Part 1

TREASURY OF AMERICAN INDIAN TALES

BY THEODORE WHITSON RESSLER

BONANZA BOOKS · NEW YORK

_517110660_

_Copyright © MCMLVII by National Board of Young Men’s Christian Association. Library of Congress Catalog Number: 57-5046. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to: BONANZA BOOKS, a division of Crown Publishers, Inc., 419 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10016._

_This edition is published by BONANZA BOOKS, a division of Crown Publishers, Inc. by arrangement with The Association Press. a b c d e f g h Manufactured in the United States of America._

To William Frederick, My Son

I dedicate this book to you, my son. The ways of the Indian were good. Honesty and truth were sacred to them; courage, a part of their lives, as much as eating and sleeping. May this book prove to bring you many joyful hours of reading, for constantly were you with me during its writing, not only in person but in spirit.

THE 44 STORIES FROM 27 TRIBES

_Introduction_ ix 1. ADVENTURE _Little Rabbit Discovers a Secret of Strength_, Pueblo 3 _Atagahi—The Secret Lake_, Cherokee 10 _Quarter Moon and Little Elk_, Iroquois 13 _A Kitten Brings a Boy His Feather_, Nez Percé 20 _Little Thunder Finds a Friend_, Wyandot 23 _How Not to Catch a Fish_, Bella Coola 29 _Little Fire Cloud’s Dream_, Delaware 33 _The Cry of the Horned Owl_, Cayuga 38 _The Dream That Led to Victory_, Apache 42 2. HUNTING AND FISHING _Grey Calf Learns to Hunt Buffalo_, Crow 53 _Little Fox and the Golden Eagle_, Apache 60 _How Long Moose Became a Brave_, Powhatan 65 _How a Fishing Trip Taught Loyalty to a Boy_, Iroquois 71 _Little Bear’s First Hunt_, Apache 79 _Crying Eagle Sees a Great Battle_, Iroquois 84 _Spotted Tail and the Ghost Wolf_, Mohawk 89 3. CUSTOMS _The Tribes Gather_, Cree 99 _Singing Eagle’s First Clothes_, Huron 105 _The New Tepee_, Blackfoot 108 _Little Dove Learns to Weave_, Winnebago 112 _Red Cloud’s Dream_, Algonquin 117 _Broken Tooth and the War Bonnet_, Apache 127 _Grey Squirrel Hears His Name_, Oneida 129 4. HEROISM _Little Fawn and the Wolves_, Choctaw 139 _The Island_, Iroquois 144 _A New Bow for Tani_, Cherokee 149 _Singing Waters and the Medicine Well_, Teton-Dakota 153 _The War That Should Not Have Happened_, Comanche 160 _Little Horse and the Painted Arrow_, Delaware 174 _Falling Water Earns a Feather_, Dakota-Sioux 192 _The Race with Death_, Apache 197 _The Storm_, Algonquin 210 5. CHARACTER _Sleeping Bear Makes a Mistake_, Montagnais 217 _The Lesson of the Elm Tree_, Cherokee 220 _The Race_, Oneida 225 _Little Thunderbird Tells the Truth_, Blackfoot 241 _The Prize No One Could See_, Kickapoo 247 _The Mysterious Pony Raiders_, Blackfoot 253 _The Canoe Race_, Ottawa 263 _Standing Fawn Makes a Doll_, Shawnee 269 _Black Cloud Remembers_, Seneca 274 _The Miracle of the Pine Grove_, Iroquois 281 _Crooked Arrow Finds a Friend_, Shawnee 286 _The Boy and the Warrior Chief_, Seneca 300

INTRODUCTION

This is a collection of American Indian tales for pre-teen boys and girls, a fact that does not obviate the possibility of their interest to parents and youth leaders, as well. All have been tested by the author-compiler with youngsters in many settings—in homes, in church, Scout and Y groups, by the campfire, in meeting rooms, and even in buses.

Those stories which the author has created are based upon Indian lore and customs. Many of the traditional stories were related to him by his Indian friends, descendants of the braves who first recounted them many generations ago. Both the original and the traditional tales are set down within the general context of Indian history, but without any pretense that the events actually took place.

Authenticity, however, in the life, customs, and moral standards of the Indians has been striven for in each story. Throughout, an attempt has been made to impart, without “preaching” at youngsters, three major ethical values common to all American Indians—courage, honesty in dealing with others, and truthfulness in speech.

The tales are of varying length, but all are short to conform with the interest span of average pre-teeners—and, hopefully, to leave them eager for the next story session.

It will be noted that both Indian boys and girls play leading roles. The author has found that the appeal of each story has been equal for both sexes irrespective of whether it has a young hero or heroine.

Parents and youth leaders will observe, too, that stress is placed in several stories upon the close father-son and mother-daughter relationship—completely true in Indian culture, and as much coveted in the formative pre-teen years of our own children today.

Whether read to children, or adapted and retold to them, or read by children themselves, it is hoped that these stories will be cherished as much by them as by the hundreds of boys and girls who helped, unwittingly, to select them for this book.

Theodore Whitson Ressler

1. ADVENTURE

LITTLE RABBIT DISCOVERS A SECRET OF STRENGTH

Little Rabbit was a young Pueblo brave who lived a very happy and carefree life. There was nothing very special about Little Rabbit unless you were to say that his spirits were never dampened by a sad turn of events. When something went wrong and people were unhappy, Little Rabbit usually found his way to their side, and would offer words of encouragement.

The village in which Little Rabbit was born was like all the Pueblo adobe villages of centuries before him. Little Rabbit had to climb a ladder in order to enter his home, because all ground floor rooms had only a roof entrance. By pulling up the ladder at night, families made their homes hard to enter.

Little Rabbit had once watched several families make an adobe building, several levels high. The walls were made of a mixture of yellowish clay and sand, called adobe; the roofs were made of a heavy layer of the same adobe laid over a strong frame of log beams, crisscrossed with poles, willow branches, sticks, grass, and desert brush. The Spaniards had taught the Pueblos how to mold the adobe into bricks. Small holes were made for windows and doorways. Each family had one large room, and the ground floor room (without windows or a doorway) was used by all the families for storage, initiation of the boys into secret societies, and for religious ceremonies.

Because each floor was set back the depth of the room below, each level had a porch which was used by the Pueblo women for making corn bread, pottery, and baskets, and by the men to weave rugs and blankets. When religious ceremonies, dances, and games were taking place, these porches gave the whole family the best possible point from which to watch.

Such was the village in which Little Rabbit had grown to the age of twelve, a strong and tall young brave.

One day he had just finished playing some running games with his friends and was returning to his home when one of his friends called to him, “Come, Little Rabbit, we are going to walk the ledges.”

Now walking the ledges was a very difficult game and, most of the time, was forbidden by the parents. But occasionally some of the more daring young braves, willing to chance their necks, would organize a game of ledge walking. The idea was something like “Follow the Leader,” but far more dangerous. The boys would walk right on the edge of the roofs—along the first floor and, if successful and daring enough, along the second, and then along the third floor roof. As the boys went higher, fewer and fewer would take part; a fall from any one of the roofs would be bad, but a fall from the second or third could cause great injury or even death.

Now Little Rabbit was not a coward, but he hesitated to play the game because his father had told him that he was not to go without his father’s permission, and Little Rabbit knew that this was one game his father would not permit him to play. So with sadness in his heart he shouted back to the other boys that he had work to do, and continued on his way home.

Several days passed, and each day a few of the older boys would gather to walk ledges, and each day they would ask Little Rabbit to take part, and each day Little Rabbit would say no. Finally it got to be too much for even Little Rabbit. The next time he was asked he answered yes, and soon was playing the very dangerous game.

The boys had all completed the first ledge of the round floor and were starting for the second. Just as Little Rabbit reached the second ledge, a voice called out, “Little Rabbit, my son, what are you doing?”

The rest of the braves scattered, but the surprise at hearing his father’s angry voice near by frightened Little Rabbit for a moment, and he lost his balance. He tried to straighten up, but went tumbling down the side of the dwelling. He managed to break his fall by grasping at the ladder but was not able to hold on. When he landed, his leg was doubled under him and a sharp pain shot through his body, and then he fainted.

When Little Rabbit awoke, he found he was stretched on his own bed, and his father and mother were standing over him.

“I am sorry, my son,” his father said softly. “I did not mean to startle you so. But I was afraid for you, and the fear in my heart gave harshness and anger to my voice. If I had waited until you were safely over the edge and then called to you, this terrible thing might not have happened.”

“Do not blame yourself,” said Little Rabbit. “It is I who made the mistake. I disobeyed my father. I am truly sorry for that. If I had not been doing something wrong, I would not have been startled when you called. It was a foolish thing for me to do. I let the other boys tease me into playing. It would have been braver for me to tell them no. Truly I am ashamed, my father.”

“You must rest, my son. Your leg has been badly injured. When you have rested we shall talk of this.” With that, Little Rabbit’s father left the house to continue his work.

For many days Little Rabbit lay in pain from his hurt leg; but more than his leg, his heart and mind were hurt from the unhappiness he had brought to his father by disobeying. He tried to talk with his mother about how he felt but all his mother would say was, “Do not worry so, Little Rabbit. Your father has forgiven you.”

But this was not what concerned Little Rabbit. His father now had to carry on the work of farming the corn and brans and cotton all alone for the family. This made Little Rabbit feel very unhappy. He wanted to do his share of the work, and he liked to see crops grow.

His leg began to heal, and soon Little Rabbit was able to hobble around with the aid of a stout staff. He began to help around the house as much as he could. Before long, he was able to limp out to the garden after his father and work a little there, too.

Many moons passed and his leg healed and became strong. But it was twisted so that when Little Rabbit walked or ran he would limp rather badly. The other young braves felt sorry for Little Rabbit. Even though he could move about rather easily with his twisted leg, he really could not keep up with the other young braves in the many games they played. Soon he found that he was not being asked so often to play the really exciting games.

One day as Little Rabbit was seated in front of his home, his father was returning from the garden. As he came to where Little Rabbit was seated, he stopped and spoke gently.

“Why do you sit here so sad and forlorn, my son? Always you have been gay and happy, but lately you have become quiet and sad. Tell your father what it is that troubles you.”

And so Little Rabbit explained that because he could not keep up with them in the games of speed and skill, the other boys no longer invited him to play.

“My son, if you are going to sit here and let your life pass you by because your leg will not obey every command it is given, you will soon become very unhappy and bitter. You will be of no use to anyone, even yourself. You must turn your thoughts to other things. If you cannot run fast, you must practice. If you cannot jump, you must practice.”

“I have tried, my father, but it seems to do no good. My leg is strong, but the way it is twisted causes me to limp. If I try to run my leg bends under me. I have tried day after day but it is of no use.”

“You cannot sit here and think of the world as a sad, unhappy place. Such thoughts will make your leg feel even more twisted than it really is. You must be thankful for your opportunity to raise yourself to be more than just an ordinary Indian brave. You have a battle inside yourself now that calls for great courage and wisdom. How you will overcome it I do not know, but you must try, my son.”

That night Little Rabbit could not go to sleep because he was thinking about what his father had said. Maybe he had not been working hard enough to make his leg do what he commanded. Tomorrow he would try harder.

And so every day Little Rabbit practiced very hard. For many hours each week, he would exercise his leg. Finally one day he awoke feeling strong and fit. After breakfast he went forth from his home to find his friends for a game. When he located them, they were beginning a foot race which would take them around the village. Without waiting to be asked, Little Rabbit trotted into line just as the race started. The other boys were off to a big lead, but that didn’t worry Little Rabbit. He remembered what his father had said and, with each running step, he repeated the words, “I must try.”

The race was going strong. Soon, to his own surprise, Little Rabbit began to pass the other boys one after another. What he had lost in ability, he made up in stamina—the strength to go on and on. His many days of practice were now proving valuable. As the other boys began to tire and drop back, Little Rabbit passed the leading young brave. Then he began to widen the gap between himself and the next runner until nearly one hundred paces separated him from the second place runner when he crossed the finish line.

When all the runners had come panting to the finish line, they gathered around Little Rabbit, slapping his shoulders and congratulating him upon his victory. Finally, one of the young braves asked, “How did you manage to stay so fresh to the very end?”

“Well, you see,” said Little Rabbit quietly, “when I fell from the ledge that day and broke my leg, I was sure that I was being punished for disobeying my father’s wishes. After my leg healed and I began to play again, I found that I could not keep up with you in your games. Once again I thought that I was still being punished. But my father told me I must try harder. This brought me courage. Once again I began practicing every day to learn to run and jump even though my leg was twisted. I do not have the skill that I used to have, but I now have endurance which may stand me in very good stead later on as it has here today.”

ATAGAHI—THE SECRET LAKE

Somewhere in the high ridges of the Great Smokies there was believed to be a lake called Atagahi, the Secret Lake. Few people had heard of it, and this is a story of a young Cherokee brave and his sister who enjoyed the secret of this beautiful lake nestled in the Great Smokies.

Utani placed his bright, shiny, new knife on the ground next to his new moccasins and admired the gleaming of the blade in the sun. He was a young Cherokee brave, rather tall for his age but very powerfully built and with sharp penetrating black eyes. He was too busy admiring the glint of the metal in the sun to notice the approach of Netani, his sister, until the shadow of her body crossed the knife blade and shut off the sun.

“Get out of the way of the sun,” cried Utani. “You are blocking the rays from shining on my knife.” Netani made no effort to move and so Utani repeated his request.

Netani could not understand Utani’s demand that she move, but he was her big brother and so she must obey. As she stepped aside she inquired of Utani why he watched so intently the blade of his knife in the sun.

Utani, of course, now being a man, did not want to give a childish answer such as, “I am watching the blade shine in the sun.” So he quickly gave another answer: “I am receiving a message from the sun.”

“What sort of message?” asked Netani.

“Oh, the sun is telling me where Atagahi is and maybe if I study the blade long enough the sun will tell me just where to find it.”

This, Utani thought, would satisfy his little sister. But her curiosity was too great, and she asked that Utani take her to the secret lake, Atagahi.

Now, Utani realized he had gone a little too far in his bragging; but being very stubborn, he refused to tell his sister that he really could not find the secret lake by looking at the knife blade in the sun. Utani made up his mind that he would have to find the secret lake, Atagahi. He rose and placed his knife carefully in his belt and, taking his sister’s hand, started toward the ridges of the Great Smokies. For two hours, Utani and Netani climbed higher and higher into the mountains; but as the day wore on, Utani began to feel a bit frightened, for they were a long way from home and had come upon nothing that looked like a lake. Finally Netani stopped a few feet behind Utani and called out.

“Let us rest here for a while, big brother. I am getting tired. Besides it is late and I am hungry. Let us go back to the village and look tomorrow.”

Of course, Utani secretly thought that was a wonderful idea, for he was tired and hungry too. He agreed to follow his little sister’s idea.

As he grasped his sister’s hand to start home, his foot kicked a small stone which rolled off the side of the trail and down a small embankment of earth and landed at the bottom with a splash. Utani and Netani looked at each other with great surprise and then carefully stepped to the edge of the path. Utani pushed aside the branches that grew along the side of the trail, and they both peered down into the waters of a beautiful blue green lake nestled among the trees and rocks that hid it from human eyes along the trail. They had found it! They had found Atagahi! It was fast growing dark, so the two children decided to return to their village and come back the following day to the secret lake. When they returned to their village the older braves wanted to know where they had been. Netani said, “We looked at Utani’s knife blade in the sun, and the sun told us where to find Atagahi.”

The older Cherokee braves all laughed and laughed very loudly. But Netani and Utani did not laugh, for they knew where Atagahi was and they could go there any time they pleased. They never told anyone their secret, but every once in a while if you looked very carefully up the trail into the mountains, you might see two Indian children kicking stones off the side of the trail.

QUARTER MOON AND LITTLE ELK

“Quarter Moon! Where are you, Quarter Moon?”

Little Elk was shouting for his friend as he trotted through the quiet Iroquois village.

It was July, and many of the older braves had gone off to fish and hunt. There were few left in the village except the women, the old men, and the children. Little Elk was now twelve and he was feeling like a big warrior more and more each day.

Finally just as Little Elk was about to give up, he heard his friend answering him from behind his father’s wigwam. “Why do you call so loudly, Little Elk?”

“Because my mother said that I could go fishing this day and I would like you, my friend, to go with me. I have a great deal of good fishing equipment, and there is still one canoe left at the shore of the great lake. Can you come with me?”

Quarter Moon thought for a moment, especially of the work he was supposed to do that day. Finally he said, “Wait, I will go and ask my mother.”

With that he disappeared into the wigwam and in a moment was out again, smiling.

“My mother says that I may go, but that I must be back when the sun has climbed to the highest point in the sky. For any day now, my father is expected back and I have not completed the chores he gave me to do when he left.”

“Come then,” said Little Elk. “We must hurry.”

The two boys ran to the lake shore and, after placing their fishing equipment in the canoe, they stepped in and pushed away from the shore.

“We will paddle along the shore,” said Little Elk.

The Indians of the Northeast made fishing tackle from young basswood saplings and made their hooks from bone. With these they were able to catch the mighty muskellunge of the northern waters and supplemented their fresh meat diet with lake fish.

The boys paddled for quite some time before they dropped their lines into the water. They had picked a good spot because in a matter of minutes they had several fish in the floor of the canoe. Suddenly, Little Elk noticed that the canoe had been drifting and he spoke to his friend about it.

“We should start for home, Little Elk,” Quarter Moon said. “The sun is climbing high in the heavens. We have many fine fish, and our mothers will be proud.”

As they picked up their paddles once again, Little Elk looked around to make sure that they were headed in the right direction. They had been so busy with their fishing that they had drifted far from where they had started. Little Elk wasn’t quite sure which direction they should take to go homeward, for the two boys had never been off by themselves fishing and for a moment he was confused. Then, looking at the sun, he decided that they had turned completely around and would have to turn their canoe once again to be headed in the right direction. And after he told Quarter Moon, the two boys turned the canoe around and began to paddle in the direction they were sure was right.

They paddled past several islands and toward the main shore, when Quarter Moon cried out, “Little Elk, our canoe has sprung a leak.”

Little Elk looked down at his moccasins. The water was beginning to rise in the canoe. Then Little Elk knew why this old canoe had been left at the shore of the lake. The bottom was not considered safe. So the canoe had been left to be repaired and used later on.