Chapter VI: Part II: Traditions and Myths (1)

INTRODUCTORY—INDIAN STORIES

The Indians, when trying to speak English, often use very short sentences with easy words, just as foreigners do. They will repeat a statement in different ways, so that their listeners will be sure to understand; this makes the stories they tell sound very queer sometimes.

The Indians do not like to have any one laugh at them. It is not an easy matter to get them to tell their legends about trees, rocks, or living creatures. They once believed that everything had its manitou, or spirit, which took care of it, but by their contact with the white people they have lost much of their fear of these manitous, and also much of their faith in their power.

The paleface must show himself a very good friend indeed before he is allowed to hear the stories told to native guests or to the children. The white friend may be a hunter, and then his Indian guide will tell in his own way stories connected with objects seen by them in the forest, on the plain, or on the mountain.

Henry R. Schoolcraft, an American geologist, was much among the red men, from eastern New York to the source of the Mississippi, which he discovered. He married the granddaughter of a chief. He was allowed to hear the ancient legends, and published them in prose form in 1830.

Henry W. Longfellow read them with so much interest that he told them again in his beautiful poem of Hiawatha, weaving into the story the bride Minnehaha of whom the Indians have no legend.

The Ojibways, or Chippewas, tell stories of a hero called by them Menabozho. He is called the Foolish or Sly One; he is always playing tricks, for which he is usually punished. Many of these Chippewa stories which they are telling of him even now are woven into the poem of Hiawatha, as the poet thought that Iroquois name more musical than Menabozho, and, like many others, supposed the Iroquois and the Chippewas to be the same people.

As they have no written language, their legends may change a little; the same story may be told in different ways, and the words they use may have various forms.

I. IAGOO, THE GREAT STORY-TELLER

(Algonquin)

The white man laughs much. The Indian is wise. He can see a joke, but he does not laugh as much as the white man. The papoose and the squaw may laugh. The brave must not let his face show what he feels. It is not wise.

The white man has stories to tell his children, and his children laugh. The Indian tells the stories of Iagoo to his children. The teepee is shut, for it is winter, and you cannot hear the papoose laugh.

The white man when he tells a story which is not true says, “Once on a time.” The Indian says, “My grandfather told me.” The papooses know when the story is true. An Indian teaches his children to tell the truth; his children are wise; they speak the truth to their tribe.

Lame Buffalo could tell good stories. His children were happy, and they laughed often in their father’s teepee. There was a fire of sticks in the middle of the teepee, but the smoke was not bad; it went out of the teepee by the top of the poles.

Lame Buffalo sat with his wife White Deer and their children around the fire in the teepee. The oldest boy asked for a story.

Lame Buffalo told this story of Iagoo:

“In the days of my grandfather, Iagoo used to come often to the lodges of our tribe.

“Iagoo was tall. He was straight as a pine that stands alone on the hilltop. He was always hungry. He would come to a lodge of our tribe, my grandfather said, and would look at the duck the squaw was roasting. He would tell her no squaw could make such a fire as she could. No one could bake in the ashes as she could. When the duck was done, the squaw would put it on a stone by Iagoo. She and her papooses had no duck. They were hungry, but Iagoo did not go away hungry.

“The braves were always glad to see Iagoo, for his stories were never the same. He saw things no other Indian ever saw. He knew more than any other brave ever knew; he said so himself. He never went into battle, for he had much to keep him away; yet he wore eagle feathers in his scalp lock. He told great stories of battles, but no one ever saw him when he was fighting. It is not wise to look around in battle.”

“Iagoo told my grandfather this story of the mosquitoes that lived on the marsh. His tribe had their teepees by this marsh.

“Iagoo said that he heard one day a great roaring. It was like ten bears, but he was the only brave who dared to go out to see what the roaring was. He saw mosquitoes flying in the tamarack trees in the swamp, but he could not tell the trees from the mosquitoes, they were both so big.

“He killed three mosquitoes with his war club. He shot them first with his arrows. Iagoo tore off the left wing of one, and he made a sail for his birch-bark canoe from that wing.

“He called to his wife. His wife heard, for his voice and his war club drove away the mosquitoes. His wife came out to see the battle, but they were gone. She tore off the bill of one of the slain mosquitoes and used it to dig with, and she used it twelve moons.”

“Ugh! It is good,” said the oldest boy.

“Another time Iagoo was on a trail. The trail was a creek with no water. It went through the land of the river where the buffaloes feed when it is wet.

“The trail was wide and full of sand. The dry grass was on the side of it. Iagoo saw on the sand of the trail a new animal. It was far from him, but it was large. He could see it. It was long as a wildcat, but it had no hair like the wildcat. It had two horns like the buffalo. It had many legs, and its eyes were like fire.

“Iagoo took his war club with his two hands. He walked like a brave in battle. He ran on the trail to kill the strange beast. He raised his war club to strike it, but it was nothing but a big ant dragging a rabbit to its hole in the trail. Iagoo sat down in the sand and laughed, while the ant pulled the rabbit into the ant-hole. The rabbit was killed by the ant. Iagoo said so, and he knew it. The ant killed the rabbit with its horns.”

“Ugh! ugh! ugh!” said the boys around the fire.

White Deer laughed, and her daughters laughed.

“Tell another,” said the boys.

“My grandfather said that Iagoo told of the willow trees. Iagoo went to the willow trees to take some of the little creeping-cats from them. They are the flowers that come when the snow has melted.

“The willow trees looked small to Iagoo. He broke off a branch and went to get one on the other side of the tree. He made a heavy trail around the tree to mark the bush. The sun was over his head when he began to make the trail. He walked around that one willow bush, and the sun was going down in the lake when he was done. It was a long trail. No one but Iagoo ever saw such a willow bush.”

White Deer laughed. She had gathered many willows for weaving.

The oldest boy looked at his brothers. They were laughing too. He did not laugh, but said “Ugh!” like a great chief.

Lame Buffalo looked at the fire. White Deer put on more sticks and blew the fire with her breath; when it began to blaze Lame Buffalo went on with more stories of Iagoo.

“My grandfather said that Iagoo went in the cold moon of winter to the south. He went alone in his canoe. His tribe was in the far north, in the fur country. Iagoo liked to fish. His wife could hunt for the fur skins, for it is cold in the far north.

“Iagoo let his canoe drift like a leaf as he fished. It drifted near the shore of the river, then Iagoo stepped out on the shore. It sank under his feet. As the water came over where he stepped, he saw that he had not stepped on land. He had stepped on a thick lily leaf.

“Iagoo jumped back into his canoe. He broke the stem of the lily leaf with his fishing spear and put the great leaf in his canoe. It covered him and the canoe. He dried the leaf and rolled it in a pack. He went back to the far north when he had fished all he wanted to, and he gave the leaf to his squaw. She was glad. It was like a wide buffalo skin; she made dresses for herself and her daughters out of it. No other squaws had such fine dresses.”

White Deer smiled, and the little girls laughed. They knew the pond-lily leaves were small in the lakes; they could not be so wide in a river.

“It is a story for squaws,” said the oldest boy.

“We will go to sleep,” said Lame Buffalo, his father.

The next night Lame Buffalo told this story of Iagoo for the boys:

“A white man gave Iagoo a gun, so my grandfather said. He could shoot better than any white man.

“Iagoo went hunting. It was the time for ducks. He went in his canoe, and he hid in the rice by the ducks. The ducks flew up and made the sun dark. He lay on his back and shot straight into the flock of ducks. A swan fell dead into his canoe. Its head was shot off; the ducks fell around his canoe like hail in a hailstorm; the water was black with the ducks he shot. He piled them up like a great teepee on the shore. He shot them all with one gunshot.

“The shot from his gun fell back into the lake; it struck two loons and killed them. The shot fell through the loons and killed a muskalonge; this is the great fish that lives in the lakes. No one else ever fired such a shot as did Iagoo. He told this to my grandfather.”

“It is good,” said the boys.

“Tell another,” said White Deer.

“Iagoo went hunting in the Hunting Moon. He killed a great deer and threw it on his back. It was heavy, but he must have food in his teepee.

“He sat down on a stump to rest. He was very still, and he saw the great elks go by him on their trail to the far north. It was like a great tribe going north. The trail they made was deep, and they did not see nor smell Iagoo.

“The first elk had horns like a great tree. He was very big; Iagoo wanted him; Iagoo ran swifter than all the elks; he came to the leader; he shot the leader of the elks; he fell like a tree in the forest; Iagoo lifted the elk to throw him over his shoulder; the elk horns struck the deer horns. Iagoo knew then that he had carried a big deer all day. Iagoo was not tired. He hung the deer in a tree and carried the elk home. No other brave in his tribe had ever brought home an elk with such horns. Iagoo said so to my grandfather.”

Lame Buffalo stopped.

There are more stories of Iagoo, the great story-teller, but Lame Buffalo did not tell any more.

II. HOW CLAY DISHES WERE FIRST MADE

The Indians in the west tell this story:

A squaw left her two boys to care for her papoose while she worked. She was hidden in the wickiup, or tent, and did not see what the boys were doing until the papoose began to cry.

The squaw found them all down by the river. They could not stir, for their feet were stuck fast in the wet clay of the river bank. She got her three children back to the wickiup. They laughed at their footprints in the clay, for they had left deep holes everywhere.

The band of Indians left their camp before the sun was over their heads. The squaw, with her papoose and her boys, was soon far away from the river bank; but during the hot summer, which was soon upon them, the same band returned to the river they had left.

The two little Indian boys went down to the clay bank where they had stuck fast. No rain had fallen since they had been there, and they found their footprints in the clay. These had dried until the mud was like stone.

The squaw came and looked at the holes. She took some clay in her hands and wet it in the river, then she shaped it like the hollow stone she used for cooking. She dried the clay in the sun, and it was soon hard.

An old chief saw the clay dishes and told the other squaws to make them, but the clay dishes would not hold water and broke very easily.

A squaw put some ashes and fire in her dish one day. She wanted to save the fire, for it was hard to get. The hot coals baked the dish, and it would not break. It held water; then the Indians knew how to make their clay dishes in the right way.

III. LEAPING ROCK IN THE PIPESTONE VALLEY

Near the Falls of Winniwissi is a great rock; it is as tall as two braves. The water manitous have cut the sides of this rock; it is smooth on the top; it is smooth on the sides; it is like a piece of ice in the Big Sea Water.

It is small on the top. A brave, if he lay down on it and put out his hands, would put his hands on nothing. It is small; it is a high rock.

When they gathered in the Pipestone Valley the chiefs stood by this rock. It is in the Valley of Peace. The young braves stood by this rock. The chiefs tried the young braves here, for this was Leaping Rock. It stood above all the other rocks.

The chiefs called the young braves of their tribes. The young braves came. The chiefs said: “Leap from this trail in the valley to the top of Leaping Rock. Then you are brave; then you are strong.”

It was a leap as high as two braves are long. It was a leap like an arrow shot into the sky; like an arrow which falls and breaks on the rocks the young braves fell sometimes.

Sometimes the young brave was strong; he would stand on the slippery rock like an eagle resting on the mountain. It was well. He was then a great brave. The chief of his tribe gave him the feather of an eagle to wear, for only a strong brave may wear a feather in his scalp lock.

A Dakota maiden had two lovers. She told them to go to Leaping Rock. They went; one came back. The other the chiefs buried where he fell as he slid from Leaping Rock. The maiden took the one who came back; but she was missed one day, and they found her at the foot of Leaping Rock with eagle feathers for the Pawnee’s grave.

“He was brave but no one mourns for him. He shall have two eagle feathers,” she said.

“It is right,” said the Dakotas.

IV. THE FACE OF THE GREAT MANITOU IN THE ROCK

The great stone pipes of all tribes of Indians are made in the Valley of Peace. The Valley of Peace has high walls of rock. This rock is soft when it is first cut; it is red and white.

No Indian may harm any one in this valley. Enemies must not know war here. Dakotas, Chippewas, Pawnees, tribes of the south and tribes of the north buried their tomahawks when they met in the Valley of Peace. This is true; the tribes gathered here to make their calumets. The calumet is the pipe of peace.

The Falls of the Winniwissi are in the Pipestone Valley. The music of the falling water is like the song of peace.

Near the Falls of Winniwissi is a high rock. When the braves come to the Valley of Peace they see a great face in this rock. They see it when far away on the long trail. It is the face of the Great Manitou. It is the face of the Great Spirit.

All the tribes believe that the water spirits cut this face on the rock. It is Wahkan. It is sacred.

The Dakotas believe that Toonkan, the oldest of all the gods, lives in stone. Stone was made first. Toonkan lived first. He lives in every rock. He loves best the great rocks. They are his home. The Indians worship the face in the rock. It is Toonkan watching them. He will bring them back alive from battle. He will help them in the fight with the bear.

The Indians lift their pipes and let the smoke blow toward the Great Stone Face. They sing songs to him; he helps the tribes.

There is another Great Spirit who lives in the sun. These two Great Spirits know each other.

The Dakota prays to the sun. One of his prayers is this:

“Wahkan Ate! onshemada!” (“Sacred Spirit, Father! have mercy on me.”)

The Chippewas fear their manitous. They are careful not to offend them; there are many little manitous; there are many manitous that try to do harm. The good manitous are wiser than the bad manitous. The Indian must not forget to pray to the Great Manitou. He must not forget the little manitous.

V. HOW TWO SQUAWS SAVED THEIR BAND

(Kickapoo)

The Indian has a great pride in and love for his band and nation. There is a story of two captive squaws who were promised life and freedom if they would lead their captors to the place where the squaws’ own people were hidden.

The squaws told their captors to bring many canoes; then, acting as guides, leaped into the front canoe, calling on their captors to follow them. The long line of boats swept quickly down the stream. Every one was merry but the two squaws; their faces showed the sorrow in their hearts.

The river grew narrower, and the current grew swifter. The warriors called to the squaws to know if they were going the right way.

“This is the shortest way to our wigwams. Make ready your arrows. You will see the smoke of our campfires. We will lead the band who will kill our braves.”

The squaws stood up in their canoe. They threw their paddles far out into the white water of the rapids. They gave the war whoop of their people.

The warriors saw the canoe which held the two captive squaws stand still. It was caught for one minute by a rock, then it leaped forward like a great fish and was out of sight. There was no hope for any of the canoes. Down, over the falls they went, one by one. The squaws had led their captors by the shortest way, but it was the way of death to each one.

The braves they were seeking were hidden in a cave at the foot of the waterfall. The broken canoes, scattered garments, arrows, and bodies told the story of their rescue by the brave squaws. Now the squaws of their band sing in the great war dance and chant of the bravery of women.

VI. THE ORIGIN OF THE CRANE TRIBE OF THE OJIBWAY OR CHIPPEWA INDIANS

(Tribe Story)

The Great Spirit sent two cranes from the world above the sky. They came through an opening between the clouds and tried to find a place upon the earth. The Great Spirit told them when they were suited with some spot to fold their wings closely to their sides and wait; a change would come over them.

The pair of cranes flew down to the earth and began to search for a home. They went to the prairies and tasted the buffalo meat. It was good, but there were many days when no buffalo was in sight. They feared that the food would not last, and the two cranes flew to a great forest.

In the forest they tasted of the flesh of the elk, the deer, and many other animals. It was good meat, but it was hard work to hunt, and many days there were neither elk nor deer in sight.

Then the two cranes flew to the Great Lakes. They tasted of many kinds of fish. They came to the rapids in the outlet of the lake white men call Lake Superior. Many fish were in this outlet; every day the fish seemed more plentiful than the day before.

“We will find food here forever. We will make our home here,” said the two cranes.

They flew away from fishing in the waters. The two cranes stood on a little hill near the rapids and folded their wings closely to their sides. The Great Spirit saw their faith, and they were changed into a man and a woman. Among the Ojibways there is a tribe called the Cranes, who believe they are the children of these two cranes sent by the Great Spirit to the earth.

VII. STORY OF THE FIRST MAN AND WOMAN

(Chippewa)

The Great Manitou had his home in the Land of Peace. Before he became a man and his face was cut in the stone, he was a great bird and his nest was in the pipestone rocks.

He fed on the wild buffaloes that lived on the prairies. He could carry two buffaloes in his claws; he always ate them near his nest; this is why the rocks are red.

The tracks of the manitou bird can be seen near the Land of Peace. The Indians know where to find these tracks and will show them to the white man.

The Great Serpent is older than mankind. He was alive before the first man was made. He found the nest of the manitou bird; there was one egg in the nest. The manitou heard the egg move. He was miles away, but he flew with a great rock in his claws and killed the serpent. The rock broke open the egg, and out of it came a grown man, but the rock lay upon his feet and he could not walk. He had to stand in one place, for the manitou bird would not set him free until he knew many things.

The man learned how to hunt the buffalo, for he could see many miles. He learned how to tan and use the buffalo skin; he learned the language of birds; they would come when he would call their names; he learned how to make and use the bow and arrow.

The manitou bird covered the man with a great buffalo skin, but his head was not covered, for he had much black hair. The first man was slow to learn and he stood many moons in his place in the pipestone rocks; nothing came to hurt him.

When he had learned much, he woke one morning and found a woman standing beside him. The manitou bird pulled away the stone from the feet of the man. He shook his wings and the man and woman ran to the prairie.

These two were the first of all people. They were Indians. All mankind know they were the first to live on the earth.

VIII. GIANTS AND FAIRIES

The Indians in the forest have many stories of giants. The red men are very proud of their own people, who can lift the greatest weight, run the fastest races, or suffer the most pain without making a sound. You see the Indian is not so very different in some ways from the white man.

Kwasind, among the Chippewas, was a strong weedigo, or giant. He it was that threw the rock into the Sault Ste. Marie. He could not be hurt except in one place; that was in the back of his head. Kwasind was foolish enough to tell this to one of the little water people. He told a little nibanabas that if the little people of the forest, the pukwudjinnies, could hit him with cones from the pine trees, he would die. But he knew he was very tall, and the pukwudjinnies were no larger than a little papoose.

The little people of the forest soon heard the secret. They left the shores of the swift river and went to look for pine cones. They found them and brought many back. They hid by the river until Kwasind came in his great canoe asleep; the nibanabas had sung him to sleep. The little people threw their cones into the canoe and hit Kwasind on the back of his head. The wicked giant never hurt any one again.

There was another giant who lived near Narragansett Bay. His wife grew angry with him and went across the bay to live alone. If a fisherman drifted near her wigwam by the shore, she always turned him into a great rock. A terrible storm came from the sea and washed away these rocks and her wigwam; after that the fishermen were not afraid.

Adapted from Schoolcraft.

IX. WEENK THE SLEEP-BRINGER AND HIS WARRIORS

(Ojibway)

Weenk is the sandman of the Ojibway or Chippewa children. He comes every night and brings so many tiny warriors with him that each eyelid is conquered and closed till morning.

The Ojibway mother puts her papoose to sleep in a tiny hammock made of bark, fastened with sinew thongs and lined with soft, dry moss. She sings strange slumber songs to the wee one, and the older children stand by her in the summer evenings and whisper little stories of Weenk and his warriors.

“Weenk is a bee as big as a buffalo,” they say. “He has bees’ wings instead of hair. The wings sing and sing. They buzz and buzz. He is always sleepy. He brings sleep to children. The little one must go to sleep; Weenk has come.

“Weenk is a good man. He brings many little manitous to help him, and they go everywhere. There is one on the papoose’s eyelid now. They are dancing in the little one’s hair. Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

“Here is a war club one of the little manitous has lost,” a sister will say as she picks up a tiny hair.

“Here is a feather from a scalp lock,” says another, as she holds up a fiber from some feather. So the fun goes on until finally the little papoose is asleep.

“We will fight Weenk,” say the children, and then there is a battling of empty hands in the air, while they sing “Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

“Wewahsta has lighted her lamp,” says the squaw mother as she sees the evening star. Then the children know it is time for them to lie down to sleep, and soon the wigwam is still.

The story of buzzing Weenk and his band is fresh every evening, for they always tell new stories of what the little warriors can do. Sometimes they come on the fireflies, and sometimes the mosquitoes and busy gnats bring them. Indian children are much like their white brothers and sisters and find sport in many things.

X. THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SENECAS

(Iroquois)

Two Indians from the Seneca Reservation went hunting; they went on a long trail, but at last found a place where the deer come to eat the salt that is in the sand; it is called a “salt lick.” The Indians waited in the trees until many deer came; they shot at the deer, which fell like wild ducks when the rice is ripe.

The Indians had to throw away much meat in order to save the skins for leather. There was more meat than the wolves could eat, but the hunters shot many deer every day, until no more came.

The hunters went on carrying great rolls of deerskin, which were very heavy. They were hungry, but found nothing but acorns to eat. They became very weak and said: “Our wigwams will see us no more. We shall starve, and the deerskins will never be used.”

They sat by a great rock. One of the hunters hit the rock with a stick, and a little man appeared.

The little one said: “You are starving because you killed and did not eat. You fed the wolves; now the wolves will feed on you. We have driven the deer to another forest, where they may live and be found by other hunters. You were selfish. You wanted all the deerskins in the forest. You were not wise.”

“What shall we do to get food?” said the hunters.

“You may have meat if you will give up all the deerskins. My people have said it,” said the little one.

“We must have the skins, and we must have food. Ask your chief to let us have the skins for our wigwams. We will be wise when we see the deer again at the salt licks,” said the older hunter.

“I will go to my chief. Hit on this rock again when you want me,” said the little one.

The Indians rapped on the rock again when the sun was setting. The little one came and led the way to a great cave filled with food and furs. They ate and slept. At midnight they were awakened by many of the little people, who said that the hunters might take their packs of skins and all the food they wished from the cave if they would never again shoot the deer to feed the wolves. The hunters promised and soon were in a strange, sound sleep. When they awoke they were near their homes.

Adapted from Powell’s Report.

XI. THE HUNTER WHO COULD FLY

(Iroquois)

An Indian had been out hunting all day. His arrows had never come back; they brought him nothing; he was tired and hungry; he had no more arrows. Just then he came to a lake on which many wild geese were swimming, and he wanted some meat. He would have it.

He saw some young saplings growing at the foot of a basswood tree. He tore off long strips of bark from these and then dived into the lake under the geese where he saw hundreds of their feet. He tied many of their feet together, and then fastened them to his belt.

The geese began to scream, and the flock rose from the water. He had tied six geese to his belt; they were strong, and the geese lifted the hunter out of the water and flew with him to the flock.

He cut three geese loose; the other three broke the strings which tied them. The Indian dropped down, down, into a tall hollow stump. He was hungry, but he went to sleep.

After two days he heard squaws trying to cut down the stump; they ran away when he called to them. The Indian men came and found him; they got him out and gave him food.

The Indians gave him arrows, and he made himself a new bow; these he took and went on a long hunt. He came to a place where there were many deer, and he had much meat and many deerskins. The hunter remembered how the geese had carried him in the air. He made wings of the deerskins; he learned how to fly with the wings, for the birds taught him.

The hunter was very far from his tribe. It was a long trail to his village. He said to the birds that he would fly to his tribe, and he did. When it was night he slept in the trees; when it was day the hunter flew until he was hungry, then he stopped and found something to eat.

He reached his village; his tribe saw him and thought a spirit had come. They called a great council, and the hunter told his story; then he burned his wings. No other Indian was ever seen to fly in the air.

XII. HOW THE BEAR LOST HIS TAIL

(Iroquois)

An old fox saw an Indian with a sled-load of fish. The fox wanted a fish, but was afraid of the man. How could he get a fish without letting the Indian know? At last he thought of a plan. He laid himself down by the sled-road and made the Indian believe that he was dead.

The Indian wanted the fox’s skin, but did not have time to take it. He threw the old fox on the sled with the fish and pulled the big load towards his wigwam.

While the Indian was hard at work pulling, the old fox pushed off two or three good fish and rolled off himself. In a minute he was out of sight with the fish.

The fox met a wolf who asked him, “Where did you get the fish?”

The fox did not like the wolf, but told him the trick he had played on the Indian.

“It is easy. Go and do it,” said the fox.

The stupid wolf ran away, and after seeing the Indian, lay down and waited as the fox had told him. The Indian found him, but he was not to be fooled twice by the same trick. He pounded the old wolf with the stout stick he used for a cane. The wolf jumped up very sore and ran away to find the fox. He did not find him.

A bear saw the fox eating the fish while the wolf was gone.

“Where did your fish come from?” asked the bear.

“Follow that road down to the river and you will find a fishing place. Put that long bushy tail of yours into the water. Wait until the fish bite it, then snatch them out.”

The bear ran down to the river and did just as the fox had told him, but the fishing place froze over while the bear waited for the fish to bite. The bear did not know this, for his back was turned to the water. It was a very cold day, and the bear thought he would walk and get warm. He tried to get up, and his tail broke off short in the ice.

The bear ran so fast that he found the fox, and he wanted to fight him.

“I have done nothing,” said the fox. “It is all because you are so slow.”

The bear never had a long tail after that time. The fox never lost his fine one.

Kaanerwah, Iroquois Chief.

XIII. THE BLUE HERON AND THE WOLF

(Algonquin)

A big blue heron was standing in a marsh near a river. Two weasels wanted to cross the river. The weasels talked with each other.

“That is a beautiful bird,” said the mother weasel, “see how high he carries his head.”

“He is as tall as a tree,” said the little weasel. “If I were as tall as he, I would carry you across this little river.”

The big blue heron was pleased, for he liked to be called tall. He was proud and could carry his head very high, but he stooped and spoke to the two weasels.

“I cannot carry you over this little river, but I will help you. You must follow me to the end of the old tree that lies almost across the river; then I will lie down and stick my bill in the bank, and you walk on my legs and body for a bridge.”

The weasels followed the blue heron, and when he lay down they ran across over his body to the river bank. They were very light and quick. They did not wet their feet.

An old wolf was watching them all. He wanted to cross the river, and when the blue heron came back the wolf asked him to do the same thing that he had done for the weasels.

“I have always wondered what use you were in the world. Now I see that you and your family would make good bridges. Your long neck is very thin, but it might hold if one were as quick as a weasel. Come, my friend, help a poor wolf that is hungry and in trouble.”

The blue heron was too proud to be used as a bridge for every one. The wolf saw that he had not asked in the right way, so he began again.

“You must be a very stout bird. Your feathers are very fine, but they cover a stout body. My grandfather has said that two herons can carry a load of fish, but you could carry such a load alone.”

The heron looked at the wolf and told him to get up on his back.

“I will carry you,” said the heron.

The wolf showed all his teeth in a grin as he got on the heron’s back. The heron waded to the middle of the stream and said:

“I am only half as strong as two herons, so I can carry you only halfway. You must wait here until you find another heron as foolish as I am, to carry you the rest of the way.”

The heron flapped his wings and flew back to his place in the marsh. The wolf could not wait to find another foolish heron, but went straight to the bottom of the river.

XIV. THE LITTLE WOLF BROTHER

A wigwam stood alone by a great forest. There were five people in it for a long time; these were the father, mother, one daughter, and two sons. Before the winter was over only the children were left, for the old warrior and his squaw had gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds. The girl and the oldest boy promised faithfully to care for their little brother, who was weak and suffered often from sickness.

For twelve moons the older boy hunted and fished and brought food to the wigwam; then he told his sister that he must go with some braves he had seen in the forest, and be a great warrior like his father.

“But you promised to stay until the little one was grown tall. You promised our father and our mother.”

“It is a squaw’s work to care for the children; you can do it. I am brave; I must fight,” said the oldest brother.

“You are not brave, and you have not a straight tongue. It is not well to do as you are doing. When you go on the warpath you will lose your arrows, and your scalp will hang to the belt of your enemy. Come back,” said the sister.

The boy ran from his sister’s call into the grove of great trees. He jumped on his pony and rode away to the band of warriors he had seen.

The sister and the little brother lived together in the wigwam until the wild geese had come and gone three times from the lake in the forest. They saw no one but the wild deer and the other animals. They planted their corn and tried to be happy; but the girl grew very lonely, and one day when she saw another wigwam across the lake she felt like the young wolf they had tied to a tree near the wigwam.

“Come, let us go and see who is across the lake,” she said to the little one.

“I cannot walk so far; you have not made me new moccasins. I am hungry; give me more meat,” was his answer.

“You shall have much meat,” said the girl, but she was very angry. She killed the pet wolf when the boy did not see, and made a great kettle of soup from its flesh and the water in the lake. She put her own moccasins and her new suit on the buffalo robe which was their bed, and while the little brother was playing at hunting she ran away to the wigwam they had seen.

“You are welcome,” said the old squaw who came out to meet her. “Where are your people?”

“They are all dead,” said the girl.

The squaw gave her a good supper and said, “You may live with me.”

The little brother cried when he could not find his sister, and went to look for his pet wolf. He called to it in the wolf language but got no answer. The little one ate his soup, and putting on his sister’s moccasins lay down on the buffalo robe and went to sleep. He hunted all day after he awoke in the morning, but could not find his sister.

“I will ask the wolves,” he said, as he heard a pack growling in the forest.

He called to them in the wolf language and asked if they had seen his sister or his little pet wolf.

“We found a wolf’s head near your wigwam, and we smelled the tracks of some one that went around the lake,” said the leader wolf.

“My brother has gone, my sister has gone, my little wolf has gone; I shall starve and freeze,” said the boy.

“Come with us,” said the leader wolf; “come and be one of us.”

The boy ran after the pack, and as he ran he began to chant:

I am changing into a wolf.
The wolves are better than my brother;
The wolves are better than my sister.
I am changing into a wolf.

He ran very slowly; the wolves began to howl as if some strange creature were near, and the boy saw his own brother in a tree over his head. The older brother begged the wolves to go away. The little one was now a wolf, and he called to the pack to follow him, for he had found the track of a deer.

The brother knew his voice and said, “Let me die, for my brother that I deserted has become a wolf.” He fell from the tree, but the wolves did not eat him, for his little wolf brother told them who the man was.

“Let him live. He is not good enough for wolves to eat,” said the leader; but to the brother who had done wrong life was worse than being torn by wolves. The band of warriors deserted him in the forest, and he never went on the warpath again.

Adapted from Schoolcraft.

XV. THE GOOD BEAR AND THE LOST BOY

(Iroquois)

A boy went out to hunt and crawled into a great hole where porcupines lived. He wanted to get some of the young ones. The dirt fell into the hole behind him and shut him in with the porcupines.

The boy cried himself to sleep, for he knew his father could not find him. When he awoke he saw the mother porcupine as big as a squaw. She gave him some food, but he could not eat. The food was bitter.

The porcupine squaw said, “I will call a council, for I do not know what to feed you.”

The council was held in the woods close by. Wolves, bears, foxes, and deer came. The mother sent her young porcupines to call these animals to the council. The boy was glad he had not hurt any one in the porcupine’s cave.

The mother porcupine stood in the council and said: “I have found this creature in the house I have made for my little ones. He is hungry, but he cannot eat what my children eat. Tell me what to give him so that he may live.”

A great gray fox rose then and answered: “I live on geese and the birds of the forest. He is the child of the red man. The red man has fire and clay. He cooks his food; I do not.”

The council decided that the fox should not take the boy.

A wolf stood in the council: “I have many cubs in my den. They are always hungry. I am always hungry. It is better for the boy never to see the place where I sleep.”

And the council agreed that the wolf mother should not take the boy.

The deer did not stand. His head was covered with tall antlers. He sat and looked with kind eyes at the man-child. He said: “I have hidden my family in the thick bushes. They are safe while I am in this council. We feed on wild grass and the tender leaves of the trees. We love one another, but there are many who hunt us. The child could never run as we run. Our eyes see much. We see, we hear, and we run. The child has two feet; we have four. He could not follow us.”

The council said that the deer should not take the boy.

The bear rose on his hind legs and said: “I feed on nuts. My little ones are warm and not hungry. I will take the boy.”

The council said that the bear was wise. The boy should go with him, and all the other animals would help to gather the nuts for his feeding. The council fire was put out, and each one went home. The boy followed the bear to a hole in a great tree. The mother bear and the cubs welcomed him, and the boy was happy.

He learned to talk as the bears talk and to walk like them. Nothing hurt him, and he was never hungry. Some Indians saw the father bear one day and chased him. Then they found the mother and her cubs, and all were killed.

The boy hid in the hollow tree. The Indians found him and took him away. He was very wild and did not love his people, for they had killed the bears.

The Indian boy was kept in the wigwam. He learned the ways of his people again, but never did he shoot or trap a bear.

XVI. LEGEND OF NIAGARA FALLS

(Seneca)

An old war chief came to the wigwam of Red Eagle. The old chief wanted to marry the young daughter of Red Eagle. He brought many furs and much food to pay for her. Red Eagle told his daughter that this old chief was to be her husband.

White Cloud was the name of the girl. She shed many tears when the war chief was gone. She was afraid to show her dislike before.

Red Eagle said: “He has brought his presents to us. We have taken them. We cannot give them back. He is a great war chief, and we cannot offend him.”

White Cloud knew that no one on earth could help her. She could not live. Her wigwam was near the water. She jumped into her canoe, but she did not know what she was doing, for she paddled far out into the river. The rapids were near, and the dashing water carried her little boat down the rapids to the falls of the great waters.

Hinun, the god of clouds and rain, lived under the great falls. His wigwam was behind the falling waters. He saw the maiden in her canoe. He rushed out from his hiding place and spread his great wings. He caught the boat before it was dashed to pieces on the rocks, and carried White Cloud to his cave behind the falling waters.

Here White Cloud lived many weeks. Hinun taught her many ways of healing. He told her why so many of her village had sickened and had gone from earth. There was an evil spirit under the ground on which her people lived. If she would wait in his wigwam he would kill it.

Hinun came back from watching the harvest of corn, and told her that the old war chief was dead. She could go back to her own wigwam, and he carried her back on his wings to the shore. She remembered the medicines he had taught her.

Red Eagle was glad to see his daughter again. Her mother was sick with grief for her. White Cloud cured her by standing beside her bed. She cured many with the new medicines.

White Cloud begged of the tribe to move to a better place for their village. She told them all that Hinun had said. They moved the village to another place, but the evil spirit followed them.

Hinun came and found the evil spirit. He struck it with lightning from the clouds. The evil spirit was killed. It was like a great serpent, as long as twenty arrow flights. It floated down the waters of Niagara. Its body lodged between the rocks. It was so heavy it bent the rocks. It bent them like a horseshoe, and they are that shape to this day.

When the evil spirit was gone from under their village there was no more fever. Hinun helped White Cloud in many ways, and she told these things to her people. Hinun does not live behind the falling waters in these days, for when the Indians left he went away.

Adapted from “Iroquois Myths,” Powell’s Report.

XVII. HOW THE INDIANS CAME TO KNOW MEDICINE PLANTS

(Tuscarora)

Chief Mt. Pleasant, of the band that has the Bear totem, tells this story:

Many winters ago a poor, sickly old man came to an Indian village. In front of each wigwam was placed a skin on a pole to show what totem belonged to the family. Over some wigwams hung a beaver skin; that was the totem or sign of the tribe of Beaver Indians. Over other wigwams hung deerskins; that was the totem of the Deer tribe.

The old man stopped at each wigwam and asked for food and a place to sleep during that night. He looked so sick that the families who had the Wolf, the Turtle, and the Heron totems all refused him a chance to enter their wigwams.

He went the whole length of the village, and at last he saw a wigwam with a bearskin hanging over it. A kind old squaw came out of this wigwam and brought food to him, and spread out skins for his bed. The old man felt very sick. He told her what plants to gather in the woods to make him well.

The squaw gathered these plants and did as he told her with them; the sores on his feet were healed and he was better very soon. She promised not to forget the secret of the healing plants.

In a few days he was taken with a fever; again he told the old squaw what plants and leaves to go out and gather for him. She did so, and it was not long before he was well. She promised again not to forget what she had learned.

Many times he fell sick; each time it was with a new sickness. Each time he told the squaw what to find that would heal him. The squaw learned more than all her nation knew of medicine.

One morning the old man told her that he had come to her village just to teach the people the secrets which she now knew. No one had welcomed him but the Bear band.

The old man said: “I am going away from this people now. I came to do them good. No one but you would show kindness to the stranger. When you see the sun again, you will find a young hemlock tree growing by the door of your wigwam. It will grow taller than any tree that you or your tribe have seen.

“This will show that the Bear tribe is the greatest. All the tribes shall come to the Bear tribe for help in sickness. You will show them the plants, roots, and leaves that can heal their sick people.”

When the old man was done talking he went out of sight. No one has ever seen him since that morning. The Bears have become strong, and their warriors are very brave. Their medicine men can do more than the medicine men of other tribes.

Arranged from Powell’s Report.

XVIII. MONDAHMIN, WHO GAVE THE CORN

(Chippewa)

A manitou lived alone in the land. Wunaumon was his name. He was brave. All the animals feared him. He was a great hunter and the son of Menabozho.

Wunaumon walked all the day through a great woods. When he came out of the woods he saw a great prairie; it was wide, like a lake of land. Wunaumon saw trees on the further side of the prairie.

“I will see what is in that forest,” he said. His steps were long, and he was soon almost across the prairie.

Wunaumon stopped like a deer that is startled. He was not afraid, but he saw a strange sight. A stranger came out of the forest across the prairie. He came to meet Wunaumon.