"You have wrestled manfully. To-morrow will be the seventh day of your fasting, your father will give you food to strengthen you, and as it is the last day of trial, you will prevail. I know this, and now tell you what you must do to benefit your family and your tribe.
To-morrow," he repeated, "I shall meet you and wrestle with you for the last time; and, as soon as you have prevailed against me, you will strip off my garments and throw me down, clean the earth of roots and weeds, make it soft, and bury me in the spot. When you have done this, leave my body in the earth, and do not disturb it, but come occasionally to visit the place, to see whether I have come to life, and be careful never to let the gra.s.s or weeds grow on my grave. Once a month cover me with fresh earth. If you follow my instructions, you will accomplish your object of doing good to your fellow-creatures by teaching them the knowledge I now teach you." He then shook him by the hand and disappeared.
In the morning the youth"s father came with some slight refreshments, saying, "My son, you have fasted long enough. If the Great Spirit will favour you, he will do it now. It is seven days since you have tasted food, and you must not sacrifice your life. The Master of Life does not require that." "My father," replied the youth, "wait till the sun goes down. I have a particular reason for extending my fast to that hour." "Very well," said the old man. "I shall wait till the hour arrives, and you feel inclined to eat."
At the usual hour of the day the sky visitor returned, and the trial of strength was renewed. Although the youth had not availed himself of his father"s offer of food, he felt that new strength had been given to him, and that exertion had renewed his strength and fortified his courage. He grasped his angelic antagonist with supernatural strength, threw him down, took from him his beautiful garments and plume, and finding him dead, immediately buried him on the spot, taking all the precautions he had been told of, and being very confident, at the same time, that his friend would again come to life. He then returned to his father"s lodge, and partook sparingly of the meal that had been prepared for him. But he never for a moment forgot the grave of his friend. He carefully visited it throughout the spring, and weeded out the gra.s.s, and kept the ground in a soft and pliant state. Very soon he saw the tops of the green plumes coming through the ground; and the more careful he was to obey his instructions in keeping the ground in order, the faster they grew. He was, however, careful to conceal the exploit from his father. Days and weeks had pa.s.sed in this way. The summer was now drawing toward a close, when one day, after a long absence in hunting, Wunzh invited his father to follow him to the quiet and lonesome spot of his former fast. The lodge had been removed, and the weeds kept from growing on the circle where it stood, but in its place stood a tall and graceful plant, with bright coloured silken hair, surmounted with nodding plumes and stately leaves, and golden cl.u.s.ters on each side. "It is my friend," shouted the lad; "it is the friend of all mankind. It is _Mondawmin_. We need no longer rely on hunting alone; for, as long as this gift is cherished and taken care of, the ground itself will give us a living." He then pulled an ear. "See, my father," said he, "this is what I fasted for.
The Great Spirit has listened to my voice, and sent us something new, and henceforth our people will not alone depend upon the chase or upon the waters."
He then communicated to his father the instructions given him by the stranger. He told him that the broad husks must be torn away, as he had pulled off the garments in his wrestling; and having done this, directed him how the ear must be held before the fire till the outer skin became brown, while all the milk was retained in the grain. The whole family then united in feast on the newly grown ears, expressing grat.i.tude to the Merciful Spirit who gave it. So corn came into the world.
A MYSTERY IN THE KITCHEN[28]
BY OLIVE THORNE MILLER.
The boy who has a sister and the girl who has a brother are the ones who will best like this story of the spirited twins, Jessie and Jack. Jessie wanted to take music lessons and Jack tried mining in Colorado.
Something very mysterious was going on in the Jarvis kitchen. The table was covered with all sorts of good things--eggs and b.u.t.ter and raisins and citron and spices; and Jessie, with her sleeves rolled up and a white ap.r.o.n on, was bustling about, measuring and weighing and chopping and beating and mixing those various ingredients in a most bewildering way.
[Footnote 28: From "Kristy"s Surprise Party," Houghton, Mifflin Co.]
Moreover, though she was evidently working for dear life, her face was full of smiles; in fact, she seemed to have trouble to keep from laughing outright, while Betty, the cook, who was washing potatoes at the sink, fairly giggled with glee every few minutes, as if the sight of Miss Jessie working in the kitchen was the drollest thing in the world.
It was one of the pleasantest sights that big, sunny kitchen had seen for many a day, and the only thing that appeared mysterious about it was that the two workers acted strangely like conspirators. If they laughed--as they did on the slightest provocation--it was very soft and at once smothered. Jessie went often to the door leading into the hall, and listened; and if there came a knock on the floor, she s.n.a.t.c.hed off her ap.r.o.n, hastily wiped her hands, rolled down her sleeves, asked Betty if there was any flour on her, and then hurried away into another part of the house, trying to look cool and quiet, as if she had not been doing anything.
On returning from one of these excursions, as she rolled up her sleeves again, she said:
"Betty, we must open the other window if it is cold. Mamma thought she smelled roast turkey!"
Betty burst into a laugh which she smothered in her ap.r.o.n. Jessie covered her mouth and laughed, too, but the window was opened to make a draught and carry out the delicious odours, which, it must be confessed, did fill that kitchen so full that no wonder they crept through the cracks, and the keyholes, and hung about Jessie"s dress as she went through the hall, in a way to make one"s mouth water.
"What did ye tell her?" asked Betty, as soon as she could speak.
"Oh, I told her I thought potpie smelled a good deal like turkey,"
said Jessie, and again both laughed. "Wasn"t it lucky we had potpie to-day? I don"t know what I should have said if we hadn"t."
Well, it was not long after that when Jessie lined a baking-dish with nice-looking crust, filled it with tempting looking chicken legs and wings and b.r.e.a.s.t.s and backs and a bowlful of broth, laid a white blanket of crust over all, tucked it in snugly around the edge, cut some holes in the top, and shoved it into the oven just after Betty drew out a dripping pan in which reposed, in all the glory of rich brown skin, a beautiful turkey. Mrs. Jarvis couldn"t have had any nose at all if she didn"t smell that. It filled the kitchen full of nice smells, and Betty hurried it into the pantry, where the window was open to cool.
Then Jessie returned to the spices and fruits she had been working over so long, and a few minutes later she poured a rich, dark ma.s.s into a tin pudding-dish, tied the cover on tight, and slipped it into a large kettle of boiling water on the stove.
"There!" she said, "I hope that"ll be good."
"I know it will," said Betty confidently. "That"s y"r ma"s best receipt."
"Yes, but I never made it before," said Jessie doubtfully.
"Oh, I know it"ll be all right, "n" I"ll watch it close," said Betty; ""n" now you go"n sit with y"r ma. I want that table to git dinner."
"But I"m going to wash all these things," said Jessie.
"You go long! I"d ruther do that myself. "Twon"t take me no time,"
said Betty.
Jessie hesitated. "But you have enough to do, Betty."
"I tell you I want to do it," the girl insisted.
"Oh, I know!" said Jessie; "you like to help about it. Well, you may; and I"m much obliged to you, besides." And after a last look at the fine turkey cooling his heels (if he had any) in the pantry, Jessie went into the other part of the house.
When dinner time arrived and papa came from town, there duly appeared on the table the potpie before mentioned, and various other things pleasant to eat, but nothing was seen of the turkey so carefully roasted nor of the chicken pie, nor of the pudding that caused the young cook so much anxiety. Nothing was said about them, either, and it was not Thanksgiving nor Christmas, though it was only a few days before the former.
It was certainly odd, and stranger things happened that night. In the first place, Jessie sat up in her room and wrote a letter; and then, after her mother was in bed and everything still, she stole down the back stairs with a candle, quietly, as though she was doing some mischief. Betty, who came down to help her, brought a box in from the woodshed; and the two plotters, very silently, with many listenings at the door to see if any one was stirring, packed that box full of good things.
In it the turkey, wrapped in a snowy napkin, found a bed, the chicken pie and the plum pudding--beautiful looking as Betty said it would be--bore him company; and numerous small things, jam jars, fruits, etc., etc., filled the box to its very top. Then the cover, provided with screws so that no hammering need be done, was fastened on.
"Now you go to bed, Miss Jessie," whispered Betty. "I"ll wait."
"No, you must be tired," said Jessie. "I"d just as lief."
"But I"d ruther," said Betty shortly--""n" I"m going to; it won"t be long now."
So Jessie crept quietly upstairs, and before long there was a low rap on the kitchen door. Betty opened it, and there stood a man.
"Ready?" said he.
"Yes," answered Betty; "but don"t speak loud; Miss Jarvis has sharp ears, "n" we don"t want her disturbed. Here"s the card to mark it by,"
and she produced a card from the table.
The man put it in his pocket, shouldered the box, and Betty shut the door.
Not one of those good things ever went into the Jarvis dining-room!
The next morning things went on just as usual in the house. The kitchen door was left open and Mrs. Jarvis was welcome to smell any of the appetizing odours that wafted out into her room. Jessie resumed her study, and especially her practice, for she hoped some day to be a great musician. She waited on her mother and took charge of the housekeeping, so much as was necessary with the well-tried servant at the head of the kitchen. And though she had but sixteen years over her bright brown head, she proved herself to be what in that little New England town was called "capable."
But that box of goodies! Let us see where it went.
It was Thanksgiving morning in a rough-looking little mining settlement in Colorado. In a shanty rougher and more comfortless than the rest were two persons: one, a man of thirty, was deeply engaged in cleaning and oiling a gun which lay in pieces about him on the rough bench where he sat; the other, a youth of sixteen, was trying to make a fire burn in the primitive-looking affair that did duty as a stove.
Both wore coa.r.s.e miner"s suits, and picks and other things about the room told that their business was to dig for the yellow dust we are all so greedy to have.
Evidently luck had not been good, for the whole place appeared run down, and the two looked absolutely hungry.
It was Thanksgiving morning, as I said, but no thankfulness shone in the two pale, thin faces. Both were sad, and the younger one almost hopeless.
"Jack," said the elder, pausing in his operations, "mind you give that old hen a good boil, or we won"t be able to eat it."
"It"ll be better"n nothing, anyway, I suppose," said Jack gloomily.