Stories the Iroquois Tell Their Children Part 14

Then the dogs grip the log firmly in their teeth, and hold it steady while the soul of the kind Indian pa.s.ses over.

But if the soul of an Indian who has been unkind to his dog comes to the river, the dogs say, "This man was cruel to his dog. He gave his dog no place by the fire, he beat him, he let him go hungry. This man shall not cross."

Then the dogs grip the log lightly in their teeth, and when the soul of the unkind Indian is half way across, they turn it quickly to one side, and the soul is thrown into the deep, dark river.

Many an Indian has been kind to his dog, that he might make sure of a safe crossing on that log.

GREEDY FAWN AND THE PORRIDGE

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In the days when there was no one living in this country but the Indians, there were no houses; there were only Indian wigwams. There were no roads and no streets, but Indian trails.

At that time there grew a wonderful chestnut, which the Indians used in their cooking. A very small bit of this chestnut grated into a kettle would make a potful of porridge.

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In a certain wigwam lived Deerheart and Sky Elk, and their little son Greedy Fawn. The mother was called Deerheart because she was so loving, and gentle, and kind. The father was named Sky Elk because he was so strong and fleet of foot. Greedy Fawn, too, came rightly by his name.

You will soon know why.

One day, Deerheart and Sky Elk went on a long trail. As they left the wigwam, they said to Greedy Fawn, "Do not touch the chestnut, do not build a fire, while we are away."

Greedy Fawn promised. He watched his father and mother disappear down the western trail. Then he went back to the wigwam.

"Now," thought he, "I will have all the porridge I want."

So he ran and gathered some sticks. He built a fire with the sticks.

Then he hung the kettle over the fire, and put some water in it. Then he found the chestnut. He grated a little of the chestnut into the kettle, and began to stir. Then he grated some more, and some more, and some more.

Faster and faster Greedy Fawn stirred the boiling porridge, for it began to swell and fill the kettle.

Larger and larger, it grew, and it grew, and it grew.

Greedy Fawn was so frightened he did not know what to do.

"Oh, will it never stop swelling?" he thought. Harder and harder he stirred to keep the porridge from boiling over. Beads of perspiration ran down his little bronze face, yet still he stirred. He dared not stop.

Then he remembered that sometimes his mother would rap the kettle with the porridge stick, if it became too full.

Rap, rap, rap, went the porridge stick on the edge of the kettle.

Instantly the _kettle_ began to swell. Larger, and larger, and larger it grew. Greedy Fawn was so frightened he did not know what to do.

Now Greedy Fawn could not reach across the kettle, to stir the porridge with his stick, so he began to run around it. And around, and around, and around the kettle he ran, stirring, and stirring, and stirring.

At last the kettle was so large that it nearly filled the wigwam. There was just s.p.a.ce enough left for Greedy Fawn to run around it. And around, and around, and around the kettle he ran, stirring, and stirring, and stirring.

Oh, how his little arms ached! And, oh, how tired his small legs were!

But still he ran. He dared not stop.

Here was porridge enough to last a small boy a lifetime, and he could not stop to taste one mouthful!

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At last Greedy Fawn could run no longer. He stumbled and fell by the side of the kettle. He was too weak to rise. The stick fell from his hand, and the porridge boiled on. Higher, and higher, and higher it rose, until it ran over and down the sides of the kettle. Closer, and closer the boiling porridge crept to the little Indian boy, and soon Greedy Fawn and his stick were nearly buried in porridge.

For once Greedy Fawn had all the porridge he wanted. And never again would he have wanted anything, had not Deerheart and Sky Elk heard his cries, and come running like deer up the trail to save him.

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WHY HOUNDS OUTRUN OTHER ANIMALS

A hound was chasing a hare through the woods.

Some wolves and panthers were chasing a bull that had been feeding in the valley near the woods. For some time they had been trying to run him down, but they did not seem to gain on him.

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When the wolves and panthers saw that they were not gaining on the bull, they halted to take counsel. They decided that it would take a whole day of hard running to get the bull, and a hound was near! Why not go for the hound?

All agreed. They set off for the hound.

Now the bull had heard the wolves and panthers take council, and he, too, set off for the woods.

As he neared the wood, the bull called to the hound and warned him that a pack of wolves and panthers was after him. Just then they came into sight. The hound dared not meet them alone, and he knew not which way to turn.

Then the bull called, "Come, jump on my back. I can outrun them."

The hound ran and leaped on the back of the bull, and away they went.

The bull and the hound talked as they ran. The bull said he thought the wolves would soon grow tired, fall back, and give up the chase. But he was wrong. They were too angry at being outwitted.

"You think to take our game from us," they howled at the bull. "But we will eat hound meat to-night."

The bull saw it was a run for life. All day he ran. For a time it was easy to outrun the wolves and panthers, but at last they began to press hard upon him.

As the sun dropped out of the sky, the bull felt his knees begin to weaken. The weight of the hound was telling on him. A moment later, he stumbled and fell.

In an instant, the pack was upon them. But with one leap, the hound cleared the pack and was off down the trail.

The weaker wolves and panthers leaped upon the bull. The stronger went on.