LONG BEFORE THERE WERE ANY RAILROADS AND CITIES
"Once upon a time—"
"Oh," said Prue, "once upon a time—I just love 'once upon a time.'"
"Yes," nodded Davy, solemnly, "and once upon a time there was a little girl who couldn't keep still so that her Papa could tell a story."
Prue snuggled down, and the Chief Gardener began all over.
"Once upon a time, long before there were any railroads, and cities such as ours, long before Columbus ever sailed over the ocean to a new world—when all this great wide country, as you know, was held by Indians, who hunted and fished, and made war sometimes, when they had disputes—there lived away in the far West two very friendly tribes. Their lands joined and they hunted together, and when one tribe was at war the other joined in and helped to fight the enemy. So they became almost as one tribe and their children grew up together.
"Now, in one tribe there was a little Indian boy, a chief's son, who was very fond of a little Indian girl of the other tribe. Their mothers had always been great friends, and often for a whole day at a time the little Indian boy and girl played together, and as they grew up they cared for each other more and more, and the Indian boy, Ahlogah, said that when he was older and a chief he would make the little Indian girl, Laida, his wife.
"But it happened that in Laida's tribe there was also a chief's son, a jealous-hearted and cruel boy that Laida did not like. But this boy cared for Laida, and like Ahlogah made up his mind that some day she should be his wife.
"So they all grew up, and Ahlogah and Laida loved each other more dearly every day, and Kapoka, the other youth, grew more jealous and more cruel-hearted. And when one day his father died, and he became chief of his tribe, he said that if she did not give up Ahlogah, he would make war on Ahlogah's tribe.
"So then Ahlogah and Laida met one evening just before sunset to say good-by for the last time. Their tribes had never been at war, and they were willing to part forever to keep Kapoka from making a war now. Laida had not promised to marry Kapoka, she had only promised not to see Ahlogah again. And now they parted, just as the sun was going down, and they both turned to see it for the last time side by side. And then Ahlogah said:
"'To-morrow just at sunrise go to the high rocks above the river and look to the east. And where the river passes through our lands, I will go also to see some high rocks, and I will look to the east, too, when the sun rises, and I will know that though we are apart, we are watching the sun rise together, and it will be always our message of love to each other as it travels across the sky.'
"So Laida went back to her tribe and Ahlogah to his, and every morning they watched from their high rocks above the river, and held out their arms to the rising sun, as a message it should bear between them.
"And Kapoka found out that Laida went every morning to the high rocks, and held out her arms to the sun. And he found that Ahlogah also went every morning to the high rocks farther up the river. Then Kapoka knew that Laida would never be his wife as long as Ahlogah was alive. And one morning very early Kapoka left his wigwam and crept across to the lands of the other tribes, and to the high rocks where Ahlogah stood waiting for the sunrise. And just as the sun rose, and Kapoka knew that Ahlogah would not hear him, he slipped up behind Ahlogah, and gave him a great push that sent him over into the swift river, hundreds of feet below.
"And the swift river caught him and tossed him and whirled him about, and finally carried him down past the high rocks where Laida was sending her message to the sun. And Laida looked down and saw him coming. She saw his chieftain's dress and plumes tossed and whirled by the water. She knew it was Ahlogah, and she waited for him. Then, when he just was below the high rocks where she stood, she gave a great cry, 'Ahlogah!' and she was in the whirling, tossing water beside him.
"Then the tribes searched together, and they found Ahlogah and Laida far below, cast up on a place of white pebbles, side by side. And they buried them, side by side, and both the tribes mourned. But when the spring came there grew upon their graves two strange flowers with bright, beautiful faces that turned each morning to the sunrise. And these they named Ahlogah and Laida, but in another year there were more of them, so they called them sunflowers, and after that the land in September, the month when they had died, was like gold with the beautiful flowers of the sun."
"But what became of the wicked Kapoka? What did they do with him?" asked Prue, anxiously.
"They never saw him again. I suppose he was ashamed to come back, and by and by his brother, who was good and noble, ruled the tribe, and they dwelt in peace for many generations."
"Do sunflowers belong to a family now?" asked Davy.
"Oh, yes, to the very largest of all families—a family that spreads all over the world, and the sunflower has been found to be so perfect in form that the family is sometimes called the Sunflower Family. Its true name is the Composite Family, which means flowers with thick, bunchy centers, formed of a lot of very tiny little flowers, with a rim of petals around the whole—rays they are called—making it into one big flower."
"The black-eyed Susans must belong to that family, too," said Davy.
"They do, and the daisy, and the marigold, and the zinnia, and the aster, and your lettuce, too, Davy, and many, many more. Whenever you see a flower with a round bunchy center and a rim of petals, like a sunflower—no matter what color or how small it is—you will know it belongs to the Composite Family. I suppose there are more of this family in America than in any other country, but the sunflower is the finest of them all, and the most generally useful. Its seeds are full of fine oil, and are excellent food for cattle and poultry. The Indians sometimes use them for bread. The flowers themselves are full of honey, the leaves, too, are good for cattle, and the stalks make fine fuel. In many places and many countries the sunflowers are cultivated and valued highly. Of course, there are other useful members, and your lettuce is one of the finest salads in the world."
IV