Flying Plover: His stories, told him by Squat-by-the-fire

by Theodore Goodridge Roberts

"Six warriors joined Porcupine Killer in front of his cave. They looked at every hill and wood and rock, but could not see one of their enemies. 'We are the masters of the world,' said Porcupine Killer. He took a burning stick in his hand, from his own fire, and led the warriors to the other side of the little valley. They passed the long heap of dead ashes and coals, where the tree had burned the night before. The ashes were still warm, and deep in the middle of the mass a few coals were still alive. At the far side of the valley they threw together a great heap of dry bushes and moss and fallen logs. To this Porcupine Killer set a flame from the torch in his hand; and in a minute it was crackling and breathing and blazing, and lifting clouds of black smoke into the air. Then each warrior took a blazing stick from the heap, and again Porcupine Killer led them forward. They had not gone far before two wolves sprang from a grove of spruces in front of them and went galloping away. At that, the warriors shouted and laughed, and waved their blazing sticks. It made them feel great and brave to see the very same beasts that were in the habit of hunting them turn tail and run at the sight of them. They went up to the top of the hill and there built another fire in a rocky place. And so they moved forward over hills and hummocks and barrens, and through patches of dark forest, sending all manner of animals fleeing before them. Here and there they built and lit new fires, to protect their homeward trail; but Porcupine Killer chose the places for these fires with great care. 'It does not eat rocks,' he said. So all the fires were made on rocky places, away from trees and bushes. Porcupine Killer had a thought in the back of his head that it would not be wise for all the forests in the country to be devoured by this wonderful new creature.

"At last the warriors came upon old King Walrus himself, lying sound asleep in a narrow valley between two small hills. He was all alone, for his followers had deserted him during the night. Porcupine Killer made a sign to his companions to be very quiet. They hid along the crest of one of the hills, above the great, round back of King Walrus. Then Porcupine Killer gathered a huge armful of dry moss and twigs, set it alight with his torch, and threw it down upon the walrus's back. Then, standing on a high rock and waving his torch so that the smoke and sparks flew thick and fast, he shouted, 'Wake up, old blubbersides, and return to your own country! Wake up and see the Red Spirit sitting on your back!'

"Through his heavy, troubled dreams old King Walrus heard the voice and felt a horrible sting in his fat back. He lifted his huge head and cast one glance at Porcupine Killer and the flaming stick. He felt the teeth of the terrible red creature, and knew that it had caught him in his sleep. With a bellow of terror that nearly deafened the hidden warriors, he floundered out of the valley and travelled seaward as fast as he could go."

Squat-by-the-fire puffed hard at her pipe, and stared into the fire.

"Did he get home?" asked Flying Plover.

"Yes. He reached the sea, and dashed into the deep water, and swam straight home to his lands of ice and snow," replied the old woman.

"And what did Porcupine Killer do?" asked the little boy.

"He went home, too, and cooked a fine caribou steak for his dinner."

"Did all the animals run out of the country?"

"No. In time they lost some of their fear of the fire. But they were always afraid to go very close to it."