CAME TO BE

(Algonquin)

ONCE--oh, a very long time ago--there were no birds and no fairies upon the earth. Now I will tell you a story of their beginning, as the Indian grandmothers tell it to the Red children.

Ten beautiful sisters lived in the lodge of their father, and no maidens in all the tribe were so good to look upon as they.

Young warriors came and sought them in marriage, and one by one the sisters went away to the lodges of their husbands, until only one was left in the lodge of her father.

This one was Oweenee, the youngest of all, and the most beautiful. Many warriors had sought her favor, but she was not easily won. Her sisters mocked her, but she cared not for that. “I shall know when the right suitor comes,” she said to her own heart, and went about her duties in her father’s lodge.

One day an old man came to the lodge door and talked with the youngest sister, and though he seemed old and bent with years, her heart told her, “He is the one for whom you have waited.” And so, when he asked her to go to his lodge and be his wife, she consented.

Her sisters mocked her more than before, but they and their husbands went with Oweenee and the old man along the path.

The married sisters led the way, and the old man, whose name was Osseo, and the youngest sister, Oweenee, walked behind, and the girl was kind and thoughtful, and watched the steps of Osseo with care.

But what was her surprise, as they were about to pass a hollow log, to see him suddenly dart into its open end and almost immediately come from the farther end--not old and bent, but the youngest, the strongest, and the most active of all the warriors in the company. Then he took the hand of the youngest sister, and together they led the way to his lodge.

The eyes of the youngest sister were bright with happiness, but the older sisters were dumb with astonishment.

When they entered the lodge of Osseo, they found a feast prepared. The food was plain, and the dishes were of wood. The lodge, too, seemed shabby and poor. But while they ate, the lodge began gently to rise from the ground. Up and up it went, and its shabby sides began to gleam like silver. The food became the richest and choicest, and the dishes became like shells of radiant colors.

Up and up the lodge continued to go, until at last it reached the Sky Land, and stopped before the doorway of the Evening Star.

The Evening Star greeted them and spoke to Osseo. Then the sisters and their husbands, who had scoffed at Oweenee, knew that the old man whom she had married was no other than Osseo, the Son of the Evening Star.

And Evening Star said, “You and your beautiful bride are welcome to my lodge, but these others who have scoffed at her and at you may not come inside. They may stay at the lodge door.”

Then the lodge of Osseo became a wonderful silver cage, and the sisters and their husbands were changed into singing birds, with plumage of brightest colors, blue, and red, and orange, and scarlet. And they flew about in their silver cage, and sang to Osseo and his bride.

Now Osseo grew stronger and more manly day by day, and his bride grew sweeter and lovelier to look upon. After many moons had come and gone there came to Osseo and his wife a little son. As the boy grew he seemed brighter than the starlight, and Osseo and Oweenee loved him dearly; but his grandfather, the Evening Star, loved him best of all.

One day Evening Star said to Osseo, “You must be careful not to let the light beams from the small Star that dwells near by fall upon the cage of singing birds, or upon yourself, or your wife, or your son. The Star is an evil spirit, and the light beams are his enchanted arrows. They change the form of all those upon whom they fall.”

So Osseo promised to be careful. But after many moons had passed, he forgot about the light beams of the Star neighbor.

He made a bow and arrows for his little son, who loved to play at shooting. Then one day the boy said, “I want to shoot some living thing. How shall I learn to be a hunter if I have no game to shoot?”

“I will open the silver cage,” said Osseo, “and you may shoot at the flying birds.”

Then the little boy was pleased, and he drew his bow, and Osseo opened the door of the cage.

Out flew the birds, glad to stretch their wings, and the boy sped his arrow after them. But swifter than his arrow was the light beam of the little Star, and it fell upon the birds and the boy.

Immediately they became enchanted. The birds flew swiftly down to earth and lighted upon an island in the midst of a green sea, and the little boy, the grandson of Evening Star, floated softly down after them.

Then Osseo was full of sorrow, and he said to his father, “Oh, father! let us go also, my wife and I, that we may not be separated from our son.”

So Evening Star permitted Osseo and Oweenee to enter the silver cage, and silver wings were given it, and it flew down to the island in the midst of the green sea.

And then the enchantment of the little Star changed all of them to Fairies, and joining hands they danced and sang in the starlight, while the Evening Star looked down upon them from his far-away home in the sky.

WHY THE ASPEN LEAVES ARE NEVER STILL

(Blackfeet)

“WHY are the leaves on the aspen tree never still, Grandmother?” asked one of the Indian children of the old basket weaver. “I have watched them so many times, and they always talk together.”

“You are right, my daughter. When there is no breath in the heavens, the aspen leaves still talk.”

“Is there a story about the aspen tree, grandmother?” asked the little girl. “Will you tell it to me, if there is?”

“Yes daughter,” replied the old woman, “there is a story about the aspen tree which it is good that you should hear.”

Taking her basket upon her knees and continuing her weaving, the grandmother told her story:

“Many, many moons ago there was a young warrior who was lonely in his father’s lodge, and he said to himself, ‘I will seek a maiden to wed, and make ready a lodge of my own.’

“So he watched the maidens of the village, and he found two sisters who seemed so modest, and kind, and good, that he knew not which of them to choose.

“When he went to their father’s lodge, he was kindly treated by both. They gave him words of welcome, they smiled upon him, and they prepared food and set it before him. Both could weave fine baskets for the lodge, and make rich embroidery of quills.

“Many times the young brave went to the lodge, but he could not tell which maiden would make the better wife. And at last he said to himself, ‘I will try magic. I will get the medicine man to help me.’

“So he visited the lodge of the Medicine Man, and after a time there came away from the Medicine Man’s lodge an old man, bent, and leaning upon a stick. He walked feebly, and his garments were ragged. His hair was white, and his chin quivered with age.

“The old man went to the lodge of the two maidens and begged a bit of food. The younger sister asked him to come inside the lodge and rest. Then she prepared some nourishing food and gave to him, and while he ate it she noticed that his feet were barely covered with pieces of skins tied about the ankle. She hastened to finish the moccasins that she was embroidering, and gave them to him, so that his feet should not be bruised with walking.

“The older sister looked on with scorn, and made unkind remarks. She asked her sister why she should spend time upon a forlorn old man who could never repay her. She laughed at his ragged garments and at his quivering chin and feeble knees. Then in a sharp voice she bade him begone before her lover should come from the hunt.

“The old man went away, after thanking the younger sister for her kindness.

“A short time later, the young warrior came to the door of the lodge, bearing upon his shoulders a deer which he had shot. Both sisters smiled at him and bade him enter. He passed the older sister without a glance, and laid the deer at the feet of the younger.

“As they looked down at the deer, both sisters discovered that the young man had upon his feet the moccasins that the younger sister had just given to the strange old man.

“‘I seek a maiden to be the light of my lodge,’ he said, ‘and by magic I have found that one. I was the old man who came hither for shelter and comfort, and so I learned how to escape a sharp tongue and bitter words.

“‘But the Medicine Man’s charm has not yet finished its work,’ he added. ‘I do not want another to suffer the fate I have so narrowly escaped.’

“He took the younger sister by the hand and led her from the lodge. The older sister followed, and as she stepped outside, her feet became rooted to the ground, and she was turned into an aspen tree.

“The younger sister became the light of the young warrior’s lodge; but the aspen tree, like the older sister, while beautiful to look upon, has since that day had a whispering and unruly tongue.”

WHY THE BABY SAYS “GOO”

(Algonquin)

MANY, many moons ago there lived among the Red people a warrior who was greatly respected and admired by all his tribe.

When an enemy came to attack them, this warrior was always the first to resist. His arm was strong, and his arrows went true and straight to the mark. He had gone alone on many a daring hunt, and had contended with the fiercest beasts of the forest and slain them. But greatest of all, he had fought alone with mighty giants, and overcome them, so that his tribe was rid of their evil magic. It was no wonder that the people thought him great.

But then, as so often follows, the warrior became puffed up with thoughts of his own courage and power, and he was filled with pride, and boastings.

“There is no one, among men or beasts,” he said, “who does not fear me. All men obey me. They tremble at the sound of my voice.”

Now there was in the tribe of this warrior an old grandmother to whom age had given great wisdom. And she thought within her heart, “Our warrior is becoming puffed up. He thinks too well of himself. It would be good for him to be humbled.” So among the women she said, “There is one whom I know, who is greater than the mighty warrior. _He_ would not tremble at his voice, nor obey his word.”

This saying was repeated to the men of the tribe, and in time it came to the ears of the great warrior himself. Immediately he went to the lodge of the grandmother.

“What is this, that I hear?” he enquired. “Show me who it is that will not obey my voice! Tell me his name!”

“His name is Wasis,” replied the grandmother, “and he sits inside my lodge.”

The warrior threw back the hanging of deer skin covering the entrance of the lodge, and strode within. There, upon the ground, sucking a piece of maple sugar, sat Wasis, the baby. The warrior looked at him in surprise. He knew nothing about babies, having been too busy all his life with battles and adventures to pay any attention to the little people of the tribe. But here was just a tiny fellow. It would be no trouble to get him to obey!

So without any ado, the warrior said, “Ho, baby, come here to me!”

The baby looked at him, but did not move. He repeated his command. The baby stopped sucking his maple sugar long enough to say “Goo, goo,” but he did not move.

Then the warrior said, “I will show him that I am to be feared, and then he will obey me.” So he began a war dance, and uttered fierce war cries, and Wasis opened his mouth and sent forth such piercing yells and shrieks, that the warrior stopped in amazement. And when he had stopped the baby began sucking his maple sugar again.

“Ho, baby, come here to me!” he repeated once more, but at that the baby again opened his mouth and cried so lustily that the great warrior covered his ears and ran from the lodge. “It is worse than the war cries of the Frost Giants!” he exclaimed.

“Did he obey you?” asked the grandmother.

“No,” said the warrior. “He is a little fellow, but he is mightier than I.”

“Yes,” answered the grandmother, “Wasis, the baby, conquers us all, and no one can resist him.”

And the baby, left alone in the lodge with his maple sugar, stopped now and then to say, “Goo, goo!” For had he not conquered the mighty warrior, the great brave of the tribe?

WHY THE SQUIRREL COUGHS

(Algonquin)

A GREAT trickster was Manabozho. He loved to play jokes upon his friends of the forest.

One day he invited them all to a feast in his wigwam. And every one came, from the woodpecker and the tiny mouse, to the great moose with branching horns.

It was a time of scarcity of food, and all were glad to be asked to a banquet.

But the meat that Manabozho had ready for his guests, he had prepared by magic--though of that no one knew except himself.

When all had assembled, Manabozho gave to each a portion of meat. The woodpecker was the first to taste of his, and as he took the delicious looking morsel in his mouth, it turned to ashes on his tongue, so that he was choked and began to cough. But the meat looked so good, and he was so hungry that he tasted again, and again it turned to ashes and choked him.

Every guest had the same experience. The little mouse, the otter, the badger, the fox, the wolf, and even the moose tasted his portion and it turned to ashes on his tongue.

In vain the guests tried to be courteous and to stifle their coughing, but it grew worse and worse as first one and then another ate of the meat.

At length there was such a deafening noise in the wigwam, caused by the chorus of coughing and strangling from so many throats great and small, that Manabozho picked up a club in pretended anger. Threatening them with it, he drove them out of doors, where he changed them all to squirrels.

And that, the Indians tell us, is the reason that the squirrel coughs.

WHY THE FROGS CROAK

(Algonquin)

“MO-O-O-O-RE, mo-o-o-o-re!” croaked a big frog in the marshes. “’Tis enough, ’tis enough, ’tis enough!” answered a smaller frog.

But the big frog called again, “Mo-o-o-o-re, mo-o-o-o-re!” And again the smaller frog answered, “’Tis enough! ’Tis enough!”

“What is it the frogs are quarreling about, grandmother?” asked a little Indian girl, and the grandmother replied, “About the water, I suppose.”

“Why do they quarrel about the water? Is it a story, grandmother?”

“Yes,” said the grandmother, “it is a story. Listen and I will tell it to you!

“In the long-time-ago all the waters of the land were tied up. The Indian people grew thirsty, and more thirsty. Their fields were drying up. The flowers withered. The people said, ‘We shall die!’

“Then there came to one of the villages the giant, Rabbit, and he said, ‘What is this I hear about the waters being tied up?’

“The Chief answered, ‘For many days there has been no water. The streams are empty. No little rivers come down the mountain side. Our corn is drying up. Our people’s throats are parched.’

“The giant, Rabbit, said, ‘I will go into the mountains and see who has tied up the water.’ Then he strode away, taking such great steps that he was out of sight in a moment.

“Up the mountain went the giant, and when he came to the top he found a tribe of men there, and they had tied up the water so that it stood in great pools which had grown green and slimy, because it was no longer fresh.

“‘What are you doing with the water?’ asked the Rabbit, and his voice rolled down the mountain like thunder. ‘Do you not know that the tribes below you are dying for want of it?’

“The Chief of the strange tribe came out to answer the Rabbit. He was fat and ugly, and his back was covered with green slime from the pool.

“‘We need the water for ourselves. It was running away down the mountain, so we stopped it,’ said the Chief.

“Rabbit reached out and caught the Chief by the back of his neck and shook him. The giant’s grasp was strong, and the Chief’s eyes bulged from his head, and he swelled up till he was puffed out all over, from trying to get his breath.

“‘So shall you look, you and all your tribe, hereafter,’ said Rabbit, holding him off and looking at him. Then he threw him into the green pool, and all his tribe with him.

“After that Rabbit untied the water, and all the little streams began to flow down the mountain. Our people, at the foot of the mountain, saw them coming, and they gave thanks to the Great Spirit, because he had helped the giant, Rabbit, to give them water again, that they might live.

“The tribe at the top of the mountain became frogs, as you see them now, and they have traveled to many parts of the land; but wherever they go they keep on quarreling about the water, as you have heard them this day.”

THE ROCK OF THE MEASURING WORM

EL CAPITÁN, IN THE YOSEMITE

(California Tribes)

TWO small Indian boys were seated before the tepee fashioning bows and arrows.

“Mine is not good!” exclaimed one of the boys, throwing aside the stick with which he had been working. “Besides, I am tired of sitting still. Let us go for a swim in the river.”

Away they dashed, running swiftly, as the Indian child is taught to run. Into the water they jumped, swimming, diving, splashing, and stopping now and then for a water battle.

At length they had had enough of the water, so out upon the bank they came.

“Let us climb upon this rock to dry ourselves. Its top is flat, and the sun is warm upon it.”

So they climbed upon the flat rock, and in a few moments both boys were fast asleep. Then a strange thing began to occur. The rock slowly and gradually commenced to stretch itself up, up, up, higher, and higher, and higher. And the boys continued to sleep.

Taller, and taller grew the rock, carrying the boys upward on its flat surface until at last their faces were bathed by the clouds that floated in the sky. And still they slept.

For many moons they slept; for a whole snow.

In the meantime the people of their village missed them and began to search. They searched by the river, and in the forest, but no one could find the missing boys. There was great sorrow in the village.

None of the people knew of the great rock. Only the animals knew.

Then one day the animals came together, and they said, “What is to be done? The people are sorrowing because of the boys that are lost. Can we not return them to their friends?”

So the animals decided to try to get the boys off the great rock.

“You are littlest,” said the lion to the mouse, “you try first.”

So the mouse made ready and sprang as high as she could up the side of the rock. Just a hand-breadth she jumped, and fell back into the valley.

So the rat tried next, and he made a mighty effort, and jumped two hand-breadths, and then he too fell back into the valley.

Alter that every sort of animal jumped in turn, the otter, and the badger, the fox, and the wolf, and the bear, and though each one jumped as high as he could, he jumped only against the side of the rock, and went tumbling back into the valley.

Last of all came the lion. With a mighty roar he sprang--but it was of no use: he too struck the side of the great rock and fell back with the others.

They were about to give up and go back to their homes in the river and in the forest, when a tiny measuring-worm came creeping over the grass. “By your leave,” she said quite humbly, addressing the lion, “I should like to try and see what I can do.”

“Ho-ho,” laughed all the animals together. “Ho-ho!”

But without waiting for their consent, the measuring-worm made her way slowly to the foot of the great rock, and then, little by little, little by little, she drew herself up, up, up the side of the mighty rock.

Up, and up, and up she went, until she was lost to sight of the animals waiting below.

At last she reached the top, and drew herself over the edge. And there lay the two boys, still sleeping.

Then the measuring-worm took the two boys, and started back. She climbed with them down the side of the rock, little by little, down, and down, and down.

At last she came within sight of the waiting animals.

Down, and down still she climbed until she was in their midst.

So mighty was the noise made by the assembled animals that it wakened the sleeping boys, and brought the men and women of the village to the foot of the great rock.

And so the boys were restored to their people.

But the great rock with its almost perpendicular sides stands to-day, lofty and imposing.

HOW THE FLYING SQUIRREL GOT HIS WINGS

(Iroquois)

LONG ago, in the Indian country, Nuk-da-go was chief of the squirrel tribe. One day he was passing through the woods to see how all the little squirrels were faring, and how they prospered in laying up their store of nuts for the winter.

Now when Nuk-da-go went about the woods he often made himself invisible, for by this means he heard and saw many things which would not have been said or done if the woods people had known that he was near.

On this day Nuk-da-go chanced to pass by the home of a little squirrel, Jo-nis-gy-ont, who had worked very hard all the autumn laying up nuts for his winter’s food.

Little Jo-nis-gy-ont lived all alone in a hollow tree close beside a great pine. On one side, near the edge of a bit of marsh, lived Brother Frog, and on the other side, under some rocks near the pine, lived Brother Woodchuck.

Now for some days Jo-nis-gy-ont had been noticing that his stock of nuts, instead of growing bigger, was growing smaller, though he worked hard every day.

The big hickory-nut tree, from which he carried his stores, was a half-hour’s journey away from the hollow tree. To be sure, there were acorns and cone seeds much nearer home, but, as every one knows, the hickory nut is the sweetest nut of the woods.

But of late, when Jo-nis-gy-ont returned from one of his long trips with his cheeks bulging with hickory nuts, he would find _fewer_ nuts in his storehouse in the hollow tree than he had left there when he started away. Little Jo-nis-gy-ont had his own ideas, but he thought it best to be frank and friendly.

One evening, as he and Brother Frog and Brother Woodchuck were sitting at the doors of their houses, little Brother Squirrel said, “Neighbors, I have found that there is a thief about. My store of nuts is being robbed.” Then he looked hard at Brother Frog and Brother Woodchuck--for in those days, you must know, the frog tribe and the woodchuck tribe were also eaters of nuts.

Brother Frog tried to look very much surprised as he said, “Who would be so mean as to steal from little Jo-nis-gy-ont’s store of hickory nuts? Such a thing would be a shame!” Then he managed to squeeze two big tears from his eyes and let them roll slowly down his fat cheeks.

And Brother Woodchuck said, “Surely no one in the forest would steal from you, little Brother Squirrel! There must be some mistake. Should I see any robber taking your store of nuts, it would go hard with him!”

But little Jo-nis-gy-ont had his own ideas still,--and so did Nuk-da-go, chief of the squirrel tribe, who was listening, unseen.

That night Nuk-da-go came back to the forest to look into the matter. He found little Jo-nis-gy-ont fast asleep; and down beside the rocks, where Brother Woodchuck had his home, he could see the dirt flying fast. Brother Woodchuck was digging for dear life. Nuk-da-go watched, and as soon as the hole was big enough, Brother Woodchuck began filling it with hickory nuts. Then he ran to the hollow tree, and in a few minutes was back with more nuts, which he dropped into the hole and covered carefully from sight.

Then Nuk-da-go went over to the edge of the marsh, where there was a stirring in the thick moss. Nuk-da-go watched. Soon he saw Brother Frog carefully lifting the moss, while he pushed under it a quantity of hickory nuts. Then Brother Frog hopped away in the direction of the hollow tree, and soon he was back, with his cheeks bulging. Then he dropped more hickory nuts, which he pushed carefully under the moss.

“The hickory-nut tree is a half-hour’s journey away,” said the wise Nuk-da-go. “I will look into this matter further.”

The next day Nuk-da-go went about among all the forest people and told them that little Jo-nis-gy-ont’s store of nuts was being robbed. “Shall we call a council?” he asked. “Shall we bring all the forest people together to find out who is the robber?”

And all the forest people said, “Yes, yes.”

That night the council was held, and all the forest people came except Brother Frog and Brother Woodchuck, who begged to be excused.

“No one can be excused from the council,” declared Nuk-da-go, who had been appointed Chief. “Jo-nis-gy-ont, as you are their nearest neighbor, I appoint you to go and bring them.”

Jo-nis-gy-ont hastened back, but when he told his errand, Brother Frog jumped far out into the marsh and pretended not to hear, and Brother Woodchuck slipped into his home under the rocks, out of sight.

But Nuk-da-go would be obeyed, so he went after them himself, and, being Chief of the Council and Chief of the tribe, Brother Frog and Brother Woodchuck had to come out when he called them, and they followed him along to the council, looking very meek and very mean indeed.

Then Nuk-da-go stood up before all the woods people and told them why he had called them together, and what he had seen. And when he had finished telling them about little Jo-nis-gy-ont’s store of nuts, and about the nuts that were under the rocks, and under the moss, the woods people looked at Brother Frog and Brother Woodchuck and they said, “We will go and look into this, too.”

So all the company of woods people went to the hollow tree near the pine and looked at Jo-nis-gy-ont’s poor little pile of nuts. Then they went and uncovered the nuts by the rock, and the nuts that were tucked beneath the moss. Then they looked at Brother Woodchuck and Brother Frog, and asked, “What have you to say?”

But Brother Woodchuck and Brother Frog hadn’t a word to say! They just looked mean, and ashamed.

Then the woods people decided that Nuk-da-go should be the judge. So he told Brother Frog to sit before him, and he said, “I pronounce you guilty of stealing your neighbor’s nuts, and you must be punished. You are fat and lazy. Your food flies past your door, and you have only to put out your tongue and catch it. Your little neighbor has to travel far for his food. You sleep all winter and have no need to store supplies. Jo-nis-gy-ont stays awake, and must eat. So your crime is doubly bad, and this shall be your punishment: Hereafter you shall not be able to eat nuts, for you shall lose all your teeth. Go to your home now, and steal no more.”

Brother Frog hopped away, very sad and very much ashamed, and with the first hop every one of his teeth dropped out,--and the frog tribe have had no teeth from that day to this.

Then Nuk-da-go turned to Brother Woodchuck, and said, “You, too, are found guilty of stealing your neighbor’s nuts, and you shall be punished. Like Brother Frog, you are fat and lazy. You sleep through the winter and need no food, while Jo-nis-gy-ont must work hard for his. Go home. You shall not lose your teeth--for Brother Woodchuck was holding his paws tightly over his mouth and quaking with fear--but from this day on you and your tribe shall live upon leaves and grain and the growing things of the fields and forests, but no more shall you enjoy the taste of flesh, or the sweet meat of nuts.”

Sad and ashamed, Brother Woodchuck turned away when Nuk-da-go finished speaking, for this was a hard punishment indeed.

Then Nuk-da-go turned to little Brother Squirrel and said, “Jo-nis-gy-ont, you should have been more watchful of your store of nuts, and not have slept so soundly when robbers were about. But the woods people are sorry for you, and so I shall give you something that will help you to go quickly from tree to tree, and to hasten home in time of danger.”

Then Nuk-da-go spread a web of skin from the fore legs to the back legs of Jo-nis-gy-ont, to form wings when he leaped, so that he could jump swiftly and far.

From that day to this the tribe of Jo-nis-gy-ont has had wings, and this is the Indians’ account of the first flying squirrel.

WHY BROTHER BEAR WEARS A STUMPY TAIL

(Ojibwa)

IN times long past Brother Bear was a famous fisherman. He had a large stock of patience, and great good nature. He was never in a hurry.

But Brother Bear was honest as he was slow, and always ready to believe what others told him, and so he was often imposed upon by the slyer animals--Brother Fox, for instance.

One day as Brother Fox was walking beside a stream, he saw a group of plump little animals slip into the water and disappear from sight.

“Young otters, I do believe!” cried Brother Fox, smacking his lips. “What a meal they would make!” Then he sat down beside the stream and began to think. He did want those otters so badly! He could not think of anything else that would taste half so good. But how to get them! That was the question.

Presently, while he was thinking, along came Brother Bear shuffling down the path with a load of nuts and honey.

“Good morning, Brother Bear,” said Brother Fox. “I see you have a load of excellent food--excellent for you, I mean. My tribe never eats nuts or honey. But perhaps you would not mind adding a bit of tender meat to your load.”

“Meat? No, indeed,” replied Brother Bear. “But where am I to find it?”

“Why,” said Brother Fox with his craftiest smile, “there are some young otters in this stream. I just saw them slip into the water. It seems to me that they would make very good eating for you and your family.”

Brother Bear smacked his lips. “But how am I to get them?” he asked.

“I am no fisherman, as you well know,” said Brother Fox, “but you are a famous fisherman. Why can you not fish for them?”

Brother Bear thought for a moment. “But I have no bait,” he said.

“That is true,” replied Brother Fox, “but I will tell you what to do. Just go out upon that log that lies near the shore and drop your fine long tail into the water. I feel sure the otters will think your tail good bait, and when one comes to nibble it, you can jerk up your tail and just whip the otter over to the shore. I will guard your game for you until you finish fishing.”

“Very good,” agreed Brother Bear, “I will try that.”

So Brother Bear laid down his load of nuts and honey, made his way to the log, and climbed upon it. Then he let his fine long tail drop down into the water--for this was in times long past, you must remember, when the tails of the bears were long--and then he closed his eyes and sat very still.

Presently he felt a nibble at his tail, and he whipped it up, as Brother Fox had told him. Sure enough, a fine young otter went flying across to the bank where Brother Fox lay waiting behind a bush.

“That was pretty well done!” thought Brother Bear, as he dropped his tail into the water again and waited. Presently he felt another nibble, and another otter went flying across to the bank. And soon it was followed by a fish, and then by another fish.

“What a fine dinner I shall take home to my family,” thought Brother Bear to himself, as he began trying to count the number of times his tail had been nibbled, and he had sent something flying across for Brother Fox to guard.

While he was trying to count, North Wind came along and saw him sitting there with his eyes closed, and his tail hanging down in the water.

“I shall have to play a trick on Brother Bear, I do believe!” chuckled North Wind to himself, and he sent a cold breath over the water, so that it became quite still. Then he sent another breath, and a cold, shining crust formed all across its top. After that he sent another breath, and another, and the cold, shining crust grew thicker and thicker.

Presently Brother Bear stopped trying to count and opened his eyes. “Brother Fox,” he called, “there seems to be no more game in the river. I have not felt a nibble for a long time.”

But Brother Fox was just finishing a nice bone, and he called back earnestly, “Oh, be patient, Brother Bear! I am sure you will catch more game if you wait a little longer.”

So Brother Bear closed his eyes again and sat still for several minutes. Then he called, “Brother Fox, I am sure there is no more game in the river. I am coming ashore now.”

There was no answer from Brother Fox, so Brother Bear moved a little on the log, but it was a very little, for his tail felt heavy as lead. “Why,” he exclaimed, “I must have an enormous fish now, my tail is so heavy!” And with that he gave a great jump, intending to carry the game with him to shore, when, snap! his tail broke right off short, for it was frozen fast in the ice. And that was the trick that North Wind had played.

Brother Bear felt terribly at losing his tail, it had been such a beautiful, long one! But at last he comforted himself by thinking, “Well, at any rate, I have a wonderful feast to carry home to the family: nuts, and honey, and fish, and game.” So he licked his lips, in spite of the loss of his tail.

But when Brother Bear reached the shore, he could not find Brother Fox anywhere! And neither could he find the fish, nor the tender young otters. Instead, he found a heap of fresh bones back of the bush where Brother Fox had been lying. And then he knew that Brother Fox had played a bad trick upon him, too.

He gathered up his load of nuts and honey and went sadly home. And from that day to this Brother Bear has refused to do any more fishing, and has worn a stumpy tail.

THE THUNDER PEOPLE

(Passamaquoddy)

ONCE upon a time a young Indian warrior was hunting with his bow and arrows. He followed far after a fleet deer, until he found himself standing upon a great rock, high above the plains.

The clouds were gathering thickly. The sky was black with clouds. The Indian youth was far away from his lodge.

Again he saw the deer, and he drew his bow. But as he did so the deer was changed into the form of a maiden, standing against the rock.

The youth dropped his bow in wonder. He looked at the maiden. In the distance he heard the voice of the thunder.

“Who are you?” he asked in amazement.

And the maiden answered, “I am the sister of the Thunder Men. Will you come with me and visit our home?” The youth consented, and the maiden struck the great rock against which she had stood.

There was a flash, like a flash of lightning, and the rock opened and made a passage for them.

The maiden led the way, and the youth followed; and when they had passed through the rock, they came into a strange country--to the home of the Thunder Maiden. The floors and walls were of clouds, and the clouds were of every shade, from silver gray to the deepest purple black. They were soft to walk upon, and smooth as the smoothest velvet. And their changing shades were more wonderful than any artist could paint.

The maiden’s robes were of trailing silver, and her hair was black as midnight.

She led the youth to her father, who sat upon a throne formed from the deepest purple clouds. His hair and beard were white like the mists that float across the sky. But his robe was black, with here and there a dash of brilliant gold.

“Welcome, my son,” said the old man. “Have you come to dwell among us?”

The youth looked at the beautiful maiden, and he answered, “Yes, my father.”

So he became one of the Thunder People.

After a time the brothers of the maiden returned home. And when they saw the youth and knew that he had come to dwell among them, they proposed a game of ball.

Now their balls were big and black, and very heavy; and they did not throw them, but rolled them back and forth across the clouds. And the noise was very great.