Once upon a time, the Great Spirit left the Happy Hunting Ground and came to earth. He took the form of a poor, hungry man. He went from wigwam to wigwam, asking for food.
Sometimes he found the Indians sitting around the fire, telling stories and talking of the Great Spirit. Then the man would pa.s.s by unseen.
One day, he came to a wigwam in which a woman was baking cakes.
"I am very hungry," the man said. "Will you please give me a cake?"
The woman looked at the man, and then at the cake. She saw that it was too large to give away.
She said, "I will not give you this cake, but I will bake you one, if you will wait."
The hungry man said, "I will wait."
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Then the woman took a small piece of dough and made it into a cake and baked it. But when she took this cake from the coals, it was larger than the first.
Again the woman looked at her cake. Again she saw it was too large to give away. Again she said, "I will not give you this one, but I will bake you one, if you will wait."
Again the man said, "I will wait."
This time the woman took a very, very, tiny bit of dough, and made it into a cake.
"Surely, this will be small enough to give away," she thought, yet when baked it was larger than both the others.
The woman stood and looked at the three cakes. Each was too large to give away.
"I will not give you any of the cakes," she said to the man. "Go to the woods, and find your food in the bark of trees."
Then the man stood up and threw off his ragged blanket and worn moccasins. His face shone like the sun, and he was very beautiful. The woman shrank into the shadow of the wigwam. She could not look upon his face, for the light.
"I am the Great Spirit," said he, "and you are a selfish woman. Women should be kind, and generous, and unselfish. You shall no longer be a woman and live in a warm wigwam, with plenty of cakes to bake. _You_ shall go to the forest and hunt _your_ food in the bark of trees. Summer and winter, you shall eat worms of the same size as the cake you would have made for me."
The woman began to grow smaller and smaller. Feathers grew upon her body, and wings sprang from it. The Great Spirit touched her head, and it became red.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
"Always shall you wear this red hood," he said, "as a mark of your shame. Always shall you hide from man. Always shall you hunt for little worms, the size of the cake you made for me."
At this a sharp cry was heard, and a bird flew into the fireplace of the wigwam, and up the chimney. As it pa.s.sed out of the chimney, the soot left those long streaks of black which we see now on the woodp.e.c.k.e.r"s back.
Ever since then, this woodp.e.c.k.e.r has had a red head, and has been hiding from man on the farther side of the tree trunk, and boring in the bark for _little_ worms.
WHY THE ICE ROOF FELL
A great many winters ago, there lived at the foot of a certain lake a tribe of wicked Indians. These Indians were so fierce, and warlike, and wasteful, they went about destroying everything.
They laid low a tract of beautiful forest trees, for no good purpose.
They tore up shrubs and plants that gave them food and medicine. They shot their arrows into every bird or animal they saw, just for sport.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The great trees--their silent brothers of the wood--trembled and sighed when they heard these Indians coming. The squirrels darted into hollow trees, and birds flew in alarm at their footsteps. The deer and rabbit ran from the trail.
At last the Great Spirit became very angry with this tribe. Always he had taught the Indians never to kill an animal, unless for food and protection; never to fell a tree, unless for fuel or shelter; never to dig up shrubs or plants, unless for some good use.
"All life," the Great Spirit had said, "is sacred and beautiful. It must not be wasted."
And never before had he known the Indians to waste the beautiful living things about them. The Great Spirit was very sad.
The ice formed very thick on the lake that winter.
One night, there came a great storm of wind and rain. The ice broke loose from the sh.o.r.es, and the wind blew it down the lake. At the foot of the lake, a ma.s.s of ice was piled high over the sh.o.r.e, where lived these wasteful Indians.
Like a giant roof, the ice spread over the little Indian village lying there asleep, but the Indians did not know. They slept on, unaware of their danger, for a deep, heavy sleep had come upon them.
Just as the sun rose, the ice roof gave way and fell upon the sleeping Indians, crushing them in their wigwams.
The waste they had brought upon their brothers of the wood had brought punishment upon them. The Great Spirit had destroyed these wicked Indians, that the good Indians might keep his world beautiful.
Ever after, as long as the Indians occupied the country, before the White man came, no trees were felled, and no animals or birds were killed, unless for some wise and useful purpose.
WHY THE CHIPMUNK HAS BLACK STRIPES
At one time, the animals had tribes and chiefs, like men. It was when the porcupine was chief, that a council was called.
A great fire was lighted, for it was night. When all the animals were seated around the fire, the porcupine spoke.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
"Friends," he said, "we have met here to settle a great question: "Shall we have night all the time, or day?"" At this, all the animals began to talk at once. There was great confusion. The night animals kept shouting, "Night, night! Always night!" Others of the animals cried, "Day, day! Always day!" Still others called for "Day and night!"
There was so much noise that it could not be decided what was best.
At last the animals grew tired of calling. One by one the voices grew fainter, and the shouting ceased. Of the night animals, the voice of the bear alone was heard. He had a big voice and still kept calling, "Night, night! Always night!"
The animals who wanted day all the time, and those who wanted day and night, also became quiet,--all except the chipmunk. He chattered on, "We will have light--and then night. We will have light--and then night.
Chee, chee, chee!"