Chapter VIII: Part II: Traditions and Myths (3)

Ka neej, ka neej,
Bi in, bi in,
Bon in, bon in,
Ok ee, ok ee,
Ka weya, ka weya.

Shingebis may have known that the one he was singing about stood outside his doorway, for he sang this song many times.

The north wind could endure it no longer. He would see the creature that did not care for his hurting. He came in and sat down opposite the loon-bird, the great Shingebis.

This did not frighten Shingebis. He simply rose and stirred the coals of the fire about the log till they blazed and sent out a great heat.

“You are but my fellow creature,” kept singing the brave Shingebis, and he sat down again in his place. Very soon the icy tears began to flow down the cheeks of Kabibonokka. He said nothing aloud but whispered to himself: “I cannot endure this; I must leave.”

As he slipped out of the doorway not saying a word, he flew as straight as he could to the places where the reeds and rushes grew. He froze the roots very tightly into the ice. “Shingebis shall have no more fish,” said the ice-cold wind.

Yet Shingebis found fish all that cold winter. He was brave and laughed at his trials.

At last the north wind gave up trying to conquer the great Shingebis.

“Some manitou is helping him. I can neither freeze him nor starve him. I will let him alone.”

When the four logs were burned and the four cold moons had passed, Shingebis still laughed and sang in his lodge by the water.

Schoolcraft.

XXXVIII. A RIP VAN WINKLE

(Siwash)

Many moons before the Siwashes used iron or gold or silver a strange thing happened. It must be true, for it is told by the old men to the boys to this day. White people do not always believe it.

There lived a great Siwash hunter in the land in the west near the great river full of salmon, where it comes into the sea. His arrows gave him much meat; his great canoe and his spear gave him much fish. He had very many strings of shell money; the Siwash people call it hiaqua.

No one ever loved hiaqua as much as this great hunter loved it. He had many strings of it around his neck. He was rich; but when he waited in the trees in the forest for the elk or the deer to come that he might shoot them, he was always counting the shells on these strings.

He would say to himself: “I shall have more hiaqua than the great chief. I shall have more than two chiefs.”

When the great forest was very still his tamanous would come to him. It was like an elk, and it would talk with him. He waited at the foot of the great white snow mountain for the elk to come.

The great mountain is called Mount Tacoma. This was the home of the Great Tamanous, who puts only good thoughts into the hearts of all people; when the hunter sat long in the tree and looked at the mountain he was ashamed in his heart.

The Great Tamanous, who is the Good Great Spirit, seemed to ask him, “Where did you get it, that last string of hiaqua?”

And he had to say: “I tore some of the shells from the faces of helpless squaws; from their noses and from their lips. I paid them for the shells with elk meat so dry that they cannot eat it. I know they are starving, but they could see; they did not have to take the meat. They could eat leaves and berries. I know there are no berries, but they could go on the long trail and find some.”

“The squaws and children were very weak with hunger,” said the Great Tamanous to his heart.

The hunter was much ashamed; in the tree by the mountain he would be ashamed, but he never gave back the hiaqua. It was good and he wanted more.

One day he went up the side of Mount Tacoma. His own tamanous came to him while he waited; the white elk talked to the hunter’s spirit. The tamanous said:

“You are not wise. You are like the mouth of a great fish. You have great hunger, but it is all for hiaqua. Your shoulders are covered with heavy strings of hiaqua. You have taken the shells from the nose and lips of your own squaw. You sell her elk meat, and she is starving like the other women. You will not feed her with the elk meat you will get to-day. I will send her meat. I am sent by the Great Tamanous. Listen! I will give you hiaqua enough to fill your heart.”

Then the tamanous, the spirit of the great elk from which his band was descended, told the hunter a secret. The tamanous told him of a place on the great white mountain where was much hidden hiaqua. If the hunter would seek it and obey, he should have enough to satisfy him.

The hunter went back to his village. He told his squaw he was going on a long hunt. He took many deerskins from his tent, and when it was very dark he went away.

He made his camp that night at the foot of Mount Tacoma. He could not sleep; he could not wait; he saw the sun rise from the top of the mountain; he had no fear. His tamanous had said he would be with him.

The hunter stood on a great rock on the top of the mountain and looked down; at his feet was a wide hole; he could not shoot his arrow across it. The hole was white with snow, except that in the middle was a wide black lake; across the lake he saw the three great rocks he had been told to find.

The hunter walked on the crackling snow until he reached these three rocks. He knew them, for they were the ones his tamanous had told him to find.

The first rock was shaped like the head of a salmon; the second was like the good camass root, which all Siwashes eat; the third rock was the same as an elk. It was his tamanous: it would take care of him; he was safe.

The hunter dropped his pack of deerskin on the ground before the elk. He opened it and took out a great elk-horn pick, and began to dig in the sand.

He struck one blow in the sand. Four otters rose out of the black lake and came and sat at the north of him. He struck the second blow. Four more otters came and sat at the south of him. He struck the third blow. Four more great otters came and sat at the west.

The sun was bright in the east. It was watching him. No otters came and sat at the east. These were all the guards for the place where the Great Tamanous kept his hiaqua. They did not hurt the hunter, and he did not see them, for he was thinking only of hiaqua.

When the sun was over his head he put down his pick. He ate a bit of dried elk meat and took his pick again. He struck a rock; it broke very quickly. He lifted up a piece of the rock and saw a great cave full of shell money, full of hiaqua.

The hunter put in his hand and played with the shells. He lifted up strings of it, for it was strung on elk sinews. He threw the strings around his neck. He worked fast, for the sun was moving to the west, and he knew he must go. He was strong, but he had a great load. The sun was too fast for him.

He stood up and ran, but he did not throw one string over the elk head, nor over the camass root, nor over the rock like a salmon. He turned his back on the great otters. He did not offer them one string, not one shell; he forgot his promise to the Great Tamanous. He did not obey.

He ran on with his great load of hiaqua. He reached the white snow on the side of the great pit; then all the otters jumped into the black lake and lashed it into white foam with their bodies and tails. A black mist came over the mountain; the storm winds came. The Great Tamanous was in the storm.

The winds blew the hunter from one side of the wide hole to the other side. He had his hands on his money and did not lose one string. The water helped the winds to throw him back to the great rock on the top of the mountain. The hunter did not let the otters get one hiaqua.

He heard two voices in the thunder; one was the Great Tamanous. He heard the tamanous of all the mountain scream to him in the wind; he heard them laugh.

His body was like a leaf, as the winds blew him and tossed him from one rock to another. They did not break a string; they did not take his hiaqua. He did not give them one shell.

The night was two days long; he broke one string and threw it away to the winds. They laughed. He threw another string to the thunder voices. The thunder was heavier than before. He threw away every string of hiaqua; then his body dropped on the ground on the side of the mountain, and he went to sleep.

When his eyes came open he was hungry; he dug some camass root, and made a pipe and smoked. His bones were not broken, but his joints made a noise like a paddle on the edge of a canoe. His hair was like a blanket on his back; it lay on the ground while he was smoking.

“The Great Tamanous has done this,” said the hunter. He looked at the white mountain, and his heart was full of peace.

“I have no hiaqua. It is all given back to the Great Tamanous. I am well. I have no hunger for it. I will go home.”

He found the trail overgrown with tall trees.

“Tamanous has done it,” he said.

The people in his village did not know him. He asked for his wife, and they pointed to an old squaw, wrinkled and with her face bent to her knees. She knew him and pointed to his hair.

“Tamanous,” he said.

“There is the little papoose,” she said. The papoose was a man with white hair.

“He is your son and my son,” said the old squaw.

The hunter looked in the water. “I have slept for many moons,” he said.

He became a great medicine man, for he was wise. He taught the Siwash nation many things. He taught them to keep their promises. He told them not to forget the Great Tamanous whose home is on the white mountain.

XXXIX. LEGEND OF THE WAMPUM-BIRD AND THE BOY

(Iroquois)

An Indian was alone in the thick woods when he heard a strange sound, and looking sharply through the branches and leaves saw a large bird. It had no feathers. It was covered with wampum.

The warrior made no noise. He ran back to the village and told his chief. He was believed, for no one dared to tell false things to the chief.

A great council was called. The warriors were told that whoever should bring the bird into the camp would win a great prize, and that prize was the daughter of the head chief.

A hundred warriors took their bows and arrows and went softly to the thick woods where the wampum-bird was resting. It had flown to the top of the tallest tree. They knew it was a spirit bird that had lost its way.

Many arrows hit the bird, and many strings of fine wampum fell to the ground. Some picked these up and ran away, for they were rich now, and did not care for the prize; but, when they reached the village, the wampum turned to turkey feathers in their hands. They hid themselves in their wigwams. They were ashamed of their greed.

The warriors who stayed and shot at the bird gave great war whoops, but the bird did not fly away, nor was it frightened at any noise they made.

A little Indian boy from another tribe was hunting in the woods. His father had been killed in battle. His mother was hungry, and he had gone out to get meat for her. He heard the war whoops of the warriors, but he was not afraid. He came and watched them shoot at the bird.

“Let me shoot,” said the little boy. The warriors were very angry, but the head chief said, “Let him shoot.”

The warriors waited, and the boy shot his arrow. The bird fell to the ground close by the boy. He gave the splendid wampum-bird to the head chief.

The boy was married to the head chief’s beautiful daughter the next day. He was now a chief’s son, and his own mother was hungry no more.

His father had been slain by the head chief’s warriors. The boy chief made a law that wampum should be the price of peace. When war was to be declared the tomahawk should be painted on a belt of wampum; it should be sent to the tribe they would fight against; when the war was over the two tribes should exchange belts of wampum as promises of peace.

The head chief sent a wampum belt to the boy chief’s tribe; then they had peace.

This is the story the tribes tell of how wampum came to be used for war and for peace.

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

XL. THE MAGIC MOCCASINS

(Chippewa)

An Indian hunter shot at a moose, but his arrow missed and took the life of another hunter, the brother of Wahkandee the Lightning.

Mukwa, who had made the fatal shot, wore a pair of wonderful moccasins. A manitou had prepared the leather in the moccasins for himself. The manitou had whispered many secrets to the leather; but he gave it all to the hunter’s wife because of his love for her husband.

Wahkandee, the avenger, came into the forest where Mukwa, the moose hunter, was hiding. He saw the feathers in Mukwa’s hair and shot his arrows to avenge his brother. He heard the dry bushes crackle and crept to the place where Mukwa had been. There lay a pair of fine moccasins and many dry moose bones.

“I will take the fine moccasins. Mukwa will want them. I will find him.”

Wahkandee reached down to take the moccasins, but they slipped away from his fingers. The moccasins fled across the lake, and Wahkandee followed in his canoe. They crept through the thick brush in the forest on the shores of the lake. Wahkandee followed like the swift feet of Skika the wood duck.

The thorns tore his buckskin suit, but he never stopped in the chase. The moccasins seemed to be always within the reach of his hands, but he could never touch them. Wahkandee thought that the black cloud at the edge of the earth would stop the race; when he reached the place of the black cloud, it was gone. The moccasins were always before him.

A great mountain was in sight. Wahkandee followed the flying moccasins over rocks, roots, and crumbling stones. When going down the further side of the mountain he saw a beautiful white wigwam. All footprints seemed to come away from it. None went toward it. The moccasins had disappeared, and Wahkandee said, “I will rest.”

The white wigwam rested on the stump of a great pine tree. The wigwam had two doors: one in front and one at the back. Two Indian girls sat back to back in the middle of the white wigwam, each looking out of a door.

“What is your name?” Wahkandee asked the girl who sat at the front door.

“My name is ‘The-one-who-sees-all-things-to-come,’” said the girl.

“Have you seen the one who owns the flying moccasins?” asked Wahkandee.

“I look before. I cannot tell what has gone,” said the maiden.

Wahkandee walked to the other door and faced the other Indian girl.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is ‘The-one-who-sees-all-things-that-have-gone.’”

“Can you see the hunter who slew my brother?” asked Wahkandee.

“I can only see moose bones lying on the ground. You are hungry. Take the moose meat that hangs here on the trees and eat. Our father will make you welcome. You can see his bow and arrows. He will come. You can sleep by the bones of the moose.”

While Wahkandee slept the wigwam was lifted from its place and it floated away. The stump stretched out its arms and became a great manitou. The magic moccasins had changed into the maidens. They now became moccasins again. One was turned toward the east, and one toward the west.

The manitou touched the dry bones of the moose. The lost hunter stood before him. He put on his moccasins. The manitou touched Wahkandee, and he became like the dry bones of the moose. He never woke from his sleep.

The manitou turned the hunter’s head toward his home in the north. The magic moccasins carried him home. He went as the wild bee goes back to its tree. The hunter told the story of his moccasins around the council fire.

The women tried to learn from his wife the secret of their making. She told them how she colored the quills for the patterns she made on the leather. She told them how she sewed them with sinew. This the women could see; but they could not see that her fingers had been warm with love for her husband when she wove the quills into the leather and when she sewed it with the sinew.

The women could not know the secrets the manitou had whispered to the leather; nor did they know of the love the manitous have for those who try to please them. This was why the hunter was saved when he did the wrong that was not in his heart to do. All the squaws have tried to make magic moccasins, but only Mukwa has ever worn them.

XLI. OPECHEE THE ROBIN REDBREAST

A great hunter among the Chippewas, or Ojibways, wanted his son to secure a powerful spirit to protect him in war and all danger. To gain the help of the strong manitou the boy must fast twelve days.

Many Indian boys can do this, but not all. Many try and fail.

The boy did as his father commanded, for when the time came he went into the secret lodge in the deep forest and laid himself down alone on the mat his mother had woven for him. He did not fear, but his strength was weak. All night he lay there alone.

In the morning his father came and asked him if the strong spirit had come to him in his dreams. The boy shook his head. No dreams had come to him.

Each day for ten days the father came to the little lodge in the wilderness and asked his son if the strong manitou had come to him.

“It is not for me to have such dreams, my father. I am not brave. The strong manitou will not come to me. Let me give up my fast.”

“If you give up now, the manitou will never come. Hunger makes my son weak, but his heart is strong. It is only a short time more to wait. Then my son shall be the strongest of all.”

The Indian boy covered his face and lay still upon the mat. He would obey his father. The morning of the eleventh day the boy saw his father enter the wigwam. He slowly turned his face toward him and whispered: “Let me break my fast; I have no dreams.”

“To-morrow I will bring you food. To-morrow you shall come to the lodge of your father.”

The boy closed his eyes and said no more. He was very weak and faint.

The next morning the father went with the earliest morning light to the little lodge in the forest. Peeping through the door he saw his son sitting up. Beside his mat were brushes and paint. He was painting himself red and brown.

“The manitou will free me, but it is not the spirit my father wanted,” he heard the boy say.

The father rushed into the lodge, but as he touched his boy the lad changed into a bird and flew out of the open doorway. Sitting on the top of the lodge he sang these words:

“Do not mourn for me, my father, for I am happy. I did not want to be a warrior. I wanted only to be free. I shall find food upon the fields and the hills. I will comfort you.” Then he flew away.

Opechee lives near the homes of men. He loves to comfort them when they are sad. He is happy when they are happy.

His songs are for the little children and for the fathers and mothers who want their little ones to be brave. Opechee is not afraid in the storm, and many have heard him singing just after the great thunderbirds had called to each other and the water was coming fast from the sky to find a place to hide in the ground. Opechee is brave, but not strong.

Schoolcraft.

XLII. THE INDIAN WHO MARRIED THE MOON

(Chippewa)

One of the warriors in an Ojibway band had a boy who refused to fast as all other boys and men had done.

“I like to eat; it is hard to be faint and hungry,” said the boy when his father took him to the little wigwam in the forest.

“You shall eat after the manitou has talked to you,” said the father.

“I will not fast; let me have my bow and arrows and I will hunt for you,” said the boy.

“If you will not go into the little wigwam, you shall not come back to my fire. You may sleep where you can find a place, but never come back to me until you have talked to a manitou,” said the warrior.

The boy ran into the forest and hid himself. He picked berries all day and made a bed on the moss at night. The moon shone very bright, and he thought there was a face in it, so he asked the moon to take care of him while he slept.

The boy awoke, but it was not day. A girl stood by him dressed in shining clothes, and her face was like the one he had seen in the moon.

“I shall have to go back to my sky teepee, but you must go with me. Stand up quickly and take hold of my hand. Come, Cloud Catcher, come, for the stars are going to hide,” and the boy felt himself rising and moving through the air like a bird.

Cloud Catcher went through the clouds into the beautiful country behind the sky, and soon they stopped in front of a great teepee which belonged to a great chief with hair like fire. The chief was the moon maiden’s brother.

“You are not wise,” said the great chief to the girl.

“I am alone; let me have him and I shall be happy,” said the moon maiden.

The chief gave the boy a pipe and a bow and some arrows. “You may stay,” said the sun chief.

Cloud Catcher and the girl played in the fields all day while the sun was off on his journeys. He shot at the stars, and sometimes hit one so hard that it let go and fell down through the sky. The moon maiden had a great bow that she hung in the sky at night and played with in the daytime. She could shoot farther than Cloud Catcher, but she never hurt anything with her arrows.

One day the boy went to the great sun chief and said: “I used to eat much when in my father’s wigwam. I am hungry for meat; will you give me some?”

“You children of the ground are very strange in your ways,” said the sun chief. “You have all the sky to make you happy, but now you are crying for meat. It is not wise, but you shall have it, for you are one of us, and whatever you ask must be given. Come with me.”

The sun chief took Cloud Catcher the next day, and they walked to a place where the sky was open. They looked down on the ground, and the chief shot one of his arrows. It struck a little child, who fell down and was carried into her father’s wigwam.

“Send meat and the child shall be well,” said the sun chief. Meat was put on the fire and burned, and as it burned it came up to Cloud Catcher’s feet, and he ate it like a hungry man. The child walked out of the wigwam, for it was now well, and Cloud Catcher had his meat. After that feast he wanted to walk many times with the sun to the place where the sky was broken, and every time he asked for meat.

One day he said: “I will go back to my own country; there my arrows will bring my meat to me, and no one will need to be sick.”

The moon maiden said: “You are going back to sickness, to cold, and to war, but you belong to me and must never take a wife from your people. Come,” and again they moved through the air like birds. She took him back to his bed of moss, and when he awoke this time he found his father standing by him.

“I have seen a manitou; I am to be called Cloud Catcher,” said the boy, as his father took his hand and led him into their wigwam. His mother was glad to see him and very proud of his name.

“You are tall; you are strong and brave. There is no one in the tribe like you. Where have you been?” asked the mother. The boy told only a little, for it seemed like a foolish dream, and he was afraid no one would believe him.

“I fasted many days, my father; then I ate strange food that came to me. I am a man now. My mother is wise; she will not ask any more,” and Cloud Catcher kept very quiet with his tongue.

He grew very lonely, and after a time he found a wife who cared for his wigwam and cooked his food for four days, then she was gone; no one ever saw her again. He married the second wife, but when she, too, left him he remembered the moon maiden’s words, and went out in the moonlight and lay on a bed of moss. When he awoke he was floating through the air, and the sun chief called to him to stop at his teepee. There he found the girl whose face he had watched so many nights in the moon, and he never came back to earth.