“‘Now your gifts are all expended,’ cried the enraged manitou, ‘and I will make an example of your audacity and pride of heart for lifting your bow against me.’ So saying he suddenly changed the boy into the ‘Nazliek-a-wa-wa-sun,’ or Lone Lightning which anyone can see in the northern sky even to this day.”
The old trapper ceased speaking and relighted his pipe which had gone out during the course of his tale. Both boys remained silent for some minutes.
“That was a strange legend,” remarked Joseph at last.
“I should say so,” echoed Robert. “I liked it though. I like all these stories of Indians and what they believed.”
“So do I,” exclaimed Walt. “Indians are a simple-minded people in a great many ways. Their legends mean a lot to them, too.”
“Tell me,” said Joseph. “What do they mean by ‘Lone Lightning’?”
“The northern lights, I suppose,” answered Walt. “At least that is what I have always taken that story to mean. If you’ve ever seen them you know how on clear, cold nights they flash out all over the heavens. You see the boy’s last arrow remained stuck in the rock, so that the light from it will always be there. The other eleven just vanished into space, I suppose.”
“By manitou you mean a spirit, don’t you?” inquired Robert.
“Yes,” said Walt. “That’s just what I mean. You see there are good spirits and evil spirits and those up in the north were evil. The Great Manitou is the Great Spirit whom all the Indians worship. He is chief of all the manitous.”
“You know lots more legends, don’t you?” asked Joseph eagerly.