Out on the water, a mighty storm arose. The Great Spirit could be heard hissing in the depths of the ocean. The boat rocked and swayed on the billows; but the protector was near and told them not to fear. He brought food and a shell of fresh water from the bottom of the sea. Two moons passed before land appeared. It was the glittering Spirit Island, with big trees and high mountains. From some of them lightning seemed to shoot. Along the shores were seals and ducks. The inhabitants fled into the woods, when they saw the Man-Fish, who went to find the Spirit of the Island. He entered a cave and soon returned, accompanied by a being as strange as himself. It had a head like a goat, with horns and beard, and moss-colored hair. Its legs and feet were covered with handsomely decorated leggings and moccasins. Speaking with the voice of a man, it said:
"I will take you, men of the Land of Snows, to a beautiful place, where you will find all that could be desired."
The Man-Fish departed, and under the guidance of their new friend, the strangers reached the interior of the Spirit Island. They married the maidens of the country and grew into a bold, strong and valiant nation, overcoming all tribes east of the River of Rivers.
The Shawnees were of Algonquin stock and were the roving clans, the gypsies of the wilderness, described by William Penn, belligerent under ill-treatment but peaceable when dealt with justly. Referring to the creation, they said:
"The Master of Life made the Shawnees first, from his brain, and gave them all his knowledge. Other red people descended from them. He made the French and English from his breast, the Dutch from his feet and the Long-knives (Americans) out of his hands."
One of the most interesting legends is that which has reference to the origin of the Piqua Shawnees. The word "Piqua" signifies "Man Made from Ashes."
It seems that long ago, in the dim past, the nation made a talk against the Walkullas, who lived not far away, on the shore of the Great Salt Lake. The older men opposed a war; but Mad Buffalo and the young warriors refused to listen to their counsel.
"We are strong," said they, "and the Walkullas are weak."
A party, eager for a fight, went out from the village. Two moons passed and there were no tidings of the young men. The Walkullas were distant only six suns journey. The third moon went by; and Chenos, the oldest and wisest man of the tribe, called the people together in council; he told them that the young warriors had been slain. There was a shriek of horror and the women began to lament for their husbands and sons.
"Yet," said Chenos, "there is one left, who has had vengeance on the enemy and has drunk their blood; he will soon be here."