Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala Sa
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Zitkala Sa >> Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala Sa
OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
RETOLD BY
ZITKALA-SA
ITKALA-SA.
CONTENTS
IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS
IKTOMI'S BLANKET
IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT
IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE
IKTOMI AND THE FAWN
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
THE TREE-BOUND
SHOOTING OF THE RED EAGLE
IKTOMI AND THE TURTLE
DANCE IN A BUFFALO SKULL
THE TOAD AND THE BOY
IYA, THE CAMP-EATER
MANSTIN, THE RABBIT
THE WARLIKE SEVEN
IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS
1
OLD INDIAN LEGENDS
IKTOMI AND THE DUCKS
IKTOMI is a spider fairy. He wears brown deerskin leggins
with long soft fringes on either side, and tiny beaded moccasins on
his feet. His long black hair is parted in the middle and wrapped
with red, red bands. Each round braid hangs over a small brown ear
and falls forward over his shoulders.
He even paints his funny face with red and yellow, and draws
big black rings around his eyes. He wears a deerskin jacket, with
bright colored beads sewed tightly on it. Iktomi dresses like a
real Dakota brave. In truth, his paint and deerskins are the best
part of him--if ever dress is part of man or fairy.
Iktomi is a wily fellow. His hands are always kept in
mischief. He prefers to spread a snare rather than to earn the
smallest thing with honest hunting. Why! he laughs outright with
wide open mouth when some simple folk are caught in a trap, sure
and fast.
He never dreams another lives so bright as he. Often his own
conceit leads him hard against the common sense of simpler people.
Poor Iktomi cannot help being a little imp. And so long as he
is a naughty fairy, he cannot find a single friend. No one helps
him when he is in trouble. No one really loves him. Those who
come to admire his handsome beaded jacket and long fringed leggins
soon go away sick and tired of his vain, vain words and heartless
laughter.
Thus Iktomi lives alone in a cone-shaped wigwam upon the
plain. One day he sat hungry within his teepee. Suddenly he
rushed out, dragging after him his blanket. Quickly spreading it
on the ground, he tore up dry tall grass with both his hands and
tossed it fast into the blanket.
Tying all the four corners together in a knot, he threw the
light bundle of grass over his shoulder.
Snatching up a slender willow stick with his free left hand,
he started off with a hop and a leap. From side to side bounced
the bundle on his back, as he ran light-footed over the uneven
ground. Soon he came to the edge of the great level land. On the
hilltop he paused for breath. With wicked smacks of his dry
parched lips, as if tasting some tender meat, he looked straight
into space toward the marshy river bottom. With a thin palm
shading his eyes from the western sun, he peered far away into the
lowlands, munching his own cheeks all the while. "Ah-ha!" grunted
he, satisfied with what he saw.
A group of wild ducks were dancing and feasting in the
marshes. With wings outspread, tip to tip, they moved up and down
in a large circle. Within the ring, around a small drum, sat the
chosen singers, nodding their heads and blinking their eyes.
They sang in unison a merry dance-song, and beat a lively
tattoo on the drum.
Following a winding footpath near by, came a bent figure of a
Dakota brave. He bore on his back a very large bundle. With a
willow cane he propped himself up as he staggered along beneath his
burden.
"Ho! who is there?" called out a curious old duck, still
bobbing up and down in the circular dance.
Hereupon the drummers stretched their necks till they
strangled their song for a look at the stranger passing by.
"Ho, Iktomi! Old fellow, pray tell us what you carry in your
blanket. Do not hurry off! Stop! halt!" urged one of the singers.
"Stop! stay! Show us what is in your blanket!" cried out
other voices.
"My friends, I must not spoil your dance. Oh, you would not
care to see if you only knew what is in my blanket. Sing on! dance
on! I must not show you what I carry on my back," answered Iktomi,
nudging his own sides with his elbows. This reply broke up the
ring entirely. Now all the ducks crowded about Iktomi.
"We must see what you carry! We must know what is in your
blanket!" they shouted in both his ears. Some even brushed their
wings against the mysterious bundle. Nudging himself again, wily
Iktomi said, "My friends, 't is only a pack of songs I carry in my
blanket."
"Oh, then let us hear your songs!" cried the curious ducks.
At length Iktomi consented to sing his songs. With delight
all the ducks flapped their wings and cried together, "Hoye! hoye!"
Iktomi, with great care, laid down his bundle on the ground.
"I will build first a round straw house, for I never sing my
songs in the open air," said he.
Quickly he bent green willow sticks, planting both ends of
each pole into the earth. These he covered thick with reeds and
grasses. Soon the straw hut was ready. One by one the fat ducks
waddled in through a small opening, which was the only entrance
way. Beside the door Iktomi stood smiling, as the ducks, eyeing
his bundle of songs, strutted into the hut.
In a strange low voice Iktomi began his queer old tunes. All
the ducks sat round-eyed in a circle about the mysterious singer.
It was dim in that straw hut, for Iktomi had not forgot to cover up
the small entrance way. All of a sudden his song burst into full
voice. As the startled ducks sat uneasily on the ground, Iktomi
changed his tune into a minor strain. These were the words he
sang:
"Istokmus wacipo, tuwayatunwanpi kinhan ista nisasapi kta,"
which is, "With eyes closed you must dance. He who dares to open
his eyes, forever red eyes shall have."
Up rose the circle of seated ducks and holding their wings
close against their sides began to dance to the rhythm of Iktomi's
song and drum.
With eyes closed they did dance! Iktomi ceased to beat his
drum. He began to sing louder and faster. He seemed to be moving
about in the center of the ring. No duck dared blink a wink. Each
one shut his eyes very tight and danced even harder. Up and down!
Shifting to the right of them they hopped round and round in that
blind dance. It was a difficult dance for the curious folk.
At length one of the dancers could close his eyes no longer!
It was a Skiska who peeped the least tiny blink at Iktomi within
the center of the circle. "Oh! oh!" squawked he in awful terror!
"Run! fly! Iktomi is twisting your heads and breaking your necks!
Run out and fly! fly!" he cried. Hereupon the ducks opened their
eyes. There beside Iktomi's bundle of songs lay half of their
crowd--flat on their backs.
Out they flew through the opening Skiska had made as he rushed
forth with his alarm.
But as they soared high into the blue sky they cried to one
another: "Oh! your eyes are red-red!" "And yours are red-red!"
For the warning words of the magic minor strain had proven true.
"Ah-ha!" laughed Iktomi, untying the four corners of his blanket,
"I shall sit no more hungry within my dwelling." Homeward he
trudged along with nice fat ducks in his blanket. He left the
little straw hut for the rains and winds to pull down.
Having reached his own teepee on the high level lands, Iktomi
kindled a large fire out of doors. He planted sharp-pointed sticks
around the leaping flames. On each stake he fastened a duck to
roast. A few he buried under the ashes to bake. Disappearing
within his teepee, he came out again with some huge seashells.
These were his dishes. Placing one under each roasting duck, he
muttered, "The sweet fat oozing out will taste well with the
hard-cooked breasts."
Heaping more willows upon the fire, Iktomi sat down on the
ground with crossed shins. A long chin between his knees pointed
toward the red flames, while his eyes were on the browning ducks.
Just above his ankles he clasped and unclasped his long bony
fingers. Now and then he sniffed impatiently the savory odor.
The brisk wind which stirred the fire also played with a
squeaky old tree beside Iktomi's wigwam.
From side to side the tree was swaying and crying in an old
man's voice, "Help! I'll break! I'll fall!" Iktomi shrugged his
great shoulders, but did not once take his eyes from the ducks.
The dripping of amber oil into pearly dishes, drop by drop, pleased
his hungry eyes. Still the old tree man called for help. "He!
What sound is it that makes my ear ache!" exclaimed Iktomi, holding
a hand on his ear.
He rose and looked around. The squeaking came from the tree.
Then he began climbing the tree to find the disagreeable sound. He
placed his foot right on a cracked limb without seeing it. Just
then a whiff of wind came rushing by and pressed together the
broken edges. There in a strong wooden hand Iktomi's foot was
caught.
"Oh! my foot is crushed!" he howled like a coward. In vain he
pulled and puffed to free himself.
While sitting a prisoner on the tree he spied, through his
tears, a pack of gray wolves roaming over the level lands. Waving
his hands toward them, he called in his loudest voice, "He! Gray
wolves! Don't you come here! I'm caught fast in the tree so that
my duck feast is getting cold. Don't you come to eat up my meal."
The leader of the pack upon hearing Iktomi's words turned to
his comrades and said:
"Ah! hear the foolish fellow! He says he has a duck feast to
be eaten! Let us hurry there for our share!" Away bounded the
wolves toward Iktomi's lodge.
From the tree Iktomi watched the hungry wolves eat up his
nicely browned fat ducks. His foot pained him more and more. He
heard them crack the small round bones with their strong long teeth
and eat out the oily marrow. Now severe pains shot up from his
foot through his whole body. "Hin-hin-hin!" sobbed Iktomi. Real
tears washed brown streaks across his red-painted cheeks. Smacking
their lips, the wolves began to leave the place, when Iktomi cried
out like a pouting child, "At least you have left my baking under
the ashes!"
"Ho! Po!" shouted the mischievous wolves; "he says more ducks
are to be found under the ashes! Come! Let us have our fill this
once!"
Running back to the dead fire, they pawed out the ducks with
such rude haste that a cloud of ashes rose like gray smoke over
them.
"Hin-hin-hin!" moaned Iktomi, when the wolves had scampered
off. All too late, the sturdy breeze returned, and, passing by,
pulled apart the broken edges of the tree. Iktomi was released.
But alas! he had no duck feast.
IKTOMI'S BLANKET
IKTOMI'S BLANKET
ALONE within his teepee sat Iktomi. The sun was but a
handsbreadth from the western edge of land.
"Those, bad, bad gray wolves! They ate up all my nice fat
ducks!" muttered he, rocking his body to and fro.
He was cuddling the evil memory he bore those hungry wolves.
At last he ceased to sway his body backward and forward, but sat
still and stiff as a stone image.
"Oh! I'll go to Inyan, the great-grandfather, and pray for
food!" he exclaimed.
At once he hurried forth from his teepee and, with his blanket
over one shoulder, drew nigh to a huge rock on a hillside.
With half-crouching, half-running strides, he fell upon Inyan
with outspread hands.
"Grandfather! pity me. I am hungry. I am starving. Give me
food. Great-grandfather, give me meat to eat!" he cried. All the
while he stroked and caressed the face of the great stone god.
The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes the trees and grass,
can hear the voice of those who pray in many varied ways. The
hearing of Inyan, the large hard stone, was the one most sought
after. He was the great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the
hillside many, many seasons. He had seen the prairie put on a
snow-white blanket and then change it for a bright green robe more
than a thousand times.
Still unaffected by the myriad moons he rested on the
everlasting hill, listening to the prayers of Indian warriors.
Before the finding of the magic arrow he had sat there.
Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before the great-grandfather,
the sky in the west was red like a glowing face. The sunset poured
a soft mellow light upon the huge gray stone and the solitary
figure beside it. It was the smile of the Great Spirit upon the
grandfather and the wayward child.
The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it. "Now, grandfather,
accept my offering; 'tis all I have," said Iktomi as he spread
his half-worn blanket upon Inyan's cold shoulders. Then Iktomi,
happy with the smile of the sunset sky, followed a footpath leading
toward a thicketed ravine. He had not gone many paces into the
shrubbery when before him lay a freshly wounded deer!
"This is the answer from the red western sky!" cried Iktomi
with hands uplifted.
Slipping a long thin blade from out his belt, he cut large
chunks of choice meat. Sharpening some willow sticks, he planted
them around a wood-pile he had ready to kindle. On these stakes he
meant to roast the venison.
While he was rubbing briskly two long sticks to start a fire,
the sun in the west fell out of the sky below the edge of land.
Twilight was over all. Iktomi felt the cold night air upon his
bare neck and shoulders. "Ough!" he shivered as he wiped his knife
on the grass. Tucking it in a beaded case hanging from his belt,
Iktomi stood erect, looking about. He shivered again. "Ough! Ah!
I am cold. I wish I had my blanket!" whispered he, hovering over
the pile of dry sticks and the sharp stakes round about it.
Suddenly he paused and dropped his hands at his sides.
"The old great-grandfather does not feel the cold as I do. He
does not need my old blanket as I do. I wish I had not given it to
him. Oh! I think I'll run up there and take it back!" said he,
pointing his long chin toward the large gray stone.
Iktomi, in the warm sunshine, had no need of his blanket, and
it had been very easy to part with a thing which he could not miss.
But the chilly night wind quite froze his ardent thank-offering.
Thus running up the hillside, his teeth chattering all the
way, he drew near to Inyan, the sacred symbol. Seizing one corner
of the half-worn blanket, Iktomi pulled it off with a jerk.
"Give my blanket back, old grandfather! You do not need it.
I do!" This was very wrong, yet Iktomi did it, for his wit was not
wisdom. Drawing the blanket tight over his shoulders, he descended
the hill with hurrying feet.
He was soon upon the edge of the ravine. A young moon, like
a bright bent bow, climbed up from the southwest horizon a little
way into the sky.
In this pale light Iktomi stood motionless as a ghost amid the
thicket. His woodpile was not yet kindled. His pointed stakes
were still bare as he had left them. But where was the deer--the
venison he had felt warm in his hands a moment ago? It was gone.
Only the dry rib bones lay on the ground like giant fingers from an
open grave. Iktomi was troubled. At length, stooping over the
white dried bones, he took hold of one and shook it. The bones,
loose in their sockets, rattled together at his touch. Iktomi let
go his hold. He sprang back amazed. And though he wore a blanket
his teeth chattered more than ever. Then his blunted sense will
surprise you, little reader; for instead of being grieved that he
had taken back his blanket, he cried aloud, "Hin-hin-hin! If only
I had eaten the venison before going for my blanket!"
Those tears no longer moved the hand of the Generous Giver.
They were selfish tears. The Great Spirit does not heed them ever.
IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT
IKTOMI AND THE MUSKRAT
BESIDE a white lake, beneath a large grown willow tree, sat
Iktomi on the bare ground. The heap of smouldering ashes told of
a recent open fire. With ankles crossed together around a pot of
soup, Iktomi bent over some delicious boiled fish.
Fast he dipped his black horn spoon into the soup, for he was
ravenous. Iktomi had no regular meal times. Often when he was
hungry he went without food.
Well hid between the lake and the wild rice, he looked nowhere
save into the pot of fish. Not knowing when the next meal would
be, he meant to eat enough now to last some time.
"How, how, my friend!" said a voice out of the wild rice.
Iktomi started. He almost choked with his soup. He peered through
the long reeds from where he sat with his long horn spoon in
mid-air.
"How, my friend!" said the voice again, this time close at his
side. Iktomi turned and there stood a dripping muskrat who had
just come out of the lake.
"Oh, it is my friend who startled me. I wondered if among the
wild rice some spirit voice was talking. How, how, my friend!"
said Iktomi. The muskrat stood smiling. On his lips hung a ready
"Yes, my friend," when Iktomi would ask, "My friend, will you sit
down beside me and share my food?"
That was the custom of the plains people. Yet Iktomi sat
silent. He hummed an old dance-song and beat gently on the edge of
the pot with his buffalo-horn spoon. The muskrat began to feel
awkward before such lack of hospitality and wished himself under
water.
After many heart throbs Iktomi stopped drumming with his horn
ladle, and looking upward into the muskrat's face, he said:
"My friend, let us run a race to see who shall win this pot of
fish. If I win, I shall not need to share it with you. If you
win, you shall have half of it." Springing to his feet, Iktomi
began at once to tighten the belt about his waist.
"My friend Ikto, I cannot run a race with you! I am not a
swift runner, and you are nimble as a deer. We shall not run any
race together," answered the hungry muskrat.
For a moment Iktomi stood with a hand on his long protruding
chin. His eyes were fixed upon something in the air. The muskrat
looked out of the corners of his eyes without moving his head. He
watched the wily Iktomi concocting a plot.
"Yes, yes," said Iktomi, suddenly turning his gaze upon the
unwelcome visitor;
"I shall carry a large stone on my back. That will slacken my
usual speed; and the race will be a fair one."
Saying this he laid a firm hand upon the muskrat's shoulder
and started off along the edge of the lake. When they reached the
opposite side Iktomi pried about in search of a heavy stone.
He found one half-buried in the shallow water. Pulling it out
upon dry land, he wrapped it in his blanket.
"Now, my friend, you shall run on the left side of the lake,
I on the other. The race is for the boiled fish in yonder kettle!"
said Iktomi.
The muskrat helped to lift the heavy stone upon Iktomi's back.
Then they parted. Each took a narrow path through the tall reeds
fringing the shore. Iktomi found his load a heavy one.
Perspiration hung like beads on his brow. His chest heaved hard
and fast.
He looked across the lake to see how far the muskrat had gone,
but nowhere did he see any sign of him. "Well, he is running low
under the wild rice!" said he. Yet as he scanned the tall grasses
on the lake shore, he saw not one stir as if to make way for the
runner. "Ah, has he gone so fast ahead that the disturbed grasses
in his trail have quieted again?" exclaimed Iktomi. With that
thought he quickly dropped the heavy stone. "No more of this!"
said he, patting his chest with both hands.
Off with a springing bound, he ran swiftly toward the goal.
Tufts of reeds and grass fell flat under his feet. Hardly had they
raised their heads when Iktomi was many paces gone.
Soon he reached the heap of cold ashes. Iktomi halted stiff
as if he had struck an invisible cliff. His black eyes showed a
ring of white about them as he stared at the empty ground. There
was no pot of boiled fish! There was no water-man in sight! "Oh,
if only I had shared my food like a real Dakota, I would not have
lost it all! Why did I not know the muskrat would run through the
water? He swims faster than I could ever run! That is what he has
done. He has laughed at me for carrying a weight on my back while
he shot hither like an arrow!"
Crying thus to himself, Iktomi stepped to the water's brink.
He stooped forward with a hand on each bent knee and peeped far
into the deep water.
"There!" he exclaimed, "I see you, my friend, sitting with
your ankles wound around my little pot of fish! My friend, I am
hungry. Give me a bone!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the water-man, the muskrat. The sound
did not rise up out of the lake, for it came down from overhead.
With his hands still on his knees, Iktomi turned his face upward
into the great willow tree. Opening wide his mouth he begged, "My
friend, my friend, give me a bone to gnaw!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed the muskrat, and leaning over the limb he
sat upon, he let fall a small sharp bone which dropped right into
Iktomi's throat. Iktomi almost choked to death before he could get
it out. In the tree the muskrat sat laughing loud. "Next time,
say to a visiting friend, 'Be seated beside me, my friend. Let me
share with you my food.'"
IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE
IKTOMI AND THE COYOTE
AFAR off upon a large level land, a summer sun was shining
bright. Here and there over the rolling green were tall bunches of
coarse gray weeds. Iktomi in his fringed buckskins walked alone
across the prairie with a black bare head glossy in the sunlight.
He walked through the grass without following any well-worn
footpath.
From one large bunch of coarse weeds to another he wound his
way about the great plain. He lifted his foot lightly and placed
it gently forward like a wildcat prowling noiselessly through the
thick grass. He stopped a few steps away from a very large bunch
of wild sage. From shoulder to shoulder he tilted his head. Still
farther he bent from side to side, first low over one hip and then
over the other. Far forward he stooped, stretching his long thin
neck like a duck, to see what lay under a fur coat beyond the bunch
of coarse grass.
A sleek gray-faced prairie wolf! his pointed black nose tucked
in between his four feet drawn snugly together; his handsome bushy
tail wound over his nose and feet; a coyote fast asleep in the
shadow of a bunch of grass!--this is what Iktomi spied. Carefully
he raised one foot and cautiously reached out with his toes.
Gently, gently he lifted the foot behind and placed it before the
other. Thus he came nearer and nearer to the round fur ball lying
motionless under the sage grass.
Now Iktomi stood beside it, looking at the closed eyelids that
did not quiver the least bit. Pressing his lips into straight
lines and nodding his head slowly, he bent over the wolf. He held
his ear close to the coyote's nose, but not a breath of air stirred
from it.
"Dead!" said he at last. "Dead, but not long since he ran
over these plains! See! there in his paw is caught a fresh
feather. He is nice fat meat!" Taking hold of the paw with the
bird feather fast on it, he exclaimed, "Why, he is still warm!
I'll carry him to my dwelling and have a roast for my evening meal.
Ah-ha!" he laughed, as he seized the coyote by its two fore paws
and its two hind feet and swung him over head across his shoulders.
The wolf was large and the teepee was far across the prairie.
Iktomi trudged along with his burden, smacking his hungry lips
together. He blinked his eyes hard to keep out the salty
perspiration streaming down his face.
All the while the coyote on his back lay gazing into the sky
with wide open eyes. His long white teeth fairly gleamed as he
smiled and smiled.
"To ride on one's own feet is tiresome, but to be carried like
a warrior from a brave fight is great fun!" said the coyote in his
heart. He had never been borne on any one's back before and the
new experience delighted him. He lay there lazily on Iktomi's
shoulders, now and then blinking blue winks. Did you never see a
birdie blink a blue wink? This is how it first became a saying
among the plains people. When a bird stands aloof watching your
strange ways, a thin bluish white tissue slips quickly over his
eyes and as quickly off again; so quick that you think it was only
a mysterious blue wink. Sometimes when children grow drowsy they
blink blue winks, while others who are too proud to look with
friendly eyes upon people blink in this cold bird-manner.
The coyote was affected by both sleepiness and pride. His
winks were almost as blue as the sky. In the midst of his new
pleasure the swaying motion ceased. Iktomi had reached his
dwelling place. The coyote felt drowsy no longer, for in the next
instant he was slipping out of Iktomi's hands. He was falling,
falling through space, and then he struck the ground with such a
bump he did not wish to breathe for a while. He wondered what
Iktomi would do, thus he lay still where he fell. Humming a
dance-song, one from his bundle of mystery songs, Iktomi hopped and
darted about at an imaginary dance and feast. He gathered dry
willow sticks and broke them in two against his knee. He built a
large fire out of doors. The flames leaped up high in red and
yellow streaks. Now Iktomi returned to the coyote who had been
looking on through his eyelashes.
Taking him again by his paws and hind feet, he swung him to
and fro. Then as the wolf swung toward the red flames, Iktomi let
him go. Once again the coyote fell through space. Hot air smote
his nostrils. He saw red dancing fire, and now he struck a bed of
cracking embers. With a quick turn he leaped out of the flames.
From his heels were scattered a shower of red coals upon Iktomi's
bare arms and shoulders. Dumbfounded, Iktomi thought he saw a
spirit walk out of his fire. His jaws fell apart. He thrust a
palm to his face, hard over his mouth! He could scarce keep from
shrieking.