Wigwam Evenings: Sioux folk tales (set II)
Charles A. Eastman and Elaine Goodale Eastman
The Badger and the Bear
The night is cold and clear, with a full moon overhead, and soon after supper Tanagela appears in her snug doeskin gown and warm robe of the same, tanned with the hair on, drawing her little brother in a great turtle-shell over the crusty snow.
Old Smoky Day laughs heartily at the sight, standing just outside his teepee door to watch for the coming of the children. Nor is this all, for in the wake of this pair comes another dragging a rude sled made of a buffalo's ribs, well covered with soft furs, while still another has borrowed his mother's large raw-hide for the occasion. After their frolicsome ride through the brightly lighted village, they are all in a happy mood, ready to listen to the interesting story of
THE BADGER AND THE BEAR
The Badger lived in a little house under the hill and it was warm and snug. Here, too, lived mother Badger and the little Badgers, and they were fat and merry, for the gray old Badger was a famous hunter. Folks said he must have a magic art in making arrows, since he never failed to bring in meat enough and to spare!
One day, father Badger stayed at home to make new arrows. His wife was busy slicing and drying the meat left over from the hunt of the day before, while the little ones played at hide-and-go-seek about the lodge.
All at once, a big, clumsy shape darkened the low doorway. The children hid their faces in fear, but father Badger got up and welcomed the stranger kindly. He was a large black Bear. His shaggy skin hung loosely, and his little red eyes turned hungrily on the strips of good meat hung up to dry.
"Ho! Be seated, friend!" said the old Badger. He lighted and passed the long pipe, while his wife at once broiled a thick slice of savory venison over the coals and offered it to their guest in a wooden basin. The Bear ate like a starving man, and soon after he had eaten he shuffled away.
Next day the Bear came again, and on the day after, and for many days. At each visit he was invited to eat, according to the custom, and feasted well by the Badger, skilful hunter and generous host.
After many days the Bear came one morning looking fat and sleek, and he had brought with him his whole family. Growling savagely, he rudely turned the Badger family out of their comfortable lodge, well stored with good food and soft robes. Even the magic arrows of father Badger were left behind. Crying bitterly, the homeless Badgers went off into the woods to seek another place of shelter. That night they slept cold under a great rock, and the children went supperless to bed, for the Badger could not hunt without his arrows.
All the next day and for several days after he wandered through the forest looking for game, but found none. One night, the children were so hungry and cried so hard, that the poor old father at last said:
"Well, then, I must beg for you!"
So he crept back to his old home, where the Bear family now lived and grew fat. Standing in the doorway, he begged quite humbly for a small piece of meat.
"I would not trouble you," said he, "but my little folks are starving!"
However, the Bear got up and turned him angrily out-of-doors, while the ill-natured little Bears chuckled and laughed to see how thin and hungry he looked!
All laughed but one, and that one was the smallest and ugliest of the cubs, who had always been teased and abused by the others. He was sorry for the poor Badger, and when no one was looking he slyly stole a piece of his mother's meat and threw it into their hut, and then ran home again.
This happened several times, and now the family of Badgers were only kept from starving by the gifts of the kind-hearted little Bear.
At last came the Avenger, who sprang from a drop of innocent blood. He is very tall, strong and beautiful, and is feared by all wrong-doers. The Bear saw him coming and began to tremble. He at once called to the Badger, who was not far off, and invited him to come and eat.
But the Avenger came first! Then the Bear called upon his wife and children to follow him, and took to his heels. He ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder from time to time, for he was really terribly frightened. He never came back any more, and the Badger family returned and joyfully possessed their old home.
There is no meanness like ingratitude.
The Good-Luck Token
"Ah, Teona, I saw you out to-day with your new bow and arrows! I hope you have not been hasty to display your skill with the new weapons to the injury of any harmless creature," says old Smoky Day, gravely, as the boy hunter arrives quite out of breath.
"You have been told," he adds, "that the animals long ago agreed to sacrifice their lives for ours, when we are in need of food or of skins for garments, but that we are forbidden to kill for sport alone."
"Why, grandfather," the boy admits, "I followed a gray squirrel from tree to tree, and shot at him more than once, but he always dodged the arrow in time!"
"And were you then hungry? did you have any use for the little fellow if you had killed him?" the old man persists. "There was once a squirrel who made a treaty of peace with a little boy like you. I will tell you his story to-night."
THE GOOD-LUCK TOKEN There was once an old couple who lived quite alone with their little grandson in the midst of a great wood.
They were wretchedly poor, for the old man was now growing too weak to hunt, and often came home at night empty-handed. The old woman dug roots and gathered berries for food; but alas! her eyesight was no longer good, and there were sometimes whole days when there was nothing in the lodge to eat.
One day the boy became very hungry, and he said to his grandfather:
"Grandfather, only make me a bow and some arrows, and I will hunt for us all!"
The first time he went out into the forest with his bow and arrows he met with a Chickadee, who said to him:
"Shoot me! I am willing to give my life to satisfy your hunger."
The boy shot and took home the tiny bird, and when he threw it down before his grandmother it was no longer a Chickadee, but a fine, fat Partridge, and the poor old folks were overcome with joy.
"Ah, ah, my grandson!" they cried. "You are indeed a hunter!"
The next day, when he went out to hunt, the boy walked a long way without seeing any game. At last he thought he heard somebody laughing in the depths of the forest.
The laughter sounded nearer and nearer as he walked on. By and by he was sure he heard some person talking to himself, and in the end he could actually make out the words, although he saw no one.
"Ha, ha," chirrupped the gay voice, "I am surely the luckiest creature alive! I leap and flit all day long from bough to bough. I am quick as a flash, so that I can easily escape my enemies. In my free and happy life there is but one thing I fear, and that is a boy's blunt-headed arrow!"
When the boy heard this, he advanced boldly, and his quick eyes made out a snug wigwam in the hollow of a great tree. He peeped in, and saw that the house was warm and well stored with nuts of all kinds. Its little owner sat flirting his bushy tail in the corner, upon a bed of dry leaves; but as soon as he spied the boy, he ran past him with a scream of fright and scampered off among the thick woods.
The boy followed as fast as he could, and after a long chase he tired out and overtook the Squirrel, who sat coughing and grunting upon the bough of a tree just above his head.
"Boy," he exclaimed, "only spare my life, and you shall have a charm that will make you a successful hunter as long as you live!"
The boy agreed, and the Squirrel took him back to his own wigwam, where he filled the little fellow's bag with nuts from his pile.
"These," said he, "are all lucky nuts, and if you put one of them in your pouch when you go out to hunt, you will surely kill a Bear!"
This the boy did, and to the great joy of the poor old folks he became a famous hunter, so that from that time on they never wanted meat in their lodge.
Do not harm your weaker brothers, for even a little Squirrel may be the bearer of good fortune!
Unktomee and His Bundle of Songs
"Now, my grandchildren," says Smoky Day, "I shall tell you of one who is well known in the wonder-world of our people. He is a great traveller, seems to know everybody, and is always good-natured, but he is also a shameless boaster and plays many tricks upon those he meets on the road. No one is so wise and cunning as Unktomee, the Spider; and yet he likes to appear as simple and innocent as a child!
"His adventures are many. Sometimes he gets the better of the animal people, and again they may succeed in outwitting him, so that he is well laughed at for his trouble! We may all learn from these stories of Unktomee and his sly tricks how to be on our guard against those deceitful ones who come to us in the guise of friends."
UNKTOMEE AND HIS BUNDLE OF SONGS
It was a bright, sunshiny day, and the flocks of Ducks flying northward had all stopped to rest beside a little lake, and were splashing and paddling about in the cool water. They were happy and very noisy, but suddenly they ceased their cries and calls and became quite silent, for a queer figure was seen coming toward them along the curve of the beach. It was the figure of a strange little old man, bent nearly double under a huge load of something that looked like dry grass.
"Quack, quack!" said one of the boldest of the Ducks, as the old man drew near with his burden. "What have you there?"
"Oh, that is only a bundle of old songs," replied Unktomee with a smile; for it was that sly one, that maker of mischief!
Thereupon the Ducks took courage, and quacked and fluttered all about him, crying:
"Sing us an old song, Unktomee!"
Willingly Unktomee threw down his load upon the lake shore, and with the utmost good nature began to build a little teepee of sticks, thatching it with the dry grass. In a few minutes it was done, and he kindly invited the ducks to enter.
With rustling wings and shining feathers they crowded into the little teepee until it could hold no more.
Unktomee was there, too. He stayed by the door, and began to sing:
"Ishtogmus wachee po!
Tuwa etowan kin
Ishtah ne sha kta!
(Dance with your eyes shut!
Whoever looks shall have red eyes!)"
Every one of the foolish Ducks shut his eyes tight, and Unktomee, as he sang, quietly seized one after another by the neck as they danced in a ring around the teepee, wrung their necks quickly and cast them behind them. Not one had a chance to squawk, so cleverly was the work done, and there would soon have been none to listen to the old songs!
But after a little a small Duck slyly opened his eyes, and saw Unktomee wringing the necks of his friends.
"Fly! Fly!" he exclaimed in terror. "He is killing us all!"
So all the Ducks that were left alive rose up with a mighty rush of wings and a loud clamor of voices. The grass teepee fell to pieces, and the lucky ones flew away; but lying on the ground beside Unktomee were enough fat Ducks for a fine feast!
And the little Duck that peeped forever after had red eyes!
The children liked this story very much, but it was shorter than usual.
"Tell us about the feast!" they cried. "Tell us about the feast of Unktomee!" So old Smoky Day began again:
Now Unktomee wished to make a feast. The first thing he did was to stand and cry aloud:
"Chagah aoo po-o-o! (Somebody bring me a kettle!)"
He called and called for a long time. At last somebody appeared with the kettle. It was the Fox, who was carrying it in his mouth. Unktomee thanked him carelessly, and after waiting awhile, the Fox went sadly away again.
Then Unktomee dressed the Ducks whose necks he had wrung, built a fire, fetched water and put them on to boil. But he was tired as well as hungry, and while his dinner was cooking, he thought he might as well take a nap. So he lay down in the warm sand near by, first telling his Face to be on the watch and to twitch if any one came, so as to awaken him.
While Unktomee slept, the Fox returned with a friend. Unktomee's Face did not twitch as it had been told to do, for the Foxes stroked it very gently, and told it to be quiet. Having done this, they quietly ate every bit of the rich meat, and put the bones back into the pot.
When at last Unktomee yawned and awoke, he was very hungry indeed. He looked to see whether his dinner was ready, and found nothing in the kettle except bones!
"Ah! the Ducks have boiled too long," he said to himself. "The meat will all be in the bottom of the pot."
When he discovered that the bones had been picked clean, he was very angry, and scolded his Face severely for not awakening him in time.
He who deceives others may himself be caught some day.
Unktomee and the Elk
"Tell us another story of Unktomee, grandfather!" cry several of the children, as soon as they are inside the old story-teller's wigwam on the tenth evening.
"Ah, I thought you would ask for another!" remarks the old man with quiet satisfaction. "There are many stories of his dealings with the animal people. He loves to go among them and even to take their shape, that he may make fools of them the more easily. This may do very well for a time, but it is generally not long before he is ready to cry 'Enough!'"
UNKTOMEE AND THE ELK
It was midsummer, and the Elk people were feasting in great numbers upon the slopes of the mountain. Sleek, fat and handsome, they browsed hither and thither off the juicy saplings and rich grass, drank their fill from the clear mountain streams, and lay down to rest at their ease in the green shade through the heat of the day.
Unktomee, who had been travelling far and was hungry and foot-sore, looked upon them with envy.
"Ah," said he to himself, "that is the life for me! Surely these are the happiest people on earth, for they have all things in abundance and are so fleet of foot that they need fear no danger!"
Accordingly, he hid his bow and quiver full of arrows in a hollow tree, with all of his clothing and other weapons, so that he might appear quite naked and harmless before the timid Elk people. They saw that he was unarmed, and they stood still as he approached.
"Here comes Unktomee," said they doubtfully to one another.
"Ah, brothers!" he pleaded with them, "you have enough; you are at peace with the tribes; you overlook the valley and all its dwellers are below you! None is so happy as you. Will you not make me one of you?"
"Friend!" exclaimed their leader, "you do not know what you ask! To be sure, it is now midsummer; our clothing and our weapons are new, there is food in plenty, and we may seem to be happy. However, our antlers, our only weapons, are yet soft, and the Wolf and the Wild Cat are ready and fearless to attack us. Our only hope of escape is in our fleetness, since we are watched all day by the cruel eyes of those who live upon flesh, of whom the most dangerous of all is Man!"
"I know all this," replied Unktomee. "Others may have stronger weapons than you, but I see none with your beauty, your stately height, your freedom and ease of life. I beg of you to allow me to share it!"
"If you can pass the test, we will admit you," they said at last. "Notice our eyes—we must be ever watchful; our ears—they are constantly on guard! Can you smell an enemy even against the wind? Can you detect his footfall before he is near?"
Unktomee passed the test and was finally admitted to the company of the Elks; in fact, he was made the chief of them all, for such he wanted to be.
"Now," said they, "we have made you our leader. You must guide us so that we shall be safe from the hunters!"
Proud of his long limbs and of his stately antlers, he led them all down the hill, running back now and then to urge the hindermost ones into line. When they stopped to rest, he lay down a little apart from the others, under a spreading oak.
Suddenly they all sprang up and fled, for Unktomee had cried out to them:
"Fly! fly! I am struck by an arrow!"
But when no hunter appeared, they were provoked, and grumbled among themselves:
"Unktomee is deceiving us; it was only a stick that fell from the tree!"
Then they all lay down a second time, and a second time the Elks were aroused in vain. They were still more displeased, and said to one another:
"It was only an acorn that fell upon him while he slept!"
A third time they lay down, but this time the Elks stole away from Unktomee and left him sleeping, for they had scented the hunter. When the hunter came, therefore, he found only the chief Elk still sleeping, and he let fly an arrow and wounded him severely.
Unktomee was now in great fear and pain, and he bitterly regretted that he had become an Elk, for he had learned that their life is full of anxiety. The Elks had taught him that it is well to be content with our own, for there is no life that is free from hardship and danger.