STORY OF THE HUMMING BIRD
(Shoshonee)
SEE!” said the Indian grandfather, as he sat in the opening of his tepee. “See the little Fire Bird! How swiftly it darts! Now it drinks honey from the flowers. How fast its wings move!”
A little Indian boy stood quietly at his grandfather’s side. “I see the fire on its throat,” he said softly, and then, as the bird darted away, he begged, “Tell me the story of the little Fire Bird, grandfather. I like the story.”
Then the grandfather told this tale, which his grandfather had told to him:
Long, long ago the Indian people lived in a country where it was cold, and the snow fell for many, many days. The falling snow covered the tracks of the forest children, so the hunters could find little meat. Many times the Indian children cried to the Great Spirit for warmth, and for better hunting.
Far to the west of the Indian village there was a high mountain; and often the people watched the red sun as he sank from sight beyond the mountain, and all the sky was filled with brightness.
One night a little child went running about the tepees calling, “Come, come; see the sun! See the sun!”
The people looked toward the west. All the sky was bright; and they said, “The sun is touching the mountain top.”
But the brightness did not fade away as they watched. Instead, while darkness fell all about the village, the red fire burned brighter and brighter at the top of the mountain. The people cried, “The sun is resting. He does not move. He does not sink behind the mountain!” Then they were frightened, for they knew not what to think.