Chapter VII: Part II: Traditions and Myths (2)

“Where are you going?” said the stranger. Then he lifted a pipe of peace, and Wunaumon took it. They were friends now.

The stranger was short. He had a red feather in his scalp lock. His coat was stiff and shiny. He did not wear deerskin. They sat down on the prairie. They smoked the pipe of peace.

“I am very strong,” said Wunaumon. “How strong are you?”

“I am strong as a man,” said the stranger.

“My name is Wunaumon; what is yours?”

“We will wrestle. If you throw me, I will tell you my name. You will win much from me if I fall. Let us try our strength.”

Wunaumon stood up on the prairie. He was very tall and strong.

“Come, Red Feather,” he said.

“That is not my name,” the stranger answered. “If I fall, you shall know my name. You shall have a great gift. You must conquer me. The gift is for all your people.”

It was morning when the two began to wrestle. They were both very strong. One could not make the other fall. They had no more breath. They stopped and began again. They did this many times. It was a great battle.

The sun began to go down. Wunaumon thought that the sun was ashamed to see his weakness. Wunaumon put his feet very hard on the ground. He grew very fierce. His arms were strong like the legs of a bear. There was a great noise. “Red Feather, I have made you fall,” said he; “what is your name?”

“My name is Mondahmin. My body is my gift to you. Cover me with the fine dust where we have wrestled. Come to this place often. You will see me again. I will bring gifts out of this prairie to your people.”

Wunaumon covered Mondahmin. He went into the forest and waited one moon. He came back to the place of wrestling. Two green feathers were waving in the air above the little hill he had made. A voice like singing came out of the green plumes.

“This is the corn, the gift of Mondahmin. Watch this plant and take the seeds to the tribe that lives nearest you. Tell them to make a feast to Mondahmin in the Moon of Fruits.”

Wunaumon took the corn in the month of fruits. He told the tribe to keep the feast. The gift of Mondahmin was good. It saved the people from hunger.

Schoolcraft.

XIX. THE MARRIAGE OF MONDAHMIN

(Pottawottomi)

The old chiefs tell the young men, and all who will listen, that two great spirits rule the world. One is very good, but the other does only wicked things. The Good Spirit made the world and filled it full of men and women. The wicked spirit would not let one person thank the Good Spirit for his gifts to them.

All tribes had much food, for there were many deer, elk, and buffalo, and the rivers were full of fish. Water, light, and fire were given to every one; but not one gave thanks for these things. They forgot the Good Spirit and the bad spirit was glad. He showed them how to fight and to make war.

The Good Spirit did not like to have men forget him. He lifted up the whole world and dropped it into a great lake. All the people were drowned excepting one young chief who had kindness in his heart. He gave thanks for his life, and a sister was given to him, for the wigwams were empty and he was alone. He called his sister White Earth.

The young chief dreamed that five strangers came to see his sister. The Good Spirit whispered to his heart that she must not see nor speak to one of them until the fifth one came to her wigwam. If she did not say anything nor see them, they would give her greater gifts than she could ask. She must not be afraid if they fell down with no more life in them when she did not answer. But all the world would be happy if she smiled and welcomed the fifth stranger.

They came the next day. The first one was tall and wore a green blanket. White Earth did not look nor answer him when he spoke.

The stranger stood very still, and then his blanket changed into leaves, and Usama the tobacco plant fell down to the ground.

The next visitor was very short and round. He could not walk fast. The girl did not say one word when he asked her to look at him. She did not see him, but her brother was watching, and he laughed when Wapako the pumpkin rolled over and down the hill. The girl was very wise and knew how to keep silent.

Eshkossim the melon and Kokees the bean came together and called to White Earth the maiden to welcome them. She did not answer, and they fell down the same as the two who had come before them.

Soon she heard a strong voice calling to her the fifth time. The girl untied the strings that fastened her door, and looking up she saw a very tall chief with feathers in his scalp lock. She loved his voice, for it was like the wind in the pine trees. She said: “You are welcome, Dahmin. I will take you to my brother. He will call you Mondahmin.”

The brother gave his sister White Earth to Mondahmin, for the Good Spirit had sent him to her.

After the wedding feast a great wind came, and then much rain. In a few days the ground was covered with the green leaves of growing plants. Usama the tobacco had come with all of his tribe to give gifts to the great chief Mondahmin the corn plant. Wapako the pumpkin, Eshkossim the melon, and Kokees the bean, all brought many gifts to Mondahmin and his wife. They promised to bring the same gifts each year as long as the rains should come and the sun give his light and make them warm.

Mondahmin and his wife gave thanks to the Good Spirit. They taught their children these things. The Indians call Mondahmin their grandfather, and they do all the things he told them. The Indians do not forget to give thanks for the corn, bean, pumpkin, and melon.

Schoolcraft.

XX. THE PRAIRIE DANDELION

(Algonquin)

In the Southland, flat upon the ground, lies the spirit of the south wind. He is a very fat and very lazy old man. His eyes are always toward the cool north, but he will not stir from his resting place.

When he sighs the air is filled with warm breezes. In the autumn his breath is filled with the odor of apples and all manner of fruits. He sends the golden Indian Summer to the Northland. Shawondasee is the name of this spirit of the south wind.

One day, while looking toward the prairies of the north, he saw a beautiful girl with yellow hair standing on the plains in the west. Every morning for days he saw this maiden, and she seemed more lovely each day.

But another morning when he opened his sleepy eyes and looked, the yellow locks on the maiden’s head were changed to fleecy white.

“Ah! my brother, the strong north wind, has been more swift than I, as he ever is. He has put his frost crown on the maiden’s head. I will mourn for her.”

Shawondasee heaved a number of warm sighs, and as the pleasant south breezes reached the maiden the air seemed filled with tiny feathers. The maiden had vanished with her crown.

It was no Indian maiden. It was only the prairie dandelion, and the crown that Shawondasee thought the north wind had given her was only her crown of feathery seeds; but the lazy Shawondasee never knew the secret, and mourned for his loss and envied his brother.

Schoolcraft.

XXI. THE SHADOW CANOE

A LEGEND OF MINNEHAHA FALLS

(Dakota)

In a wigwam by the Falls of Minnehaha lived an Indian brave with his family. Ampata was his wife, and two happy children played in the sunshine around his wigwam. The little family went in the winter with their tribe farther south, and the smoke of their village fires could be seen for many miles.

Here Ampata embroidered the moccasins with colored quills and grasses; these moccasins were for her husband and her children. Here she made the buckskin suit for her hunter. She sewed it with strings of sinew saved from the deer whose skin she had carefully tanned.

They all went back to the north in the summer time, back to the fall of waters in the Great Father of Waters and to the Falls of Minnehaha. There was good fishing in these waters, and their wigwam stayed there all the summer.

In the north she wove baskets of willows and baked dishes of clay. She found the red clay and the yellow for her husband’s war paint; he was a great warrior and wore two eagle feathers in his scalp lock.

The braves of her tribe had a great battle with the Ojibways. Her husband was like two men; he helped drive the Ojibways back to their own fishing grounds. There was a great feast after the battle; the warriors sang and told how brave they had been. Her husband sang a long song and made a great speech.

After this he told her that he was a great warrior now and must have two wives; he was going to marry the chief’s daughter. Ampata mourned, but he forgot her.

Ampata fled to her father’s tent and took her two children with her. She went to the south with her father when winter came; in the spring she came back to the Falls of Minnehaha with her tribe.

Her husband did not come for her, and she was alone with her children. All the warriors went to hunt the buffalo on the prairie.

There had been much rain, and the river was wide and deep. Ampata put her two children into a canoe, and taking the paddle got in herself and pushed far out into the river. The women called to her to come back, but she pushed away faster toward the falls. The canoe leaped over the falls, and Ampata and her two children passed to the Happy Hunting Ground of the other world.

Every spring the Indians say that on moonlit nights they can see the shadow canoe of Ampata leaping over the falls. They say white elk and white deer watch it from the shore.

XXII. AN INDIAN TEMPERANCE SPEECH

Yannahar, the brave chief, stood up in his wigwam before his fellow chiefs and spoke these words:

“Brothers, hear! and with the heart keep my words. My father, Kimanchee, was a noble chief. He was light of foot; the wind only was quicker. His strong arm was as a branch of the mountain oak. Joy was with him when he came from hunting. His arrow never came back without meat. The eye of my father never grew dim; his strength grew with the days.

“Kimanchee came to the council fires. He and his brother chiefs smoked the pipe of peace. Then the warpath was overgrown with grass. Peace came like the Father of Waters; joy like the leaping waters on the mountain. These were the blessings of Kimanchee and his brothers. They drank at the spring in the forest and grew strong.

“But where is Kimanchee, Swift-foot-of-the-prairie? The Fire Spirit came like the clouds of the north. Fire and death were on his wings. The shadows of darkness were before him, and the clouds and coldness of the night fell upon his track.

“The red man fell before the Fire Spirit like the leaves of the forest before the fierce wind. Kimanchee’s eyes grew dim, his arm fell. His swift foot turned from the hunting trail. His arrow came back to him no more. His step was like the buffalo that has been shot.

“He slept with his dog in the sun; when he stood up, his strength was gone. Kimanchee fell. The joy that stood by the door of his wigwam stands there no more.

“He fell like a tree in summer. He fell like a tree torn by lightning, with its green leaves withered on its branches. The red man fell before the fire-water like the green leaves of the forest before the storm wind.

“This is the curse of the fire-water. Kimanchee, Swift-foot-of-the-prairie, is no more. The Fire Spirit has taken my father. His heart is drowned in the fire-water.”

XXIII. THE GIRL WHO BECAME A PINE TREE

(Ojibway)

On the shores of Gitchee Gumee, the Big Sea Water, were many forests. Manitouwah was a sacred grove of great trees by the water. Many pukwudjinnies, or little people, lived among these trees.

Near by was an Indian village of many teepees; in one teepee lived Leelinaw with her father and mother. She loved the great trees. She came very often to sit in their dark shadows and hear their leaves whisper to the blue water.

One day a famous old war chief came to her father’s teepee with gifts. Leelinaw ran to the grove, for she did not love the old war chief. Her father took his gifts, and she was to be the old war chief’s bride. Her heart was very heavy.

The stranger went away for a time. Leelinaw came back and said: “His voice and his people are strange to me. Leelinaw will go with him, for her father commands her to do it; but first let your child have one more day in the grove by the Big Sea Water.” The mother knew her child’s heart, and the father said it should be as Leelinaw had asked.

She ran back to the grove and leaning against a tall tree told to it her sorrow. A voice came to her heart from the rustling leaves. She understood the tree’s language.

It said: “Lean on me, Leelinaw; I am strong. I will help you. Stay here in the pleasant forest by the Big Sea Water. All the trees will miss you, but I love you best of all. Stay with us forever.”

The gentle voice of the leaves comforted Leelinaw. She went back to the teepee. In the morning she dressed herself in the robe of white deerskin which her mother had made. She took some wild rice in her hand and went away.

She did not come back at sunset; then her parents believed that the war chief had carried away his bride; but the next day he came asking for Leelinaw or his gifts.

The parents called the men of the village together and searched through the forest. The father gave back his gifts to the war chief, for Leelinaw could not be found.

Three moons had gone when two Indians in their birch-bark canoe saw Leelinaw sitting by the Big Sea Water watching them. Beside her stood a tall brave with green feathers in his hair. The two Indians in the boat called to the two on the shore. Leelinaw waved her hand to them. Then they could see her no more, but two tall pines stood in the place where she and the brave had been resting. No trees had been there before.

Then the two Indians went to the village and told the father and mother of Leelinaw. “The little people have done this thing,” said the parents. “Let us take gifts to the two pine trees.”

They did so, and the pine leaves sang sweet songs to them, but the parents thought it was only the summer wind.

XXIV. THE WHITE STONE CANOE

(Chippewa)

An Indian girl died on her wedding day. She was married to a young chief of the Chippewas.

The chief was brave, but his heart was not strong enough to bear this loss. There was no more peace for him from that hour. He went often to her burial wigwam, the wigwam of the dead. He forgot war and hunting. He pushed aside his war club and his hunting arrows.

He had heard his people say that there was a path that led to the Happy Land of Souls. He told his people he was going to find this path and seek this Happy Land. He made ready his bow and his arrows. He set out on his journey, and his dog followed him. He did not know which way to go at first. He only knew that he must go toward the south.

For a while he could see no change in the face of the country. Hills, valleys, forests, and rivers had the same look as in his own land. There was snow when he started. He could see it now piled thick on the trees and the bushes.

At last there was no more snow. The trees were covered with buds; everything seemed bright and cheerful. He knew that he had come to the land of spring. The air was warm; there were no dark snow clouds in the sky. A field of blue was over his head, and a field of green was at his feet. He saw flowers around him; he knew he was far from the land of snow and ice.

Birds sang in the trees; all signs showed him that he was on the right trail, for he had heard his tribe tell of these things.

He went on. At last the trail he was following was lost. He saw ahead of him a new path covered with flowers; this showed that he was near the end of his journey. The path led him through a grove, then up a long hilly ridge, at the top of which he came to a wigwam or lodge.

At the door of this lodge stood an old chief with hair like the snow on the mountain. His eyes shone like the fire in a cave, for his eyebrows were thick and white. He held a staff in his hands, and a long robe of skins was thrown over his shoulders.

The young Chippewa began to tell his story. The old chief stopped him.

“I have expected you,” he said, “and have just come to my door to welcome you. The one you seek rested in my lodge. The sun has set but three times since she left. Come in; when your feet have found rest I will show you where to find her.”

The Chippewa sat down in the lodge and rested. “I am ready,” he said very soon, and the old chief led the Chippewa to the door. There they stood and looked at the great prairies below.

“That is the Land of Souls,” said the white-haired chief; “my lodge is the gateway. Only your soul can go into that land. Leave your body here; leave here your bundle, your bow and arrows, and your dog. You will find them all safe here when you come back.”

The Chippewa obeyed. The dog guarded his master’s burdens, while the freed traveler leaped forward as if flying. He had no guide.

Everything kept its natural color and shape, except that all things were more bright, more beautiful than ever before. There were animals near him, but even the little rabbit showed no fear.

One strange thing he noticed from the first. His going was not stopped by trees nor rocks, for nothing hindered him. He could go through whatever was in his path. They were only the souls or shadows of trees. He was only a shadow himself in a land of shadows.

Soon he reached a large lake; he saw a green island in the center of it. The white-haired chief had told him when he left the lodge that he would find this lake, and on its shore he would meet his lost bride.

He saw no one, but a beautiful canoe of shining white stone was tied to a rock at his feet, and a shining paddle lay in it. He stepped into the canoe and lifting the paddle turned round. He saw his bride in another stone canoe at his side.

The two canoes left the shore like two white swans. Great waves came on the lake. The white stone canoes rode on the top of the waves.

The Great Manitou was good. The Chippewa and his bride reached the Happy Island of Rest. Here they sat and talked of their happiness. They forgot that they had ever suffered; all things made them happy.

The Great Manitou talked to the Chippewa chief in a soft wind.

“Go back,” said the voice, “go back to the land of the Chippewas and teach them. The white-haired chief at the lodge at the gate will tell you many things. You have many winters to see before you can stay here forever. Your bride will wait for you on the Island of Rest.”

The soft wind grew still. The young chief awoke. His dog was by his side. Great peace was in the young chief’s heart,—but his journey was only a dream.

He came back to his life and his work. He taught his people many things. He was very brave. Before he died he told his people his dream, and his tribe gave him a great name, for he had done much good to his people.

Schoolcraft.

XXV. THE GREAT BEAR IN THE SKY

(Iroquois)

It seems strange that the Iroquois should have named our Big Dipper with the other name by which we also know it. They called it the Great Bear, and pointed it out to the white man in early days.

The Iroquois have this story about the Great Bear in the sky:

Seven braves were chasing a bear, which ran from the woods to a mountain. This mountain was the home of a stone giant; all but three hunters were destroyed by the falling stones which he threw.

The three hunters with the bear were lifted up into the sky by the spirits of the four winds.

The bear can be seen in the sky. He is followed by the first hunter, who has his bow in his hand. The second hunter comes next with a kettle. The third hunter is far behind them all, and he is gathering sticks.

The first hunter shoots at the bear in the Moon of Falling Leaves. The red maple leaves and the leaves of the oak show the hurt the bear has received. After this moon the bear hides for a time, but he comes back after a while as brave as ever.

The hunter with the bow never kills him; the hunter with the kettle never cooks his flesh; the hunter gathering sticks never builds the fire.

XXVI. THE NORTH STAR

(Ojibway)

Three Ojibway hunters had been out hunting for meat many days; it was in a new place. The woods were very thick, but there were no deer in them. The hunters had nothing to eat; they had no water, for there was none; they were lost in the thick forest.

The hunters sat down and smoked the pipe of peace. They offered the smoke to the manitous who might live in the woods. They asked the manitous to help them. The day sun was gone and there was no night sun.

The chief covered his head with his blanket and chanted:

“Our wigwams will see us no more. We will stay here forever. We can go no further.”

A little pukwudjinnie came out of a hollow tree when the chief had chanted his story. The Little One was like a little papoose, but he was very old and knew very much.

He said: “I will help the hunters. I will show you the trail.”

He pulled the thick bushes apart, and the hunters followed. He found the trail and soon came upon a herd of deer feeding in the bush. The hunters shot two deer and ate much meat; they were stronger after they had eaten the meat. The Little One did not eat; he was not hungry.

There was no rain, and the hunters had no water; they lost their strength and could not walk on the trail. The pukwudjinnie left them; then the hunters put their blankets over their heads and sat down. They said no words. They could not smoke the pipe of peace, for their strength was all gone.

The Little One came back with a deerskin full of drink for them; he poured it into their mouths; it was not water; it was like no drink they ever had before. They became very strong and wanted nothing more to eat or to drink for more than one moon.

He led them on a long trail, to the land of his Little People; he took them to his own chief. The chief was like a little papoose, but he knew all the trails in the forest. He knew all the trails in the sky.

The little chief showed the Ojibway chief the star in the north, the star that never moves. The little chief showed them how to watch this star and not lose their trail. He found their lost trail for them and sent them home.

The three hunters came back to their own wigwams. They talked in the council and showed their people the star that never moves.

Other nations and tribes know this star now, but the Ojibways believe that their people were the first to know where to find it in the Great Blue Wigwam, and that the Little People were told of its worth when their home was on the Evening Star.

XXVII. THE STAR THAT NEVER MOVES

(Algonquin)

In one tribe of the Algonquin Indians the story is told that the North Star is the eye of Keneu, which is their name for eagle. It was also the name of a warrior of their tribe.

He had won his name by his great feats of bravery; his eyes never grew dim with sickness nor pain; he had never shown fear. When he was taken prisoner by his enemies in war, he had, unarmed, run the gauntlet; he had escaped when all the strong men of his enemies had stood in two lines striking at him as he ran between the lines.

Keneu had run into the wild forest, which he had never crossed before. He made himself a war club of metikomeesh. Its seeds are set in wood cups. The black bear, or Mukwa, feeds on the nuts when they fall. The war club was strong and heavy.

Keneu crossed the wild forest; he found his own village. He sought out the wigwam of the girl with whom he had played when they were children.

When Keneu stood at the doorway of her father’s lodge, her father met him and gave him food. Keneu told his story and all believed him, and he asked for the maiden; he had thought of her welcome when he should come to his home.

“Memainggwah the butterfly,—where is she?” asked Keneu.

“She walked the Pathway of the Spirits alone one moon before Keneu came,” said her father; and the mother wailed a mourning cry from the place where she sat.

“Keneu the war eagle will find Memainggwah. His wings are stronger than the wings of the butterfly. Keneu will go back into the wild forest.”

The warrior, who had so bravely fought his way through bands of men and hidden ways of thick trees, gave the war cry like an eagle, then bounded back into the wilderness. No one saw him again as Keneu the warrior.

The father of Memainggwah, when crossing a marsh one night, was followed by a dancing light as large as half the moon when it is overhead in the sky. The dancing light seemed to call out to him. He heard it say: “I am Keneu. The Great Spirit has said that I shall find Memainggwah, but not for many moons. Come to this place and seek for me.”

The father of the maiden went again to the soft marsh land. This time tiny lights flitted all about him. Singing, humming, whirling, they seemed to fill the air. Wawwawtaissa, little fire-birds, the Indians call them.

One of the little living fires came and lit upon his arrows. It sang: “Watch for me. I shall go to Memainggwah soon. The eye of Keneu the war eagle will shine through the blue of the Great Lodge. You will see Keneu near Mukwa in the sky.”

When three moons had gone the father saw a new light in the sky. It was where Keneu had said. He took his great peace pipe and offered smoke to the new star. The star never changed its place. It shone like the eye of a war eagle.

There it has been through hundreds of moons. It is the eye of Keneu. He is happy, for he has found Memainggwah. She waited for him halfway on the Bridge of Souls, made by the stars which are a white pathway to the Happy Hunting Grounds.

White men call this star near Mukwa the Great Bear, the North Star. It never stirs from its place in the north. This star helps lost men to find their way back to the trail. An Indian in his canoe at night can watch this star and know which way to go.

Keneu knew what it was to seek the lost. While the North Star shines there is hope for those who wander in the forest or on the wide lakes.

XXVIII. TRAPPING IN THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS

(Wyandot)

A little papoose was found alone in the woods by a squaw. A blind bear had killed the child’s father, and a huge rabbit had carried off his mother.

The little papoose was taken to the home of his mother’s sister. She named him Tchakobeech. He never grew larger than a papoose, but he was as wise as an old chief. After many moons he made snares or traps and caught the blind bear and the big rabbit, but he never saw his mother again.

Tchakobeech said: “I will go to the Happy Hunting Grounds and find my father and my mother. I will climb to the sky and break it open.”

Tchakobeech left the wigwam one morning and climbed to the top of the tallest pine tree on the highest hill that he could find. No one saw him. Each time he was near the top of the pine he blew his breath on the tree, and it grew twice as tall as it was at first. He did this many times, and at last he touched the blue sky. He put his head through this blue wigwam and stepped from the tree into the Happy Hunting Grounds.

Tchakobeech liked this new country very much, but he could not see any people. He was lonesome, so he went back down the tree to the ground. He had left a sister in his aunt’s wigwam. She was always ready to run races and to play with him. He told his sister of the beautiful place behind the sky, and she was ready to go back with him.

The tree did not fall, and Tchakobeech made his sister climb up first, for then he could help her if her foot slipped. He had made little wigwams on the big branches when he came down, and they slept in these when the dark came.

They had four sleeps before the sky was reached. Tchakobeech made another hole in the sky, and after his sister had gone through it he broke off the top of the tree and went through it himself. Nobody could follow them, for now the tree was too short.

The two were very happy together and played all day in the green fields. Tchakobeech made two wigwams and picked many flowers for their resting places. He set his traps to see if he could catch any animals. His sister told him there was nothing to catch in such a beautiful country.

Tchakobeech heard a noise in the middle of the night and went to his traps to see what was the matter. They were all on fire, but did not seem to burn. He called to his sister to come and help him.

The little trapper said: “Sister, tell me what I shall do. I have caught a great fire in my traps.”

The girl trembled like a leaf on a tree. She said: “I know what is the matter. You have caught the sun. Let him go. He could not see in the dark, and his feet are caught. He cannot get away.”

The little papoose man could see that she told the truth. He was so small that the sun burned his hands and made him blind when he tried to let it out. Tchakobeech said: “I have made trouble for all the tribes on the ground. I am not wise any more.”

Just then a little mouse jumped out of a stump. It had been with its brothers to eat the moon. The papoose caught the mouse and breathed on it until it grew as big as a bear. Its teeth were very long. He drove it up to the traps, and it bit the leather strings.

The sun jumped out of the snares and went away.

He had been gone a whole day. All the tribes remember when the sun did not shine, and there was no morning between two sleeps. It was many moons ago. Tchakobeech did not put his snares in that place two times. The sun found another place to sleep and was never caught again.

Schoolcraft.

XXIX. THE OLD MAN IN THE SKY

(Iroquois)

The people of the Six Nations, or Iroquois, point out to their children a cluster of stars which they call the Old Man. White men do not always know where it is. They tell this story of his reaching the sky, or the Great Blue Wigwam.

An old chief was tired of life and of his people. He took his bundle and walking-stick and went to the top of the highest bluff. There he sang his death chant. His people followed, but waited at the foot of the bluff. While they were watching they saw him slowly rise in the air; his voice sounded fainter and fainter; the spirits of the four winds raised him to the Great Star Lodge. He was given a place among the stars.

His stooping form, his staff, and bundle are pointed out to Indian children as they watch the stars at night.

XXX. WHERE THE MORNING STAR CAME FROM

(Chippewa)

A manitou lived with his family near the Big Sea Water. There were two children in this family of the good manitou. The children of good manitous help the Indians. They do much good, like their fathers and their mothers.

This brother and sister were told that their work would soon begin. They were to be separated. The sister was called to go to the Place of Breaking Light. The brother knew his work was to be a watcher among the rocks and hills. He was to be a Little One of the Woods.

The day of parting came. The sister sat with the brother and watched the sun go down in the Big Sea Water. She put her hand into her brother’s hand.

The sister said: “Watch for me, my brother; watch for me in the morning. Turn your face to the Place of the Breaking Light when you waken from your sleep in the morning; watch for your sister. It is our father who said I must go.

“Watch where the Great Blue Lodge is painted with the paints we now see across the Big Sea Water. I shall be in the Great Blue Lodge in the Place of Breaking Light. My dress will be painted with paints. I will shine like a drop of the shining Big Sea Water. Your sister will see. Your sister will watch for you. She will not forget you.”

The brother said: “I will sit on this rock in the morning. I will look toward the Place of Breaking Light. I will watch for my sister that is gone. I will see her. My father has said it.”

The Place of Breaking Light was very bright the next morning. The red was never so red before. All the Place of Breaking Light was bright like a burning forest. The sun was not there.

The brother saw a new star. It smiled on him like the face of his sister; he knew her; his sister was the Morning Star in the Place of Breaking Light.

“I have found my sister; she is not lost. She is in the Great Blue Lodge; the spirits of the four winds have carried my sister. She is well.”

The brother turned to go back to the wigwam of his father, the good manitou. His feet would not carry him there. He sat down in a cave in the rock. He saw himself in the water; he was one of the Little People. He was glad, for he had now many brothers. They called to him in the cave; he answered them; they were happy together.

The father and mother often saw their children. The Morning Star is happy in her Star Lodge. The brother is happy among the trees and the rocks.

XXXI. THE WOMAN IN THE MOON

(Algonquin)

An old medicine woman lived with one tribe of the Algonquins. She knew all the plants that gave medicine; she could tell of things that would happen to her tribe or her family many moons before the things came to pass; but she did not know one thing. She did not know when this world would come to an end. She was forever asking the Great Spirit to tell her.

A manitou was sent to her to make her stop asking. She said she would stop when her headband, which she was weaving, was done.

The manitou said she must hide herself from her people or he could not answer her question. The question would be answered when the forehead strap was finished. She hid herself in the moon. There she sits weaving the headstrap.

Once a month she stirs a great kettle of boiled corn that stands before her; while her two hands have hold of the stick, the cat which is always near her unravels her headstrap. She begins over again when the corn is stirred.

There you can see her every night when the moon is full. She has never stopped asking, the manitou has never answered, and her weaving has never been finished.

XXXII. THE SEVEN STARS OF PLEIADES

(Iroquois)

Seven little Iroquois boys were in the habit of carrying their dishes of succotash to the top of a little hill near their wigwams. They would sit on this little hill and eat their supper. When the succotash was all gone, then the best singer would sing while the other six would dance around the mound. Every night they would do this. No other boys came with them.

One night they planned to have a feast of soup. Each boy was to bring a piece of meat. They would cook it on the hill and then fill their clay bowls with the soup.

Their parents would not give them the meat. The boys had eaten nothing all day, but they took their empty bowls and had a mock feast. They piled their dry bowls after this empty feast and danced around the mound.

Their heads and their hearts were very light. They forgot their hunger. They danced faster than ever before; their feet left the ground and they were dancing in the air. The six boys were around their leader who was singing.

Up, up, went the boys into the sky. Their parents saw them and called to them to come back. They could not do it. Whirling, floating, dancing, they took their places in the sky, where every one may see them.

The leader stopped his singing and tried to return. As he was not content in the Great Star Wigwam, his light is not so bright as that of the six other stars.

XXXIII. THE CHIPMUNK’S BLACK STRIPES

(Iroquois)

The porcupine was chosen head chief of the animals because nothing could hurt him. This was when animals had tribes and chiefs like the Indians.

Soon after the porcupine was made head chief he called a great council. When the animals were all seated in a ring around the council fire, he asked them this question: “Shall we have night all the time or daylight?”

Then the animals were divided. There was much talking. Some wanted it to be night always. Some said it was best to have it always day. The bear wanted it always dark. He had a big voice and kept chanting: “Always night. Always night.”

Each animal said something. The little chipmunk had a loud voice and kept singing: “Light will come. Light will come.” He has a loud voice yet.

The council was held in the night. The animals could not decide what was best, but the chipmunk kept saying: “Light will come. Light will come”; and before any one knew it the sun began to rise.

The night animals, with the bear for a leader, were very angry. The chipmunk saw the day was coming and began to run. The bear said it was because he was afraid and ran after him.

The great bear was clumsy. The little chipmunk was quick, but the bear nearly caught him as the chipmunk ran into a hole in a hollow tree. The bear struck him, and the black stripes down the chipmunk’s back show where the bear hit him.

The chipmunk and his tribe won, and night and day have come ever since that council.

XXXIV. THE ECHO GOD AND THE NORTHERN LIGHTS

(Iroquois)

The Iroquois seem to have been the only nation to worship with feast and dance the echo god of the hills. When at war with other Indian nations or tribes, the chiefs and warriors of the Iroquois would go out and call: “Gohweh! Gohweh!” meaning, “I am telling you!” as many times as there were enemies slain.

They did this very boldly, for they never believed that strange nations could hear or understand them or the echo’s answer. If any of their own people were slain, the cry was, “Ohweh!” which meant, “Our own!”

When they were on the warpath and night overtook them, the scattered ones were gathered in by using the call to the echo god.

While planning an attack upon some other band runners were sent out ahead to call to the echo god and find out if it was his wish for them to fight. If no answer came to repeated calls, the attack would be given up for a time. Some form of worship, either feast or dance, would then be held, and runners would after this be sent out again to ask what the echo god meant by not answering. If by any means an answer came to their wails and calls, then the attack would be made. If no answer came, the band found some other tribe to destroy.

A dance was always given to the echo god after a victory, and with this was given a great feast, but never until they had mourned for their dead and decided what to do with their captives.

The Iroquois go on the warpath no more. They have no longer any need to call upon their echo god for help. They no longer offer him the worship of the feast and dance.

The Northern Lights were closely watched by the Iroquois. The color of the lights meant a great deal to the Indian watchers.

If the Northern Lights were white, it was believed that the frost would shortly follow; if yellow, sickness and much trouble to the nation was feared; while if the lights were red, very red, war and bloodshed were on their way to harm the innocent.

If the sky was mottled and it was springtime, that was the best sign possible. There was dancing and singing, for a good corn season was expected in return for the worship shown in the dance.

Adapted from Powell’s Report.

XXXV. LEGEND OF MACKINAW ISLAND

(Chippewa)

The spirit that rules the Woman’s Star sent her son Osseo to the earth one day.

There is a little star that shines every evening near the Woman’s Star. It is jealous of the Evening Star, and it sent poison-arrows of starlight on the head of Osseo. When the poison light-arrow struck Osseo he became like an Indian who had seen a hundred winters.

Nothing old or evil can live on the Woman’s Star. Osseo could not return to his mother. He was brave. He made no mourning. He made many friends among the Ojibways.

Oweenee was the daughter of a chief. She was like the red lily that grows on the prairies. She had nine sisters. They were like a field of lilies. Her sisters had each married a great warrior.

Oweenee loved the old and wrinkled Osseo. There was none to cook the deer meat his trembling feet brought to his wigwam. She was very sorry for Osseo. Her sisters mocked at her pity for him. Osseo heard them one day. He took courage and asked her to help him bear his sorrows. She became his wife, for she knew his heart was as kind as it was brave.

The chief of the Ojibways made a great feast. The sacred dance was to be danced by all the young braves. Oweenee’s sisters mocked at her again. This is what they said:

“See Oweenee. She is like the young vine that clings to the pine that is black with burning. Osseo is like the pine that the lightning has torn and burned. Oweenee would make him like a young pine. She is blind.

“Osseo, go from us. Leave Oweenee. She is not for you.”

Osseo heard the sisters. His heart was very angry. His eyes looked like the eyes of the wolverine. He looked at Oweenee and then into the sky. He gave a strange war cry and shouted: “Sho-wain-ne-me-shing-nosa!”

This means, “Pity me, my father.”

“Poor old man! he is calling to his father. If he goes back, Oweenee will be the wife of a warrior,” said the sisters.

Osseo crept into a hollow log to hide himself.

As quick as a bird can fly he came out of the farther end of the hollow log, but he was no longer an old man. He was a young brave, finer than any in the Ojibway nation.

He went to Oweenee. When he put his hand upon her she became old like the oldest squaw. Her beauty went like the lily that withers in one day. Her sisters had no words. They sat on the ground and covered their heads with their blankets. They said, “We have no Oweenee.”

Osseo called her his Nenemoshee, his sweetheart. He fed her at the feast. He danced the sacred dance. His eyes were always toward Oweenee.

The feast was held in a great lodge. Music came into the lodge while they were all eating. Osseo understood the music. It was his mother talking to him.

“Come back to me. There is a place ready for you. Your bowls of clay shall be of copper. Your kettles of stone shall be wampum. Come.”

While they were eating the lodge was lifted into the sky. All the tribe who were eating were changed into birds. Oweenee’s sisters became crows. Their husbands became blue jays. Others were changed to quails and wild geese. All but Osseo and Oweenee were birds.

Osseo looked at Oweenee as they sailed through the air in the shining wigwam. She was still an old squaw. He prayed again to his father. Oweenee became like the lily again just as the lodge rested on the Evening Star. Here everything was peace. All things were happy, and none did harm to another.

One day the son of Osseo was learning to use his bow and arrow. He shot one of the singing birds and a drop of blood fell on the star. The bird changed into a woman. The child fell from the star, and the woman and all the birds followed it, down, down to the same island they had left. The shining lodge of Osseo and Oweenee followed them and was fastened on a high hill far out in the big lake.

The land was very small there, and as the birds became men and women again, the place was very crowded. Each one became smaller and smaller until they were the smallest people in the world. They became pukwudjinnies.

Schoolcraft.

XXXVI. HOW THE WATER LILY CAME

(Ojibway)

In the old days all men were happy. The men and women were as happy as little children. The wild animals came when they were called, and there was much food. The winters were not cold; it was always like the Strawberry Moon, for the days were warm and the nights were not cold.

There were many birds in the trees. The birds were all red, blue, or yellow like the war paint warriors now use. The birds could all sing, and there was much music. Each tribe of the red men did what was right, and there was no war. No one knew how to fight for a long time.

The Indians sat every night outside their wigwams. They watched the stars. They said the stars were the homes of those who had walked across the starry Bridge of Souls. They saw a star leave the sky one night. It came halfway to the earth and stopped. It seemed like a bird of fire.

A young brave had a dream about the star, and he believed his dream. It seemed as if the star came to him in his sleep and looked like a white maiden. The maiden was very beautiful.

She said: “I have left my home in the sky. I saw the red people and loved them. Ask your wise men what shape I may take that I may always stay and be loved by their people.”

The young brave woke and told the council. The wise men said: “Let the star choose for herself. She may live in the top of the pine tree or in the heart of a flower. She may live wherever she finds rest. She is welcome.”

The wise men filled their peace pipes and offered the smoke of their pipes to the star.

The star came lower and made the village very light, then hid herself in the white rose on the mountain. The star was lonely on the mountain. She could see the people, but could not hear them talk. She left the mountain rose and went to live in a flower upon the prairie. Great herds of buffalo went by her. The flower and the star trembled at the sound of their hoofs.

The wise men saw the star rise from the prairie. They feared it would go back to the sky, but a soft breeze floated it over a lake. The star saw her shadow and the shadows of her sky sisters in the water, and she rested like a canoe upon the water. The next morning the lake was covered with water lilies.

“The night stars have blossomed,” said the little children. The wise men said, “The white star has come to live with us.”

The people went out in their canoes and chanted songs to the new flower. They gave it this name, “Wahbegwannee.” It means “the white flower.”

Copway’s History.

XXXVII. THE NORTH WIND’S DEFEAT

(Chippewa)

Shingebis the great loon-bird lived in a lodge alone. It was by a great lake over which thick ice had come.

He had only four logs of wood for his fire for the whole winter. But each log would burn a whole moon, and as but four moons were cold, there was wood enough.

Shingebis cared for no one. He liked the cold. When the wind blew the coldest he would go out to where the reeds grew through the ice, and pulling them up, dive down into the holes for fish.

Kabibonokka, the cold north wind, felt ashamed that there lived anything which did not fear him.

“Why, this is wonderful. Here lives one who cares no more for me than I do for him. I will try once more to see if he will give up to me.”

Then came the wind from the north ten times colder than ever. Great drifts of snow were heaped everywhere.

Still the fire burned in the lodge of Shingebis. Every day he went as before and pulled up the rushes and reeds from the ice, and dived down for the fish which were always there.

“I will go to his lodge and visit him,” said the north wind one day, as he saw Shingebis dragging home a great fish.

He went that night to the lodge by the water.

Shingebis did not know he was coming. He did not care. He cooked the great fish and ate his supper, then lay on his side before the burning log and sang a mocking song about the north wind. It was this: