Chapter 4

He had not gone very far when he noticed a grape-vine lying across the road. The grapes were beautiful and juicy, so he ate some. Some distance on he came to a jellylike mass, and he ate it. This was the frogs' eggs, and he at once forgot his home and brother, and even his wife. He travelled on for two days, and towards evening came in sight of the large village. The people in it seemed to be having a good time. Some were dancing and singing, and many of the women were beating corn in golden dishes. When they saw him coming, they ran out, shouting, "Here comes Bokwewa's brother to visit us."

They welcomed him with joy, and led him into the village. In a short time he was beating corn with the women. That is the surest sign to the Indians that a warrior has lost his bravery.

Days and weeks went by, and still he did not try to find his wife, although she was living in that same village. Bokwewa waited at home, hoping each day that his brother would return. At length, when some years had gone by, he set out to find him. As he travelled along the same road, he passed the grape-vine and the frogs' eggs. But they held no danger for him, as he did not taste them. When he came in sight of the village, he felt sorry for the people, who were wasting their lives in idle games and other pleasures. As he came closer, the people ran out, shouting, "Oh, Bokwewa has come to visit us! The good Bokwewa of whom we have heard so much! Welcome to our village!"

Bokwewa entered with them and found his brother. He was still beating corn with the women, and seemed very happy. Bokwewa coaxed him to come home, but he would not listen. He seemed content to stay there and do no work. This made Bokwewa very sorry, for he knew his brother was no longer a brave warrior. When evening came Bokwewa went down to the riverside. There he changed himself into one of those hair snakes sometimes seen in running water. After a while, the wife came down with a pitcher to get some water.

"Pick me up," said the hair snake, "and leave me in your pitcher."

The wife did as she was told, and took the pitcher to her lodge.

That night the Manitou who had stolen her wanted a drink. In the dark he did not see the hair snake in the water, so drank it. In a few minutes he was dead. Then Bokwewa returned to his former shape. He went again to his brother and tried to make him come home. But the brother refused. Bokwewa told him that these pleasures would not last forever, and his tears fell as he saw that his brother would not come. So he said good-bye to him and disappeared.

After Bokwewa had gone, the brother seemed to remember parts of his past life. He looked around and saw his wife at a little distance. At once he remembered everything, and going to her, he wept and begged her to forgive him and his neglect. She kissed him fondly, and then hand in hand they walked away from the treacherous land of pleasure, back to the lodge where Bokwewa waited for them.

THE TRIBE THAT GREW OUT OF A SHELL

Once, when the land along the Missouri River was uninhabited, save by the beaver and other animals, a snail lay asleep on the bank of the river. One day the waters began to rise, and soon came up to where he lay. They swept him out, and he was carried some miles down by the current. When the waves lowered, he found himself bedded deep in the mud. He tried to free himself, but he could not. He was hungry and tired, and at last became so discouraged that he would not try any more.

Then a strange thing happened. He felt his shell crack, and his head began to rise upright. His body and legs grew and lengthened, and at last he felt arms stretching out from his sides. Then he stood upright--a MAN.

He felt very stupid at first, but after a while some thoughts came to him. He knew he was hungry and wished he were a snail again; for he knew how to get food as a snail, but not as a man. He saw plenty of birds, but did not know how to kill them. He wandered on through the forest, until he became so tired that he lay down to rest.

He heard a gentle voice speaking to him, and looking up, he saw the Great Spirit, who was seated on a snow-white horse. His eyes shone like stars, and his hair like threads of gold.

"Wasbashas, why are you trembling?"

"I am frightened," replied the man, "because I stand before the One who raised me from the ground. I am faint from hunger, for I have eaten nothing since I left the shell in the bank of the river."

"Look, Wasbashas," said the spirit, as he drew forth a beautiful bow and arrow. Putting an arrow into the bow, he aimed at a bird in a tree near by. He shot, and the bird fell. A deer passed just then, and the spirit shot it, also.

"Now, Wasbashas," said the spirit, "I shall show you how to skin this deer, and show you how to make a blanket. Then you must learn to cook the flesh. I shall give you the gift of fire. For now that you are a man, you must not eat raw food. You shall be placed at the head of all the animals and birds."

After the spirit had shown him the things he had promised, both horse and rider arose in the air and vanished.

Wasbashas walked on down the river until he came to a place where a beaver was lying.

"Good-day," said the beaver. "Who are you?"

"I am a man. The Great Spirit raised me from a shell, and now I am head of all the animals. And who are you?"

"I am a beaver. Will you come with me until I show you how we build our lodges?"

Wasbashas followed the beaver and watched him cut down a tree with his teeth. Then the animal showed him how they dammed up the river, by letting the trees fall across it and filling the spaces between with mud and leaves.

"Now will you come and visit my lodge?" said the beaver chief. He led Wasbashas to his neat lodge made of clay and shaped like a cone. The floor was carpeted with mats. The beaver's wife and daughter received the stranger kindly. They busied themselves getting a meal ready, and soon brought dishes of peeled poplar and alder bark. Wasbashas did not like the taste of it, but managed to eat a few pieces. The beavers seemed to enjoy the meal very much.

Wasbashas had been watching the daughter, and he liked her nice, tidy ways and the respect she showed her father. In the evening he asked the chief if he would give the maiden to him for his bride. The chief was very pleased at the idea, for he liked Wasbashas.

The beaver invited all the animals to the feast, which was to be held the next day. Early the following morning they began to arrive. First came the beavers, each bringing a present of a lump of clay on his flat tail. Next came the otters, each bringing a large fish in his mouth. Later in the morning came the minks, the water-rats, and the weasels, all very proud to accept the invitation of the great chief of the beavers.

When the animals had all assembled, the beavers held a council among themselves. After talking for some time they invited the other animals to follow them. And going a short distance down the river bank, they stopped. Each beaver took the lump of clay he had brought with him and placed it near the water's edge. Then they began to build a dome-shaped lodge of small pieces of trees and the clay. After several hours of steady work it was finished, and then they went to the chief's lodge, where the feast was to be held.

When the meal was over the snail man and the beaver maiden were led to their lodge, which was the wedding-gift of the beavers. Here they lived happy ever after. Many years later their descendants were called the Osages tribe of Indians.

THE STORY OF THE INDIAN CORN

Some years ago the Ottawa Indians inhabited the Manatoline Islands. Their enemies were the Iroquois Indians, who lived on the lake shore near the islands. One night they came and attacked the Ottawas. The two tribes fought for a long time, but at last the Iroquois won, and the Ottawas were driven away from their islands. They wandered off towards the Mississippi River, where they settled near a small lake, many miles away from their home.

The Manatoline Islands were now uninhabited, except by an Indian magician, whose name was Masswaweinini. He remained behind to act as sentry for his tribe. He guarded the beautiful islands and kept a close watch on their enemy, the Iroquois. Two young boys stayed with him to paddle his canoe. In the daytime they used to paddle close to the shore, so that the Iroquois could not see them, and at night they slept in the deep woods.

One morning Masswaweinini rose early and left the two boys asleep. He walked a long distance through the woods, hunting for game. At last he found himself on the edge of a wide prairie. He began to walk across it, when a man suddenly appeared in front of him. He was very tiny and had some red feathers in his hair. "Good-morning, Masswaweinini," he said. "You are a very strong man, are you not?"

"Yes," replied the magician. "I am as strong as any man, but no stronger."

The tiny man then pulled out his tobacco-pouch and pipe.

"Come and smoke with me," he said, "and then we must have a wrestling match. If you can throw me, you must say, 'I have thrown Wagemena.'"

So they smoked together, but when the little man was ready to wrestle, the magician did not like to do it, for he was afraid he might hurt the tiny fellow. But the other insisted, and so they began to wrestle. The magician soon found that the little man was very strong and quick, and he felt himself growing weaker every moment. But at last he succeeded in tripping the man with the red feathers, and he fell. Then the magician said, "I have thrown you, Wagemena." At once the little man vanished, and in his place lay an ear of corn, with a red tassel where the feathers had been. As he stood staring at it, the corn spoke. "Pick me up," it said, "and pull off my outer covering. Then take off my kernels and scatter them over the ground. Break my cob into three parts and throw them near the trees. Depart, but come back after one moon, and see what has happened."

The magician did exactly as the corn had told him, and went away. At the end of the time he came back. To his surprise, he found green blades of corn coming through the ground where the kernels had been scattered. And near the trees pumpkin-vines were growing where the cobs of the corn had been thrown.

He had not told the young boys of his adventure with the tiny man, so he did not tell them anything of the growing corn. All the rest of that summer he busied himself in closely watching the Iroquois, who were still prowling near the islands. Very often he killed a deer, and the boys would cook the meat over their camp-fire. One day, when the summer was nearly over, he paddled his canoe around the island till he came near the wrestling ground. He stepped ashore, and left the two boys to watch the canoe, while he walked to the field. To his great astonishment, he found the corn in full ear, and the pumpkins of an immense size. He pulled some ripened ears of corn and gathered some pumpkins. Then a voice spoke to him from the corn. "You have conquered me, Masswaweinini," it said. "If you had not done so, you would have been killed yourself. But your strength made you win the victory, and now you shall always have my body for food. It will be nourishment for you and your tribe."

Thus the Ottawa Indians were given the gift of the maize; and to this day their descendants are noted for the care that they take of their immense fields of corn.

THE MAGICIAN OF LAKE HURON

The Manatoline, or Spirit, Islands were supposed to be a favorite abode of the Manitous, or spirits. Perhaps that is why many strange things happened there. One night, as Masswaweinini, the magician, was lying asleep, a sound of voices wakened him. "This is Masswaweinini," said the first voice; "we must have his heart."

"How shall we get it?" said the second voice.

"I shall put my hand into his mouth," said the first, "and pull it out that way."

The magician felt a hand being slipped between his teeth. He waited until the fingers were all in his mouth, then he bit them hard and they came off. He heard a cry, then the strangers disappeared. In the morning he arose, but could find no trace of any one. But when he came down to the water's edge, he saw a canoe with two people in it. They were sitting at each end of the canoe, with their arms stretched out. When he came close to them, he saw they were fairies, and that they had been turned to stone. One of them had lost the fingers of one hand, so he knew they were his enemies of the night before. The canoe was laden with bags of all kinds of treasures, and it was the most beautiful boat he had ever seen. He lifted out the stone figures and put them in the woods. As he turned away, one of the figures spoke to him.

"Masswaweinini," it said, "the canoes of the Ottawa Indians will, after this, always be well laden like our canoe. Your tribe was driven from their land by their cruel enemies, but they shall be rewarded for their bravery. The Mighty Spirit will help them, and they shall be given many treasures in their new home."

The magician then went back to the boat and lifted out the bags. He carried the boat and hid it among the trees. When he opened the bags, he found meat and fish and many other things, and took them to his camp.

As he rested in his lodge that night, he would have been very happy, if he had not been so sorry for his old father and mother. He thought of them many miles away with none of the comforts he had. "I shall go and bring them," he said. He had only to think of going when at once he could move like the wind. So before morning he found himself at the poor, little camp of his parents. They were still asleep, so without making any noise, he took them in his arms and carried them back to his lodge. When they awakened in the morning, they were delighted to find themselves with their son. All day long they wandered through the fields and by the shore, and were as happy as children. As the days and weeks went by, they seemed to grow happier still. But one night the magician saw his old father look in his tobacco-pouch and then sigh.

"I know what it is you want, my father, it is tobacco; you have not had any for many moons. Now I shall get some."

"How can you do that?" asked the father, in surprise. "You are surrounded by enemies and cut off from all supplies."

"I shall make my enemies give me some," said the magician.

That night he set out on a long journey across the frozen lake. So swiftly did he travel, that by morning he had reached the village of his enemies. They were surprised to see him, but invited him into their lodges. "I thank you," he said, "but I shall not go into any lodge. I shall build a fire on the shore of the lake."

He made himself a tent with the branches of trees, built a fire, and sat beside it.

"Why have you come to visit us?" asked the chief.

"I want some tobacco for my father," replied the magician.

"Is that all?" said the Indian. "You shall have it;" and he opened his tobacco-pouch and gave some tobacco to Masswaweinini. The other Indians did the same, so now the magician had a large supply to take home. When it became dark, he lay down to sleep beside his fire. In the middle of the night, the chief and some Indians rushed in, shouting, "You are a dead man."

"No, I am not," said the magician, "but you are." With his tomahawk he hit left and right. In a few minutes six lay dead beside him. Then he wrapped his blanket around him, gathered up his tobacco, and set off. By evening he had reached his father's lodge, and spread out his gift before him. The old man was delighted with the present, and thanked him many times for his kindness. When spring came, the magician built a beautiful lodge for his parents on the edge of the wrestling ground, and all through the summer they watched the corn and pumpkins grow.

THE FAIRIES' CLIFF

An Indian chief once had ten daughters. They were all very beautiful, especially the youngest. When they grew to be women, nine of them married handsome, young warriors. But the youngest maiden would not listen to any of the young men who came to see her at her father's lodge. After a while, she married an old man with gray hair, and so feeble that he could hardly walk. Her father and sisters were very angry, but she would not listen to them. She said only, "I am very happy, and so nothing else matters."

One evening, the father asked his ten daughters and their husbands to come to his lodge for a feast. On the way there, the nine sisters kept saying, as they looked at the youngest maiden and her husband: "Our poor sister, is it not a pity she is married to such an old man? See, he can hardly walk. Would it not be a good thing if he were to fall and kill himself?"

As they were saying this, they noticed that the old man kept looking up at the Evening Star, and every once in a while he would utter a low call.

"See," said one of the sisters, "he thinks the Evening Star is his father and is calling to him."

Just then, they were passing a hollow log which lay by the roadside. When the old man noticed it, he suddenly dropped on his hands and knees and crawled in at one end. When he came out at the other end, he was no longer an old man; he had been changed into a tall, handsome, young chief. But his wife was no longer a beautiful maiden. She had been changed into a bent, old woman, hobbling along with a stick. The young husband was very kind to her and took good care of her all the rest of the way to the father's lodge. He seemed very sorry that she had been changed like this, but he loved her just the same as before. During the feast the young husband heard a voice speak to him. It seemed to come from the skies. Looking up, he saw the Evening Star shining in through a crack in the roof.

"My son," the Star said to him, "many years ago an evil spirit changed you into an old man, but that spirit has now lost its power. You are free, and may come home and live with me. Your wife shall be beautiful once more, and you shall have everything you can wish for."

The others had not heard this voice, so they were very much surprised when they felt the lodge begin to rise in the air. As it floated upwards, the bark changed into beautiful silver gauze. It was now a lodge made of wings of insects. The young chief looked at his wife and saw that she was a beautiful maiden once more. Her dress was changed into one of shining, green silk, and her stick became a silver feather. The sisters and their husbands had been changed into birds with bright-colored feathers. Some were parrots, some blue jays, some singing birds that flew around and sang their sweet songs. At the side of the lodge was a large cage for the birds. Upwards, the lodge floated till they found themselves in the Evening Star. Everything was silvery white here and very peaceful. The Star was very glad to see his son.

"Hang up that cage of birds which you have brought with you by the lodge door, and then come and sit down while we talk."

The young chief did as he was told. He sat on one side of his father, while his wife sat on the other, and the Star father told them many stories.

"You must be careful," he said, "not to let the beams of the next star shine on you. That is the Evil Star which turned you into an old man. If it shines on you again, you might once more be changed, so be very careful."

The young chief promised to remember his father's warnings, and he always kept away from the Evil Star. They lived happily together for several years. Then one day their young son wanted to learn to hunt. He had heard that the people on the earth could shoot with bow and arrows, and he wished to learn. The Evening Star did not like to refuse his young grandson anything, so he made him a little bow and arrows. He showed him how to use them; then said, "I shall open the bird-cage and let out the birds. You may try to shoot them, if you like."

This delighted the young boy, and so for many days he tried to shoot a bird. His arrows always fell to one side. But he kept on trying, and one day the arrow sank deep in the breast of one of the birds. The boy was very proud, but what was his surprise, when he went to pick up the bird, to find that it had changed into a beautiful maiden with an arrow sticking in her breast. It was one of his aunts, who had been changed back into her earthly form. As her blood fell on the ground of this pure and spotless planet, the spell was broken.

The boy felt himself sinking down through the air. He fell slowly, as if he had wings. At last his feet touched the ground, and he found himself on a high, rocky island. He was delighted to see his aunts and uncles all following him. They floated down through the air until at last they too reached the rock. Then came the silvery lodge, with his father and mother, with its bark looking like the shining wings of insects. The lodge sank down until it reached the cliff, and there they all made their home. They had been given back their earthly bodies, but were only the size of fairies.

The top of the cliff, which had been bare before, now grew soft with green grass. In the grass, bright flowers blossomed, and tiny pools of water glistened here and there. The fairies were all very happy to have been given such a beautiful home, and, looking up, they thanked the Evening Star. His soft beams fell on them and they heard his gentle voice say, "Be happy, my children, until I call you again to your home in the sky. I shall keep watch over you until then." So from that time they have been very contented.

On calm summer evenings, they always come out on top of the rock to dance and sing. And when the moon is shining very brightly, you may see the silver lodge on the very highest part of the cliff; you may also, if you listen very hard, hear the voices of the happy little dancers.

THE STONE CANOE

Once a beautiful Chippewa maiden died on the day she was to have married a brave, young warrior. He was very brave, but this sorrow was almost too great for him to bear. He sat down at the door of his lodge and would not go hunting with the other Indians.

All that he could think of was the dead maiden, and he wished and wished that he might go to the Land of Souls, where he knew she now lived. But he did not know where this land was. All that the old people could tell him was that it lay to the south. So, after sorrowing for many days, he made up his mind to try to find it. He put some food in a bag, gathered up his arrows and bow, and calling his dog to him, started off. On he went for many days, and everything looked the same as in the land he had left--forests, hills, and valleys, with snow lying thick on the ground and matted in the trees. Then gradually the snow began to vanish, and as he went on he saw trees with leaves budding on them, and could hear the songs of birds. At the end of a few more days, he had reached the southern land, where all is warm and bright. There he saw a narrow path leading through a forest and up a hill.

He followed this path, and at the top of the hill found a lodge. At the door of the lodge stood an Indian, dressed in a robe of bearskins. He was a very old man, but his eyes were bright and soft.