The Magic Speech Flower Part 11

"Before the Angel of the Wild Folk departed, he said, 'From this time on forever when you drink, you must raise your head as a token of thankfulness to the Master of Life who has sent you the refres.h.i.+ng rain.'

"If you watch them, you will notice that all the feathered folk show their grat.i.tude to the Master of Life in the same way."

XXII. LITTLE LUKE AND FATHER MIT-CHEE

"Where is Father Mit-chee?" asked the little boy of the Mother Partridge, one day.

"I don't know," she answered; "I haven't seen him since I began to sit."

"Well," said the little boy, "I think he's a mean, lazy scamp, to go off and leave you to take care of the family alone."

"Well," said Mother Mit-chee, "it would be rather nice to have some help. I feel a bit lonesome sometimes, especially when I notice how kind Father O-loo-la is to his wife and family. But it isn't the custom in our family. The fathers leave the mothers to take care of the family.

They never come near us until their children are able to take care of themselves. I've taught these youngsters of mine what to eat and where to find it. They have learned to fly pretty well, and taken some lessons in whirring, so that they can frighten their enemies. I wouldn't be surprised to see Father Mit-chee any day. Why, there he is now! I can tell his drumming any time."

The little boy listened. Far off in the distance he heard thump!--thump!--thump!--thump!--thr-r-r-r-r-r!

"Let's go and meet him," said Mother Mit-chee. "He doesn't know you, so I'll go ahead. Then he won't be frightened."

So they went through the woods, Mother Mit-chee in the lead, till they came in sight of the Father Partridge. He was standing on a fallen log and drumming. Just how he did it the little boy could not tell. He flapped his wings like a rooster, and seemed to beat the log or his own sides. As the little boy watched him, he thought that perhaps the sound was made by Father Mit-chee's wings striking together over his back.

When he saw Mother Mit-chee coming, he walked up and down the log very proudly. Then he stopped and drummed louder than ever.

"Well," said Mother Mit-chee, "so you've come back at last, have you?

Here are your children. Don't they look as if I had taken good care of them?"

"Why, yes," replied Father Mit-chee, "they're looking pretty well. I've heard of you several times, and knew that you were getting along all right. But who's that over yonder?" he asked, as he caught sight of Little Luke.

"Oh," answered Mother Mit-chee, "you've heard of him before. He's the boy who found the Magic Flower, and learned the animal talk."

That was the way little Luke came to know Father Mit-chee.

XXIII. THE STORY OF THE FIRST PARTRIDGE

"Father Mit-Chee," said little Luke one day as the two were sitting together on the drumming log, "can't you tell me a story?"

"Why, yes," said Father Mit-chee, "I suppose I might, I might tell you the story of the first partridge."

Long, long ago an Indian was hunting in the woods. As he went along, he heard a noise as of people jumping and dancing on hard ground. "That is queer," said he to himself. "I will go and see what is going on."

So he turned his steps in the direction of the sound, and went on through the forest swiftly but silently. Though at the first the noise had seemed to come from a place near at hand, it was a long time before he came in sight of the dancers. They were a man and a woman, and they were jumping and dancing about a tree, in the top of which was Hes-puns the Racc.o.o.n.

Now all three of them, the racc.o.o.n as well as the man and woman, were magicians. The man and the woman were enemies to the other, and as their magic was stronger than his, he had turned himself into a racc.o.o.n to escape them.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The hunter did not know this. He went toward them, and as he drew near, he saw that the dancers had worn a ditch waist-deep about the tree.

He went up to them and asked them why they did this strange thing.

Now the man and the woman did not want the hunter to know the truth of the matter. So they said, "We are trying to wear away the earth from the root of this tree, so that we can get it down and catch Hes-puns, We are hungry and we have no tomahawk."

"Well," said the hunter, "I have a good tomahawk and I will cut down the tree for you. But you must give me the skin of Hes-puns."

They agreed to this, and the hunter soon brought the tree to the ground.

They caught the racc.o.o.n and killed and skinned him. Then they gave the skin to the hunter, who went home.

A few days after this, the hunter saw a stranger coming toward his lodge. On his head he wore a strange kind of cap which looked like a small wigwam. When the hunter went out to meet him, the stranger took off his cap and set it upon the ground. At once it grew larger and larger until it became a beautiful lodge with several fine rooms in it.

The hunter was greatly amazed, but invited the stranger into his own lodge and set food before him. While eating, the visitor chanced to see the pelt of Hes-puns hanging on one of the lodge poles.

Now he was a magician and the brother of the one who had turned himself into a racc.o.o.n. As soon as he saw the skin, he knew it by certain marks to be the skin of his brother, and supposed that the hunter had killed him. So he thought, how he might be revenged upon him.

"That is a fine pelt you have there," said he to the hunter. "I should like to buy it."

"Yes," replied the hunter, "it is a fine one, but I do not care to sell it."

"I will give you more than it is worth," said the magician. And he offered everything that he had except his magic wigwam.

"No, I do not care to sell it," answered the hunter to each new offer.

But finally, he said, "If you will give me that fine lodge of yours, you may have the skin."

"It's a bargain," said the magician; "the lodge is yours. But you must keep me overnight. We will sleep in your new lodge, which is much finer and better furnished than this."

"Very well," replied the hunter, "but you must show me how to carry my new lodge upon my head as you did."

"Oh, that is easy," returned the magician, "you just pick it up and put it on your head. Come out and try it now."

The hunter went out and picked up the lodge and put it upon his head. He found he could carry it easily, for it was as light as a wicker basket.

When he put it upon the ground, it at once grew as large as before. So the hunter and his wife and the stranger went into the lodge. Its new owner was greatly pleased with it. It contained several large rooms, in one of which was a very fine bed covered with a white bear skin. On that bed the hunter and his wife lay down to sleep, while the stranger found a bed in another room.

In the morning when the hunter and his wife awoke, they were more delighted than ever with their new lodge. It seemed large and airy, and from the beams high above their heads hung all kinds of things good to eat. There were ducks and geese, rabbits and venison, ears of corn, and bags of maple sugar.

In their joy, the man and his wife sprang out of bed and made a jump toward the dainties. At once the white bear skin melted and ran away, for it was nothing but the snow of winter. At the same time, their arms spread out into wings, and they flew up to the food, which was only the early buds of the birch tree on which they hung. For the magician had cast a spell upon the man and the woman and they had become partridges and had been sheltering themselves from the storms of winter under a snowdrift, after the manner of their kind, and now came forth to greet the pleasant spring.

And these two were the first partridges, the foreparents of all the partridges that are now in the world.

"That is a strange story," said the little boy. "I thank you for telling it. But now I must go home. Good-bye for to-day."