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

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

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

"No, I am not," said the magician, "but you are." With his tomahawk he hit left and right. In a few minutes six lay dead beside him. Then he wrapped his blanket around him, gathered up his tobacco, and set off.

By evening he had reached his father's lodge, and spread out his gift before him. The old man was delighted with the present, and thanked him many times for his kindness. When spring came, the magician built a beautiful lodge for his parents on the edge of the wrestling ground, and all through the summer they watched the corn and pumpkins grow.

THE FAIRIES' CLIFF

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

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

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

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

Just then, they were pa.s.sing a hollow log which lay by the roadside.

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

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

The others had not heard this voice, so they were very much surprised when they felt the lodge begin to rise in the air. As it floated upwards, the bark changed into beautiful silver gauze. It was now a lodge made of wings of insects. The young chief looked at his wife and saw that she was a beautiful maiden once more. Her dress was changed into one of shining, green silk, and her stick became a silver feather.

The sisters and their husbands had been changed into birds with bright-colored feathers. Some were parrots, some blue jays, some singing birds that flew around and sang their sweet songs. At the side of the lodge was a large cage for the birds. Upwards, the lodge floated till they found themselves in the Evening Star. Everything was silvery white here and very peaceful. The Star was very glad to see his son.

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

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

"You must be careful," he said, "not to let the beams of the next star shine on you. That is the Evil Star which turned you into an old man.

If it shines on you again, you might once more be changed, so be very careful."

The young chief promised to remember his father's warnings, and he always kept away from the Evil Star. They lived happily together for several years. Then one day their young son wanted to learn to hunt.

He had heard that the people on the earth could shoot with bow and arrows, and he wished to learn. The Evening Star did not like to refuse his young grandson anything, so he made him a little bow and arrows. He showed him how to use them; then said, "I shall open the bird-cage and let out the birds. You may try to shoot them, if you like."

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

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

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

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

THE STONE CANOE

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

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

He followed this path, and at the top of the hill found a lodge. At the door of the lodge stood an Indian, dressed in a robe of bearskins.

He was a very old man, but his eyes were bright and soft.

"Come in, my grandson," he said. "I have been expecting you. The maiden whom you seek pa.s.sed here a few days ago. You may follow her and enter the Land of Souls, but you must leave your body behind with me. My lodge is the gateway into that beautiful land, and you do not need your body there, nor your arrows, nor your bow. Leave them with me and I shall keep them safe for you. Look yonder! Do you see that deep gorge and the beautiful plain beyond? That is the Land of Souls, and the one you seek is already there."

Suddenly the young man felt himself grow very light, and his feet began to run as though they were winged. Everything looked the same to him, only more beautiful, and the little animals did not seem afraid. They seemed to know that he would not kill them. As he went on swiftly through the forest, he noticed that the trees did not stop him. He seemed to pa.s.s right through them, and he saw then that they were only images of trees.

At last he came to a beautiful lake, whose waters were clear and sparkling. In the centre of this lake was an island, with green gra.s.s and flowers and birds. Then, to his joy, he noticed a canoe tied to the sh.o.r.e of the lake. It was made of shining, white stone and had paddles that shone, also. He climbed in and pushed away from the sh.o.r.e, and, to his surprise, he saw the maiden whom he loved, in a canoe exactly like his, floating beside him. They kept close together and began to cross the lake. Its waves seemed to be rising, and at a distance looked ready to swallow them up. But when the huge waves drew close, they pa.s.sed by and left them unharmed, and the maiden and her lover saw that they were only the shapes of waves. But another thing frightened them. It was _the clearness of the water_, for as they looked down, they could see the bodies of people who had been drowned.

And in the water all along, there were men and women of all ages struggling and sinking in the waves. Only the canoes of the little children floated on in safety.

At last their canoes reached the sh.o.r.e of the island, and jumping out, they roamed joyfully over the soft gra.s.s. They felt that the very air was food, and thought only of great things. For there was nothing that was sad here in this land, no cold winds, no hunger--only brightness and joy.

As the warrior, wandered by the maiden's side, he heard the voice of the Master of Life speaking to him. "Go back," he said, "to the land whence you came. Your work is not completed yet. Go back and be a good man, and do all the work that I send to you. You must leave the spirit whom you love, but she shall wait here for you, for she is accepted, and shall always remain young and happy. When your work is finished, I shall call you also from the land of hunger and tears, to come to this beautiful Land of Souls."

So the young man said farewell to the maiden, and getting into the canoe, he was carried across the lake. In a few minutes, he was at the lodge of the old man. The Indian smiled when he saw him.

"Enter, my grandson," he said, "and you will find your body within."

The young man obeyed, and when he came forth he felt as when he had first arrived. But his heart was brave now. The Indian smiled again at him.

"I see how brave and strong you are," he said, "and my message to you is: always remain cheerful and brighten every sad life that you see."

The young man promised to obey the message, and, with one long look at the Land of Souls, he turned and began his journey towards his home.

THE WHITE FEATHER

An old man and his grandson once lived together on an island. The little boy had no father, nor mother, nor brothers, nor sisters. They had all been killed by six giants, who lived many miles away. The little boy had never seen any person but his grandfather. They lived very happily together. The old man loved the boy and was kind to him.

As the little fellow grew tall and strong, the old man taught him how to hunt, so that by the time he was a young man he was a good hunter.

One day when he was walking in the woods, he heard a voice calling to him. He turned in surprise, for he had never heard any one but his grandfather speak. He could see no one, but again he heard the voice.

It was saying, "You will some day be the wearer of the White Feather."

He looked all around him, and then noticed something that he had taken for a withered tree. It was a man who was made of wood from his breast down to his feet. He seemed to be very old, and was fastened to the ground. When he saw the young man was looking at him, he said, "Come here, I wish to tell you something. There was an old belief in your tribe that some day a boy would grow up to be a very great warrior. He was to wear a white feather as a sign of his bravery and great skill.

You are that boy. When you go home, you will find there a white feather, a pipe, and a tobacco-pouch. Put the white feather in your hair. Then smoke the pipe, and you will find that the smoke will turn into pigeons. This is another sign that you will be wise and good."

The old man ceased speaking, and the young grandson returned home to his lodge. He found the feather and the pipe both lying there. He did as the old man told him, and when he smoked, blue and white pigeons flew away from his pipe. His grandfather saw the pigeons fly out of the lodge door, and he felt very sad. For he knew that his little grandson was a young man now, and would soon be leaving him. Then he went in, and they talked together for a long time. He told the young man all about the six giants who had killed his brothers and sisters, and White Feather said, "I shall go at once in search of them and kill them, because they were so cruel to all our tribe."

"No, do not go yet," said the old grandfather. "Wait awhile until you grow a little more and are stronger."

The young man promised to wait for a few months.