Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala Sa
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Zitkala Sa >> Old Indian Legends, by Zitkala Sa
Rolling over and over on the grass and rubbing the sides of
his head against the ground, the coyote soon put out the fire on
his fur. Iktomi's eyes were almost ready to jump out of his head
as he stood cooling a burn on his brown arm with his breath.
Sitting on his haunches, on the opposite side of the fire from
where Iktomi stood, the coyote began to laugh at him.
"Another day, my friend, do not take too much for granted.
Make sure the enemy is stone dead before you make a fire!"
Then off he ran so swiftly that his long bushy tail hung out
in a straight line with his back.
IKTOMI AND THE FAWN
IKTOMI AND THE FAWN
IN one of his wanderings through the wooded lands, Iktomi saw
a rare bird sitting high in a tree-top. Its long fan-like tail
feathers had caught all the beautiful colors of the rainbow.
Handsome in the glistening summer sun sat the bird of rainbow
plumage. Iktomi hurried hither with his eyes fast on the bird.
He stood beneath the tree looking long and wistfully at the
peacock's bright feathers. At length he heaved a sigh and began:
"Oh, I wish I had such pretty feathers! How I wish I were not I!
If only I were a handsome feathered creature how happy I would be!
I'd be so glad to sit upon a very high tree and bask in the summer
sun like you!" said he suddenly, pointing his bony finger up toward
the peacock, who was eyeing the stranger below, turning his head
from side to side.
"I beg of you make me into a bird with green and purple
feathers like yours!" implored Iktomi, tired now of playing the
brave in beaded buckskins. The peacock then spoke to Iktomi: "I
have a magic power. My touch will change you in a moment into the
most beautiful peacock if you can keep one condition."
"Yes! yes!" shouted Iktomi, jumping up and down, patting his
lips with his palm, which caused his voice to vibrate in a peculiar
fashion. "Yes! yes! I could keep ten conditions if only you would
change me into a bird with long, bright tail feathers. Oh, I am so
ugly! I am so tired of being myself! Change me! Do!"
Hereupon the peacock spread out both his wings, and scarce
moving them, he sailed slowly down upon the ground. Right beside
Iktomi he alighted. Very low in Iktomi's ear the peacock
whispered, "Are you willing to keep one condition, though hard it
be?"
"Yes! yes! I've told you ten of them if need be!" exclaimed
Iktomi, with some impatience.
"Then I pronounce you a handsome feathered bird. No longer
are you Iktomi the mischief-maker." Saying this the peacock
touched Iktomi with the tips of his wings.
Iktomi vanished at the touch. There stood beneath the tree
two handsome peacocks. While one of the pair strutted about with
a head turned aside as if dazzled by his own bright-tinted tail
feathers, the other bird soared slowly upward. He sat quiet and
unconscious of his gay plumage. He seemed content to perch there
on a large limb in the warm sunshine.
After a little while the vain peacock, dizzy with his bright
colors, spread out his wings and lit on the same branch with the
elder bird.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "how hard to fly! Brightly tinted
feathers are handsome, but I wish they were light enough to fly!"
Just there the elder bird interrupted him. "That is the one
condition. Never try to fly like other birds. Upon the day you
try to fly you shall be changed into your former self."
"Oh, what a shame that bright feathers cannot fly into the
sky!" cried the peacock. Already he grew restless. He longed to
soar through space. He yearned to fly above the trees high upward
to the sun.
"Oh, there I see a flock of birds flying thither! Oh! oh!"
said he, flapping his wings, "I must try my wings! I am tired of
bright tail feathers. I want to try my wings."
"No, no!" clucked the elder bird. The flock of chattering
birds flew by with whirring wings. "Oop! oop!" called some to
their mates.
Possessed by an irrepressible impulse the Iktomi peacock
called out, "He! I want to come! Wait for me!" and with that he
gave a lunge into the air. The flock of flying feathers wheeled
about and lowered over the tree whence came the peacock's cry.
Only one rare bird sat on the tree, and beneath, on the ground,
stood a brave in brown buckskins.
"I am my old self again!" groaned Iktomi in a sad voice.
"Make me over, pretty bird. Try me this once again!" he pleaded in
vain.
"Old Iktomi wants to fly! Ah! We cannot wait for him!" sang
the birds as they flew away.
Muttering unhappy vows to himself, Iktomi had not gone far
when he chanced upon a bunch of long slender arrows. One by one
they rose in the air and shot a straight line over the prairie.
Others shot up into the blue sky and were soon lost to sight. Only
one was left. He was making ready for his flight when Iktomi
rushed upon him and wailed, "I want to be an arrow! Make me into
an arrow! I want to pierce the blue Blue overhead. I want to
strike yonder summer sun in its center. Make me into an arrow!"
"Can you keep a condition? One condition, though hard it be?"
the arrow turned to ask.
"Yes! Yes!" shouted Iktomi, delighted.
Hereupon the slender arrow tapped him gently with his sharp
flint beak. There was no Iktomi, but two arrows stood ready
to fly. "Now, young arrow, this is the one condition. Your flight
must always be in a straight line. Never turn a curve nor jump
about like a young fawn," said the arrow magician. He spoke slowly
and sternly.
At once he set about to teach the new arrow how to shoot in a
long straight line.
"This is the way to pierce the Blue overhead," said he; and
off he spun high into the sky.
While he was gone a herd of deer came trotting by. Behind
them played the young fawns together. They frolicked about like
kittens. They bounced on all fours like balls. Then they pitched
forward, kicking their heels in the air. The Iktomi arrow watched
them so happy on the ground. Looking quickly up into the sky, he
said in his heart, "The magician is out of sight. I'll just romp
and frolic with these fawns until he returns. Fawns! Friends, do
not fear me. I want to jump and leap with you. I long to be happy
as you are," said he. The young fawns stopped with stiff legs and
stared at the speaking arrow with large brown wondering eyes.
"See! I can jump as well as you!" went on Iktomi. He gave one
tiny leap like a fawn. All of a sudden the fawns snorted with
extended nostrils at what they beheld. There among them stood
Iktomi in brown buckskins, and the strange talking arrow was gone.
"Oh! I am myself. My old self!" cried Iktomi, pinching
himself and plucking imaginary pieces out of his jacket.
"Hin-hin-hin! I wanted to fly!"
The real arrow now returned to the earth. He alighted very
near Iktomi. From the high sky he had seen the fawns playing on
the green. He had seen Iktomi make his one leap, and the charm was
broken. Iktomi became his former self.
"Arrow, my friend, change me once more!" begged Iktomi.
"No, no more," replied the arrow. Then away he shot through
the air in the direction his comrades had flown.
By this time the fawns gathered close around Iktomi. They
poked their noses at him trying to know who he was.
Iktomi's tears were like a spring shower. A new desire dried
them quickly away. Stepping boldly to the largest fawn, he looked
closely at the little brown spots all over the furry face.
"Oh, fawn! What beautiful brown spots on your face! Fawn,
dear little fawn, can you tell me how those brown spots were made
on your face?"
"Yes," said the fawn. "When I was very, very small, my mother
marked them on my face with a red hot fire. She dug a large hole
in the ground and made a soft bed of grass and twigs in it. Then
she placed me gently there. She covered me over with dry sweet
grass and piled dry cedars on top. From a neighbor's fire she
brought hither a red, red ember. This she tucked carefully in at
my head. This is how the brown spots were made on my face."
"Now, fawn, my friend, will you do the same for me? Won't you
mark my face with brown, brown spots just like yours?" asked
Iktomi, always eager to be like other people.
"Yes. I can dig the ground and fill it with dry grass and
sticks. If you will jump into the pit, I'll cover you with sweet
smelling grass and cedar wood," answered the fawn.
"Say," interrupted Ikto, "will you be sure to cover me with a
great deal of dry grass and twigs? You will make sure that the
spots will be as brown as those you wear."
"Oh, yes. I'll pile up grass and willows once oftener than my
mother did."
"Now let us dig the hole, pull the grass, and gather sticks,"
cried Iktomi in glee.
Thus with his own hands he aids in making his grave. After
the hole was dug and cushioned with grass, Iktomi, muttering
something about brown spots, leaped down into it. Lengthwise, flat
on his back, he lay. While the fawn covered him over with cedars,
a far-away voice came up through them, "Brown, brown spots to wear
forever!" A red ember was tucked under the dry grass. Off
scampered the fawns after their mothers; and when a great distance
away they looked backward. They saw a blue smoke rising, writhing
upward till it vanished in the blue ether.
"Is that Iktomi's spirit?" asked one fawn of another.
"No! I think he would jump out before he could burn into
smoke and cinders," answered his comrade.
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
ON the edge of a forest there lived a large family of badgers.
In the ground their dwelling was made. Its walls and roof were
covered with rocks and straw.
Old father badger was a great hunter. He knew well how to
track the deer and buffalo. Every day he came home carrying on his
back some wild game. This kept mother badger very busy, and the
baby badgers very chubby. While the well-fed children played
about, digging little make-believe dwellings, their mother hung
thin sliced meats upon long willow racks. As fast as the meats
were dried and seasoned by sun and wind, she packed them carefully
away in a large thick bag.
This bag was like a huge stiff envelope, but far more
beautiful to see, for it was painted all over with many bright
colors. These firmly tied bags of dried meat were laid upon the
rocks in the walls of the dwelling. In this way they were both
useful and decorative.
One day father badger did not go off for a hunt. He stayed at
home, making new arrows. His children sat about him on the ground
floor. Their small black eyes danced with delight as they watched
the gay colors painted upon the arrows.
All of a sudden there was heard a heavy footfall near the
entrance way. The oval-shaped door-frame was pushed aside. In
stepped a large black foot with great big claws. Then the other
clumsy foot came next. All the while the baby badgers stared hard
at the unexpected comer. After the second foot, in peeped the head
of a big black bear! His black nose was dry and parched. Silently
he entered the dwelling and sat down on the ground by the doorway.
His black eyes never left the painted bags on the rocky walls. He
guessed what was in them. He was a very hungry bear. Seeing the
racks of red meat hanging in the yard, he had come to visit the
badger family.
Though he was a stranger and his strong paws and jaws
frightened the small badgers, the father said, "How, how, friend!
Your lips and nose look feverish and hungry. Will you eat with
us?"
"Yes, my friend," said the bear. "I am starved. I saw your
racks of red fresh meat, and knowing your heart is kind, I came
hither. Give me meat to eat, my friend."
Hereupon the mother badger took long strides across the room,
and as she had to pass in front of the strange visitor, she said:
"Ah han! Allow me to pass!" which was an apology.
"How, how!" replied the bear, drawing himself closer to the
wall and crossing his shins together.
Mother badger chose the most tender red meat, and soon over a
bed of coals she broiled the venison.
That day the bear had all he could eat. At nightfall he rose,
and smacking his lips together,--that is the noisy way of saying
"the food was very good!"--he left the badger dwelling. The baby
badgers, peeping through the door-flap after the shaggy bear, saw
him disappear into the woods near by.
Day after day the crackling of twigs in the forest told of
heavy footsteps. Out would come the same black bear. He never
lifted the door-flap, but thrusting it aside entered slowly in.
Always in the same place by the entrance way he sat down with
crossed shins.
His daily visits were so regular that mother badger placed a
fur rug in his place. She did not wish a guest in her dwelling to
sit upon the bare hard ground.
At last one time when the bear returned, his nose was bright
and black. His coat was glossy. He had grown fat upon the
badger's hospitality.
As he entered the dwelling a pair of wicked gleams shot out of
his shaggy head. Surprised by the strange behavior of the guest
who remained standing upon the rug, leaning his round back against
the wall, father badger queried: "How, my friend! What?"
The bear took one stride forward and shook his paw in the
badger's face. He said: "I am strong, very strong!"
"Yes, yes, so you are," replied the badger. From the farther
end of the room mother badger muttered over her bead work: "Yes,
you grew strong from our well-filled bowls."
The bear smiled, showing a row of large sharp teeth.
"I have no dwelling. I have no bags of dried meat. I have no
arrows. All these I have found here on this spot," said he,
stamping his heavy foot. "I want them! See! I am strong!"
repeated he, lifting both his terrible paws.
Quietly the father badger spoke: "I fed you. I called you
friend, though you came here a stranger and a beggar. For the
sake of my little ones leave us in peace."
Mother badger, in her excited way, had pierced hard through
the buckskin and stuck her fingers repeatedly with her sharp awl
until she had laid aside her work. Now, while her husband was
talking to the bear, she motioned with her hands to the children.
On tiptoe they hastened to her side.
For reply came a low growl. It grew louder and more fierce.
"Wa-ough!" he roared, and by force hurled the badgers out. First
the father badger; then the mother. The little badgers he tossed
by pairs. He threw them hard upon the ground. Standing in the
entrance way and showing his ugly teeth, he snarled, "Be gone!"
The father and mother badger, having gained their feet, picked
up their kicking little babes, and, wailing aloud, drew the air
into their flattened lungs till they could stand alone upon their
feet. No sooner had the baby badgers caught their breath than they
howled and shrieked with pain and fright. Ah! what a dismal cry
was theirs as the whole badger family went forth wailing from out
their own dwelling! A little distance away from their stolen house
the father badger built a small round hut. He made it of bent
willows and covered it with dry grass and twigs.
This was shelter for the night; but alas! it was empty of food
and arrows. All day father badger prowled through the forest, but
without his arrows he could not get food for his children. Upon
his return, the cry of the little ones for meat, the sad quiet of
the mother with bowed head, hurt him like a poisoned arrow wound.
"I'll beg meat for you!" said he in an unsteady voice.
Covering his head and entire body in a long loose robe he halted
beside the big black bear. The bear was slicing red meat to hang
upon the rack. He did not pause for a look at the comer. As the
badger stood there unrecognized, he saw that the bear had brought
with him his whole family. Little cubs played under the
high-hanging new meats. They laughed and pointed with their wee
noses upward at the thin sliced meats upon the poles.
"Have you no heart, Black Bear? My children are starving.
Give me a small piece of meat for them," begged the badger.
"Wa-ough!" growled the angry bear, and pounced upon the
badger. "Be gone!" said he, and with his big hind foot he sent
father badger sprawling on the ground.
All the little ruffian bears hooted and shouted "ha-ha!" to
see the beggar fall upon his face. There was one, however, who did
not even smile. He was the youngest cub. His fur coat was not as
black and glossy as those his elders wore. The hair was dry and
dingy. It looked much more like kinky wool. He was the ugly cub.
Poor little baby bear! he had always been laughed at by his older
brothers. He could not help being himself. He could not change
the differences between himself and his brothers. Thus again,
though the rest laughed aloud at the badger's fall, he did not see
the joke. His face was long and earnest. In his heart he was sad
to see the badgers crying and starving. In his breast spread a
burning desire to share his food with them.
"I shall not ask my father for meat to give away. He would
say 'No!' Then my brothers would laugh at me," said the ugly baby
bear to himself.
In an instant, as if his good intention had passed from him,
he was singing happily and skipping around his father at work.
Singing in his small high voice and dragging his feet in long
strides after him, as if a prankish spirit oozed out from his
heels, he strayed off through the tall grass. He was ambling
toward the small round hut. When directly in front of the entrance
way, he made a quick side kick with his left hind leg. Lo! there
fell into the badger's hut a piece of fresh meat. It was tough
meat, full of sinews, yet it was the only piece he could take
without his father's notice.
Thus having given meat to the hungry badgers, the ugly baby
bear ran quickly away to his father again.
On the following day the father badger came back once more.
He stood watching the big bear cutting thin slices of meat.
" Give--" he began, when the bear turning upon him with a
growl, thrust him cruelly aside. The badger fell on his hands. He
fell where the grass was wet with the blood of the newly carved
buffalo. His keen starving eyes caught sight of a little red clot
lying bright upon the green. Looking fearfully toward the bear and
seeing his head was turned away, he snatched up the small thick
blood. Underneath his girdled blanket he hid it in his hand.
On his return to his family, he said within himself : "I'll
pray the Great Spirit to bless it." Thus he built a small round
lodge. Sprinkling water upon the heated heap of sacred stones
within, he made ready to purge his body. "The buffalo blood, too,
must be purified before I ask a blessing upon it," thought the
badger. He carried it into the sacred vapor lodge. After placing
it near the sacred stones, he sat down beside it. After a long
silence, he muttered: "Great Spirit, bless this little buffalo
blood." Then he arose, and with a quiet dignity stepped out of the
lodge. Close behind him some one followed. The badger turned to
look over his shoulder and to his great joy he beheld a Dakota
brave in handsome buckskins. In his hand he carried a magic arrow.
Across his back dangled a long fringed quiver. In answer to the
badger's prayer, the avenger had sprung from out the red globules.
"My son!" exclaimed the badger with extended right hand.
"How, father," replied the brave; "I am your avenger!"
Immediately the badger told the sad story of his hungry little
ones and the stingy bear.
Listening closely the young man stood looking steadily upon
the ground.
At length the father badger moved away.
"Where?" queried the avenger.
"My son, we have no food. I am going again to beg for meat,"
answered the badger.
"Then I go with you," replied the young brave. This made the
old badger happy. He was proud of his son. He was delighted to be
called "father" by the first human creature.
The bear saw the badger coming in the distance. He narrowed
his eyes at the tall stranger walking beside him. He spied the
arrow. At once he guessed it was the avenger of whom he had heard
long, long ago. As they approached, the bear stood erect with a
hand on his thigh. He smiled upon them.
"How, badger, my friend! Here is my knife. Cut your favorite
pieces from the deer," said he, holding out a long thin blade.
"How!" said the badger eagerly. He wondered what had inspired
the big bear to such a generous deed. The young avenger waited
till the badger took the long knife in his hand.
Gazing full into the black bear's face, he said: "I come to do
justice. You have returned only a knife to my poor father. Now
return to him his dwelling." His voice was deep and powerful. In
his black eyes burned a steady fire.
The long strong teeth of the bear rattled against each other,
and his shaggy body shook with fear. "Ahow!" cried he, as if he
had been shot. Running into the dwelling he gasped, breathless and
trembling, "Come out, all of you! This is the badger's dwelling.
We must flee to the forest for fear of the avenger who carries the
magic arrow."
Out they hurried, all the bears, and disappeared into the
woods.
Singing and laughing, the badgers returned to their own
dwelling.
Then the avenger left them.
"I go," said he in parting, "over the earth."
THE TREE-BOUND
THE TREE-BOUND
IT was a clear summer day. The blue, blue sky dropped low
over the edge of the green level land. A large yellow sun hung
directly overhead.
The singing of birds filled the summer space between earth and
sky with sweet music. Again and again sang a yellow-breasted
birdie--"Koda Ni Dakota!" He insisted upon it. "Koda Ni Dakota!"
which was "Friend, you're a Dakota! Friend, you're a Dakota!"
Perchance the birdie meant the avenger with the magic arrow, for
there across the plain he strode. He was handsome in his paint and
feathers, proud with his great buckskin quiver on his back and a
long bow in his hand. Afar to an eastern camp of cone-shaped
teepees he was going. There over the Indian village hovered a
large red eagle threatening the safety of the people. Every
morning rose this terrible red bird out of a high chalk bluff and
spreading out his gigantic wings soared slowly over the round camp
ground. Then it was that the people, terror-stricken, ran
screaming into their lodges. Covering their heads with their
blankets, they sat trembling with fear. No one dared to venture
out till the red eagle had disappeared beyond the west, where meet
the blue and green.
In vain tried the chieftain of the tribe to find among his
warriors a powerful marksman who could send a death arrow to the
man-hungry bird. At last to urge his men to their utmost skill he
bade his crier proclaim a new reward.
Of the chieftain's two beautiful daughters he would have his
choice who brought the dreaded red eagle with an arrow in its
breast.
Upon hearing these words, the men of the village, both young
and old, both heroes and cowards, trimmed new arrows for the
contest. At gray dawn there stood indistinct under the shadow of
the bluff many human figures; silent as ghosts and wrapped in robes
girdled tight about their waists, they waited with chosen bow and
arrow.
Some cunning old warriors stayed not with the group. They
crouched low upon the open ground. But all eyes alike were fixed
upon the top of the high bluff. Breathless they watched for the
soaring of the red eagle.
From within the dwellings many eyes peeped through the small
holes in the front lapels of the teepee. With shaking knees and
hard-set teeth, the women peered out upon the Dakota men prowling
about with bows and arrows.
At length when the morning sun also peeped over the eastern
horizon at the armed Dakotas, the red eagle walked out upon the
edge of the cliff. Pluming his gorgeous feathers, he ruffled his
neck and flapped his strong wings together. Then he dived into the
air. Slowly he winged his way over the round camp ground; over the
men with their strong bows and arrows! In an instant the long bows
were bent. Strong straight arrows with red feathered tips sped
upward to the blue sky. Ah! slowly moved those indifferent wings,
untouched by the poison-beaked arrows. Off to the west beyond the
reach of arrow, beyond the reach of eye, the red eagle flew away.
A sudden clamor of high-pitched voices broke the deadly
stillness of the dawn. The women talked excitedly about the
invulnerable red of the eagle's feathers, while the would-be heroes
sulked within their wigwams. "He-he-he!" groaned the chieftain.
On the evening of the same day sat a group of hunters around
a bright burning fire. They were talking of a strange young man
whom they spied while out upon a hunt for deer beyond the bluffs.
They saw the stranger taking aim. Following the point of his arrow
with their eyes, they beheld a herd of buffalo. The arrow sprang
from the bow! It darted into the skull of the foremost buffalo.
But unlike other arrows it pierced through the head of the creature
and spinning in the air lit into the next buffalo head. One by one
the buffalo fell upon the sweet grass they were grazing. With
straight quivering limbs they lay on their sides. The young man
stood calmly by, counting on his fingers the buffalo as they
dropped dead to the ground. When the last one fell, he ran thither
and picking up his magic arrow wiped it carefully on the soft
grass. He slipped it into his long fringed quiver.