“‘Ho!’ he said to himself, ‘I am far enough now and I shall sleep. It’s easy to steal from the Sun–just as easy as stealing from the Bear or the Beaver.’
“He folded the leggings and put them under his head as the Sun had done, and went to sleep. He had a dream and it waked him with a start. Bad deeds bring bad dreams to us all. OLD-man sat up and there was the Sun looking right in his face and laughing. He was frightened and ran away, leaving the leggings behind him.
“Laughingly the Sun put on the leggings and went on toward the west, for he is al- ways busy. He thought he would see OLD-
man no more, but it takes more than one lesson to teach a fool to be wise, and OLD- man hid in the timber until the Sun had
travelled out of sight. Then he ran westward and hid himself near the Sun’s lodge again, intending to wait for the night and steal the leggings a second time.
“He was much afraid this time, but as soon as the Sun was asleep he crept to the lodge and peeked inside. Here he stopped and looked about, for he was afraid the Sun would hear his heart beating. Finally he started toward the Sun’s bed and just then a great white Owl flew from off the lodge poles, and this scared him more, for that is very bad luck and he knew it; but he kept on creeping until he could almost touch the Sun.
“All about the lodge were beautiful linings, tanned and painted by the Moon, and the
queer signs on them made the old coward tremble. He heard a night-bird call outside and he thought it would surely wake the Sun; so he hastened to the bed and with cunning fingers stole the leggings, as he had done the night before, without waking the great sleeper. Then he crept out of the lodge, talking bravely to himself as cowards do when they are afraid.
“‘Now,’ he said to himself, ‘I shall run faster and farther than before. I shall not stop running while the night lasts, and I shall stay in the mountains all the time when the Sun is at work in the daytime!’
“Away he went–running as the Buffalo runs–straight ahead, looking at nothing, hearing nothing, stopping at nothing. When day began to break OLD-man was far from
the Sun’s lodge and he hid himself in a deep gulch among some bushes that grew there. He listened a long time before he dared to go to sleep, but finally he did. He was tired from his great run and slept soundly and for a long time, but when he opened his eyes– there was the Sun looking straight at him, and this time he was scowling. OLD-man
started to run away but the Sun grabbed him and threw him down upon his back.
My! but the Sun was angry, and he said:
“‘OLD-man, you are a clever thief but a mighty fool as well, for you steal from me and expect to hide away. Twice you have stolen the leggings my wife made for me, and twice I have found you easily. Don’t you know
that the whole world is my lodge and that you can never get outside of it, if you run your foolish legs off? Don’t you know that I light all of my lodge every day and search it carefully? Don’t you know that nothing can hide from me and live? I shall not harm you this time, but I warn you now, that if you ever steal from me again, I will hurt you badly. Now go, and don’t let me catch you stealing again!’
“Away went OLD-man, and on toward the west went the busy Sun. That is all.
“Now go to bed; for I would talk of other things with my friend, who knows of war as I do. Ho! “
OLD-MAN AND HIS CONSCIENCE
Not so many miles away from the village, the great mountain range so divides
the streams that are born there, that their waters are offered as tribute to the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans. In this wonder- ful range the Indians believe the winds are made, and that they battle for supremacy over Gunsight Pass. I have heard an old
story, too, that is said to have been generally believed by the Blackfeet, in which a monster bull-elk that lives in Gunsight Pass lords it over the winds. This elk creates the North wind by “flapping” one of his ears, and the South wind by the same use of his other. I am inclined to believe that the winds are made in that Pass, myself, for there they are seldom at rest, especially at this season of the year.
To-night the wind was blowing from the north, and filmy white clouds were driven across the face of the nearly full moon, mo- mentarily veiling her light. Lodge poles creaked and strained at every heavy gust, and sparks from the fires inside the lodges sped down the wind, to fade and die.
In his lodge War Eagle waited for us, and when we entered he greeted us warmly, but failed to mention the gale. “I have been waiting,” he said. “You are late and the story I shall tell you is longer than many of the others.” Without further delay the story- telling commenced.
“Once OLD-man came upon a lodge in the forest. It was a fine one, and painted with strange signs. Smoke was curling from the top, and thus he knew that the person who lived there was at home. Without calling or speaking, he entered the lodge and saw a man sitting by the fire smoking his pipe. The man didn’t speak, nor did he offer his pipe to OLD-man, as our people do when they are glad to see visitors. He didn’t even look at his guest, but OLD-man has no good manners at all. He couldn’t see that he wasn’t wanted, as he looked about the man’s lodge and made himself at home. The linings were beautiful and were painted with fine skill. The lodge was clean and the fire was bright, but there was no woman about.
“Leaning against a fine back-rest, OLD-man filled his own pipe and lighted it with a coal from the man’s fire. Then he began to smoke and look around, wondering why the man
acted so queerly. He saw a star that shone down through the smoke-hole, and the tops of several trees that were near the lodge. Then he saw a woman–way up in a tree top and right over the lodge. She looked young and beautiful and tall.
“‘Whose woman is that up there in the tree top?’ asked OLD-man.
“‘She’s your woman if you can catch her and will marry her,’ growled the man; ‘but you will have to live here and help me make a living.’
“‘I’ll try to catch her, and if I do I will marry her and stay here, for I am a great hunter and can easily kill what meat we want,’ said Old-man.
“He went out of the lodge and climbed the tree after the woman. She screamed, but he caught her and held her, although she scratched him badly. He carried her into the lodge and there renewed his promise to stay there always. The man married them, and they
were happy for four days, but on the fifth morning OLD-man was gone–gone with all
the dried meat in the lodge–the thief.
“When they were sure that the rascal had run away the woman began to cry, but not so the man. He got his bow and arrows
and left the lodge in anger. There was snow on the ground and the man took the track of OLD-man, intending to catch and kill him.
“The track was fresh and the man started on a run, for he was a good hunter and as fast as a Deer. Of course he gained on OLD- man, who was a much slower traveller; and the Sun was not very high when the old thief stopped on a hilltop to look back. He saw the man coming fast.
“‘This will never do,’ he said to himself. ‘That queer person will catch me. I know what I shall do; I shall turn myself into a dead Bull-Elk and lie down. Then he will pass me and I can go where I please.’
“He took off his moccasins and said to them: ‘Moccasins, go on toward the west. Keep going and making plain tracks in the snow toward the big-water where the Sun
sleeps. The queer-one will follow you, and when you pass out of the snowy country,
you can lose him. Go quickly for he is close upon us.’
“The moccasins ran away as OLD-man wanted them to, and they made plain tracks in the snow leading away toward the big-water. OLD- man turned into a dead Bull-Elk and stretched himself near the tracks the moccasins had made.
“Up the hill came the man, his breath short from running. He saw the dead Elk, and
thought it might be OLD-man playing a trick. He was about to shoot an arrow into the dead Elk to make sure; but just as he was about to let the arrow go, he saw the tracks the moc- casins had made. Of course he thought the moccasins were on OLD-man’s feet, and that the carcass was really that of a dead Elk. He was badly fooled and took the tracks again. On and on he went, following the moccasins over hills and rivers. Faster than before went the man, and still faster travelled the empty moccasins, the trail growing dimmer and dim- mer as the daylight faded. All day long, and all of the night the man followed the tracks without rest or food, and just at day- break he came to the shore of the big-water. There, right by the water’s edge, stood the empty moccasins, side by side.
“The man turned and looked back. His
eyes were red and his legs were trembling. ‘Caw–caw, caw,’ he heard a Crow say. Right over his head he saw the black bird and knew him, too.
“‘Ho! OLD-man, you were in that dead
Bull-Elk. You fooled me, and now you are a Crow. You think you will escape me, do you? Well, you will not; for I, too, know magic, and am wise.’
“With a stick the man drew a cricle in the sand. Then he stood within the ring and
sang a song. OLD-man was worried and watched the strange doings from the air over- head. Inside the circle the man began to whirl about so rapidly that he faded from sight, and from the centre of the circle there came an Eagle. Straight at the Crow flew the Eagle, and away toward the mountains sped the Crow, in fright.
“The Crow knew that the Eagle would catch him, so that as soon as he reached the trees on the mountains he turned himself into a Wren and sought the small bushes under the tall trees. The Eagle saw the change, and at once began turning over and over in the air. When he had reached the ground, in- stead of an Eagle a Sparrow-hawk chased the Wren. Now the chase was fast indeed, for no place could the Wren find in which to hide from the Sparrow-hawk. Through the brush, into trees, among the weeds and grass, flew the Wren with the Hawk close behind. Once the Sparrow-hawk picked a feather from the Wren’s tail–so close was he to his victim. It was nearly over with the Wren, when he suddenly came to a park along a river’s side. In this park were a hundred lodges of our people, and before a fine lodge there sat the daughter of the chief. It was growing dark and chilly, but still she sat there looking at the river. The Sparrow-hawk was striking at the Wren with his beak and talons, when the Wren saw the young-woman and flew straight to her. So swift he flew that the young-woman didn’t see him at all, but she felt something strike her hand, and when she looked she saw a bone ring on her finger. This frightened her, and she ran inside the lodge, where the fire kept the shadows from coming. OLD-
man had changed into the ring, of course, and the Sparrow-hawk didn’t dare to go into the lodge; so he stopped outside and listened. This is what he heard OLD-man say:
“‘Don’t be frightened, young-woman, I am neither a Wren nor a ring. I am OLD-man and that Sparrow-hawk has chased me all the day and for nothing. I have never done him harm, and he bothers me without reason.’
“‘Liar–forked-tongue,’ cried the Sparrow- hawk. ‘Believe him not, young-woman. He
has done wrong. He is wicked and I am not a Sparrow-hawk, but conscience. Like an ar- row I travel, straight and fast. When he lies or steals from his friends I follow him. I talk all the time and he hears me, but lies to himself, and says he does not hear. You
know who I am, young-woman, I am what talks inside a person.’
“OLD-man heard what the Sparrow-hawk
said, and he was ashamed for once in his life. He crawled out of the lodge. Into the shadows he ran away–away into the night, and the darkness–away from himself!
“You see,” said War Eagle, as he reached for his pipe,” OLD-man knew that he had done wrong, and his heart troubled him, just as yours will bother you if you do not listen to the voice that speaks within yourselves. When- ever that voice says a thing is wicked, it is wicked–no matter who says it is not. Yes –it is very hard for a man to hide from him- self. Ho!”
OLD-MAN’S TREACHERY
The next afternoon Muskrat and Fine
Bow went hunting. They hid them-
selves in some brush which grew beside an old game trail that followed the river, and there waited for a chance deer.
Chickadees hopped and called, “chick-a-de- de-de” in the willows and wild-rose bushes that grew near their hiding-place; and the gentle little birds with their pretty coats were often within a few inches of the hands of the young hunters. In perfect silence they watched and admired these little friends, while glance or smile conveyed their appreciation of the bird- visits to each other.
The wind was coming down the stream, and therefore the eyes of the boys seldom left the trail in that direction; for from that quarter an approaching deer would be unwarned by the ever-busy breeze. A rabbit came hopping down the game trail in believed perfect se- curity, passing so close to Fine Bow that he could not resist the desire to strike at him with an arrow. Both boys were obliged to cover their mouths with their open hands to keep from laughing aloud at the surprise and speed shown by the frightened bunny, as he scurried around a bend in the trail, with his white, pudgy tail bobbing rapidly.
They had scarcely regained their compo- sure and silence when, “snap!” went a dry stick. The sharp sound sent a thrill through the hearts of the boys, and instantly they became rigidly watchful. Not a leaf could move on the ground now–not a bush might bend or a bird pass and escape being seen by the four sharp eyes that peered from the brush in the direction indicated by the sound of the breaking stick. Two hearts beat loudly as Fine Bow fitted his arrow to the bowstring. Tense and expectant they waited–yes, it was a deer–a buck, too, and he was coming down the trail, alert and watchful–down the trail that he had often travelled and knew so well. Yes, he had followed his mother along that trail when he was but a spotted fawn–now he wore antlers, and was master of his own ways. On he came–nearly to the brush that hid the hunters, when, throwing his beautiful head high in the air, he stopped, turning his side a trifle.
Zipp–went the arrow and, kicking out behind, away went the buck, crashing through willows and alders that grew in his way, until he was out of sight. Then all was still, save the chick-a-de-de-de, chick-a-de-de-de, that came constantly from the bushes about them.
Out from the cover came the hunters, and with ready bow they followed along the trail. Yes–there was blood on a log, and more
on the dead leaves. The arrow had found its mark and they must go slowly in their trailing, lest they lose the meat. For two hours they followed the wounded animal, and at last came upon him in a willow thicket–sick
unto death, for the arrow was deep in his paunch. His sufferings were ended by another arrow, and the chase was done.
With their knives the boys dressed the buck, and then went back to the camp to tell the women where the meat could be found–just as the men do. It was their first deer; and pride shone in their faces as they told their grandfather that night in the lodge.
“That is good,” War Eagle replied, as the boys finished telling of their success. “That is good, if your mother needed the meat, but it is wrong to kill when you have plenty, lest Manitou be angry. There is always enough, but none to waste, and the hunter who kills more than he needs is wicked. To-night I shall tell you what happened to OLD-man when he did that. Yes, and he got into trouble over it.
“One day in the fall when the leaves were yellow, and the Deer-people were dressed in their blue robes–when the Geese and Duck- people were travelling to the country where water does not freeze, and where flowers never die, OLD-man was travelling on the plains.
“Near sundown he saw two Buffalo-Bulls feeding on a steep hillside; but he had no bow and arrow with him. He was hungry,
and began to think of some way to kill one of the Bulls for meat. Very soon he thought out a plan, for he is cunning always.
“He ran around the hill out of sight of the Bulls, and there made two men out of grass and sage-brush. They were dummies, of
course, but he made them to look just like real men, and then armed each with a wooden
knife of great length. Then he set them in the position of fighting; made them look as though they were about to fight each other with the knives. When he had them both
fixed to suit, he ran back to the place where the Buffalo were calling:
“‘Ho! brothers, wait for me–do not run away. There are two fine men on the other side of this hill, and they are quarrelling. They will surely fight unless we stop them. It all started over you two Bulls, too. One of the men says you are fat and fine, and the other claims you are poor and skinny. Don’t let our brothers fight over such a foolish thing as that. It would be wicked. Now I can
decide it, if you will let me feel all over you to see if you are fat or poor. Then I will go back to the men and settle the trouble by tell- ing them the truth. Stand still and let me feel your sides–quick, lest the fight begin while I am away.’
“‘All right,’ said the Bulls, ‘but don’t you tickle us.’ Then OLD-man walked up close and commenced to feel about the Bulls’ sides; but his heart was bad. From his robe he
slipped his great knife, and slyly felt about till he found the spot where the heart beats, and then stabbed the knife into the place, clear up to the hilt.
“Both of the Bulls died right away, and OLD-man laughed at the trick he had played upon them. Then he gave a knife to both of his hands, and said:
“‘Get to work, both of you! Skin these Bulls while I sit here and boss you.’
“Both hands commenced to skin the Buf- falo, but the right hand was much the swifter worker. It gained upon the left hand rapidly, and this made the left hand angry. Finally the left hand called the right hand ‘dog-face.’ That is the very worst thing you can call a person in our language, you know, and of course it made the right hand angry. So
crazy and angry was the right hand that it stabbed the left hand, and then they began to fight in earnest.
“Both cut and slashed till blood covered the animals they were skinning. All this fight- ing hurt OLD-man badly, of course, and he commenced to cry, as women do sometimes. This stopped the fight; but still OLD-man cried, till, drying his tears, he saw a Red Fox sitting near the Bulls, watching him. ‘Hi, there, you –go away from there ! If you want meat
you go and kill it, as I did.’
“Red Fox laughed–‘Ha!–Ha!–Ha!–
foolish OLD-man–Ha!–ha!’ Then he ran away and told the other Foxes and the Wolves and the Coyotes about OLD-man’s meat. Told them that his own hands couldn’t get along with themselves and that it would be easy to steal it from him.
“They all followed the Red Fox back to the place where OLD-man was, and there they ate all of the meat–every bit, and polished the bones.
“OLD-man couldn’t stop them, because he was hurt, you see; but it all came about through lying and killing more meat than he needed. Yes–he lied and that is bad, but his hands got to quarrelling between themselves, and family quarrels are always bad. Do not lie; do not quarrel. It is bad. Ho!”
WHY THE NIGHT-HAWK’S WINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL
I was awakened by the voice of the camp- crier, and although it was yet dark I listened to his message.
The camp was to move. All were to go to the mouth of the Maria’s–“The River That Scolds at the Other”–the Indians call this stream, that disturbs the waters of the Mis- souri with its swifter flood.
On through the camp the crier rode, and behind him the lodge-fires glowed in answer to his call. The village was awake, and soon the thunder of hundreds of hoofs told me that the pony-bands were being driven into camp, where the faithful were being roped for the journey. Fires flickered in the now fading darkness, and down came the lodges as though wizard hands had touched them. Before the sun had come to light the world, we were on our way to “The River That Scolds at the Other.”
Not a cloud was in the sky, and the wind was still. The sun came and touched the
plains and hilltops with the light that makes all wild things glad. Here and there a jack- rabbit scurried away, often followed by a pack of dogs, and sometimes, though not often, they were overtaken and devoured on the
spot. Bands of graceful antelope bounded out of our way, stopping on a knoll to watch the strange procession with wondering eyes, and once we saw a dust-cloud raised by a moving herd of buffalo, in the distance.
So the day wore on, the scene constantly changing as we travelled. Wolves and coyotes looked at us from almost every knoll and hill- top; and sage-hens sneaked to cover among the patches of sage-brush, scarcely ten feet away from our ponies. Toward sundown we
reached a grove of cottonwoods near the mouth of the Maria’s, and in an incredibly short space of time the lodges took form. Soon, from out the tops of a hundred camps, smoke was curling just as though the lodges had been there always, and would forever remain.
As soon as supper was over I found the children, and together we sought War Eagle’s lodge. He was in a happy mood and insisted upon smoking two pipes before commencing his story-telling. At last he said:
“To-night I shall tell you why the Night- hawk wears fine clothes. My grandfather told me about it when I was young. I am sure
you have seen the Night-hawk sailing over you, dipping and making that strange noise. Of course there is a reason for it.
“OLD-man was travelling one day in the springtime; but the weather was fine for that time of year. He stopped often and spoke to the bird-people and to the animal-people, for he was in good humor that day. He talked pleasantly with the trees, and his heart grew tender. That is, he had good thoughts; and of course they made him happy. Finally he felt tired and sat down to rest on a big, round stone–the kind of stone our white friend there calls a bowlder. Here he rested for a while, but the stone was cold, and he felt it through his robe; so he said:
“‘Stone, you seem cold to-day. You may have my robe. I have hundreds of robes in my camp, and I don’t need this one at all.’ That was a lie he told about having so many robes. All he had was the one he wore.
“He spread his robe over the stone, and then started down the hill, naked, for it was really a fine day. But storms hide in the mountains, and are never far away when it is springtime. Soon it began to snow–then
the wind blew from the north with a good strength behind it. OLD-man said:
“‘Well, I guess I do need that robe myself, after all. That stone never did anything for me anyhow. Nobody is ever good to a stone. I’ll just go back and get my robe.’
“Back he went and found the stone. Then he pulled the robe away, and wrapped it about himself. Ho! but that made the stone angry –Ho! OLD-man started to run down the
hill, and the stone ran after him. Ho! it was a funny race they made, over the grass, over smaller stones, and over logs that lay in the way, but OLD-man managed to keep
ahead until he stubbed his toe on a big sage-brush, and fell–swow!
“‘Now I have you!’ cried the stone–‘now I’ll kill you, too! Now I will teach you to give presents and then take them away,’
and the stone rolled right on top of OLD-man, and sat on his back.
“It was a big stone, you see, and OLD-man couldn’t move it at all. He tried to throw off the stone but failed. He squirmed and twisted–no use–the stone held him fast. He called the stone some names that are not good; but that never helps any. At last he began to call:
“‘Help!–Help!–Help!’ but nobody
heard him except the Night-hawk, and he told the OLD-man that he would help him all he could; so he flew away up in the air–so far that he looked like a black speck. Then he came down straight and struck that rock an awful blow–‘swow!’–and broke it in
two pieces. Indeed he did. The blow was so great that it spoiled the Night-hawk’s bill, forever–made it queer in shape, and jammed his head, so that it is queer, too. But he broke the rock, and OLD-man stood upon his feet.
“‘Thank you, Brother Night-hawk, ‘ said OLD- man, ‘now I will do something for you. I am going to make you different from other birds–make you so people will always notice you.’
“You know that when you break a rock
the powdered stone is white, like snow; and there is always some of the white powder whenever you break a rock, by pounding it. Well, Old-man took some of the fine powdered stone and shook it on the Night-hawk’s wings in spots and stripes–made the great white stripes you have seen on his wings, and told him that no other bird could have such marks on his clothes.
“All the Night-hawk’s children dress the same way now; and they always will as long as there are Night-hawks. Of course their clothes make them proud; and that is why they keep at flying over people’s heads–soaring and dipping and turning all the time, to show off their pretty wings.
“That is all for to-night. Muskrat, tell your father I would run Buffalo with him to- morrow–Ho!”
WHY THE MOUNTAIN-LION IS LONG AND LEAN
Have you ever seen the plains in the
morning–a June morning, when the
spurred lark soars and sings–when the plover calls, and the curlew pipes his shriller notes to the rising sun? Then is there music, in- deed, for no bird outsings the spurred lark; and thanks to OLD-man he is not wanting in numbers, either. The plains are wonderful then–more wonderful than they are at this season of the year; but at all times they beckon and hold one as in a spell, especially when they are backed or bordered by a snow-capped mountain range. Looking toward the east
they are boundless, but on their western edge superb mountains rear themselves.
All over this vast country the Indians roamed, following the great buffalo herds as did the wolves, and making their living with the bow and lance, since the horse came to them. In the very old days the “piskun”
was used, and buffalo were enticed to follow a fantastically dressed man toward a cliff, far enough to get the herd moving in that direc- tion, when the “buffalo-man” gained cover, and hidden Indians raised from their hiding places behind the animals, and drove them over the cliff, where they were killed in large numbers.
Not until Cortez came with his cavalry from Spain, were there horses on this continent, and then generations passed ere the plains tribes possessed this valuable animal, that so ma- terially changed their lives. Dogs dragged the Indian’s travois or packed his household goods in the days before the horse came, and for hundreds–perhaps thousands of years, these people had no other means of trans- porting their goods and chattels. As the Indian is slow to forget or change the ways of his father, we should pause before we brand him as wholly improvident, I think.
He has always been a family-man, has the Indian, and small children had to be carried, as well as his camp equipage. Wolf-dogs had to be fed, too, in some way, thus adding to his burden; for it took a great many to make it possible for him to travel at all.
When the night came and we visited War Eagle, we found he had other company–so we waited until their visit was ended before settling ourselves to hear the story that he might tell us.
“The Crows have stolen some of our best horses,” said War Eagle, as soon as the other guests had gone. “That is all right–we
shall get them back, and more, too. The Crows have only borrowed those horses and will pay for their use with others of their own. To-night I shall tell you why the Mountain lion is so long and thin and why he wears hair that looks singed. I shall also tell you why that person’s nose is black, because it is part of the story.
“A long time ago the Mountain-lion was a short, thick-set person. I am sure you didn’t guess that. He was always a great thief like OLD-man, but once he went too far, as you shall see.
“One day OLD-man was on a hilltop, and saw smoke curling up through the trees, away off on the far side of a gulch. ‘Ho!’ he said, ‘I wonder who builds fires except me. I guess I will go and find out.’
“He crossed the gulch and crept carefully toward the smoke. When he got quite near where the fire was, he stopped and listened. He heard some loud laughing but could not see who it was that felt so glad and gay. Finally he crawled closer and peeked through the brush toward the fire. Then he saw some Squirrel-people, and they were playing some sort of game. They were running and laugh- ing, and having a big time, too. What do you think they were doing? They were run- ning about the fire–all chasing one Squirrel. As soon as the Squirrel was caught, they would bury him in the ashes near the fire until he cried; then they would dig him out in a hurry. Then another Squirrel would take the lead and run until he was caught, as the other had been. In turn the captive would sub- mit to being buried, and so on–while the racing and laughing continued. They never left the buried one in the ashes after he cried, but always kept their promise and dug him out, right away.
“‘Say, let me play, won’t you?’ asked OLD-man. But the Squirrel-people all ran away, and he had a hard time getting them to return to the fire.
“‘You can’t play this game,’ replied the Chief-Squirrel, after they had returned to the fire.
“‘Yes, I can,’ declared OLD-man, ‘and you may bury me first, but be sure to dig me out when I cry, and not let me burn, for those ashes are hot near the fire.’
“‘All right,’ said the Chief-Squirrel, ‘we will let you play. Lie down,’–and OLD-
Man did lie down near the fire. Then the Squirrels began to laugh and bury OLD-man in the ashes, as they did their own kind. In no time at all OLD-man cried: ‘Ouch!–you are burning me–quick!–dig me out.’
“True to their promise, the Squirrel-people dug OLD-man out of the ashes, and laughed at him because he cried so quickly.
“‘Now, it is my turn to cover the captive,’ said OLD-man, ‘and as there are so many of you, I have a scheme that will make the game funnier and shorter. All of you lie down at once in a row. Then I will cover you all at one time. When you cry–I will dig you
out right away and the game will be over.’
“They didn’t know OLD-man very well; so they said, ‘all right,’ and then they all laid down in a row about the fire.
“OLD-man buried them all in the ashes– then he threw some more wood on the fire and went away and left them. Every Squirrel there was in the world was buried in the ashes except one woman Squirrel, and she told OLD- man she couldn’t play and had to go home. If she hadn’t gone, there might not be any Squirrels in this world right now. Yes, it is lucky that she went home.
“For a minute or so OLD-man watched the fire as it grew hotter, and then went down to a creek where willows grew and made him- self a great plate by weaving them together. When he had finished making the plate, he returned to the fire, and it had burned low again. He laughed at his wicked work, and a Raven, flying over just then, called him ‘forked-tongue,’ or liar, but he didn’t mind that at all. OLD-man cut a long stick and began to dig out the Squirrel-people. One by one he fished them out of the hot ashes; and they were roasted fine and were ready to eat. As he fished them out he counted them, and laid them on the willow plate he had made. When he had dug out the last one,
he took the plate to the creek and there sat down to eat the Squirrels, for he was hungry, as usual. OLD-man is a big eater, but he couldn’t eat all of the Squirrels at once, and while eating he fell asleep with the great plate in his lap.
“Nobody knows how long it was that he slept, but when he waked his plate of Squirrels was gone–gone completely. He looked be- hind him; he looked about him; but the plate was surely gone. Ho! But he was angry.
He stamped about in the brush and called aloud to those who might hear him; but no- body answered, and then he started to look for the thief. OLD-man has sharp eyes, and he found the trail in the grass where somebody had passed while he slept. ‘Ho!’ he said, ‘the Mountain-lion has stolen my Squirrels. I see his footprints; see where he has mashed the grass as he walked with those soft feet of his; but I shall find him, for I made him and know all his ways.’
“OLD-man got down on his hands and knees to walk as the Bear-people do, just as he did that night in the Sun’s lodge, and followed the trail of the Mountain-lion over the hills and through the swamps. At last he came
to a place where the grass was all bent down, and there he found his willow plate, but it was empty. That was the place where the
Mountain-lion had stopped to eat the rest of the Squirrels, you know; but he didn’t stay there long because he expected that OLD-man would try to follow him.
“The Mountain-lion had eaten so much
that he was sleepy and, after travelling a while after he had eaten the Squirrels, he thought he would rest. He hadn’t intended to go
to sleep; but he crawled upon a big stone near the foot of a hill and sat down where he could see a long way. Here his eyes began to wink, and his head began to nod, and finally he slept.
“Without stopping once, OLD-man kept on the trail. That is what counts–sticking right to the thing you are doing–and just before sundown OLD-man saw the sleeping Lion. Care- fully, lest he wake the sleeper, OLD-man crept close, being particular not to move a stone or break a twig; for the Mountain-lion is much faster than men are, you see; and if OLD-man had wakened the Lion, he would never have caught him again, perhaps. Little by little he crept to the stone where the Mountain- lion was dreaming, and at last grabbed him by the tail. It wasn’t much of a tail then, but enough for OLD-man to hold to. Ho!
The Lion was scared and begged hard, saying:
“‘Spare me, OLD-man. You were full and I was hungry. I had to have something to eat; had to get my living. Please let me go and do not hurt me.’ Ho! OLD-man was
angry–more angry than he was when he waked and found that he had been robbed, because he had travelled so far on his hands and knees.
“‘I’ll show you. I’ll teach you. I’ll fix you, right now. Steal from me, will you? Steal from the man that made you, you night- prowling rascal!’
“OLD-man put his foot behind the Moun- tain-lion’s head, and, still holding the tail, pulled hard and long, stretching the Lion out to great length. He squalled and cried, but OLD-man kept pulling until he nearly broke the Mountain-lion in two pieces–
until he couldn’t stretch him any more. Then OLD-man put his foot on the Mountain-lion’s back, and, still holding the tail, stretched that out until the tail was nearly as long as the body.
“‘There, you thief–now you are too long and lean to get fat, and you shall always look just like that. Your children shall all grow to look the same way, just to pay you for your stealing from the man that made you. Come on with me’; and he dragged the poor Lion back to the place where the fire was, and there rolled him in the hot ashes, singeing his robe till it looked a great deal like burnt hair. Then OLD-man stuck the Lion’s nose against the burnt logs and blackened it some –that is why his face looks as it does to-day.
“The Mountain-lion was lame and sore, but OLD-man scolded him some more and
told him that it would take lots more food to keep him after that, and that he would have to work harder to get his living, to pay for what he had done. Then he said, ‘go now, and remember all the Mountain-lions that ever live shall look just as you do.’ And they do, too!
“That is the story–that is why the Moun- tain-lion is so long and lean, but he is no bigger thief than OLD-man, nor does he tell any more lies. Ho!”
THE FIRE-LEGGINGS
There had been a sudden change in the weather. A cold rain was falling, and the night comes early when the clouds hang low. The children loved a bright fire, and
to-night War Eagle’s lodge was light as day. Away off on the plains a wolf was howling, and the rain pattered upon the lodge as though it never intended to quit. It was a splendid night for story-telling, and War Eagle filled and lighted the great stone pipe, while the children made themselves comfortable about the fire.
A spark sprang from the burning sticks, and fell upon Fine Bow’s bare leg. They all laughed heartily at the boy’s antics to rid himself of the burning coal; and as soon as the laughing ceased War Eagle laid aside the pipe. An Indian’s pipe is large to look at, but holds little tobacco.
“See your shadows on the lodge wall?” asked the old warrior. The children said they saw them, and he continued:
“Some day I will tell you a story about them, and how they drew the arrows of our enemies, but to-night I am going to tell you of the great fire-leggings.
“It was long before there were men and women on the world, but my grandfather told me what I shall now tell you.
“The gray light that hides the night-stars was creeping through the forests, and the wind the Sun sends to warn the people of his coming was among the fir tops. Flowers, on slender stems, bent their heads out of respect for the herald-wind’s Master, and from the dead top of a pine-tree the Yellowhammer beat upon his drum and called ‘the Sun is awake–all hail the Sun!’
“Then the bush-birds began to sing the song of the morning, and from alders the Robins joined, until all live things were awakened by the great music. Where the tall ferns grew, the Doe waked her Fawns, and taught them to do homage to the Great Light. In the
creeks, where the water was still and clear, and where throughout the day, like a delicate damaskeen, the shadows of leaves that over- hang would lie, the Speckled Trout broke the surface of the pool in his gladness of the com- ing day. Pine-squirrels chattered gayly, and loudly proclaimed what the wind had told; and all the shadows were preparing for a great journey to the Sand Hills, where the ghost- people dwell.
“Under a great spruce-tree–where the ground was soft and dry, OLD-man slept. The joy that thrilled creation disturbed him not, although the Sun was near. The bird-people looked at the sleeper in wonder, but the Pine squirrel climbed the great spruce-tree with a pine-cone in his mouth. Quickly he ran out on the limb that spread over OLD-man, and dropped the cone on the sleeper’s face. Then he scolded OLD-man, saying: ‘Get up–get up–lazy one–lazy one–get up–get up.’
“Rubbing his eyes in anger, OLD-man sat up and saw the Sun coming–his hunting leg- gings slipping through the thickets–setting them afire, till all the Deer and Elk ran out and sought new places to hide.
“‘Ho, Sun!’ called OLD-man, ‘those are mighty leggings you wear. No wonder you are a great hunter. Your leggings set fire to all the thick- ets, and by the light you can easily see the Deer and Elk; they cannot hide. Ho! Give them to me and I shall then be the great hunter and never be hungry.’
“‘Good,’ said the Sun, ‘take them, and let me see you wear my leggings.’
“OLD-man was glad in his heart, for he was lazy, and now he thought he could kill the game without much work, and that he could be a great hunter–as great as the Sun. He put on the leggings and at once began to hunt the thickets, for he was hungry. Very soon the leggings began to burn his legs. The faster he travelled the hotter they grew, until in pain he cried out to the Sun to come and take back his leggings; but the Sun would not hear him. On and on OLD-man ran. Faster and faster he flew through the country, setting fire to the brush and grass as he passed. Finally he came to a great river, and jumped in. Sizzzzzzz– the water said, when OLD-man’s legs touched it. It cried out, as it does when it is sprinkled upon hot stones in the sweat-lodge, for the leggings were very hot. But standing in the cool water OLD-man took off the leggings and threw them out upon the shore, where the Sun found them later in the day.
“The Sun’s clothes were too big for OLD- man, and his work too great.
“We should never ask to do the things which Manitou did not intend us to do. If we keep this always in mind we shall never get into trouble.
“Be yourselves always. That is what Man- tou intended. Never blame the Wolf for what he does. He was made to do such things.
Now I want you to go to your fathers’ lodges and sleep. To-morrow night I will tell you why there are so many snakes in the world. Ho!”
THE MOON AND THE GREAT SNAKE
The rain had passed; the moon looked
down from a clear sky, and the bushes and dead grass smelled wet, after the heavy storm. A cottontail ran into a clump of
wild-rose bushes near War Eagle’s lodge, and some dogs were close behind the frightened animal, as he gained cover. Little Buffalo Calf threw a stone into the bushes, scaring the rabbit from his hiding-place, and away went bunny, followed by the yelping pack. We
stood and listened until the noise of the chase died away, and then went into the lodge, where we were greeted, as usual, by War Eagle. To-night he smoked; but with greater cere- mony, and I suspected that it had something to do with the forthcoming story. Finally he said:
“You have seen many Snakes, I suppose?” “Yes,” replied the children, “we have seen a great many. In the summer we see them
every day.”
“Well,” continued the story-teller, “once there was only one Snake on the whole world, and he was a big one, I tell you. He was pretty to look at, and was painted with all the colors we know. This snake was proud of his clothes and had a wicked heart. Most Snakes are
wicked, because they are his relations.
“Now, I have not told you all about it yet, nor will I tell you to-night, but the Moon is the Sun’s wife, and some day I shall tell you that story, but to-night I am telling you about the Snakes.
“You know that the Sun goes early to bed, and that the Moon most always leaves before he gets to the lodge. Sometimes this is not so, but that is part of another story.
“This big Snake used to crawl up a high hill and watch the Moon in the sky. He was in love with her, and she knew it; but she paid no attention to him. She liked his looks, for his clothes were fine, and he was always slick and smooth. This went on for a long time, but she never talked to him at all. The Snake thought maybe the hill wasn’t high enough, so he found a higher one, and watched the Moon pass, from the top. Every night he climbed this high hill and motioned to her. She began to pay more attention to the big Snake, and one morning early, she loafed at her work a little, and spoke to him. He was flattered, and so was she, because he said many nice things to her, but she went on to the Sun’s lodge, and left the Snake.
“The next morning very early she saw the Snake again, and this time she stopped a long time–so long that the Sun had started out from the lodge before she reached home. He wondered what kept her so long, and became suspicious of the Snake. He made up his
mind to watch, and try to catch them together. So every morning the Sun left the lodge a little earlier than before; and one morning, just as he climbed a mountain, he saw the big Snake talking to the Moon. That made him angry, and you can’t blame him, because his wife was spending her time loafing with a Snake.
“She ran away; ran to the Sun’s lodge and left the Snake on the hill. In no time the Sun had grabbed him. My, the Sun was
angry! The big Snake begged, and promised never to speak to the Moon again, but the Sun had him; and he smashed him into thousands of little pieces, all of different colors from the different parts of his painted body. The little pieces each turned into a little snake, just as you see them now, but they were all too small for the Moon to notice after that. That is how so many Snakes came into the world; and that is why they are all small, nowadays.
“Our people do not like the Snake-people very well, but we know that they were made to do something on this world, and that they do it, or they wouldn’t live here.
“That was a short story, but to-morrow night I will tell you why the Deer-people have no gall on their livers; and why the Antelope- people do not wear dew-claws, for you should know that there are no other animals with cloven hoofs that are like them in this.
“I am tired to-night, and I will ask that you go to your lodges, that I may sleep, for I am getting old. Ho!”
WHY THE DEER HAS NO GALL
Bright and early the next morning the children were playing on the bank of “The River That Scolds the Other,” when Fine Bow said:
“Let us find a Deer’s foot, and the foot of an Antelope and look at them, for to-night grandfather will tell us why the Deer has the dew-claws, and why the Antelope has none.”
“Yes, and let us ask mother if the Deer has no gall on its liver. Maybe she can show both the liver of a Deer and that of an Antelope; then we can see for ourselves,” said Blue- bird.
So they began to look about where the hides had been grained for tanning; and sure enough, there were the feet of both the antelope and the deer. On the deer’s feet, or legs, they found the dew-claws, but on the antelope there were none. This made them all anxious to know why these animals, so nearly alike, should differ in this way.
Bluebird’s mother passed the children on her way to the river for water, and the little girl asked: “Say, mother, does the Deer have gall on his liver?”
“No, my child, but the Antelope does; and your grandfather will tell you why if you ask him.”
That night in the lodge War Eagle placed before his grandchildren the leg of a deer and the leg of an antelope, as well as the liver of a deer and the liver of an antelope.
“See for yourselves that this thing is true, before I tell you why it is so, and how it hap- pened.”
“We see,” they replied, “and to-day we found that these strange things are true, but we don’t know why, grandfather.”
“Of course you don’t know why. Nobody knows that until he is told, and now I shall tell you, so you will always know, and tell your children, that they, too, may know.
“It was long, long ago, of course. All these things happened long ago when the world was young, as you are now. It was on a summer morning, and the Deer was travelling across the plains country to reach the mountains on the far-off side, where he had relatives. He grew thirsty, for it was very warm, and stopped to drink from a water-hole on the plains. When he had finished drinking he looked up, and there was his own cousin, the Antelope, drinking near him.
“‘Good morning, cousin,’ said the Deer. ‘It is a warm morning and water tastes good, doesn’t it?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the Antelope, ‘it is warm to-day, but I can beat you running, just the same.’
“‘Ha-ha!’ laughed the Deer–‘you beat me running? Why, you can’t run half as fast as I can, but if you want to run a race let us bet something. What shall it be?’
“‘I will bet you my gall-sack,’ replied the Antelope.
“‘Good,’ said the Deer, ‘but let us run to- ward that range of mountains, for I am going that way, anyhow, to see my relations.’
“‘All right,’ said the Antelope. ‘All ready, and here we go.’
“Away they ran toward the far-off range. All the way the Antelope was far ahead of the Deer; and just at the foot of the mountains he stopped to wait for him to catch up.
“Both were out of breath from running, but both declared they had done their best, and the Deer, being beaten, gave the Antelope his sack of gall.
“‘This ground is too flat for me,’ said the Deer. ‘Come up the hillside where the gulches cut the country, and rocks are in our way, and I will show you how to run. I can’t run on flat ground. It’s too easy for me.’
another race with you on your own ground, and I think I can beat you there, too.’
“Together they climbed the hill until they reached a rough country, when the Deer
said:
“‘This is my kind of country. Let us run a race here. Whoever gets ahead and stays
there, must keep on running until the other calls on him to stop.’
“‘That suits me,’ replied the Antelope, ‘but what shall we bet this time? I don’t want to waste my breath for nothing. I’ll tell you– let us bet our dew-claws.’
“‘Good. I’ll bet you my dew-claws against your own, that I can beat you again. Are you all ready?–Go!’
“Away they went over logs, over stones and across great gulches that cut the hills in two. On and on they ran, with the Deer far ahead of the Antelope. Both were getting tired, when the Antelope called:
“‘Hi, there–you! Stop, you can beat me. I give up.’
“So the Deer stopped and waited until the Antelope came up to him, and they both laughed over the fun, but the Antelope had to give the Deer his dew-claws, and now he goes without himself. The Deer wears dew-claws and always will, because of that race, but on his liver there is no gall, while the Antelope carries a gall- sack like the other animals with cloven hoofs.
“That is all of that story, but it is too late to tell you another to-night. If you will come to-morrow evening, I will tell you of some trouble that OLD-man got into once. He deserved it, for he was wicked, as you shall see. Ho!”
WHY THE INDIANS WHIP THE BUFFALO-BERRIES FROM THE BUSHES
The Indian believes that all things live again; that all were created by one and
the same power; that nothing was created in vain; and that in the life beyond the grave he will know all things that he knew here. In that other world he expects to make his living easier, and not suffer from hunger or cold; therefore, all things that die must go to his heaven, in order that he may be supplied with the necessities of life.
The sun is not the Indian’s God, but a per- sonification of the Deity; His greatest mani- festation; His light.
The Indian believes that to each of His crea- tions God gave some peculiar power, and that the possessors of these special favors are His lieutenants and keepers of the several special attributes; such as wisdom, cunning, speed, and the knowledge of healing wounds. These wonderful gifts, he knew, were bestowed as favors by a common God, and therefore he re- vered these powers, and, without jealousy, paid tribute thereto.
The bear was great in war, because before the horse came, he would sometimes charge the camps and kill or wound many people. Al- though many arrows were sent into his huge carcass, he seldom died. Hence the Indian was sure that the bear could heal his wounds. That the bear possessed a great knowledge of roots and berries, the Indian knew, for he often saw him digging the one and stripping the oth- ers from the bushes. The buffalo, the beaver, the wolf, and the eagle–each possessed strange powers that commanded the Indian’s admira- tion and respect, as did many other things in creation.
If about to go to war, the Indian did not ask his God for aid–oh, no. He realized that God made his enemy, too; and that if He de- sired that enemy’s destruction, it would be ac- complished without man’s aid. So the Indian sang his song to the bear, prayed to the bear, and thus invoked aid from a brute, and not his God, when he sought to destroy his fellows.
Whenever the Indian addressed the Great God, his prayer was for life, and life alone. He is the most religious man I have ever known, as well as the most superstitious; and there are stories dealing with his religious faith that are startling, indeed.
“It is the wrong time of year to talk about berries,” said War Eagle, that night in the lodge, “but I shall tell you why your mothers whip the buffalo-berries from the bushes. OLD- man was the one who started it, and our people have followed his example ever since. Ho! OLD-man made a fool of himself that day.
“It was the time when buffalo-berries are red and ripe. All of the bushes along the rivers were loaded with them, and our people were about to gather what they needed, when OLD- man changed things, as far as the gathering was concerned.
“He was travelling along a river, and hungry, as he always was. Standing on the bank of that river, he saw great clusters of red, ripe buffalo-berries in the water. They were larger than any berries he had ever seen, and he said:
“‘I guess I will get those berries. They look fine, and I need them. Besides, some of the people will see them and get them, if I don’t.’
“He jumped into the water; looked for the berries; but they were not there. For a time Old-man stood in the river and looked for the berries, but they were gone.
“After a while he climbed out on the bank again, and when the water got smooth once more there were the berries–the same berries, in the same spot in the water.
“‘Ho!–that is a funny thing. I wonder where they hid that time. I must have those berries!’ he said to himself.
“In he went again–splashing the water like a Grizzly Bear. He looked about him and the berries were gone again. The water was rip- pling about him, but there were no berries at all. He felt on the bottom of the river but they were not there.
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘I will climb out and watch to see where they come from; then I shall grab them when I hit the water next time.’
“He did that; but he couldn’t tell where the berries came from. As soon as the water settled and became smooth–there were the berries–the same as before. Ho!–OLD-man was wild; he was angry, I tell you. And in he went flat on his stomach! He made an awful splash and mussed the water greatly; but there were no berries.
“‘I know what I shall do. I will stay right here and wait for those berries; that is what I shall do’; and he did.
“He thought maybe somebody was looking at him and would laugh, so he glanced along the bank. And there, right over the water, he saw the same bunch of berries on some tall bushes. Don’t you see? OLD-man saw the
shadow of the berry-bunch; not the berries. He saw the red shadow-berries on the water; that was all, and he was such a fool he didn’t know they were not real.
“Well, now he was angry in truth. Now he was ready for war. He climbed out on the bank again and cut a club. Then he went at the buffalo-berry bushes and pounded them till all of the red berries fell upon the ground– till the branches were bare of berries.
“‘There,’ he said, ‘that’s what you get for making a fool of the man who made you. You shall be beaten every year as long as you live, to pay for what you have done; you and your children, too.’
“That is how it all came about, and that is why your mothers whip the buffalo-berry bushes and then pick the berries from the ground. Ho!”
OLD-MAN AND THE FOX
I am sure that the plains Indian never made nor used the stone arrow-head. I have
heard white men say that they had seen In- dians use them; but I have never found an In- dian that ever used them himself, or knew of their having been used by his people. Thirty years ago I knew Indians, intimately, who were nearly a hundred years old, who told me that the stone arrow-head had never been in use in their day, nor had their fathers used them in their own time. Indians find these arrow- points just as they find the stone mauls and hammers, which I have seen them use thou- sands of times, but they do not make them any more than they make the stone mauls and
hammers. In the old days, both the head of the lance and the point of the arrow were of bone; even knives were of bone, but some other people surely made the arrow-points that are scattered throughout the United States and Europe, I am told.
One night I asked War Eagle if he had ever known the use, by Indians, of the stone arrow- head, and he said he had not. He told me that just across the Canadian line there was a small lake, surrounded by trees, wherein there was an island covered with long reeds and grass. All about the edge of this island were willows that grew nearly to the water, but intervening there was a narrow beach of stones. Here, he said, the stone arrow-heads had been made by little ghost-people who lived there, and he assured me that he had often seen these strange little beings when he was a small boy. Whenever his people were camped by this lake the old folks waked the children at daybreak to see the inhabitants of this strange island; and always when a noise was made, or the sun came up, the little people hid away. Often he had seen their heads above the grass and tiny willows, and his grandfather had told him that all the stone arrow-heads had been made on that
island, and in war had been shot all over the world, by magic bows.
“No,” he said, “I shall not lie to you, my friend. I never saw those little people shoot an arrow, but there are so many arrows there, and so many pieces of broken ones, that it proves that my grandfather was right in what he told me. Besides, nobody could ever sleep on that island.”
I have heard a legend wherein OLD-man, in the beginning, killed an animal for the people to eat, and then instructed them to use the ribs of the dead brute to make knives and arrow- points. I have seen lance-heads, made from shank bones, that were so highly polished that they resembled pearl, and I have in my posses- sion bone arrow-points such as were used long ago. Indians do not readily forget their tribal history, and I have photographed a war-bonnet, made of twisted buffalo hair, that was manu- factured before the present owner’s people had, or ever saw, the horse. The owner of this bonnet has told me that the stone arrow-head was never used by Indians, and that he knew that ghost-people made and used them when the world was young.
The bow of the plains Indian was from thirty- six to forty-four inches long, and made from the wood of the choke-cherry tree. Sometimes bows were made from the service (or sarvice) berry bush, and this bush furnished the best material for arrows. I have seen hickory bows among the plains Indians, too, and these were longer and always straight, instead of being fashioned like Cupid’s weapon. These hickory bows came from the East, of course, and through trading, reached the plains country. I have also seen bows covered with the skins of the bull-snake, or wound with sinew, and bows have been made from the horns of the elk, in the early days, after a long course of preparation.
Before Lewis and Clark crossed this vast country, the Blackfeet had traded with the Hudson Bay Company, and steel knives and lance-heads, bearing the names of English makers, still remain to testify to the relations existing, in those days, between those famous traders and men of the Piegan, Blood, and Blackfoot tribes, although it took many years for traders on our own side of the line to gain their friendship. Indeed, trappers and traders blamed the Hudson Bay Company for the feel- ing of hatred held by the three tribes of Black- feet for the “Americans”; and there is no doubt that they were right to some extent, although the killing of the Blackfoot warrior by Captain Lewis in 1805 may have been largely to blame for the trouble. Certain it is that for many years after the killing, the Blackfeet kept traders and trappers on the dodge unless they were Hudson Bay men, and in 1810 drove the “American” trappers and traders from their fort at Three-Forks.
It was early when we gathered in War Eagle’s lodge, the children and I, but the story-telling began at once.
“Now I shall tell you a story that will show you how little OLD-man cared for the welfare of others,” said War Eagle.
“It happened in the fall, this thing I shall tell you, and the day was warm and bright. OLD-man and his brother the Red Fox were trav- elling together for company. They were on a hillside when OLD-Man said: ‘I am hungry. Can you not kill a Rabbit or something for us to eat? The way is long, and I am getting old, you know. You are swift of foot and cunning, and there are Rabbits among these rocks.’
“‘Ever since morning came I have watched for food, but the moon must be wrong or some- thing, for I see nothing that is good to eat,’ replied the Fox. ‘Besides that, my medicine is bad and my heart is weak. You are great, and I have heard you can do most anything. Many snows have known your footprints, and the snows make us all wise. I think you are the one to help, not I.’
“‘Listen, brother,’ said OLD-man, ‘I have neither bow nor lance–nothing to use in hunt- ing. Your weapons are ever with you–your great nose and your sharp teeth. Just as we came up this hill I saw two great Buffalo-Bulls. You were not looking, but I saw them, and if you will do as I want you to we shall have plenty of meat. This is my scheme; I shall pull out all of your hair, leaving your body white and smooth, like that of the fish. I shall leave only the white hair that grows on the tip of your tail, and that will make you funny to look at. Then you are to go before the Bulls and commence to dance and act foolish. Of course the Bulls will laugh at you, and as soon as they get to laughing you must act sillier than ever. That will make them laugh so hard that they will fall down and laugh on the ground. When they fall, I shall come upon them with my knife and kill them. Will you do as I suggest, brother, or will you starve?’
“‘What! Pull out my hair? I shall freeze with no hair on my body, OLD-man. No–I
will not suffer you to pull my hair out when the winter is so near,’ cried the Fox.
“‘Ho! It is vanity, my brother, not fear of freezing. If you will do this we shall have meat for the winter, and a fire to keep us warm. See, the wind is in the south and warm. There is no danger of freezing. Come, let me do it,’ replied OLD-man.
“‘Well–if you are sure that I won’t freeze, all right,’ said the Fox, ‘but I’ll bet I’ll be sorry.’
“So Old-man pulled out all of the Fox’s hair, leaving only the white tip that grew near the end of his tail. Poor little Red Fox shivered in the warm breeze that OLD-man told about, and kept telling OLD-man that the hair-pulling hurt badly. Finally OLD-man finished the job and laughed at the Fox, saying: ‘Why, you make me laugh, too. Now go and dance before the Bulls, and I shall watch and be ready for my part of the scheme.’
“Around the hill went the poor Red Fox and found the Bulls. Then he began to dance be- fore them as OLD-man had told him. The Bulls took one look at the hairless Fox and began to laugh. My! How they did laugh, and then
the Red Fox stood upon his hind legs and danced some more; acted sillier, as OLD-man had told him. Louder and louder laughed the Bulls, until they fell to the ground with their breath short from the laughing. The Red Fox kept at his antics lest the Bulls get up before OLD-man reached them; but soon he saw him coming, with a knife in his hand.
“Running up to the Bulls, OLD-man plunged his knife into their hearts, and they died. Into the ground ran their blood, and then OLD- man laughed and said: ‘Ho, I am the smart one. I am the real hunter. I depend on my head for meat–ha!–ha!-ha!’
“Then OLD-man began to dress and skin the Bulls, and he worked hard and long. In fact it was nearly night when he got the work all done.
“Poor little Red Fox had stood there all the time, and OLD-man never noticed that the wind had changed and was coming from the north. Yes, poor Red Fox stood there and spoke no word; said nothing at all, even when OLD-man had finished.
“‘Hi, there, you! what’s the matter with you? Are you sorry that we have meat? Say, answer me!’
“But the Red Fox was frozen stiff–was dead. Yes, the north wind had killed him while OLD-man worked at the skinning. The Fox had been caught by the north wind naked, and was dead. OLD-man built a fire and warmed his hands; that was all he cared for the Red Fox, and that is all he cared for anybody. He might have known that no person could stand the north wind without a robe; but as long as he was warm himself–that was all he
wanted.
“That is all of that story. To-morrow night I shall tell you why the birch-tree wears those slashes in its bark. That was some of OLD- man’s work, too. Ho!”
WHY THE BIRCH-TREE WEARS THE SLASHES IN ITS BARK
The white man has never understood the Indian, and the example set the Western
tribes of the plains by our white brethren has not been such as to inspire the red man with either confidence or respect for our laws or our religion. The fighting trapper, the border ban- dit, the horse-thief and rustler, in whose stomach legitimately acquired beef would cause colic– were the Indians’ first acquaintances who wore a white skin, and he did not know that they were not of the best type. Being outlaws in every sense, these men sought shelter from the Indian in the wilderness; and he learned of their ways about his lodge-fire, or in battle, often provoked by the white ruffian in the hope of gain. They lied to the Indian–these first white acquaintances, and in after-years, the great Government of the United States lied and lied again, until he has come to believe that there is no truth in the white man’s heart. And I don’t blame him.
The Indian is a charitable man. I don’t be- lieve he ever refused food and shelter or abused a visitor. He has never been a bigot, and con- cedes to every other man the right to his own beliefs. Further than that, the Indian believes that every man’s religion and belief is right and proper for that man’s self.
It was blowing a gale and snow was being driven in fine flakes across the plains when we went to the lodge for a story. Every minute the weather was growing colder, and an early fall storm of severity was upon us. The wind seemed to add to the good nature of our host as he filled and passed me the pipe.
“This is the night I was to tell you about the Birch-Tree, and the wind will help to make you understand,” said War Eagle after we had finished smoking.
“Of course,” he continued, ” this all happened in the summer-time when the weather was
warm, very warm. Sometimes, you know, there are great winds in the summer, too.
“It was a hot day, and OLD-man was trying to sleep, but the heat made him sick. He wan- dered to a hilltop for air; but there was no air. Then he went down to the river and
found no relief. He travelled to the timber- lands, and there the heat was great, although he found plenty of shade. The travelling made him warmer, of course, but he wouldn’t stay still.
“By and by he called to the winds to blow, and they commenced. First they didn’t blow very hard, because they were afraid they might make OLD-man angry, but he kept crying:
“‘Blow harder–harder–harder! Blow
worse than ever you blew before, and send this heat away from the world.’
“So, of course, the winds did blow harder– harder than they ever had blown before.
“‘Bend and break, Fir-Tree!’ cried OLD-man, and the Fir-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, Pine-Tree!’ and the Pine-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, Spruce- Tree!’ and the Spruce-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, O Birch-Tree!’ and the
Birch-Tree did bend, but it wouldn’t break– no, sir!–it wouldn’t break!
“‘Ho! Birch-Tree, won’t you mind me?
Bend and break! I tell you,’ but all the Birch- Tree would do was to bend.
“It bent to the ground; it bent double to please OLD-man, but it would not break.
“‘Blow harder, wind!’ cried OLD-man, ‘blow harder and break the Birch-Tree.’ The wind tried to blow harder, but it couldn’t, and that made the thing worse, because OLD-man was so angry he went crazy. ‘Break! I tell you– break!’ screamed OLD-man to the Birch-Tree.
“‘I won’t break,’ replied the Birch; ‘I shall never break for any wind. I will bend, but I shall never, never break.’
“‘You won’t, hey?’ cried OLD-man, and he rushed at the Birch-Tree with his hunting-knife. He grabbed the top of the Birch because it was touching the ground, and began slashing the bark of the Birch-Tree with the knife. All up and down the trunk of the tree OLD-man slashed, until the Birch was covered with the knife slashes.
“‘There! that is for not minding me. That will do you good! As long as time lasts you shall always look like that, Birch-Tree; always be marked as one who will not mind its maker. Yes, and all the Birch-Trees in the world shall have the same marks forever.’ They do, too. You have seen them and have wondered why the Birch-Tree is so queerly marked. Now you know.
“That is all–Ho!”
MISTAKES OF OLD-MAN
All night the storm raged, and in the morning the plains were white with snow. The sun came and the light was blinding, but the hunters were abroad early, as usual.
That day the children came to my camp, and I told them several stories that appeal to white children. They were deeply interested, and asked many questions. Not until the
hunters returned did my visitors leave.
That night War Eagle told us of the mistakes of OLD-man. He said:
“OLD-man made a great many mistakes in making things in the world, but he worked un- til he had everything good. I told you at the beginning that OLD-man made mistakes, but I didn’t tell you what they were, so now I shall tell you.
“One of the things he did that was wrong, was to make the Big-Horn to live on the plains. Yes, he made him on the plains and turned him loose, to make his living there. Of course the Big-Horn couldn’t run on the plains, and OLD- man wondered what was wrong. Finally, he said: ‘Come here, Big-Horn!’ and the Big- Horn came to him. OLD-man stuck his arm
through the circle his horns made, and dragged the Big-Horn far up into the mountains. There he set him free again, and sat down to watch him. Ho! It made OLD-man dizzy to watch
the Big-Horn run about on the ragged cliffs. He saw at once that this was the country the Big-Horn liked, and he left him there. Yes, he left him there forever, and there he stays, seldom coming down to the lower country.
“While OLD-man was waiting to see what the Big-Horn would do in the high mountains, he made an Antelope and set him free with the Big-Horn. Ho! But the Antelope stumbled
and fell down among the rocks. He couldn’t man called to the Antelope to come back to him, and the Antelope did come to him. Then he called to the Big-Horn, and said:
“‘You are all right, I guess, but this one isn’t, and I’ll have to take him somewhere else.’
“He dragged the Antelope down to the
prairie country, and set him free there. Then he watched him a minute; that was as long as the Antelope was in sight, for he was afraid OLD-man might take him back to the mountains.
“He said: ‘I guess that fellow was made for the plains, all right, so I’ll leave him there’; and he did. That is why the Antelope always stays on the plains, even to-day. He likes it better.
“That wasn’t a very long story; sometime when you get older I will tell you some dif- ferent stories, but that will be all for this time, I guess. Ho!”
HOW THE MAN FOUND HIS MATE
Each tribe has its own stories. Most of them deal with the same subjects, differing only in immaterial particulars.
Instead of squirrels in the timber, the Black- feet are sure they were prairie-dogs that OLD- man roasted that time when he made the