Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 2

by James Athearn Jones

Upon the shore, watching with extreme and undivided interest the progress of the cloud, stood many of the sons of the forest. Wonder and astonishment had seized their souls, at the strange and hitherto unheard-of sight of a low, compact, dark cloud, moving rapidly against a strong wind. They saw that it was of unusual shape, and that there were other circumstances connected with it, such as are not usual with the spirit-mists of the air. Rightly deeming it a cloud from some very far region, perhaps some aërial messenger sent by the Great Spirit to communicate an important errand, they awaited in silent awe the progress of that to which they could not give a name. Yet, deeming it possible that grim war might in some one of his thousand forms be hidden under the semblance of a cloud—that hostile beings might inhabit what appeared but thin air—they prepared to oppose violence with violence, and to meet battle with manful battle. Some went and cut new lance poles, others tough and elastic bows. The priests prepared sacrifices to appease the spirit, if spirit it were, and sang propitiatory songs, in which they first called it a good Spirit, and thanked it as such for the fat deer and mooses it had sent to their hunting-grounds, and the juicy fish which filled their waters, and the tender fowls which stocked their lakes. Then they addressed it as the Spirit of Evil, deprecating its wrath, and imploring its mercy, beseeching it, if it came in anger, to go away and discharge its venom elsewhere; if it came to bring them rich gifts, to be speedy about it, for such never came too soon.

In the mean time, the cloud came every moment nearer, till, at last, it was scarcely the flight of an arrow distant from the shore. Then gradually it disappeared, and, in its stead, appeared a large animal, with innumerable arms and legs of all sizes and shapes, and of all lengths, and of several colours. Perched on various parts of the legs and arms of this strange animal were other animals, whose appearance was unlike any other being ever beheld by the Indians. They wore in some respects the character of man—were gifted with his strength and wisdom, his power and capacities—were by turns a prey to lust, ambition, hate, despair, revenge—commencing life with tears, and dying with a sigh. Their fangs were for venom the fangs of a snake; their cunning, the cunning of a fox; and their fierceness, the fierceness of a mountain cat, or a panther. Very nimble they seemed, and sprang about the legs and arms of the bigger animal, like a squirrel leaping from one branch of a tree to another branch. One ran up a rope till it had reached one of the arms; another slid down in like manner; a third was perched half-way up; a fourth was running to and fro on the back of the animal. At length, one of the little animals dropped a great rope, to which was appended an enormous forked tree, and this operated to tie up the bigger animal, which rolled about very much, as if in vain attempts to liberate itself from the thraldom to which they had subjected it.

After a while, there was a smaller animal seen leaving the side of the bigger, as a kid leaves the side of its mother, similar in shape to the bigger, but having neither arms nor legs; and, upon the back of this animal, many of the smaller animals sought the shore. When they had arrived, they presented themselves to the eyes of the astonished Abnakis, in a shape which seemed to the sleeper to be that of a panther, wearing the shape of man, yet fierce and cruel as any ever found in the wilds of the river of the Abnakis. With this fierce and cruel disposition was coupled a cunning beyond that of the fox, and a malignity greater than the rattlesnake's. Their fierceness and cruelty, and the malignity and savage ferocity of their natures, were hidden, however, under a show of peace. They laughed, and grinned, and did the other things, which mortals do when they are, or pretend to be, pleased, making the unsuspecting Abnakis think that they were their very good friends, when they were only waiting for a chance to rend them limb from limb. Nor was their disposition wholly hidden by the mask, which these worthless and wicked beasts had only assumed for the purpose of beguiling the poor red man. Occasionally the panther would show his teeth, and the rattlesnake his malignity, though the cunning of the fox would soon throw a veil over the one, and hush the noise of the other.

Strange, indeed were the bodies, tempers, and dispositions of the beasts, which thus passed in sleep before the eyes of the dreaming chief. He saw them invested with the habits and feelings of men, as they appeared to be gifted with their capacities and acquirements. They had courage, not indeed as the Abnakis have it, not the courage which delights in the post of danger, and encounters difficulties for the mere honour of overcoming them, but in another, and less active form, that of endurance. And their wisdom and power were greater than the wisdom and power of the Abnakis priests, who could draw water from the clouds, and foretell the coming of tempests and storms(1). The wisdom and power of the strange beasts was very great—they were subtler than the fox or the beaver, and stronger than the bear.

Among these beasts, there was one of most transcendent beauty, who appeared to be their queen. She bore the form of a stately woman. She was clothed, not as beasts generally are, in fur, but in a robe of an unknown material, that reached to her feet, which were shrouded in a veil of so thin a texture, that the pure flesh was transparent through them, and not shod with mocassins, but with something of a different form. Around her head was bound a grape-vine, from which hung beautiful clusters of rich, ripe grapes, intermingled with locks of hair, of a hue resembling the yellow leaf. Her round and plump arms were bound with bracelets of a very bright material; and, upon her long and slender fingers, were rings set with sparkling stones, of various and exceedingly radiant hues—green, blue, purple, white. In one of her delicate hands, she carried a small bunch of grain, of a kind which was never seen before by the Abnakis, but the ears of which bent over like the wings of a hawk hovering over his prey, or or a bird settling upon its perch. The same fair hand carried the instrument wherewith it was reaped. The other hand bore a huge shell and a three-forked sceptre, emblems of her dominion upon the element, which supported the cloud upon which she came. Upon her breast she wore a shield, on which was painted the likeness of two animals, one of them wearing a shaggy mane, and both looking exceedingly fierce and warlike. There were upon this shield other paintings and devices, which even the ingenuity of the priests could not explain. Altogether, the appearance of the being, animal, or whatever it was, which the Abnakis dreamer saw, was exceedingly noble and beautiful. They who came with her said she was the genius of the land beyond the Great Water, the guardian spirit of an island more powerful than all the world besides. And surely great power was written in her countenance, and authoritative command engraved on the lines of her face.

Then Wangewaha saw, and a being also wearing the appearance of a woman came down from the shades, and confronted the stranger. She was of a still taller stature than the other, and of the same complexion as the inhabitants of the land, her skin red, black her hair, her eyes shining, her step yet more noble and commanding, and her bearing prouder and more haughty than that of her who appeared to be her younger sister. Her hair, long, straight, and black, hung over her shoulders till it reached her feet; her mocassins were of the gaudiest colours; and beads, and shells, and wampum, were profusely employed in adorning her person. Above her head towered feathers, the canieu's or war-eagle's, and the painted vulture's—in her hands she carried a spear and a sheaf of arrows. A bow hung at one of her shoulders, while over the other was carelessly thrown the game slain by her archery. Her robe was made of the furs of the gayest forest animals, and her emblems were an ear of maize and the antlers of a buck. Stately she moved, as a wild swan on a calm lake, or a black cloud over the brow of a mountain; and the boldness of her demeanour, and the fierceness of her eyes, contrasted strongly with the softness and effeminacy of her that seemed her younger, and more delicate, sister.

Anon, these two sisters entered into speech with each other, and the artless and unsuspecting soul of the one was contrasted strongly with the cunning of the other. Said the stranger to her who was of the land, "Thou hast a most beautiful land."

"It is indeed a most beautiful land," answered the other.

"It has lofty mountains."

"Its mountains are very lofty."