AN INDIAN LEGEND.

While on my recent visit to the home of Edward A. Lewis a pleasant evening was passed listening to the family telling old Indian stories which were told to them by Black Bear (Sikey-kio), an old Indian woman who lived with them for many years. One of those stories is here given. It is a legend passed from father to son in the tribes of the Blackfeet from time immemorial. The early residents of Northern Montana will remember this old Indian woman. Though time had left its imprints in countless wrinkles, and had bent her once lithe figure with a burden of one hundred and sixteen winters, it could not dim the brightness of her black eyes nor dull the vigor of her remarkable intelligence.

When the century was young, while she was in camp with her people at the mouth of the Sun river, where now the city of Great Falls is located, she saw several members of the Lewis and Clarke expedition, who were the first white men she ever saw.

As time passed Black Bear (as she was called in memory of her father, a Piegan chief), left the Indians and lived more and more with the whites. She was at Malcolm Clarke’s house the time he was murdered and was the means of preventing the Indians from killing Mrs. Clarke, and, by doing so, she came near losing her own life.

Finally Black Bear became a nurse in the family of Mr. Lewis, at whose house she died some twenty years ago. Like the ‘old woman who lived in a shoe,’ she was very fond of children and to them she told many of her Indian stories. One of the children to whom she told these weird tales of Indian folklore was Isabell, the oldest daughter of the Lewis family, now Mrs. John Taber. At my request Mrs. Taber, with the aid of her mother interpreted and reduced to writing the Indian legend referred to for publication in this book. It is as follows:

“Listen,” said Black Bear to the little ones who crowded expectant around her knee. “Listen and I will tell you how the Great Spirit gave horses to the Indians.

“It was long, long ago and the Piegans were camped on a large flat. The two daughters of the chief one evening were looking at the stars. One star was so bright that it attracted the attention of the younger daughter. As she looked a strange feeling came over her and she murmured half to herself:

“‘Were that star a young man I would marry him.’

“And she looked long at the star, marveling at its brightness. The next day the chief gave orders to hitch the dogs to the travois and move camp. On the trail the daughter, who had charge of one of the travois, had fallen behind on account of a broken travois. The rest of her people had passed out of sight, and, as she was about to start again, she looked up and, behold, before her stood a young man, beautiful in form and features. As she knelt frightened before him he said:

“‘Do not be alarmed, maiden. I am he thou wished to marry. Close your eyes and I will take you to the happy hunting grounds far away.’

“She did as she was told, and when she opened her eyes she was in her husband’s lodge, far above the stars. It was a happy life she led in that distant land. Her husband’s father was the great chief of many lodges and every one was kind to her and her people looked after her every want and desire. Her life was one of idleness and happiness until one day came a longing she could not conquer. In the wide fields of this great land grew many delicious roots, but of one of these it was forbidden to eat.

“‘Of all other roots thou mayest dig and eat, but of this root thou must neither dig nor eat.’

“And as she thought of it the desire grew and one day, being alone in the fields, she took her sharpened stick and, finding the great root on the little mound, the temptation became greater and greater. Then, after many hesitations, she began to dig. (Just as the secret longing conquered Eve and Pandora.) And as she dug, the little mound yielded and rolled away, leaving a great hole. Kneeling down she looked, and lo! she could see her father and her sister and her people coming and going in their camp far below. And as she looked she became sad and her heart ached with homesickness and she wept.

“Thus they found her—her husband and his father. And they were sad at heart, for they knew that she must leave them. In the morning they made a long rope of buffalo hides and gently lowered her through the hole in the sky to her old home. All her people were happy and made great rejoicing at the return of the long lost daughter of their chief. Soon after she gave birth to a son, and when the boy was five years old a great plague broke out and his mother died and also many of her people. The child was left to the care of his uncle, who now had become chief of the tribe. But they were very poor, for there was no one now to make moccasins or to dress buffalo hides for them, and hunger stalked through the camp and the lodges were without food and there were no dogs for the travois.

“The father of the little boy and the Great Chief and his wife, far up in the sky, saw the suffering and it made their hearts sad, and they took thought to see what they could do. Finally the Great Chief and his wife came to the earth and, finding the boy alone, told him their mission and wept with him.

“‘Now, then, my son,’ said the Great Chief, seating himself on the grass, ‘bring me some mud.’

“And the boy did as he was told and the Great Chief fashioned it in his hands, and as he did so he made strong medicine and muttered strange words as the wet clay took form under his fingers. Then the Great Chief put the thing on the grass, and as the boy looked at it he saw it grow and grow until it was large and moved with life at a word from the Great Chief.

“Then he looked at his work and was pleased and called a great council of the trees of the forest and the birds of the air and of all the beasts that roamed the plains. They all came as he called, for he ruled over them. And as they gathered around he said to them:

“‘I have made a horse for my son; an animal for him to ride and one that will carry his burdens. Now give me of your wisdom to make this horse perfect.’

“And the pine tree said: ‘Oh, Great Chief, thy work is good. But the horse has no tail. From my plenty I will give it.’

“And the pine tree did as it said and the Great Chief murmured, ‘It is good.’

“Then the fir tree said: ‘Oh, Great Chief, thy work is good. But the horse has no mane. From my plenty I will give it.’

“And it was so and the Great Chief murmured, ‘It is good.’

“Then the turtle said: ‘Oh, Great Chief, thy work is good, but the horse has no hoofs. Out of my plenty I will give it.’

“And it was so and the Great Chief murmured: ‘It is good.’

“Then the elk said: ‘Oh, Great Chief, thy work is good, but the horse is too small; I am too large. Of my plenty I will give.’