Chapter III: Part 3

The beaver argued that the better way would be to wait till the chilling blasts should come and then in the night tear away the houses the Indians had built to protect themselves and their little ones from the cold. The storms of winter, the beaver said, would very soon put these smart fellows in a condition that would make them anxious enough to come to some terms advantageous to the animals.

The horse said it would not be right to cause the Indians pain or death. The Indians were not bad neighbors, though perhaps a trifle too apt and smart for the rest of them. For a great many years, said the horse, his ancestors and the red men had been on the best of terms--not so much as a ripple of trouble having disturbed their relations. He could not for a moment think of entering into any plan whereby he would be called upon to help take his brother's life or cause him pain. He had heard that away over beyond the great mountains there was a pleasant country--not as pleasant and fertile as the one in which they now lived, but a fairly good place to live in. He would therefore propose that the animals invite the Indians to go there on a great harvest expedition, and when once the red men were safely over the mountains the animals could steal away in the night and return to their loved homes. The panther scoffed at the horse for advancing what he was pleased to call a silly and senseless plan. The beaver, too, the panther said, was much too leniently inclined. The Indians were to be feared, and if the animals were to retain any of their freedom and independence they must follow the advice of the wolf. Only total extermination of the Indian race could be depended upon to warrant them from further molestation from the red men. What good would it do, forsooth, to lure the red men over the mountains and then run away from them? Did the horse think the Indians sick nurslings or women to lie down on the big plains over the mountains and make no effort to return to their loved streams, lakes and forests? Why, the Indians would come back as quickly as could the horse himself, and then the very ground would be made red with the blood of those who had decoyed them away from homes that had for generations been held in such high reverence by the Indians. He advocated an immediate advance upon the villages and would give quarter to none.

All eyes were turned toward the raccoon as he rose to speak, for his was a very old family and had long been held in high respect by all the inhabitants of the forest. He said he could not exactly side with the panther, for the Indians had never done him any great harm. He was convinced, however, that the country ought to be rid of them, for they were becoming altogether too well skilled in the craft of the woods. Too much power in the hands of one individual, said the raccoon, was apt to make it unpleasant for those with whom he lived. He favored the plan advanced by the beaver. They could lay their plans carefully, and in this manner bring about a treaty that would keep the Indians within proper bounds.

The fox felt sure that the better plan would be for the animals to put themselves under his training. He would teach them how to cheat and steal while pretending friendship. They could then easily strip the red men's fields of the corn that had been planted for the winter. They could take from their moorings on the river banks the boats and fishing nets of bark and float them far away down the stream where they would be lost in the rapids. In this manner they could soon have the Indians at their mercy and bring about a treaty on the plan proposed by the beaver and seconded by the raccoon. The plan, he continued, offered no danger to them, as did the contests proposed by the panther and the wolf; and he thought that mature deliberation would convince all that it was the best one to adopt.

The dog said that not until the present time had he ever realized what it was to be a beast. He felt ashamed to think he had been weak enough to be prevailed upon to attend a council to which their red brothers were not bidden. It was contrary to the custom that had existed since the Great Spirit first sent them to this fair and beautiful country. He expected that they would all be punished for such treachery, and indeed they ought to be. The Indians had as yet treated them only with kindness and respect. Many times in winter, when the snows lay so deep on the ground that no food could be found the Indians had opened their homes to the animals who had not made suitable provision for food, and had fed them and kept them from perishing with hunger. There had never been a time, said the dog, as he looked around the circle of listeners and waited for a denial of his assertion, when any Indian had refused shelter, food or aid to a needy, sick or suffering animal. To be sure the Indians had acquired all the knowledge that the animals possessed, but their doing this had in no manner impoverished the animals. As they had lost nothing by this, he saw no reason why they should be jealous and fault-finding about it. Would it not be far wiser for the animals to profit by the example set by the Indians and teach each other the various traits and characteristics each possessed than to be consumed by jealousy and revenge, and in the heat of passion break a peace that had existed for so many years? He could not, and would not be a party to any of the plans proposed, and if the other animals persisted in following out any of those cruel and treacherous schemes he should consider it his duty to leave the council and go to the village to warn his sleeping brothers of their danger. More than that, he would fight on the side of the red men if it became necessary, and help them defend their lives and homes from the attack of any force that might be brought against them.

When the dog had ceased speaking the wolf and the panther were in a terrible rage. They accused the dog of cowardice, bad faith, bribe-taking, desertion and treachery. They said he had been made foolish and silly by the praise that had been lavished upon him by the Indian maidens. They reviled him and stuck out their tongues at him for being lovesick after the Indian women. They said he had turned nurse for the papooses and hereafter would better stay in the villages of his new-found friends and lie in the sun with the old men. They dared him to go to the village and expose the proceedings of the council, saying that if he attempted it they would set upon and kill him. "For a poor and meagre crust of maize-cake, too hard for the teeth of the red men to crush," said the panther; "you have been bought, and you give up all claim to the rights that have been held sacred by the dogs of all times. We should think that the memory of your forefathers and the long line of noble dogs who have lived before you came on earth to disgrace them would stir you to action for the honor of your race."

"No," said the wolf; "he can remember nothing but the soft caresses of the Indian girls upon his head. I saw him the other day lying at the feet of Garewiis, the daughter of the chief Teganagen, and when he raised his eyes and looked at her she took his head in her arms and laid her cheek against him, all the time stroking his back and singing to him as she will sing to her papooses when they come to her wigwam. Not only has he sold himself to be the friend of the Indians and sit quietly by while we are enslaved, but he is lovesick and his head is turned."

This warm and intemperate language caused much confusion and something of a sensation, though the dog remained calm and dignified. He showed by no outward sign that the uncivil and untruthful charges of the panther and the wolf had even been heard, much less heeded.

The horse instantly sprang into the open place before the fire and hurled at the two false accusers his most powerful eloquence. "I come as a champion of my friend, the dog," he said. "You have insulted and maligned him in a manner that calls for the condemnation of all honorable beasts. He is my brother. Because there is some difference in our tastes and I am his superior in size, it makes him none the less my brother. I love him, for he is gentle, affectionate, trustworthy, noble and brave. You, the panther, and you, the wolf, boast of your bravery; yet which of you dared rush into the burning forests as did my brother, the dog, and lead the blind doe to a place of safety? Which of you dared plunge into the river, made deep and dangerous by the melting snows as winter died and the warm winds came to bury--him when the waters boiled and foamed to the very tops of the high banks and spread out over the plains like a great lake--and from the midst of that angry flood bring safely to the shore a weak and drowning companion who had stumbled and fallen over the bank? I have heretofore loved you all, but henceforth I shall be ashamed to acknowledge the wolf and panther as my brothers. They seem to think that bravery consists in cruel attack and glistening teeth, but I can tell them that it is more surely found in noble deeds. I will follow the dog to the homes of the red men, and together we will fight against the cruel practices you design to put in force."

As the horse ceased speaking the Great Spirit came suddenly to the council-fire and said that the loud voices of the disputants had been borne to his ears by the message-bearers and he had listened in sorrow to all that had been said. He had therefore left the Happy Hunting-Grounds and come to their council. He was grieved that the pleasant relations heretofore existing between the Indians and the animals would now have to be broken and disturbed. When they had been given life the intention was formed that eventually all would dwell together in the Happy Hunting-Grounds. Now he would be compelled to alter his plans. He would change the language of his red children so that the beasts could never talk with them again. He would go to his children in the villages and tell them all that had been said at this clandestine council in the woods. For all time the wolf and panther should be hunted and killed by the Indians. They should be looked upon and warred against as the most dangerous of foes. The bear might be counted as an honorable antagonist, and the red men would be ready to fight him in open battle whenever the opportunity offered. The red men would not disturb or molest him, but if he should come and demand a battle the Indians would not refuse. The beaver and raccoon, on account of the heartless plan they had set forth for the vanquishing of their brethren, should be considered the prey of the Indian and should yield their thick furs to keep his children warm. The fox would be looked upon as a thief. He had proposed to steal the food of the Indians and bring them to want; now he might practice his desire. But the Indians would be warned and would set traps and snares for him. When caught his fur would be used like the fur of the beaver and raccoon. The horse and the dog might still retain their understanding of speech of I the Indians, but as they had been guilty of breaking an ancient treaty by attending a council to which all the parties of the treaty had not been bidden, they must receive some punishment, and would no longer be permitted to speak the Indian language. But they should always be the champions and friends of the red men; they should live in the Indians' homes, be present at the great feasts and festivals, share the products of their hunt, be loved and petted by the maidens and papooses, fight with the Indians when they fought and be partakers and sharers in the victories or defeats. In a word, they should be the companions and brothers of the Indians forever, here and in the Happy Hunting-Grounds.

THE MESSAGE-BEARERS

WHEN the Great Spirit brought the red men from the Happy Hunting-Grounds and left them upon the earth, they were filled with fear lest they could never make him hear their wants and could not reach his ears when they desired to tell him of their joys and sorrows. The sachems went before him and said: "Oh, our Father, how will thy children tell thee of the deeds they have performed that will please thine ear? How will they ask thee to their homes to help them drive away the bad spirits; and how will they invite thee to their feasts and dances? Oh, our Father, thou canst not at all times be awake and watching thy children, and they will not know when thou art sleeping. Thy children do not know the trail to the Happy Hunting-Grounds by which to send their wise men and sachems to talk with thee, for thou hast covered it with thy hands and thy children cannot discover it. How will the words of thy children reach thee, oh, our Father, the Manito; how will what they say come to thine ears?"

Then the Great Spirit created for each one of the red men a second self, to whom he gave a home in the air. He provided these beings with wings and swift feet so they could move very rapidly. To them he imparted the secret of the entrance to his home and made them guides to his children whom he had called on the long journey so that they should not lose the paths leading to their future home. Finally, the Great Spirit told these creatures of the air that they should be message-bearers for his children, and convey their words exactly as spoken from one point to another until they reached the ears of his sachems in the big wigwam by the side of the council-fire that never lost its light. They must be ready at all times to answer the calls of the red men, so that none of their words might be lost. Messages to the loved ones who had left the earth and gone to the Happy Hunting-Grounds must be transmitted with the same watchful care as were those intended for his ears alone. If any of his children spoke idle and untruthful words they, too, must be repeated that their father might know whether they were worthy to be admitted to the grand council-fire.

When he had finished his instructions, the Great Spirit told the sachems that he would return to his home and that they could go with his children to the bank of a beautiful river near which they dwelt, and there talk to him.

Slowly and with a loud voice, the chief sachem began to speak. From the opposite bank of the river the waiting message-bearer caught up the sachem's words as they were spoken and with a strong voice shouted them to another dweller of the air who crouched in the tree-tops far down the river, ready and alert to do the Great Spirit's bidding. On and on, rolling along the ravines and valleys, leaping from hill-top to mountain-side, and from mountain-side to lake, striding over the forests at a bound--fainter and yet fainter, until lost in the blue distance of the plain--the message of thankfulness and love was borne from the lips of the grateful sachem until it reached the ears of the ever listening and loving father, and was told to the chiefs who sat in the light of the council-fire that never grows dim.

THE WISE SACHEM'S GIFT

A LONG time before the white men came, there lived a wise sachem who was known as the Great Peacemaker. His life was full of winters and his mind was stored with the teachings of the wisest sachems that had lived before him. He could remember the time when all the red men dwelt in peace, and before troubles came that drove them to wars and dissensions. All his life was spent in going from one village to another, teaching the doctrine of peace among his people. He told the red men how to help each other when the bad spirits came and disturbed them. If the harvest was poor in one village, he taught other villages that they must take food to their brothers; if any were in want, he said that those who had plenty must relieve them. He settled differences and difficulties by his logic, quelled wars and disturbances by his wise counsels and eloquence, and taught gentleness by his example. Finally, when he had reached an age beyond that of any of the sachems who had lived before him, he called his people together and told them that he must go away on the long journey, but that they need not mourn for him, as he would return in a form that would live forever.

From his grave sprang the tobacco plant, and in honor of his memory was established the custom of smoking the pipe of peace at all peaceful councils.

When the curling smoke ascended around the council-fires the red men saw in its fantastic shapes the form and features of the Great Peacemaker. They opened their ears and he told them that agreements made in his presence were sacred, and if violated would displease the Great Spirit. They bent their heads and the wise sachem placed his hands upon them as a token that he would aid his children in all peaceful pursuits. His presence was never invoked when there were discussions of wars, for he would frown upon his children and frighten them with his terrible countenance.

Many generations lived and died, and all respected the agreements made in the presence of the wise sachem's spirit, for not until years after, when the red men had been taught the meaning of a broken treaty through experience with the whites did they ever violate a treaty that had been ratified by "the pipe of peace."

THE FLYING HEAD

THERE were many evil spirits and terrible monsters that hid in the mountain caves when the sun shone, but came out to vex and plague the red men when storms swept the earth or when there was darkness in the forest. Among them was a flying head which, when it rested upon the ground, was higher than the tallest man. It was covered with a thick coating of hair that shielded it from the stroke of arrows. The face was very dark and angry, filled with great wrinkles and horrid furrows. Long black wings came out of its sides, and when it rushed through the air mournful sounds assailed the ears of the frightened men and women. On its under side were two long, sharp claws, with which it tore its food and attacked its victims.

The Flying Head came oftenest to frighten the women and children. It came at night to the homes of the widows and orphans, and beat its angry wings upon the walls of their houses and uttered fearful cries in an unknown tongue. Then it went away, and in a few days death followed and took one of the little family with him. The maiden to whom the Flying Head appeared never heard the words of a husband's wooing or the prattle of a papoose, for a pestilence came upon her and she soon sickened and died.

One night a widow sat alone in her cabin. From a little fire burning near the door she frequently drew roasted acorns and ate them for her evening meal. She did not see the Flying Head grinning at her from the doorway, for her eyes were deep in the coals and her thoughts upon the scenes of happiness in which she dwelt before her husband and children had gone away to the long home.

The Flying Head stealthily reached forth one of its long claws and snatched some of the coals of fire and thrust them into its mouth for it thought that these were what the woman was eating. With a howl of pain it flew away, and the red men were never afterwards troubled by its visits.

THE ASH TREE

THE ash tree, the leaves and bark of which were the universal specific for the poison of the rattlesnake, had its origin in a warrior whose wife and two children died from the bite of a rattlesnake that had found its way into their wigwam. The brave's grief was so violent that the Great Spirit gave him permission to turn into a tree, the branches of which would make bows and arrows with which his people could kill their deadly enemies; the green leaves placed in a circle around the sleeping warriors would form a barrier through which the reptiles would not crawl; the bruised leaves would act as a poultice to draw the venom from the wound, and from the bark could be brewed a draught that would drive the delirium from the body of the suffering victim.

A form of words was pronounced as the Indians approached the ash tree to draw on its resources for any of the purposes named. They would say: "Oh, my brother, the mighty friend of the Indian, your red brother comes to you for help. He has met the forked-tongue whose bite is like the sting of bad arrows. He knows not where to turn except to his noble brother, whose goodness is known to all the Indians. Help me, my brother, for the sting of the forked-tongue is deep and the eyes of your brother close in sleep if you do not help him. I wound you, my brother, but my fathers have told me of your goodness and of your hatred of the forked-tongue."

THE HUNTER

KANISTAGIA, the hunter, was loved by all the animals with gentle natures. He never pursued them in wantonness, and he took the life of none except in case of stern necessity. To the wild, fierce monsters that inhabited the forests and preyed upon the weak and timid ones, Kanistagia was a constant foe, and so swift was the flight of his arrow, so powerful the blow of his hunting club, so unerring his knowledge of their haunts in the mountains, that they feared him deeply and hid away with low and sullen mutterings when they heard his ringing shout upon the chase.

These were the panther, the wolf, the wildcat, and other strange and vicious animals at war with the red men.

But it was not so with the bear, the beaver, the raccoon, the elk, the red deer, the moose, the fox, the squirrel and the dog. They were the friends of Kanistagia, and when he walked abroad his path was made bright by their greetings, and he often sat a long time in their company and talked with them of curious things found in their haunts. He treated them as friends and neighbors, and when any were sick or wounded he gave them advice about the medicine they should use that they might recover.

Once when the corn was tasseled there came fierce and warlike men from the north, and Kanistagia and his brothers went forth to defend their homes. The Great Spirit gave their arms strength and the fierce men were driven away. But before they went Kanistagia was struck upon the head by the war club of one of the northern men, and when the hunter fell to the ground his victor cut the scalp-lock from his head and bore it away in triumph.

The hunters and warriors did not see Kanistagia fall and mourned him as one who had been taken a prisoner by the fierce men they had fought. They knew he would meet death bravely and go on his way to the Happy Hunting-Grounds with smiles on his lips, and that the wrinkles of a coward would find no place on his face. But his fall did not escape the keen eyes of the fox, who ran to him when the fighting men had disappeared.

"Alas! my benefactor and brother," lamented the fox, "the heavy sleep has closed thine eyes forever. Thy kindly life has been rudely torn from thy body before the death-song could warn thy brethren of thy coming. Woe and sorrow will be many days with thy brothers in the forest if, perchance, none of them know the medicine that shall bring thee from thy sleep."

Then the fox ran to the top of a high hill and began to sing his death lament, that all might know that trouble had come upon him. Through the forest echoed the mournful sounds, and they were caught up and repeated by the listening beasts on hill and in valley until all had heard the tidings and gathered at the place where the body of Kanistagia, their brother, lay. When they had mourned over his fate the bear called the council to silence.

Said the bear: "My brothers, we mourn for a protector with whom we have spent many pleasant seasons. By his wisdom and counsel we have been taught many things that were good for us to know. It is our duty now, if any know a powerful charm that will awaken him, to produce it that we may once more be gladdened by our brother's smiles."

Then each one ran to and fro in the forest, bringing many curious substances to the side of the hunter, but none was of avail. The bear and the fox, with plaintive whines, stretched themselves by his side and gently licked the wounds of their brother, but their efforts brought forth no sign of life. At last they were forced to believe that Kanistagia must surely be lifeless, and a great cry of mourning arose from the hundreds of animals present. This attracted the attention of the long nest (oriole) and he flew to ask its meaning. He was informed by the deer, upon whose horns he alighted, and after asking permission from the bear to invite the birds to the mournful gathering, flew rapidly away on his errand. Soon all the birds in the forest had been told and the sky was darkened by their flight to the scene of Kanistagia's death--so wide was the fame of the hunter that all knew him. Among them was the great eagle of the Iroquois, which seldom approached nearer the earth than the tops of the highest mountains. Slowly he floated over the assembled birds and animals and finally stilled his mighty wings and stood beside the hunter. Then he spoke:

"Kanistagia will wake from his heavy sleep if the sharp eyes of his friends will discover his scalp-lock and their swift feet or tireless wings will bear it to this place before the moon is round."

Forth upon their search ran the animals, the bear and elk alone remaining beside their brother to guard his body from foes. Long and earnestly they sought the trail of the warrior who had slain their friend, but so carefully had he concealed his path that none could follow it. The beaver sought traces of his footsteps in the beds of streams; the dog and the fox thrust their noses under the leaves and deeply drew in their breaths, hoping to find the scent of the murderer's footsteps; the raccoon climbed to the tops of the highest trees and looked in every direction; the red deer ran in great circles, hoping to come suddenly upon the fugitive; the squirrels, and even gentle rabbits, scampered in all directions, looking in vain for traces of the slayer of Kanistagia. But at last all returned, and with heavy hearts told the council that they knew not where to look.

The great eagle of the Iroquois bade the pigeon-hawk make the first flight for the birds, as he was swift of wing. Scarcely had he gone when he returned again, but brought no tidings. The birds murmured that his flight had been so swift that he had not looked carefully, and the eagle sent forth the white heron. But the heron was so slow of wing that the patience of all was exhausted, and soon some small birds came to the council with the news that he had discovered a plain on which wild beans grew in abundance and was now so overladen with feeding on them that he could not rise and fly. Then the crow came forward and said that if he were sent he would pledge himself to discover the hiding place of the murderer. So the crow was sent and at once flew to a village where he had many times been to watch for food. He sailed slowly over the wigwams at a great height and finally his keen eyes spied the coveted treasure. Watching his chance, the crow dashed down and caught the scalp-lock from the pole upon which it hung, and rapidly winged his way back to the council.

But when they attempted to place the scalp-lock upon their brother's head they found that the piece had been dried and would not fit, and they searched long and faithfully for something that would make it pliable. But their search was in vain, and in despair they turned again to the great eagle, who heard their plight and bade them listen to his words:

"The wings of the eagle are never furled. For many thousand moons the dews of heaven have fallen on my back as I rose to great heights above the storm and watched my mate on her nest above the clouds. These waters may have a virtue no earthly fountain can possess."

Then the eagle plucked a feather from his breast and dipped it in the glistening cup of dew that had fallen on his back, and when this was applied to the scalp-lock it at once became as when first removed.

Again the animals ran into the forest, and from every hidden place, from every deep ravine, from tops of hills and mountains, from knoll and from morass, brought leaves and blossoms and roots from the rarest plants and trees. The birds sought the cliffs and precipices where foot could not rest and added to the collection many curious and rare specimens. With these they made a healing medicine, and when they had placed it upon the hunter's head, his eyes were opened and he lived.

Then, indeed, there was rejoicing. The birds beat their wings and sang loud choruses, while the animals ran about in wild delight because their brother had been awakened from his heavy slumber. As the eagle of the Iroquois soared again to his home on the mountain-top, the round moon, whose coming all had so dreaded, rose over the waving branches of the forest and lent its cheerful light to the happy gathering.

HIAWATHA

LISTEN, my children, while the fire burns red and the shadows come and go like mighty giants, and I will tell you the story of Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, the holder of the heavens, who afterwards became a mortal and was called Hiawatha, the wise man.

There came to his ears one day a great cry of distress, and when he looked from the entrance of the Happy Hunting-Grounds he saw a few men and women in the forest moaning with terror, for all their friends had been slain by mighty giants and fierce monsters. So he went quickly to their aid, and taking a little maiden by the hand, bade all follow whither she led. By paths known only to Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, he conducted them to a cave near the mouth of a river,[1] and there he brought them food and bade them sleep.

[1] Oswego River.

When they had remained there many days Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon again took the maiden by the hand and led her toward the rising sun, and the few people who had been saved by his mercy followed gladly in the trail he pointed out. At last they came where the great river[2] they had followed poured over some mighty rocks to the level of another river,[3] and here he told them to build a house in which they might dwell in peace. Many moons they remained there in happiness, and the little children who came to them grew to be strong men and handsome women. Then came Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon and said to them:

[2] Mohawk River.

[3] Hudson River.

"You, my children, must now go forth and become mighty nations; and I will teach you the mysteries of the forests and make your numbers like the leaves that cover the trees when the warm days have come."

Then they followed him toward the setting-sun, and when they had gone some distance he told off certain numbers and families that should make their homes and build a village in that place. These he gave corn, beans, squash, potatoes and tobacco, and also dogs with which to hunt game, and named them Te-ha-wro-gah.[4] From that time they could not understand their brothers, and they dwelt henceforward on the banks of the beautiful river.

[4] Divided speech; the Mohawks.

Then went he with the others towards the sun-setting till at last they halted in a broad valley where were beautiful streams. And he bade some of his followers remain there, and gave the same good gifts he had given their brothers and told them that they should be called Ne-ha-wre-ta-go,[5] for the trees of the forest were of great size where he bade them dwell, and in a short time these had also learned to speak a new tongue.

[5] The Oneidas.

Then Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon led the rest of his people onward toward the sun-setting till they came to a mountain which he called O-nun-da-ga-o-no-ga.[6] There he again commanded some of his people to remain, and he gave into their possession the same gifts he had confided to the care of his other children, and called them Se-uh-no-wah-ah-tah.[7] To these he gave his own language.

[6] Onondaga; on the hills.

[7] Carrying the name; the Onondagas.

Many days journey toward the sunset, near the shores of a lake named Go-yo-gah,[8] he selected a dwelling-place for others of his children and bade them build a village and left them provided with all good things. These he called Sho-nea-na-we-to-wah;[9] and their language was also changed.

[8] Mountain rising from the water; the Cayugas.

[9] People of the great pipe.

Then with those who remained Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon continued toward the sunset until they came to a mountain near the lake called Ga-nun-da-gwa,[10] and here he told them they should dwell. And he gave to them the name Te-ho-ne-noy-hent,[11] and changed their language as he had done that of their brothers and bestowed upon them the same gifts for their food.

[10] Canandaigua; the place chosen for settlement.

[11] Possessing the door; the Senecas.

But there were some who were not content to stay where the holder of the heavens had bidden them to live and who ran away toward the setting-sun many days until they came to a great river which they crossed on a wild grape vine. But when the last ones were crossing, the vine broke and none could ever return.[12]

[12] This refers to the Indians beyond the Mississippi.

Then the holder of the heavens gave his time to the instruction of his children, and to each family he imparted some distinctive skill. To the Senecas he gave the power of swift feet, and they could soon outrun any animal in the forest. The Cayugas became skilled in the use of the canoe, and glided over the waters more rapidly than the skimming birds or darting fish. The Onondagas were instructed in all the laws and wishes of the Great Spirit and had power to speak his mind. The Oneidas became skilful in ways of making weapons, of the building of houses and the weaving of baskets. The Mohawks were taught to shoot their arrows with surer aim than all the others, and could snare the fish from the streams with wondrous skill.

You, my children, must know that Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon, the holder of the heavens, had power to assume any shape, and that he could fly from one place to another, far distant, more rapidly than the great eagle. He taught his people the knowledge of hunting and gardening; he fashioned arrow-heads from the flint and guided the hands of his children until they, too, could make them; he gave instruction in the arts of war, that they might defend themselves; he cleared their streams from obstructions and pointed out the water path[13] from the sun-rising to the sun-setting. He taught them the form of poisonous fruits and plants, giving them to eat of those that were wholesome; he taught them how to kill and dress their game; made the forest free for the tribes to hunt in, and gave them laws and precepts to guide them in the treatment of both the young and the old.

[13] The "water path" was up the Mohawk River to Rome, over a short portage to Wood Creek, thence to Oneida Lake, down the Oswegp River to Seneca River, and thence westward over the chain of lakes in the interior of the State of New York. If the journey was to be to the far west, the Oswego River was taken to Lake Ontario and thence through the chain of great lakes.

Then Ta-ren-ya-wa-gon determined to reside with his children, and he assumed the form of a man and chose as a wife a maiden from the Onondagas. When he had done this he was named Hiawatha. His home was on the shores of a beautiful lake,[14] and to it came many of the red men and their wives and children, that they might learn from the wise Hiawatha how their lives should be guided. To his wigwam came also a daughter, whose beauty was as the flowers, glistening with the dews of night and kissed by the light of the Great Spirit's smiling face. The name of the daughter was Minnehaha.

[14] Cross Lake, Cayuga County, New York. A very romantic and beautiful point on the southern shores of this little body of water is pointed out by the Indians as the site of Hiawatha's home.

Many seasons passed. Under the teachings of Hiawatha the Onondagas became the greatest of all nations. The wise man came in his magic canoe of dazzling whiteness and sat at all their councils, and by his wisdom and moderation the tribe was preserved from strife and became foremost in the arts and knowledge of the forest.

But at last there came an alarm from the north beyond the great lakes, and the story was told with fear at the lodge-fires of a relentless enemy who came to kill and burn. In terror the chiefs told their fears to Hiawatha and he advised them to call a council of all the tribes at a place on the borders of a lake where he had once told them to light a great council-fire, that they might make preparations to meet their foes. Swift runners went to the villages of all the tribes and the chiefs, and warriors assembled at the appointed place. Three days they awaited the coming of Hiawatha, and on the morning of the fourth a mighty shout arose as they saw his mystic canoe gliding over the waters of the lake. In its prow sat the beautiful Minnehaha, while the wise man, her father, occupied a seat at the stern of the boat and with a light paddle directed the course of the mysterious craft. He was met at the edge of the water by the foremost men of the tribes, and greeting them as brothers, each in their own language, he stepped from the canoe and walked a short distance along the shore. Suddenly a rushing noise was heard, as of the coming of an awful storm, and as all eyes turned upwards a great bird was observed coming out of the heavens with the speed of an arrow. Hiawatha and his daughter alone stood unmoved and tranquil. The others fled in terror. The celestial visitor alighted at the feet of Hiawatha. Impelled by some unseen power, Minnehaha knelt at her father's feet. He placed his hands on her head for a moment and then she slowly rose, cast one look into his face, murmured gently, "Farewell, my father!" and took her place between the wings of the Great Spirit's messenger. Instantly the giant bird stretched its wings for flight over the glistening waters of the lake, and circling over the heads of the appalled multitude, swiftly bore its burden of loveliness to the home of the Manito.

Hiawatha sank to the earth and covered his head with the robe of a panther. Three times did the smiling face of the Great Spirit pass across the heavens before the wise man moved or uttered a sound, and his red brothers feared he had gone on the long journey and could not again give them counsel. Finally he rose from his mourning, bathed himself in the lake and asked that the council be called. When all were seated in the place appointed, Hiawatha came before them and said:

"My children, listen to the words of Hiawatha, for they are the last he will speak to you. My heart beats with yours, my children, but I cannot longer remain to make known to you the will of the Great Spirit.

"My children, the voice of strife has brought you from the homes where you have so long dwelt in peace. You tremble for the safety of your wives and little ones; you fear that your happy life will be disturbed. You, the members of many tribes and villages, have one common fear, and you should therefore have one common interest. Singly, no tribe can oppose the hordes of the north that threaten to come like the storms of winter, blasting and killing all in their path. Divided you can make no progress. You must unite as one common band of brothers. You must have one voice, for many tongues make confusion. You must have one fire, one pipe, one war club. If your warriors unite they can defeat any enemy and protect the safety of their homes.

"My children, listen, and Hiawatha will tell the wampum of the Great Spirit."

He made a signal and the fire-keepers advanced to the center of the council-place and united the council-fires in one.[15] Then Hiawatha threw tobacco upon this and said:

[15] See note on this legend.

"Onondaga, you are the people of the hills and are warlike and mighty. Your strength is like that of the great tree whose branches withstand the storm because its roots sink deep into the ground. You shall be the first nation.

"Oneida, you are the people who recline your bodies against the everlasting stone that cannot be moved.[16] You shall be the second nation because you give wise counsel.

[16] Evidently an allusion to Trenton Falls chasm, located within the Oneidas' Country.

"Seneca, you are the people who have habitation at the foot of the great mountain and dwell within the shadows of its crags. You shall be the third nation because you are fleet of foot and are greatly gifted in speech.

"Cayuga, you whose dwelling is in the dark forest and whose home is everywhere because of the swiftness of your canoes, you shall be the fourth nation because of your superior cunning in hunting.

"Mohawk, you are the people who live in the open country and possess much wisdom. You shall be the fifth nation because you understand best the cultivation of corn and beans and the building of cabins.

"Like the fingers on the hand of the warrior, each must lend aid to the other and work in unison. Then foes shall not disturb or subdue you.

"My children, these are the words of the Great Spirit spoken to you by Hiawatha. Let them sink deep into your hearts and be remembered. When the sun comes again I will listen to your decision. I have done."

On the following day the council again assembled and the wise men agreed that Hiawatha had spoken well and that they would follow his teachings. They asked him to be their chief sachem, but he told them he could not as he was going away. Then Hiawatha approached the spot where the celestial bird had rested and gathered a quantity of white plumes that had fallen from its wings. These he gave to the warriors as emblems that they should wear and by which they should be known as members of the Ako-no-shu-ne, who were called the Iroquois.[17] Then Hiawatha said to them:

[17] Succeeding generations wore feathers from the white heron, approaching as nearly as possible the plumage of the celestial bird.

"To you, Oh! my children, remember well the words of Hiawatha. To you, Oh! my friends and brothers, be faithful in aiding each other when danger may come. Recall the words of the Great Spirit which have been given to you for many moons. Do not admit to your councils the people of other tribes, for they will plant among you the seeds of jealousy and trouble and you will become feeble and enslaved.

"Friends and brothers, these are the last words you will hear from the lips of Hiawatha. Choose the wisest maiden[18] in your tribes, who shall be your peacemaker, and to your sachems shall come wisdom to arrange for the reference to her of dissensions that may arise among you. I have spoken, and will now follow the call of the Great Spirit."

[18] See legend "The Peacemaker," and note on same.

At that moment sweet strains of music burst upon the ears of the listening multitude like the gentle voice of summer in the branches of the pine trees; they heard it, but knew not whence it came. The wise man stepped forward, and as he was seated in the mystic canoe the music burst upon the air in tones more beautiful than the red men had ever before heard. But the snow-white canoe did not skim the waters of the lake. Slowly it rose as the choral chant pealed forth, and, following the direction taken by the celestial bird, disappeared among the summer clouds as the melody ceased.

THE PEACEMAKER

KIENUKA, the peace-home, was desolate. The fire of pine knots that for many generations had burned upon its fire-place was dead and sodden. No voice of welcome was heard within its doors. Its hangings of skins and robes were torn and loosened by the winds of all seasons. The broad paths leading from the sun-rising, the sun-setting, the guide star and the summer land, which for many hundred moons by night and by day had been pressed by the feet of the red children of the forest when in trouble, in danger, in need of counsel, or in want, were now choked with briars and thistles. The wolf whelped her young in the couch of the Peacemaker. Birds without song and of black plumage built their nests and muttered hoarse croakings to their nestlings in the roof of the peace-home.

Blood had been shed in Kienuka and the Great Spirit had made the peace-home desolate.

When Hiawatha, the wise man, was speaking the last words to his children, he told them to choose from their tribes a maiden possessing wisdom, who should be their peacemaker. So the red men built a home wherein the peacemaker should dwell, and doors were made at each side so that it mattered not whence came the wayfarer he would find a welcome. Then the maidens of the tribes were brought together at the council-place and to them were submitted the questions in dispute among their brothers. The wise men decided that she who would decide the greatest number most justly should be the Peacemaker Queen and dwell within the fortress they had built. Thus the Queen was chosen, and when the Great Spirit called her to the long home she was mourned by the people of all the tribes, and none entered the peace-home until her successor had been selected.

In this manner came to the peace-home Genetaska, the Seneca maiden, whose wisdom and kindness were known to all, and whose beauty was like that of the full summer. She was the most famous of all the Peacemaker Queens, and the red men said that Minnehaha, the daughter of Hiawatha, came often from the sky on the back of the celestial bird and gave her advice and guidance. Whoever went to the doors of the peace-home disputing came from them again, when they had eaten and rested, with no anger in their hearts, for Genetaska soothed them by her gentle voice. To the sick and wounded she ministered with the greatest medicine herbs; to those heated by passion she told tales of the Great Spirit that taught them moderation. Disputes among the tribes were so adjusted that the hunters or warriors who would come to Kienuka with anger and war in their hearts left its doors as brothers.

One day there came to the peace-home two young chiefs--one from the Oneidas and the other from the Onondagas. Each claimed that his arrow had given the death stroke to a mighty buck they had been trailing in the forest. When they had tried their skill with weapons, agreeing that the most skillful should possess the slain animal, neither could gain advantage over the other. Then said the Onondaga: "I will fight thee, Oneida, and he who lives may carry to his village the mighty buck and the scalp-lock of his enemy."

But the Oneida said: "Thou, Onondaga, must remember the words that have been spoken in thine ears by the old men who listened to the teachings of Hiawatha, that when two hunters of the Five Nations dispute in the paths of the forest they shall not fight, but tell their dispute to the Peacemaker. The Oneida will go with thee to Kienuka."

When they had eaten and rested at the peace-home, the hunters were told that each should take half of the buck back to his village. "For," said the Peacemaker, "the animal is large, and with half each hath enough for his wife and little ones."

"The Oneida is alone in his home," said the chief. "I carry the meat to the old men and to the women who have no sons. The Oneida has seen no maiden he would take to his wigwam till he beheld Genetaska, the Peace Queen."

Then said the Onondaga: "The home of the Onondaga is desolate since the plague robbed it of the loved ones. He is a great chief and has power in his tribe, for he was never defeated on the chase or in the contest. But the Peacemaker has made his heart weak, and he can never be strong again unless she will come to his wigwam."

Then said Genetaska: "Go, thou, my brothers, and think no more of the Peace Queen, who is chosen by the tribes and may not be the wife of any. Seek thou other maidens, who will gladly become wives to you."

But when they were gone there was no longer peace in the heart of Genetaska, for the form of the Oneida was before her eyes.

When the autumn came--when its first tints had touched the forests and merely tinged the dark green with a hazy brown--the Oneida chief came at sun-setting to the peace-home and stood boldly before the Peacemaker. He said:

"The Oneida hath built a wigwam in the summer land where the Five Tribes do not care to go. He hath filled it with robes and supplied it with food and it awaits the coming of Genetaska, the Seneca maiden, who loves the Oneida. The tribes will choose another Peace Queen when thou art gone, and thy heart will no longer be heavy with the burdens of all the red children who come to thee with their troubles. Will not Genetaska go?"

The maiden looked boldly into the face of her lover and answered: "Genetaska will go."

Toward the summer land they left Kienuka, and when they came to the river they glided rapidly along in the Oneida's canoe and were lost to their people forever.

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