WOODLAND TALES WOODLAND TALES BY ERNEST THOMPSON SETON [Illustration] WITH 100 DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR AUTHOR OF "WILD ANIMALS AT HOME, " "WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, " "TWO LITTLE SAVAGES, " "BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY, " "LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS, " "ROLF IN THE WOODS, " "THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT. " CHIEF OF THE WOODCRAFT LEAGUE OF AMERICA GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1922 COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1920, 1921, BY ERNEST THOMPSON SETON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN COPYRIGHT 1903, 1904, BY THE CENTURY COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. PREFACE _To the Guide_ These Mother Carey Tales were written for children of all ages, who havenot outgrown the delight of a fairy tale. It might almost be said thatthey were written chiefly for myself, for I not only have had thepleasure of telling them to the little ones, and enjoying their quickresponse, but have also had the greater pleasure of thinking them andsetting them down. As I write, I look from a loved window, across a landscape that I love, and my eye rests on a tall beautiful pine planted with my own handsyears ago. It is a mass of green fringes, with gem-like tips of buds andbaby cones, beautiful, exquisitely beautiful, whether seen from afar asa green spire, or viewed close at hand as jewellery. It is beautiful, fragile and--unimportant, as the world sees it; yet through itswind-waved mass one can get little glimpses of the thing that backs itall, the storm-defying shaft, the enduring rigid living growing trunk ofmassive timber that gives it the nobility of strength, and adds value tothe rest; sometimes it must be sought for, but it always surely isthere, ennobling the lesser pretty things. I hope this tree is a fair image of my fairy tale. I know my childfriends will love the piney fringes and the jewel cones, and they canfind the unyielding timber in its underlying truth, if they seek for it. If they do not, it is enough to have them love the cones. All are not fairy tales. Other chapters set forth things to see, thingto do, things to go to, things to know, things to remember. These, sanctified in the blue outdoors, spell "Woodcraft, " the one pursuit ofman that never dies or palls, the thing that in the bygone ages giftedhim and yet again will gift him with the seeing eye, the thinking hand, the body that fails not, the winged soul that stores up preciousmemories. It is hoped that these chapters will show how easy and alluring, and howgood a thing it is. While they are meant for the children six years of age and upward, it isassumed that Mother (or Father) will be active as a leader; therefore itis addressed, first of all, to the parent, whom throughout we shall callthe "Guide. " * * * * * Some of these stories date back to my school days, although the firstactually published was "Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year. " Thisin its original form appeared in "Our Animal Friends" in September, 1893. Others, as "The Fingerboard Goldenrod, " "Brook-Brownie, " "TheBluebird, " "Diablo and the Dogwood, " "How the Violets Came, " "How theIndian Summer Came, " "The Twin Stars, " "The Fairy Lamps, " "How theLittlest Owl Came, " "How the Shad Came, " appeared in slightly differentform in the _Century Magazine_, 1903 and 1904. * * * * * My thanks are due to the Authorities of the American Museum who havehelped me with specimens and criticism; to the published writings of Dr. W. J. Holland and Clarence M. Weed for guidance in insect problems; toBritton and Browne's "Illustrated Flora, U. S. And Canada"; and to theNature Library of Doubleday, Page & Co. , for light in matters botanic;to Mrs. Daphne Drake and Mrs. Mary S. Dominick for many valuablesuggestions, and to my wife, Grace Gallatin Seton, for help with thepurely literary work. Also to Oliver P. Medsger, the naturalist of Lincoln High School, JerseyCity, N. J. , for reading with critical care those parts of themanuscript that deal with flowers and insects, as well as for the balladof the Ox-eye, the story of its coming to America, and the photograph ofthe Mecha-meck. CONTENTS Things to See in Springtime _The Seeing Eye_ TALE NO. PAGE 1. Blue-eyes, the Snow-child, or the Story of Hepatica 3 2. The Story of the Dawnsinger, or How the Bloodroot Came 5 3. The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair 6 4. The Cat's-eye Toad, a child of Maka Ina 11 5. How the Bluebird Came 14 6. Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots 17 7. Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got his Streaks 20 8. Diablo and the Dogwood 20 9. The Woolly-bear 23 10. How the Violets Came 25 11. Cocoons 26 12. Butterflies and Moths 28 13. The Mourning-cloak Butterfly or the Camberwell Beauty 30 14. The Wandering Monarch 32 15. The Bells of the Solomon Seal 35 16. The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal 37 Things to See in Summertime 17. How the Mouse-bird made Fun of the Brownie 43 18. The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims 44 19. How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves 47 20. The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters 51 21. The Indian Basket-Maker 53 22. Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad? 56 23. The Mecha-meck 61 24. Dutchman's Breeches 63 25. The Seven Sour Sisters 65 26. Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass 65 27. The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer 67 28. The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar 72 29. The Great Splendid Silk-moth or _Samia Cecropia_ 77 30. The Green Fairy with the Long Train 79 31. The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon 82 32. The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth 85 33. Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot 88 34. Jack-in-the-Pulpit 91 35. How the Indian Pipe Came 91 36. The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella 93 37. The Hickory Horn-Devil 95 Things to See in Autumntime 38. The Purple and Gold of Autumn 103 39. Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year 104 40. The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar 107 41. The Witch-hazel 109 42. How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs 112 43. How the Littlest Owl Came 113 44. The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts 114 45. The Mud-dauber Wasp 117 46. The Cicada and the Katydid 121 47. The Digger Wasp That Killed the Cicada 123 48. How the Indian Summer Came 126 Things to See in Wintertime 49. The North Star, or the Home Star 129 50. The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back 131 51. Orion the Hunter, and his Fight with the Bull 133 52. The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull 134 53. The Twin Stars 136 54. Stoutheart and His Black Cravat 137 55. Tracks and the Stories They Tell 138 56. A Rabbit's Story of His Life 140 57. The Singing Hawk 144 58. The Fingerboard Goldenrod 145 59. Woodchuck Day--February Second 149 Things to Know _The Story of The Trail_ 60. How the Pine Tree Tells its Own Story 153 61. Blazes 155 62. Totems 155 63. Symbols 159 64. Sign Language 161 65. The Language of Hens 161 66. Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail 162 67. Why the Dog Wags His Tail 163 68. Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down 164 69. The Deathcup of Diablo 165 70. The Poison Ivy, or the Three-fingered Demon of the Woods 169 71. The Medicine in the Sky 170 72. The Angel of the Night 172 Things to Do _The Thinking Hand_ 73. Bird-nesting in Winter 177 74. The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite 179 75. The Monkey-hunt 181 76. The Horsetail and the Jungle 185 77. The Woods in Winter 186 78. The Fish and the Pond 187 79. Smoke Prints of Leaves 189 80. Bird-boxes 189 81. A Hunter's Lamp 193 82. The Coon Hunt 194 83. The Indian Pot 195 84. Snowflakes 197 85. Are you Alive? Farsight 199 86. Are you Alive? Quicksight 200 87. Are you Alive? Hearing 200 88. Are you Alive? Feeling 201 89. Are you Alive? Quickness 202 90. Are you Alive? Guessing Length 203 91. Are you Alive? Aim or Limb-control 204 92. A Treasure Hunt 205 93. Moving Pictures 205 94. The Natural Autograph Album 207 95. The Crooked Stick 208 96. The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou 209 97. The Caribou Dance 212 98. The Council Robe 216 Things to Remember _The Winged Soul that Stores up Precious Memories. _ 99. How the Wren Became King of the Birds 221 100. The Snowstorm 222 101. The Fairy Lamps 223 102. The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods 225 103. Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol 227 104. Running the Council 228 105. The Sandpainting of the Fire 229 106. The Woodcraft Kalendar 231 107. Climbing the Mountain 233 108. The Omaha Prayer 235 A List of Books by the Author 236 INTRODUCTION _Mother Carey_ All-mother! Mater Cara! I have never seen you, but I hungered so to knowyou that I understood it when you came, unseen, and silently whisperedto me that first time in the long ago. I cannot tell the children what you look like, Mother Carey, for mortaleye hath never rested on your face; and yet I can offer them a portrait, O strong Angel of the Wild Things, neither young nor old--Oh! loving Onethat neither trembles nor relents! * * * * * A mink he was, a young mink and foolish. One of a happy brood, who wereseeing the world with their mother--a first glimpse of it. She wasanxious and leading, happy and proud, warning, sniffing, inviting, loving, yet angersome at trivial disobedience, doling out her wisdom innips and examples and shrill warnings that all heeded; except this one, the clever fool of the family, the self-satisfied smart one. He wouldnot be warned, the thing smelt so good. He plunged ahead. Mother was afool; he was wiser than Mother. Here was a merry feasting for him. Then_clank_! The iron jaws of a trap sprang from the hiding grass, andclutched on his soft young paws. Screams of pain, futile strainings, writhings, ragings and moanings; bloody jaws on the trap; the motherdistraught with grief, eager to take all the punishment herself, buthelpless and stunned, unable to leave; the little brothers, aghast atthis first touch of passion, this glimpse of reality, skurrying, scared, going and coming, mesmerized, with glowing eyes and bristlingshoulder-fur. And the mother, mad with sorrow, goaded by the screaming, green-eyed, vacant-minded, despairing--till a new spirit entered intoher, the spirit of Cara the All-mother, Mother Carey the Beneficent, Mother Carey the wise Straightwalker. Then the mother mink, inspired, sprang on her suffering baby. With all the power of her limbs she sprangand clutched; with all the power of her love she craunched. His screamswere ended; his days in the land were ended. He had not heeded herwisdom; the family fool was finished. The race was better, better forthe suffering fool mink; better for the suffering mother mink. The spirit left her; left her limp and broken-hearted. And away on thewind went riding, grimly riding her empire. Four swift steeds for riding, has she, the White Wind, the West Wind, the Wet Wind and the Waking Wind. But mostly she rides the swift WestWind. She is strong, is Mother Carey, strong, wise, inexorable, calm anddirect as an iceberg. And beneficent; but she loves the strong onesbest. She ever favours the wise ones. She is building, ceaselesslybuilding. The good brick she sets in a place of honour, and the poor oneshe grinds into gravel for the workmen to walk on. She loves you, but far less than she does your race. It may be that youare not wise, and if it seem best, she will drop a tear and crush youinto the dust. Three others there be of power, like Mother Carey: Maka Ina who isMother Earth; El Sol, the Sun in the Sky, and Diablo the Evil Spirit ofDisease and Dread. But over all is the One Great Spirit, the Beginningand the Ruler with these and many messengers, who do His bidding. Butmostly you shall hear of Mother Carey. It is long ago since first I heard her whisper, and though I hear betternow than then, I have no happier memory than that earliest message. "Ho Wayseeker, " she called, "I have watched your struggle to find thepathway, and I know that you will love the things that belong to it. Therefore, I will show you the trail, and this is what it will lead youto: a thousand pleasant friendships that will offer honey in littlethorny cups, the twelve secrets of the underbrush, the health ofsunlight, suppleness of body, the unafraidness of the night, the delightof deep water, the goodness of rain, the story of the trail, theknowledge of the swamp, the aloofness of knowing, --yea, more, a crownand a little kingdom measured to your power and all your own. "But there is a condition attached. When you have found a trail you arethereby ordained a guide. When you have won a kingdom you must give itto the world or lose it. For those who have got power must with it bearresponsibility; evade the one, the other fades away. " This is the pledge I am trying to keep; I want to be your Guide. I amoffering you my little kingdom. THINGS TO SEE IN SPRINGTIME [Illustration: Blue-eyes the Snow Child] Things to See in Springtime TALE 1 Blue-eyes, the Snow Child, or The Story of Hepatica Have you ever seen El Sol, the Chief of the Wonder-workers, brother toMother Carey? Yes, you have, though probably you did not know it; atleast you could not look him in the face. Well, I am going to tell youabout him, and tell of a sad thing that happened to him, and to some onewhom he loved more than words can tell. Tall and of blazing beauty was El Sol, the King of the Wonder-workers;his hair was like shining gold, and stood straight out a yard from hishead, as he marched over the hilltops. Everyone loved him, except a very few, who once had dared to fight him, and had been worsted. Everyone else loved him, and he liked everybody, without really loving them. Until one day, as he walked in his garden, he suddenly came on a beautiful white maiden, whom he had never seenbefore. Her eyes were of the loveliest blue, her hair was so soft thatit floated on the air, and her robe was white, covered with ferns donein white lace. He fell deeply in love with her at once, but she waved a warning hand, when he tried to come near. "Who are you, oh radiant princess? I love you even before I hear youspeak. " "I am Snowroba, the daughter of the great King Jackfrost, " she said. "I love you as I never loved any one. Will you marry me? I am the Kingof the Wonder-workers. I will make you the Queen. " "No, " said she, "I cannot marry you, for it is written that if one of mypeople marry one of your people, she will sink down and die in a day. " Then El Sol was very sad. But he said, "May I not see you again?" "Yes, " she answered, "I will meet you here in the morning, for it ispleasant to look on your beauty, " and her voice tinkled sweetly. So she met him in the morning, and again on the third morning. He lovedher madly now, and though she held back, he seized her in his arms andkissed her tenderly. Then her arms fell weakly to her sides, and her eyes half closed as shesaid: "I know now that the old writing spake truth. I love you, I loveyou, my love; but you have killed me. " And she sank down, a limp white form, on the leafy ground. El Sol was wild with grief. He tried to revive her, to bring her back. She only whispered, "Good-bye, my love. I am going fast. You will see meno more, but come to this place a year from now. It may be Maka Ina willbe kind, and will send you a little one that is yours and mine. " Her white body melted away, as he bent over it and wept. He came back every morning, but saw Snowroba no more. One year from thatday, as he lingered sadly over the sacred spot, he saw a new andwonderful flower come forth. Its bloom was of the tenderest violet blue, and it was full of expression. As he gazed, he saw those eyes again; thescalding tears dropped from his eyes, and burned its leaves into ablotched and brownish colour. He remembered, and understood her promisenow. He knew that this was their blue-eyed little one. In the early springtime we can see it. Three sunny days on the edge ofthe snowdrift will bring it forth. The hunterfolk who find it, say thatit is just one of the spring flowers, out earlier than any other, and iscalled Liverleaf, but we Woodcrafters know better. We know it isHepatica, the child of El Sol and Snowroba. TALE 2 The Story of the White Dawnsinger or How the Bloodroot Came Have you noticed that there are no snow-white birds in our woods duringsummer? Mother Carey long ago made it a rule that all snow-whitelandbirds should go north, when the snow was gone in the springtime. Andthey were quite obedient; they flew, keeping just on the south edge ofthe melting snow. But it so happened that one of the sweetest singers of all--thesnow-white Dawnsinger with the golden bill and the ruby legs--was flyingnorthward with his bride, when she sprained her wing so she could notfly at all. There was no other help for it; they must stay in that thicket till herwing grew strong again. The other white birds flew on, but the Dawnsinger waited. He sang hismerriest songs to cheer her. He brought her food: and he warned her whenenemies were near. A moon had come and gone. Now she was well again, and strong on thewing. He was anxious to go on to their northern home. A second warningcame from Mother Carey, "White birds go north. " But the sunny woodside had become very pleasant, food was abundant, andthe little white lady said, "Why should we go north when it is so muchnicer right here?" The Dawnsinger felt the same way, and the next time the warning came, "White birds go north, " he would not listen at all, and they settleddown to a joyful life in the woods. They did not know anything about the Yellow-eyed Whizz. They never wouldhave known, had they gone north at their right time. But the Yellow-eyedWhizz was coming. It came, and It always goes straight after whitethings in the woods, for brown things It cannot see. Dawnsinger was high on a tree, praising the light in a glorious song, that he had just made up, when It singled him out by his whiteness, andpierced him through. He fell fluttering and dying; and as she flew to him, with a cry ofdistress, the Yellow-eyed wicked Whizz struck her down by his side. The Chewinks scratched leaves over the two white bodies, and--Ithink--that Mother Carey dropped a tear on the place. That was the end of the White Dawnsinger and his bride. Yet every year, at that same place, as the snow goes, the brown leaves move and part, and up from beneath there comes a beautiful white flower. [Illustration: The Story of the White Dawnsinger] Its bloom threads are yellow like the Dawnsinger's beak, and its stem isruby like his legs; all the rest is snow-white like his plumes. Itrises, looks about, faces the sun, and sings a little odour-song, alittle aroma-lay. If you look deep down into the open soul of theDawnsinger you will see the little golden thoughts he sings about. Thenup from the same grave comes another, just the same, but a littlesmaller, and for a while they stand up side by side, and praise thelight. But the Wither-bloom that haunts the flowers as the Yellow-eyedWhizz does the birds, soon finds them out; their song is ended, theirwhite plumes are scattered, and they shrink back into their grave, to beside by side again. You can find their little bodies, but deal gently with them, for theyare wounded; you may make them bleed again. And when you hear the Chewinks scratching in the underbrush, rememberthey are putting leaves on the grave of the White Dawnsinger. * * * * * Surely you have guessed the secret; the flower is the Bloodroot, and theWhizz is the Sharp-shinned Hawk. TALE 3 The Prairie-girl with Yellow Hair [Illustration: The Prairie-girl] Tall and fair was the Prairie-girl. She was not very pretty, but herform was slender and graceful, and her head was covered with a mass ofgolden hair that made you see her from afar off. It has been whisperedthat she was deeply in love with El Sol, for wherever he went, sheturned her head to look at him; and when she could not see him, shedrooped and languished. But he never seemed to notice her. As she grewolder her golden head turned white, and at last the swish of MotherCarey's horses carried away all her white hair, and left her old, bald, and ugly. So she pined and died, and Maka Ina buried her poor littlebody under the grass. But some say it was Father Time that blew her hairaway, and that El Sol had the body cremated. * * * * * If you look on the lawns or the fields in springtime, you are sure tofind the Prairie-girl. The Guide can show her to you, if you do notknow her. But he will call her "Common Dandelion, " and I do not know ofany flower that has so many things for us children to remember. If you are learning French, you will see how it got the name"Dandelion"; it used to be written _dent de lion_; that is, "tooth of alion"; because its leaves are edged with sharp teeth, like a lion's jaw. Its golden-yellow flower is said to open when the Swallows arrive fromthe south, that is, in April; and though it blooms chiefly in springtimeit keeps on blooming till long after the Swallows fly away. It certainlythrives as long as the sun shines on it, and fades when the cold darkseason comes. But I have seen it out in November; that is, the Dandelionblooms for fully nine months. I do not know of any other flower thatdoes; most of them are done in one month. When the yellow flower is over, its place is taken by a beautiful globeof soft, white plumes; this is why the story says its golden hair turnswhite with age. The children believe that this woolly head will tell youthe time of day. You hold it up, then pretend you are Father Timeblowing her hair away, blow a sharp puff with your breath, then anotherand another, till the plumes are blown away. If it takes four blows, they say it means four o'clock; but it is not a very true clock. Some children make a wish, then blow once and say, "this year"; thesecond time, "next year"; the third time, "some time"; the fourth time, "never. " Then begin all over, and keep on as long as any plumes areleft, to tell when the wish is coming true. Now pull the head off the stalk. You will find it leaves a long, opentube that sounds like a trumpet when you blow through it from the smallend. If you force your finger into the big end, and keep pushing, yousplit the tube into two or three pieces; put these in your mouth andthey will curl up like ringlets. Some children hang these on their earsfor ornaments. Take a stalk for each year of your age; pull its headoff. Then you will find that the top end will go into the bottom andmake a ring. Use all the stalks you have gathered, to make a chain; nowthrow this chain into a low tree. If it sticks the first time, your wishwill come true this year. Each time it falls puts your wish a yearfarther away. This may not be true; but it is a game to play. Some big girls use it, to find out when they are going to be married. Now dig up the whole plant, root and all--the gardener will be muchobliged to you for doing so--take it home, and ask the Guide to make theleaves into a salad; you will find it good to eat; most Europeans eat itregularly, either raw, or boiled as greens. Last of all, ask the Guide to roast the root, till it is brown andcrisp, then grind it in a coffee-mill, and use it to make coffee. Somepeople think it better than real coffee; at any rate, the doctors say itis much healthier, for it is nourishing food, and does not do one anyharm at all. But perhaps you will not like it. You may think all thetime you are eating the body of the poor little Prairie-girl, who diedof love. TALE 4 The Cat's-eye Toad, a Child of Maka Ina When you were little, O Guide! didn't you delight in the tales of gnomesor _nibelungen_, those strange underground creatures that lived hiddenfrom the light, and busied themselves with precious stones and metals?How unwillingly we gave up those glad beliefs, as we inevitably grew oldand lost our fairyland eyes! [Illustration: The Cat's eye Toad (life size)] But you must not give up all your joyful creeds; you must keep onbelieving in the weird underground dwarfs; for I am going to tell you ofone that the cold calculating Professor Science has at last accepted, and that lives in your own back-yard. That is, the Cat's-eye Toad orSpadefoot. It is much like a common Toad, but a little smoother, thedigging spade on its hind foot is bigger and its eye, its beautifulgold-stone eye, has the pupil up and down like that of a Cat, instead oflevel as in its cousin, the warty Hoptoad. But the wonderful thing about the Cat's-eye is that it spends most ofits life underground, coming out in the early springtime for a few daysof the most riotous honeymoon in some small pond, where it sings a loudchorus till mated, lays a few hundred eggs, to be hatched into tadpoles, then backs itself into its underground world by means of the boringmachine on its hind feet, to be heard no more that season, and seen nomore, unless some one chance to dig it out, just as Hans in the storydug out the mole-gnome. In the fairy tale the Shepherd-boy was rewarded by the gnome for digginghim out; for he received both gold and precious stones. But our gnomedoes not wish us to dig him out; nevertheless, if you do, you will berewarded with a golden fact, and a glimpse of two wonderful jewel eyes. According to one who knows him well, the Cat's-eye buries itself farunderground, and sleeps days, or weeks, _perhaps years_ at a time. Oncea grave-digger found a Cat's-eye three feet two inches down in the earthwith no way out. How and when are we then to find this strange creature? Only during hisnoisy honeymoon in April. Do you know the soft trilling whistle of the common Hoptoad in May? Thecall of the Cat's-eye is of the same style but very loud and harsh, andheard early in April. If on some warm night in springtime, you hear asong which sounds like a cross between a Toad's whistle and a Chicken'ssquawk, get a searchlight and go quietly to the place. The light willhelp you to come close, and in the water up to his chin, you will seehim, his gold-stone eyes blazing like jewels and his throat blown outlike a mammoth pearl, each time he utters the "squawk" which he intendsfor a song. And it is a song, and a very successful one, for a visit tothe same pond a week or two later, will show you--not the Cat's-eye orhis mate, they have gone a-tunnelling--but a swarm of little blackpin-like tadpole Cat's-eyes, born and bred in the glorious sunlight butdoomed and ready, if they live, to follow in their parents' tracks farunderground. Sure proof that the song did win a mate, and was crownedwith the success for which all woodland, and marshland song first wasmade. TALE 5 How the Bluebird Came Nana-bo-jou, that some think is the Indian name for El Sol and some sayis Mother Carey, was sleeping his winter's sleep in the big island justabove the thunder-dam that men call Niagara. Four moons had waned, butstill he slept. The frost draperies of his couch were gone; his whiteblanket was burnt into holes. He turned over a little; then the ice onthe river cracked like near-by thunder. When he turned again, it beganto slip over the big beaver-dam of Niagara, but still he did not awake. [Illustration: How the Bluebird Came] The great Er-Beaver in his pond, that men call Lake Erie, flapped histail, and the waves rolled away to the shore, and set the ice heaving, cracking, and groaning; but Nana-bo-jou slept on. Then the Ice-demons pounded the shore of the island with their clubs. They pushed back the whole river-flood till the channel was dry, thenlet it rush down like the end of all things, and they shouted together: "Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Nana-bo-jou! Wake up!" But still he slept calmly on. Then came a soft, sweet voice, more gentle than the mating turtle ofMiami. It was in the air, but it was nowhere, and yet it was in thetrees, in the water, and it was in Nana-bo-jou too. He felt it, and itawoke him. He sat up and looked about. His white blanket was gone; onlya few tatters of it were to be seen in the shady places. In the sunnyspots the shreds of the fringe with its beads had taken root and weregrowing into little flowers with beady eyes, Spring Beauties as they arecalled now. The small voice kept crying: "Awake! the spring is coming!" Nana-bo-jou said: "Little voice, where are you? Come here. " But the little voice, being everywhere, was nowhere, and could not comeat the hero's call. So he said: "Little voice, you are nowhere because you have no place tolive in; I will make you a home. " So Nana-bo-jou took a curl of birch bark and made a little wigwam, andbecause the voice came from the skies he painted the wigwam with bluemud, and to show that it came from the Sunland he painted a red sun onit. On the floor he spread a scrap of his own white blanket, then for afire he breathed into it a spark of life, and said: "Here, little voice, is your wigwam. " The little voice entered and took possession, butNana-bo-jou had breathed the spark of life into it. The smoke-vent wingsbegan to move and to flap, and the little wigwam turned into a beautifulBluebird with a red sun on its breast and a shirt of white. Away itflew, but every year it comes as winter wanes, the Bluebird of thespring. The voice still dwells in it, and we feel that it has lostnothing of its earliest power when we hear it cry: "Awake! the spring iscoming!" TALE 6 Robin, the Bird that Loves to Make Clay Pots Everyone knows the Robin; his reddish-brown breast, gray back, whitethroat, and dark wings and tail are easily remembered. If you colour thedrawing, you will always remember it afterward. The Robin comes aboutour houses and lawns; it lets us get close enough to see it. It has aloud, sweet song. All birds have a song[A]; and all sing when they arehappy. As they sing most of the time, except when they are asleep, orwhen moulting, they must have a lot of happiness in their lives. Here are some things to remember about the Robin. It is one of theearliest of all our birds to get up in the morning, and it begins tosing long before there is daylight. Birds that live in the trees, _hop_; birds that live on the ground, _walk_ or _run_; but the Robin lives partly in the trees and partly onthe ground, so sometimes he hops and sometimes he runs. [Illustration: The Robin Making Clay Pots] When he alights on a fence or tree, he looks at you and flashes thewhite spots on the outer corners of his tail. Again and again he doesthis. Why? That is his way of letting you know that he is a Robin. He issaying in signal code--flash and wig-wag--"I'm a Robin, I'm a Robin, I'ma Robin. " So you will not mistake him for some bird that is less loved. The Robin invented pottery before men did; his nest is always a clay potset in a little pile of straws. Sometime, get a Robin's nest after thebird is done with it; dry it well, put it on the fire very gently; leaveit till all the straws are burned away, and then if it does not go topieces, you will find you have a pretty good earthen pot. The Robin loves to make these pots. I have known a cock Robin makeseveral which he did not need, just for the fun of making them. A friend of mine said to me once, "Come, and I will show you the nest ofa crazy Robin. " We went to the woodshed and there on a beam were sixperfectly good Robin nests all in a row; all of them empty. "There, " said my friend. "All of these six were built by a cock Robin inabout ten days or two weeks. He seemed to do nothing but sing and buildnests. Then after finishing the last one, he disappeared. Wasn't hecrazy?" "No, " I said, "not at all. He was not crazy; he was industrious. Let mefinish the chapter. The hen Robin was sitting on the eggs, the cock birdhad nothing else to do, so he put in the time at the two things he didthe best and loved the most: singing and nest-building. Then after theyoung were hatched in the home nest, he had plenty to do caring forthem, so he ceased both building and singing, for that season. " I have often heard of such things. Indeed, they are rather common, butnot often noticed, because the Robin does not often build all the extranests in one place. Do you know the lovely shade called Robin's-egg blue? The next time yousee a Robin's nest with eggs in it you will understand why it was sonamed and feel for a moment, when first you see it, that you have founda casket full of most exquisite jewels. Next to nest-building, singing is the Robin's gift, and the songs thathe sings are full of joy. He says, "_cheerup, cheer up, cheerilycheer-up_"; and he means it too. TALE 7 Brook Brownie, or How the Song Sparrow Got His Streaks [Illustration: Brook Brownie] His Mother was the Brook and his sisters were the Reeds, They, every one, applauded when he sang about his deeds. His vest was white, his mantle brown, as clear as they could be, And his songs were fairly bubbling o'er with melody and glee. But an envious Neighbour splashed with mud our Brownie's coat and vest, And then a final handful threw that stuck upon his breast. The Brook-bird's mother did her best to wash the stains away; But there they stuck, and, as it seems, are very like to stay. And so he wears the splashes and the mud blotch, as you see; But his songs are bubbling over still with melody and glee. TALE 8 Diablo and the Dogwood [Illustration: The Dogwood Bloom] What a glorious thing is the Maytime Dogwood in our woods! How it doessing out its song! More loudly and clearly it sings than any otherspring flower! For it is not one, but a great chorus; and I know it issinging that "The spring, the very spring is in the land!" I suppose if one had King Solomon's fayland ears, one might hear theDogwood music like a lot of church bells pealing, like the chorus of thecathedral where Woodthrush is the preacher-priest and the Veeries makeresponses. It was Adam's favourite tree, they say, in the Garden of Eden. And itgrew so high, flowered so wonderfully, and gave so much pleasure thatDiablo, who is also called the Devil, wanted to kill it. He made up hismind that he would blight and scatter every shining leaf of its snowybloom. So one dark night he climbed a Honey Locust tree near the gate, and swung by his tail over the wall, intending to tear off all thelovely blossoms. But he got a shock when he found that every flower wasin the _shape of a cross_, which put them beyond his power to blight. Hewas furious at not being able to destroy its beauty, so did the worst hecould. Keeping away from the cross he bit a piece out of the edge ofevery snowy flower leaf, and then jumped back to the Honey Locust tree. The Locust was ashamed when she found that she had helped Diablo to dosuch a mean bit of mischief, so she grew a bristling necklace of strongspikes to wear; they were so long and sharp that no one since, not evenDiablo himself, has ever been able to climb that Honey Locust tree. But it was too late to save the Dogwood bloom. The bites were out, andthey never healed up again, as you can see to this very day. TALE 9 The Woolly-bear [Illustration: The Woolly-bear (the moth is 1-1/4 life size)] Do you know the Woolly-bear Caterpillar? It is divided into three parts;the middle one brown, the two ends black. Everyone notices theWoolly-bear, because it comes out in early spring, as soon as the frostis over, and crawls on the fences and sidewalks as though they belongedto it. It does not seem to be afraid of any one or anything. It willmarch across the road in front of a motor car, or crawl up the leg ofyour boot. Sometimes when you brush it off with your hand, littlehairs are left sticking in your fingers, because it is really like asmall porcupine, protected by short spears sticking out of its skin inall directions. Here at the side of the picture, is one of these hairsseen under a microscope. Where did the Woolly-bear come from? It was hatched from an egg lastsummer. And now what is going to happen? It will stuff itself with rib-grass orother low plants, till it has grown bigger; then it will get a warningfrom the All-mother to prepare for the great change. In some low dryplace under a log, stone or fence-rail, it will spin a cocoon with itsown spikey hairs outside for a protector. In this rough hairy coffin itwill roll itself up, for its "little death, " as the Indians call it, andMother Carey will come along with her sleeping wand, and touch it, so itwill go into sound sleep, but for only a few days. One bright sunnymorning old Mother Carey comes around again, touches the Woolly-bearbundle-baby, and out of it comes the Woolly-bear, only now it is changedlike the Prince in the story into a beautiful Moth called theTiger-Moth! Out he comes, and if you look up at one end of the coffin heis leaving, you may see the graveclothes he wore when first he went tosleep. Away he flies now to seek his beautiful mate, and soon she lays alot of eggs, from each of which will come another little Woolly-bear togrow into a big Woolly-bear, and do it all over again. TALE 10 How the Violets Came The Meadow she was sorry For her sister Sky, you see, 'Cause, though her robe of blue was bright, 'Twas plain as it could be. And so she sent a skylark up To trim the Sky robe right With daisies from the Meadow (You can see them best at night). And every scrap of blue cut out To make those daisies set Came tumbling down upon the grass And grew a violet. TALE 11 Cocoons Everyone loves to go a-hunting. Our forebears were hunters for so manyages that the hunting spirit is strong in all of us, even though held incheck by the horror of giving pain to a fellow being. But the pleasureof being outdoors, of seeking for hidden treasures, of finding somethingthat looks at first like old rubbish, and then turns out to be aprecious and beautiful thing, that is ours by right of the oldlaw--finders, keepers. That is a kind of hunting that every healthybeing loves, and there are many ways and chances for you to enjoy it. Go out any time between October and April, and look in all the low treesand high bushes for the little natural rag-bundles called "cocoons. "Some are bundle-shaped and fast to a twig their whole length. Some hanglike a Santa Claus bag on a Christmas tree; but all may be known bytheir hairiness or the strong, close cover of fine gray or brown fibreor silk, without seams and woven to keep out the wet. [Illustration: Cocoons] They are so strongly fastened on, that you will have to break the twigto get the bundle down. If it seems very light, and rattled when youshake it, you will likely see one or more small, sharp, round holes init. This means that an insect enemy has destroyed the little creaturesleeping within. If the Cocoon is perfect and seems solid and heavy, take it home, and put it in a cardboard, or wooden box, which has a wirescreen, or gauze cover. Keep it in a light place, not too dry, till thespringtime comes; then one day a miracle will take place. The case willbe cut open from within, and out will come a gorgeous Moth. It is likethe dull, dark grave opening up at the resurrection to let forth anew-born, different being with wings to fly in the heavens above. In the drawing I have shown five different kinds of bundle-baby, then atthe bottom have added the jug-handled bundle-baby of the Tomato worm; itdoes not make a Cocoon but buries itself in the ground when the timecomes for the Great Sleep. Kind Mother Earth protects it as she does theHickory Horn-Devil, so it does not need to make a Cocoon at all. There is a wonderful story about each of these bundle-babies. You willnever get weary if you follow and learn them, for each one differs fromthe last. Some of them I hope to tell you in this book, and before webegin I want you to know some of the things that men of science havelearned, and why a Butterfly is not a Moth. TALE 12 Butterflies and Moths Do you remember the dear old fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast? HowBeauty had to marry the Beast to save her father's life? But as soon asshe had bravely agreed to sacrifice herself--as soon as she gave thefateful "Yes" the Beast stood up on his hind legs, his horns, hoofs andhide rolled off, and he was turned back into his true shape, a splendidyoung Prince whom she could not help loving; and they lived happy everafter. Do you know that just such transformations and happy weddings are goingon about us all the time? The Beast is an ugly Caterpillar, the PrincessBeauty is the Butterfly or the Moth. And when the Beast is changed intothe Prince Charming and meets with Princess Beauty, they are just asmadly happy as they tell it in the fairy books. I know it, for I haveseen the transformation, and I have seen the pair go off on theirwedding flight. Men of science have been trying to explain these strangetransformations, and to discover why the Prince and Princess do not needto eat or drink, once they have won their highest form, their life ofwings and joy. But they have not got much farther than giving names tothe things we have long loved and seen as children, dividing the wingedwonders into two big families called Butterflies and Moths. Do you know the difference between a Butterfly and a Moth? Taken together they make a large group that are called Scale-wings, because they alone among insects, have scales or tiny feathers like duston the wings. Butterflies are Scale-wings that fly by day, and haveclub-shaped feelers; they mostly fold one wing against the other whenthey alight, and in the chrysalis, or bundle-baby stage, they are nakedand look like an African ear-drop. Moths are Scale-wings that fly by night, and have switch orfeather-shaped feelers; they keep their wings spread open when theyalight, and in the bundle-baby stage, they are wrapped in a cocoon. There are some that do not keep to these rules, but they are rare, andthe shape of the feelers will tell whether it is a Moth or a Butterfly. All of these Scale-wings are hatched from eggs, and come first, as aworm, grub, or caterpillar; next as a chrysalis pupa or bundle-baby;last as the winged creature. That is, first a Beast and last a Beauty. Each of them must at one time be the ugly one, before the great changecomes. But I must tell you a truth that the Fairy Books left out, andwhich maybe you have guessed--Princess Beauty too was at one time forcedto live and look like a Beast, till she had fought her own fight, hadworked out her own high destiny, and won her way to wings. TALE 13 The Mourning-cloak Butterfly, or the Camberwell Beauty There was once a lady who dwelt in Camberwell. She was so good to seethat people called her "The Camberwell Beauty. " She dressed somagnificently that her robe was covered with gold, and spangled withprecious stones of most amazing colours. Especially proud was she, ofthe row of big blue diamonds that formed the border; and she loved to goforth into the world to see and be seen; although she knew that thecountry was full of robbers who would be sure to steal her jewels ifthey could. Then she made a clever plan, she kept on the beautifulthings that she loved to dress in, but over all she hung a black velvetmourning cloak which nobody could possibly want to steal. Then she wentup and down the roads as much as she pleased. * * * * * [Illustration: Mourning-cloak Butterfly (3/4 life size)] Well, this story may be not quite true, but it is partly true, and thebeautiful lady is known to-day as the Mourning-cloak Butterfly. There itis, plain to be seen, the black mourning cloak, but peeping from underit, you can see the golden border and some of the blue diamonds too, if you look very carefully. In the North Woods where I spent my young days, the first butterfly tobe seen in the springtime was the Mourning-cloak, and the reason we sawit so early in the season, yes, even in the snowtime, was because thisis one of the Butterflies that sometimes sleep all winter, and so livein two different seasons. Its eggs are laid on the willows, elms, or poplars, in early springtime. The young soon hatch, and eat so much, and grow so fast, that five weeksafter the eggs are laid, and three after they are hatched, thecaterpillar is full grown, and hangs itself up as a chrysalis under somesheltering board or rail. In two weeks more, the wonderful event takesplace, the perfect Butterfly comes forth; and there is anotherMourning-cloak to liven the roadside, and amaze us with its half-hiddenbeauty. TALE 14 The Wandering Monarch Did you ever read the old Greek story of Ulysses, King of Ithaca, theWandering Monarch, who for twenty years roamed over sea and land awayfrom home--always trying to get back, but doomed to keep on travelling, homesick and weary, but still moving on; until his name became a bywordfor wandering? [Illustration: MONARCH BUTTERFLY "The Wanderer" in Three Stages: Cocoon, Caterpillar, and Butterfly] In our own woods and our own fields in America we have a WanderingMonarch--the "Big Red Butterfly" as we children called it--the "Monarch"as it is named by the butterfly catchers. It is called the "Wanderer" chiefly because it is the only one of ourButterflies that migrates like the birds. In the late summer itgathers in great swarms when the bright days are waning, and flies awayto warmer lands. I have often seen it going, yet I do not remember thatI ever saw it come back in the springtime; but it comes, though not ingreat flocks like those that went south. One of the common names of this splendid creature is "MilkweedButterfly" because its grub or caterpillar is fond of feeding on theleaves of the common milkweed. The drawing shows the size and style of the grub; in colour it is yellowor yellowish green with black bands. As soon as it is grown big enough and fat enough, the grub hangs itselfup as a "chrysalis" which is a Greek word that may be freely renderedinto "golden jewel. " The middle drawing shows its shape; in colour it isof a pale green with spots of gold, or as it has been described "a greenhouse with golden nails. " After about two weeks the great change takes place, and the bundle-babyor chrysalis opens to let out the splendid red-brown Butterfly, ofnearly the same red as a Cock Robin's breast in springtime, with linesand embroidery of black and its border set with pearls. Near the middleof the hind wing is a dark spot like a thickening of one rib. This hasbeen called a "sachet bag" or "scent-pocket, " and though not veryornamental to look at, is of more use to it than the most beautifulwhite pearl of the border. For this is the battery of its wirelesstelegraph. We think our ships and aeroplanes very far advanced becausethey can signal miles away, and yet the Wandering Monarch had an outfitfor sending messages long before it was ever dreamed of by man. Maybe itis not a very strong battery, but it certainly reaches for miles; andmaybe its messages are not very clear, but they serve at least to letthe Monarchs know where their wives are, and how to find them, which issomething. There is one other reason for calling this the Wanderer. Although it isan American by birth, it has travelled to England and the Philippinesand is ever going farther over the world till at last no doubt it willhave seen all lands and possessed them. It makes old Ulysses look like a very stay-at-home, for his farthesttravels never went beyond the blue Mediterranean, and his whole twentyyears of voyaging covered less than the states east of theMississippi--much less than our Red Wanderer covers in a single summer. TALE 15 The Bells of the Solomon Seal Let us go out into the woods, and look for the Solomon Seal. This is Mayand we should find it in some half open place, where it is neither wetnor dry. Here it is! See the string of bells that hangs from its curvingstem. Dig out its roots, wash off the earth, and you will see the markof King Solomon's Seal that gives its name to the plant. Now listen tothe story of it all. King Solomon had the "second sight" that means the deeper sight, themagic eyesight which made him see through a stone wall, or read men'sthoughts. King Solomon had fayland ears; which means, he could hear allsounds from A to Z; while common ears, like yours and mine, hear onlythe middle sounds from K to Q. Everything that lives and moves is giving out music; every flower thatblooms is singing its song. We cannot hear, our ears are too dull; butKing Solomon could. And one day, as he walked through the woods, heheard a new flower-song that made him stop and listen. It had strangemusic with it, and part of that was a chime of golden bells. [Illustration: The Bells of the Solomon Seal] The great King sat down on a bank. His fayland eyes could see right intothe ground. He saw the fat fleshy root like a little goblin, reachingits long white fingers down into the soil, picking out the magiccrystals to pack away in its pockets; and he could see the tall stemlike a wood-elf carrying them up, and spreading them upon its flathands, so they could soak up the juices of the sun and air. He could seethem turning into a wonderful stuff like amber dew, with a tang likenew-cut timber. But it was not yet done, so he could not tell just whatit might be good for. Now it was springtime, and it would be harvest redmoon before the little worker would have the magic healing stored in itstreasure bags underground. So to prevent any one harming or hinderingthe plant till its work was done, the King took out his seal ring andstamped seal marks all along the root, where they are unto this day. Andthen to make it sure he made the golden bell chimes become visible soevery one could see them. There they hang like a row of ringing bells. But the King never came back to learn the rest of it, for he had tobuild the temple; and he had many wives who took up a great deal of histime. So the world has never found out just what is the magic power ofthe plant. But it is there, be sure of that, just as surely as the pealof golden bells is there, and the marks of the great King's Seal. TALE 16 The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal [Illustration: The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal] Over a month later, the King suddenly remembered that he had not beenout to see the plant whose root he had sealed. He was very busy at thetime, as he had the temple to build, and many wives to look after; so hecalled Djin, a good goblin, who does hard work and said, "Go and seethat no one has harmed that plant, " then told him how to find it. Away went the good goblin, like a flash. He was a very obedient servant, but not very bright; and when he came to the woods, he looked all aroundfor the plant with the chime of bells, for King Solomon had forgotten tosay that the bells do not ring after June, and it was now July. So thegoblin looked about for a long time. He did not dare to go back and sayhe could not find it--that would have been a terrible crime, so helooked and looked. At last he heard a little tinkle of bells away off inthe woods. He flew to the place, and there was a plant like the one hesought but its bells were of silver, and all in a bunch instead of along string. The good goblin dug down to the big fat root in the groundand found that the seal marks had grown over--at least he thought theyhad--for they were nowhere to be seen. So he looked around for somethingto help. His eye fell on an acorn cup. He took this, and using it for aseal, he stamped the root all over. Then he took a piece of the root and a sprig and flew back to show theKing. Solomon smiled and said: "You did the best you could, but you havemarked the wrong root. Listen! This is not the golden chime, but thechime of silver bells. " That is the story of it and that is why it has ever since been calledthe False Solomon Seal. FOOTNOTE: [A] Some, like the Turkey-buzzards, have not yet been heard to sing, butI believe they do. THINGS TO SEE IN SUMMERTIME [Illustration: The Brownie and the Mouse-bird] Things to See in Summertime TALE 17 How the Mouse-bird Made Fun of the Brownie Once there was a conceited Brownie, who thought he could do more thingsand do them better than any other of his people. He had not tried yet, for he was very young, but he said he was going to do them some day! One morning a sly old Brownie, really making fun of him, said: "Whydon't you catch that Phoebe-bird? It is quite easy if you put a littlesalt on his tail. " Away went Smarty Brownie to try. But the Phoebe wouldnot sit still, and the Brownie came back saying: "He bobbed his tail so, the salt would not stay on. " "Well, " said the sly old Brownie, "there is a little Mouse-bird whosetail never bobs. You can easily catch him, for you see, he does not evenfly, but crawls like a mouse up the tree, " and he pointed to a littlebrown Creeper. By this time the young Brownie knew that the others werelaughing at him, so he said rather hotly, "I'll just show you rightnow. " He took an acorn cup full of salt, and went after the Mouse-bird. It wasat the bottom of the big tree, creeping up, round and round, as if on aspiral staircase, and the Brownie began to climb in the same way. Butevery little while the climber had to stop and rest. This had strangeresults, for there is a law in Brownie land, that wherever one of thelittle people stops to sit down, or rest, a toadstool must spring up forhim to sit on. So the track of the Brownie up the trunk became one longstaircase of toadstool steps, some close, some far apart, but eachshowing where the Brownie had rested. They came closer together towardthe top where the Brownie had got tired, but he was coming very near tothe Creeper now. He got his pinch of salt all ready, as his friends downbelow kept calling and jeering: "Now you've got him, now is yourchance. " But just as he was going to leap forward and drop the salt onits tail, the Creeper gave a tiny little laugh like "_Tee-tee-tee_, "spread its wings, for it could fly very well, and sailed away to thebottom of the next tree to do the spiral staircase all over again, whileSmarty Brownie was so mad that he jumped to the ground and hid away fromhis friends for two days. When he came back he did not talk quite somuch as he used to. But to this day you can see the staircase oftoadstools on the tree trunks where the Brownie went up. TALE 18 The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims "Come, " said the Guide, "to-day I am going to show you a Pot-herb thatcame from England with the Pilgrim Fathers and spread over the whole ofAmerica. There is a story about it that will keep it ever in yourmemory. " [Illustration: The Pilgrim's Pot-herb] The Pilgrims had landed in Massachusetts, and slowly made farms forthemselves as they cleared off the forest. They had a very hard time atfirst, but the Indians helped them; sometimes with gifts of venison, andsometimes by showing them which things in the woods were good to eat. There was a Squaw named Monapini, "the Root-digger, " who was veryclever at finding forest foods. She became friendly with a white womannamed Ruth Pilgrim, and so Ruth's family got the benefit of it, andalways had on the table many good things that came from the woods. One day, long after the farms were cleared and doing well, the whitewoman said, "See, Mother Monapini, thou hast shown me many things, now Ihave somewhat to show thee. There hath grown up in our wheat field asmall herb that must have come from England with the wheat, for hithertoI have not seen it elsewhere. We call it lamb's-quarter, for the lambdoth eat it by choice. Or maybe because we do eat it with a quarter oflamb. Nevertheless it maketh a good pot-herb when boiled. " The old Indian woman's eyes were fixed on the new plant that was good toeat: and she said, "Is it very good, oh white sister?" "Yes, and our medicine men do say that it driveth out the poison thatmaketh itch and spots on the skin. " After a moment Monapini said, "Itlooketh to me like the foot of a wild goose. " "Well found, " chuckled Ruth, "for sometimes our people do call it bythat very name. " "That tells me different, " said the Indian. "What mean you, " said Ruth. "Is not a goose foot very strong, so it never catcheth cold in the icywater?" "Yes. " "And this hath the shape of a goose foot?" "Yes. " "Then my Shaman tells that it is by such likeness that the Great Spiritshoweth the goose foot plant to be charged with the driving out ofcolds. " "It may be so, " said the white woman, "but this I know. It is very goodand helpeth the whole body. " The Indian picked a handful of the pot-herbs, then stared hard at thelast; a very tall and strong one. "What hast thou now, Monapini?" The red woman pointed to the stem of thelamb's-quarter, whereon were long red streaks, and said: "This I see, that, even as the white-man's herb came over the sea and was harmlessand clean while it was weak, but grew strong and possessed this field, then was streaked to midheight with blood, so also shall they be whobrought it--streaked at last to the very waist with blood--not the whitemen's but the dark purple blood of the Indian. This the voices tell meis in the coming years, that this is what we shall get again for helpingyou--destruction in return for kindness. Mine inner eyes have seen it. "She threw down the new pot-herb and glided away, to be seen no more inthe settlements of the white men. And Ruth, as she gazed after her, knew that it was true. Had she notheard her people talking and planning? For even as the weed seed camewith the wheat, so evil spirits came with the God-fearing Pilgrims, andalready these were planning to put the heathens to the sword, when theColony was strong enough. So the Indian woman read the truth in the little pot-herb that sailedand landed with the Pilgrims; that stands in our fields to this day, streaked with the blood of the passing race--standing, a thing ofremembrance. TALE 19 How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves [Illustration: How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves] Once upon a time a Bee, a Bug, and a Cow went marching up to MotherCarey's palace in the hemlock grove, to tell her of their troubles. Theycomplained that food was poor and scarce, and they were tired of thekinds that grew along the roadsides. Mother Carey heard them patiently, then she said: "Yes, you have somereason to complain, so I will send you a new food called Clover. Itsflower shall be full of honey for the Bee, its leaves full of cowfoodand its cellar shall be stocked with tiny pudding bags of meal for theBug, that is for good little Bug-folks who live underground. " Now the tribes of the Bee, the Bug, and the Cow had a fine timefeasting, for the new food was everywhere. But Cows are rather stupid you know. They found the new food so goodthat they kept on munching everything that had three round leaves, thinking it was Clover, and very soon a lot of them were poisoned withstrange plants that no wise Cow would think of eating. So Mother Carey called a Busy Brownie, and put him on guard to keep theCows from eating the poison plants by mistake. At first it was good fun, and the Brownie enjoyed it because it made himfeel important. But he got very tired of his job and wanted to go to theball game. He sat down on a toadstool, and looked very glum. He could hear theother Brownies shouting at the game, and that made him feel worse. Thenhe heard a great uproar, and voices yelling "A home run!" "A home run!"That drove him wild. He had been whittling the edge of the toadstoolwith his knife, and now he slashed off a big piece of the cap, he was somad. Then up he got and said to the Cows: "See here, you fool Cows, I can'tstay here for ever trying to keep you from eating poison, but I'll dothis much. I'll stamp all the good-to-eat leaves with a mark that willbe your guide. " [Illustration: The Shamrock] So he made a rubber stamp out of part of the toadstool he was sittingon, and stamped every Clover leaf in that pasture, so the Cows could besure, then skipped away to the ball game. When Mother Carey heard of his running away from his job, she was veryangry. She said: "Well, you Bad Brownie, you should be ashamed, but thatwhite mark was a good idea so I'll forgive you, if you go round, and putit on every Clover leaf in the world. " He had to do it, though it looked like an endless task, and he neverwould have finished it, had not the other Brownies all over the worldcome to help him; so it was done at last. And that is the reason thatevery Clover leaf to-day has on it the white mark like an arrowhead, theBrownie sign for "good-to eat. " The Cows get along better now, but still they are very stupid; they gomunching ahead without thinking, and will even eat the blossoms whichbelong to the Bees. And the Bees have to buzz very loudly and even stingthe Cows on their noses to keep them from stealing the bee-food. Thegood little Bugs underground have the best time, for there the Cows cannot harm them, and the Bees never come near. They eat when they arehungry and sleep when they are cold, which is their idea of a good time;so except for some little quarrels between the Cows and the Bees theyhave all gotten along very well ever since. TALE 20 The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters [Illustration: Yellow-haired Hob. Shamrock's blonde sister] The Shamrock is really the White Clover. It is much the same shape asthe Red Clover, and has the same food bags in its cellar. It is just asgood for Cows and even better for Bees; so the Brownie stamped all itsleaves with the white arrow mark, as you can plainly see. This plant, as you know, is the emblem of Ireland. The story-tellers say that St. Patrick was preaching to Leary, theheathen King of Tara in Ireland hoping to turn him into a Christian. Theking listened attentively, but he was puzzled by St. Patrick's accountof the Trinity. "Stop, " said the king. "How can there be three Gods inone and only one God where there are three. That is impossible. " St. Patrick stooped down and picking up a Shamrock leaf, said: "See, thereit is, growing in your own soil; there are three parts but only oneleaf. " The king was so much struck by this proof that he became aChristian and ever since the Shamrock has been the emblem of Ireland. Now to fill out the history of the Clovers, I should tell you of theother three. The next is called Alsike, or the Pink Clover. When you look at this Alsike or Alsatian Clover, you might think itsmother was a red clover and its father a white one, for it is about halfway between them in size, and its bloom is pink on the outside and whitein the middle. Evidently, the Brownie didn't think much of it, for hedid not put his arrow mark on its leaves. Still the Cows think it isgood, the Bees think it is fine, and it always carried lots of food bagsin its cellar. So also does the next sister--Melilot, the Yellow Cloveror Honey-lotus--and the last and sweetest of them all, is the SweetClover that spreads sweet smells in the old-fashioned garden. TALE 21 The Indian Basket-maker [Illustration: The Indian Basket] "Come, little Nagami, my Bird-Singer, you are ten years old, it is timeyou learned to make baskets. I made my first when I was but eight, "said Mother Akoko proudly, for she was the best basket-maker on theriver. So they took a sharp stick, and went into the woods. Akoko looked forspruce trees that had been blown down by the storm, but found none, soshe stopped under some standing spruce, at a place with no underbrushand said: "See, Nagami, here we dig for wattap. " The spruce roots or "wattap" were near the surface and easily found, butnot easily got out, because they were long, tangled and criss-crossed. Yet, by pulling up, and cutting under, they soon got a bundle of rootslike cords, and of different lengths, from two feet to a yard, or more. "Good, " said Akoko; "this is enough and we need not soak them, for it issummer, and the sap is running. If it were fall we should have to boilthem. Now you must scrape them clear of the brown bark. " So Nagami tookher knife and worked for an hour, then came with the bundle saying:"See, Mother, they are smooth, and so white that they have not a brownspot left. " "Good, " said Akoko, "now you need some bark of the willowfor sewing cord. Let us look along the river bank. " There they found the round-leafed, or fish-net willow, and stripped offenough of its strong bark to make a bundle as big as one hand couldhold. This also had to be scraped clear of the brown skin, leaving only thestrong whitish inner bark, which, when split into strips, was good forsewing. "See, my Nagami, when I was a little girl I had only a bone needle madefrom the leg of a deer, but you have easy work; here is a big steelpacking needle, which I bought for you from a trader. This is how youmake your basket. " So Akoko began a flat coil with the spruce roots, and sewed it togetherwith the willow bark for thread, until it was a span wide. And whenevera new root was to be added, she cut both old piece and new, to a longpoint, so they would overlap without a bump. Then the next coil of the spruce roots was laid on, not flat and level, but raised a little. Also the next, until the walls were as high as fourfingers. Then Akoko said, "Good, that is enough. It is a fine cornbasket. But we must give it a red rim for good luck. " So they sought in a sunny place along the shore, and found the fruit ofthe squawberry or blitum. "See, " said Akoko, "the miscawa. Gather ahandful, my Nagami. They make the red basket-dye. " They crushed the rich red berries, saving the red juice in a clam shell, and soaked a few strands of the white willow bark in the stain. Whenthey were dry, Nagami was taught to add a rim to her basket, by sewingit over and over as in the picture. Then Akoko said, "Good, my little Bird-Singer, you have done well, youhave made some old black roots into a beautiful basket. " * * * * * N. B. The Guide will remember that rattan and raffia can be used for thiswhen it is impossible to get spruce roots and willow bark. Good dyes maybe made from many different berries. TALE 22 Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad? It has long been the custom of the Brownies to have a great feast on thefirst of the merry month of May, to celebrate the return of the spring. [Illustration: The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?] One springtime long ago, they got ready as usual. The King of theBrownies had invited all the leaders; the place for the dinner waschosen in a grove of mandrakes whose flat umbrellas made a perfectroof, rain or shine. The Bell Bird, whose other name is Wood Thrush, wasringing his bell, and calling all the Chief Brownies by name. "Ta-rool-ya! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling. _" "Oka-lee! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling. _" "Cherk! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling. _" "Come to the feasting! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling. _" A hundred glow worms were told to hurry up with their lights and beready for that night, and busy Brownies gathered good things from woodsand waters, for the feast. May Day came bright and beautiful. The busy ones had all the "eats" inthe Mandrake Hall, the glowworms were sleeping soundly to fill theirstorage batteries ready for the night. It made the salamanders' mouthswater to see so many good things; but they were not asked, so stayedaway. There were dewdrops in acorn cups, and honey on the wax. Therewere clam shells piled up with red checkerberries, and caddis worms onthe half shell, with spicebush nubbins. A huge white Mecha-meck was thechief dish, with bog nuts on the side. There were lovely long crinklesalads. And last, there were gumdrops from the sweet birch, while ateach place was a pussy willow to dust the food over with golden pollenthat gave it a pleasant peppery tang. All the guests were there, and thefeast was nearly over, when a terrible thing took place! Of all the dreaded happenings in the world of beauty there is nothingelse so feared as the forest fire. There is not much danger of it inspringtime, but it is possible at any season, after a long dry spell. Words cannot tell of the horror it spreads, as it comes raging throughthe woods destroying all beautiful living things. And right in the middle of the feast, the dreadful news was carried by aflying Night-bird. "Fire, Fire, Fire, Fire!" he screamed, and almost at once the smoke camedrifting through the banquet hall, so they knew it was true. There was mad haste to escape, and only two ways were open. One was toget across some big stream, and the other was to hide in a caveunderground. The birds took the first way, and the Brownies the second. Every Woodchuck den was just packed with Brownies within a few minutes. But the busy Brownie who was chief steward and had charge of the feast, had no idea of leaving all the good things to burn up, if he could helpit. First he sent six of his helpers to make a deep pit for the bigMecha-meck, and while they did that he began hiding all the dishes inthe ground. Last he dug some deep holes and quickly buried all thecrinkle salads; then he ran for his life into a cave. The raging fire came along. It is too horrible to tell about, for it wassent by the Evil One. The lovely woods were left black without a livingthing. But the very next day, Mother Carey and Mother Earth and El Sol, set about saving the wreck, and in a marvellously short time actuallyhad made it green again. The mayflowers came up a second time that year, the violets came back, and in each place where the Brownies had hid asalad there came up a curious plant that never had been seen before. Ithad three saw-edged leaves and a long wand, much like the one carried bythe Chief Steward. I never was able to find out his name for sure, but Ithink it was Trileaf or Three-leaves. Anyway, if you dig under his signand sceptre wand, you will surely find the salad, and very good indeedit is to eat; it was not hurt in the least by the fire. [Illustration: The Mecha-meck] But from that day, the Brownies have been very shy of feasting duringdry weather in the woods. They generally have their banquets now in somemeadow, and afterward you can tell the place of the feast by the circleof little toadstools called fairy rings. For you know that wherever aBrownie sits, a toadstool must spring up for him to sit on. TALE 23 The Mecha-meck That fearful time when the forest fire set all the Brownies busy buryingtheir food and dishes at the feast-hall, you remember it took six ofthem to carry and hide the Mecha-meck. For it is a large fat white rootas big as a baby, and sometimes it has arms or legs, so that whenMonapini told Ruth Pilgrim about it she called it "Man-of-the-earth. " You remember that the busy Brownie hid all the Crinkle salads, and sosaved them; and most of us have found the Crinkleroot and eaten itsince. But how many of us have found the Mecha-meck? I know only one manwho has. We call him the Wise Woodman. He found and dug out the one fromwhich I made the picture. It was two and a half feet long and weighedfifteen pounds--fifteen pounds of good food. Think of it! Above it andgrowing out of its hiding place was a long trailing vine that lookedlike a white morning-glory. There is always one of these over theMecha-meck. And by that you may find it, if you look along the sunnybanks outside of the woods. But still it is very hard to find. I neveryet got one, though I have found many of the crinkle-root salads. Ofcourse, that is easy to explain, for the busy Brownies buried hundredsof the salads, but only one of the big fat Mecha-meck. TALE 24 Dutchman's Breeches [Illustration: Dutchman's Dive Dutchman's Breeches] Of course they are not, for no Dutchman I ever saw could wear such tinythings. I will tell you what they really are and how that came to be. You remember how the Brownies assembled for the feast on May Day whenthe Glow worms were the lamps and the Wood Thrush rang the bell. Well, it so happened that day that a great crowd of the merrymakers gatheredlong before the feast was ready, and while they were wondering what todo someone shouted: "See, how fine and warm the water is where the brookspreads out into the ditch. Let us have our first swim of the seasonright now!" So they all went with a whoop! stripped off their clothes, and intotheir swimming breeches with a perfect riot of glee. Then how they did splash! Some blind folks thought it must be a millionearly pollywogs splashing. But the swim ended with another racket whenthe dinner bell rang. Each splashing Brownie hopped out and hung up his breeches to dry as hegot into his clothes. Then you remember the fire came along and scared them away. Of coursethe breeches were wet, so they didn't get singed; and there you can seethem hanging to this day on the first of May. That is what they reallyare--Brownies' Breeches. And because the Brownies often swim in a ditch, they are called ditch-man's breeches; but believe me, they are notDutchman's breeches and never could be. [Illustration: The Seven Sour Sisters] TALE 25 The Seven Sour Sisters If you look along any half-open bank in the edge of the woods, or evenin the woods itself, you are sure to see one of the Seven SorrelSisters, with leaves a little like Clover, only notched in the end andwithout the white marks, that the Brownie put on the Clover. There areseven of them, according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, onepurple, and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name means"vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid. " "Sorrel" itself means"Little sour one, " so you see they have the reputation of a sour bunch. If you eat one of the leaves, you will agree that the name waswell-chosen, and understand why the druggists get the tart "salt oflemons" from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for theirsour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they are among the prettythings of the woods; their forms are delicate and graceful; their eyesare like jewels, and when the night comes down, they bow their heads, gracefully fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children. TALE 26 Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass [Illustration: Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass] You should know the history of the lowly little flower calledBlue-curls; and you must remember that flowers have their troubles justas you have. For one thing, flowers must get their pollen or yellowflower-dust, carried to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep ongrowing good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding placesfor its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a bee. It says, "Ifyou will carry my pollen to my cousins yonder, I will give you a sweetsip of nectar. " That is where the bees get the stuff for all theirhoney, and that is how the pollen is carried. Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working agreement withthe Meadow Bees, and got on nicely. But one summer Blue-curls becamediscontented. She saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that hadpower to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing but liveher own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody. So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing over the grass, Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, won't you hear me andgrant me a gift?" "What is it, little one?" said the All-mother. "Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the monkshood curescanker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the others have some joy andhonour of service, but I am good for nothing, Mother Carey so the wisemen despise me. Won't you give me a job? Won't you give me some littlepower?" "Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love those who wouldhelp. I will give you a little bit of _all healing_ so that you shall begood medicine, if not the best, for all ills, and men shall call you'Self-heal' and 'All-heal' for you shall have all healing in yourself. " And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by looks call themodest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls in the Grass, " but the oldherb-men who know her goodness call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal. " TALE 27 The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer [Illustration: Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)] There are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every summer, on ourfields; and remember that each of them goes through the same changes. First it is an egg, then a greedy grub, next a hanging bundle-baby, and last a beautiful winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy. In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but you must addthe colour as you get each one to copy. The first is the _White_ or _Cabbage Butterfly_ that flits over ourgardens all summer long. It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860 and landed atQuebec, from whence it has spread all over the country. In the drawing Ihave shown the female; the male is nearly the same but has only oneround dark spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked greencaterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth of cabbagesa year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to land in this country. There are moths that we should like to get rid of, but this is the onlybutterfly that is a pest. 2nd. The _Yellow_ or _Clouded Sulphur Butterfly_. You are sure to findit, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies. This is the one thatis often seen in flocks about mud puddles. When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of them, and made alittle beehive to hold them, thinking that they would settle down andmake themselves at home, just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-upsmade me let them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, anddoes little or no harm. One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was, when about tenyears old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of me a big bird that was red, white and blue, with a flaming yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer, I knew that it was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly inhis beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned out to behis glossy black back reflecting the blue sky. 3rd. The next is the _Red Admiral_ or _Nettle Butterfly_. The "red" partof the name is right, but why "Admiral"? I never could see unless it wasmisprint for "Admirable. " [Illustration: Red Admiral] [Illustration: Tiger Swallowtail (life size)] This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on nettles, andwhere nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also. And that means overnearly all the world! Its caterpillar is not very well protected withbristles, not at all when compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives inthe nettles, and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettleswith their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may be grateful, but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on the faithful nettle, andeats it up. In fact the only food he cares about is nettle-salad, and heindulges in it several times a day, yes all day long, eating, growingand bursting his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hanghimself up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next spring hecomes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red Admiral, gold lace, redsash, silver braid and all. 4th. The last of the four is the _Tiger Swallowtail_. You are sure tosee it some day--the big yellow butterfly that is striped like a tiger, with peacock's feathers in its train, and two long prongs, like aswallow-tail, to finish off with. It is found in nearly all parts of theEastern States and Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave Riverof the North. It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes among itsladies. The one shown in the drawing is a blonde. The brunettes are somuch darker as to be nearly black; and so different that at one timeeveryone thought they were of a different kind altogether. TALE 28 The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar [Illustration: The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a littleover life size)] The lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and never forget, forit is common, and ranges over all the country from Canada to the Gulf. When you see it, you will be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh--for ithas on each wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather, while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold. There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you should knowbecause it shows that Mother Carey never gives any wonderful gift to hercreatures without also giving with it some equal burden of sorrow. This is how it all came about. Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small, they were, likemost caterpillars, very ugly little things. They felt very badly aboutit, and so they set out one day for the great Home Place of Mother Careyin the Whispering Grove of the Ages. There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of an ugly race, whyshould we be so ugly as caterpillars? Will you not make us beautiful, for beauty is one of the best things of all?" Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little Brownie, who camewith a tray on which were two cups; one full of bright sparkling pinkstuff, and the other with something that looked like dark green oil. Butthe glasses were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink, and that reached both. Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of life, one is balm andwill give you joy, the other is gall and will give you suffering. Youmay drink little or much, but you must drink equally of both. Now whatwould ye?" The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one said: "MotherCarey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?" "Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you beauty, but withit the other will give you grief. " They whispered together, then all the little crawlers went silentlyforward, and each took a long drink of the double goblet. Then they crawled away, and at once became the most beautiful of allcaterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes of pink, velvet, andgold. Never before were there seen such exquisite little crawlers. But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful that many creaturesbecame their enemies, and began to kill them and eat them one afteranother. They crawled as fast as they could, and hid away, but many ofthem were killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierceinsects. They did not know what to do, so next day the few that were left crawledback to the Grove of Ages, and once more stood before Mother Carey. "Well, my Beauty-crawlers, " she said, "what would you?" "Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy us. Most ofus are killed, and many of us wounded. Will you not protect us?" "You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned you that yourbeauty would bring terrible trouble with it. " They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they knew that thatwas true. "Now, " said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back and be ugly again?" They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey, it is better to bebeautiful and die. " [Illustration: The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)] Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and said: "Little ones, Ilove your brave spirit. You shall not die. Neither shall you lose yourbeauty. I will give you a defence that will keep off all your enemiesbut one, that is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay foryour loveliness. " She waved her wand, and all over each of theBeauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp stickers like porcupinequills, only they were worse than porcupine quills for each of thestickers was poisoned at the tip, so that no creature could touch theBeauty-crawlers without being stung. The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a terrible punishmentfrom the poison spears. You children, too, must beware of them; touchthem not, they will give you festering wounds. There is only onecreature now that the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is theLong-stinger Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that isthe price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they not drink ofthe double goblet? TALE 29 The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or _Samia Cecropia_ When I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in from the orchard aragged looking thing like parchment wrapped up with some tangled hair;it was really the bundle-baby of this Moth. He kept it all winter, andwhen the spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of theinsect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this gloriouscreature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver andspots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing inthe world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our commonmoths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble. * * * * * Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a greencrawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it allby a bad temper. It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind waswhispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with myworking life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rainon me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summerlong. " And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness. "You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than youwhat is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?" "Yes, I would, " said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously. "Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung ona near-by limb. "Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has beenmiserable, but I know you will take care of us. " "Good, " said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You littleRed-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dryloft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-babysleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where everyrain that comes shall drench your outer skin. " And she left them. When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry ascould be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from therafters. Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden. The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day. Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds. Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full sizeand shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, andaway he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook andshook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they werenumbed and of stunted growth. Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as hestruggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce eye was drawn by thefluttering purple thing. It had no power to escape. He tore its crumpledwings from its feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying ithad time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that your way was thebest. " TALE 30 The Green Fairy with the Long Train Some fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of all that reallyand truly dance in the moonlight right here in America, Luna Greenieseems the most wonderful; and this is her history: Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped from the robe of agreen fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a butternut tree till one warm dayMother Carey, who knows all the wild things and loves them all, touchedit with her magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearlcame an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about on many legs. He was just as greedy as he was ugly, and he ate leaf after leaf of thebutternut tree, and grew so fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skingrew, and he kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But hehad also become wise and gentle; he had learned many things, and was notquite so greedy now. [Illustration: The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 lifesize)] Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him, and knew that nowhe was ready for the next step up. She told him to make himself ahammock of rags and leaves, in the butternut tree. When he had crawledinto it, she touched him with her wand, the very same as the one sheused when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep. Then thatlittle dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in his hammock. Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the butternut tree, taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly as in the old rhyme: Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top, When the wind blows, your cradle will rock, When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall, Down tumbles baby and cradle and all. But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep bed of leaves, andlay there all winter, quite safe and warm. Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother Carey camea-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her wand. She stopped and kissedthe sleeping bundle-baby, just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty, and instantly the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing. Out ofthat ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful and beautifulGreen Fairy ever seen, with wings and with two trains; and as it cameout and looked shyly around, trembling with new life, Mother Careywhispered, "Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you there. " So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to fly! She couldremember how once she used to crawl everywhere. And through the softsweet night she flew, as she was told, straight to the butternut grove. As she came near she saw many green fairies--a great crowd ofthem--gathered in the moonlight, and dancing round and round influttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other, or hiding inthe leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies never eat, and theydrink only honey from flowers. But there was a spirit of great joy overthem all. And there were some there with longer head plumes than thoseshe wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a glad greetingto the new Green Dancer and though she flew away, she was bursting withjoy that he should single her out. He pursued her till he caught her, and hand in hand they danced together in the moonlight. She was happierthan she had known it was possible to be, and danced all night--thatwonderful wedding dance. But she was very tired when morning was near, and high in the tree she slept so soundly that she never noticed thatmany seed pearls that were clustered on the lining of her robe had gotloose and rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay untilMother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand, so each became acrawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and at last a dancing fairy. But the Green Dancer did not know that--she knew only that it was aglorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to dance in the moonlight. * * * * * You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree on mid-summernights, for it is quite possible that you may see the wedding dance ofthe Luna Greenie and her sisters with the long-trained robes. TALE 31 The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon [Illustration: The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon] Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow Dragon, who liveda happy and innocent life on the high banks of a prattling stream. TheDragon himself was dumb but he loved a merry noise, and nothingpleased him more than the prattling of the water. Sometimes thispleasant little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and sometimeshe went down stream, where it was very silent, and rested awhile inlittle pools. Here it was that he met with his first enemy, a wartyHoptoad with jealous eyes. That Toad thought that he owned the poolsbecause he bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kindlittle Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against him. "Ho! little Yellow Dragon, " he said, "you are very wonderful to see, andyou must be very clever; but you haven't got everything you want, haveyou?" The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent signs with his lips. Then the Toad understood, for he said: "Ho-ho, I understand that youcannot speak. But are you happy?" The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed to the stream. That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought it meant that theDragon was claiming the whole stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon, there is a wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a poachedegg. " This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full well thatpoached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons. The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have you?" The Dragon shook his head. "Well, " said the Toad, "it is the mostdelicious thing in the woods; now you wait and see. " He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen a Turtle lay itseggs that morning. He dug out one. He rolled it upon a stone, and splitit open with the sharp spur on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened bythe sun heat, he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I getanother for myself. " The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better. He tried toswallow the poached egg. The moment he did, it stuck in his throat, andpoisoned him. At once his toes sank into the ground. He turned green allover, and his head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is tothis day, standing silently where it can hear the brook a-prattling. Itsbody is green all over, and its head is yellow and its jaws are wideopen with a poached egg stuck in its throat. And that is how it all cameabout. Some call it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but wewho know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached Egg. Poor dear little Yellow Dragon! TALE 32 The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth When I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions brought the news thatthe strangest bird in the world had come that day to our garden andhovered over the flowers. It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! Itwas not a humming-bird, " they said, "it was smaller by far, much morebeautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go. " [Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)] Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help togive it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. Thesummer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and addedstories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body, they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had along beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two longplumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen, " and largelustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jestlooked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you. " The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the points that mycompanions noted about the Fairy Bird. The first drawing shows what itlooked like, and also gives the exact size they said it was. It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the thing that wasof chief interest to me, yet left me out. It clearly promised a realfairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful messenger from the land I hungered tobelieve in. But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the boys ran toward me, shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy Bird, right in the garden overthe honeysuckle. C'mon, quick!" I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes, there it was, hovering over the open flowers--tiny, wonderful, humming as it swung onmisty wings. I made a quick sweep of my insect net and, marvellous torelate, scooped up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now, not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to net afairy--practically an angel. But I had done it, and I gloated over mycaptive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet body and snowy throat werethere, the fan-tail, the plumes and the big dark eyes, but the creaturewas _not a bird_; it was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a fewhours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a young angelor even a fairy--it was nothing but a Humming-bird Moth, a beautifulinsect--common in some regions, scarce in some, such as mine--butperfectly well known to men of science and never afterward forgotten byany of that eager schoolboy group. TALE 33 Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot If you live in the country or in a small town, you will not have to gomany steps, in summer time, before you find the little plant known asRibgrass, Plantain, or Whiteman's-foot. If you live in a big city, youmay find it in any grassy place, but will surely see it, as soon as youreach the suburbs. It grows on the ground, wherever it can see the sun, and is easily known by the strong ribs, each with a string in it whenyou pull the leaf apart. The Indians call it Whiteman's-foot, notbecause it is broad and flat, but because it came from Europe with thewhite man; it springs up wherever he sets his foot, and it has spreadover all America. Gardeners think it a troublesome weed; but the birdslove its seed; canary birds delight in it; and each plant of theRibgrass may grow many thousands of seeds in a summer. How many? Let us see! Take a seed-stalk of the Plantain and you willfind it thickly set with little cups, as in the drawing. Open one ofthese cups, and you find in it five seeds. Count the cups; there are twohundred on this stalk, each with about five seeds, that is, one thousandseeds; but the plant has five or more seed-stalks, some have more (onebefore me now has seventeen), but suppose it has only ten; then thereare 10, 000 seeds each summer from one little plant. Each seed can growup into a new plant; and, if each plant were as far from the next as youcan step, the little ones in a row the following summer would reach fornearly six miles; that is, from the City Hall to the end of CentralPark, New York. [B] [Illustration: The Ribgrass] [Illustration: Jack-in-the-Pulpit] On the third year if all had the full number of seed, and all the seedgrew into plants, there would be enough to go more than twice round theworld. No wonder it has spread all over the country. TALE 34 Jack-in-the-Pulpit Once upon a time there was a missionary named the Rev. John T. Arum, whoset out to preach to the Indians. He had a good heart but a bitter, biting tongue. He had no respect for the laws of the Indians, so theykilled him, and buried him in the woods. But out of his grave came a newand wonderful plant, shaped like a pulpit, and right in the middle ofit, as usual, was the Reverend Jack hard at it, preaching away. If you dig down under the pulpit you will find the preacher's body, orhis heart, in the form of a round root. Taste it and you will believethat the preacher had a terribly biting tongue, but treat it properly, that is boil it, and you will find out that after all he had a goodlittle heart inside. Even the Indians have discovered his good qualitiesand have become very fond of him. TALE 35 How the Indian Pipe Came [Illustration: How the Indian Pipe Came] In the last tale you learned the fate of the Rev. John T. Arum, and theorigin of Jack-in-the-Pulpit. But you must not suppose for a moment thatthe Indians decided in a hurry to kill the missionary. No, they had toomuch sense of fair play for that. They held a great many councils firstto find some way of curbing his tongue, and making him mind his ownbusiness. In fact, they got into the habit of holding a council everyfew minutes to discuss the question, no matter where they were or whatelse they were doing. So that pretty nearly every part of the woods wasin time used for a council ring to discuss the fate of the Rev. John T. Arum. Of course, you know that no Indian can hold a council without smokingthe Peace Pipe, and when the council is over, he empties out the ashesof the pipe. So that when all those councils were over, when the matterwas settled, when the missionary was buried, and when the warrior hadgone to the ghost land, there came solemnly poking its white bowl andstem from under the leaves an Indian pipe, at the very spot where theCouncillors had emptied the ashes. It is a beautifully shaped pipe, witha curved and feathered stem, but it has none of the bright colours ofthe old Peace Pipe. It cannot have them for this is only a ghost Pipe toshow where the council used to be; and one pipe there is for eachcouncil held on that spot, so you see how many, many councils theIndians had, before they killed the troublesome preacher. And sometimesyou can find a pipe that has the bowl still filled with ghost tobacco oreven a little red ghost fire, showing that the warriors had to hurryaway before that council was finished. Whenever you find the ghost pipein the woods, you are sure to see close by either a log, a bank or arock on which the Councillors sat to talk it over. TALE 36 The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella The Indians had Brownies, only they called them Pukwudjies, and I amgoing to tell you a story of an Indian Brownie. [Illustration: The Cucumber Under the Brownie's Umbrella] Whenever the Indians got together for a council, the Brownies did thesame thing, in the woods near by. It was a kind of Brownie Fair, andsome of the little people used to have stands and sell refreshments. Berries were scarce in the springtime, but the Brownies were very fondof cucumber. So there were always one or two Cucumber Brownies, who setup their little umbrellas, and sold slices of Cucumber to the others. When it was time to go home, or when the sun got so hot that thecucumbers were likely to spoil, they would bury them in the ground, butleave the umbrella to mark the place. And there they are yet; many atime have I found the umbrella, and dug under it to find the cucumber. It is delicious eating; everything that Brownies like is. You can findit, and try it. It is one of the things that Monapini taught RuthPilgrim to eat. (Tale 18). Of course, the Brownies do not like you to dig up their treasure orgood-to-eats, but there are plenty more, far more than they ever need. "Yet what about it, " you say, "if the Brownie happens to be there?" He may be sitting right under the umbrella, but remember the littlepeople are invisible to our eyes. You will not see him; at least I neverdid. TALE 37 The Hickory Horn-devil Hush, whisper! Did you ever meet a Hickory Horn-devil? No! Well I did, and I tell you he is a terror. Look at this picture of him. It is true, only he is not quite so big as that, though he looks as if he might be. And I was not quite so small as that, only I felt as if I were! Andeverything about him looked horribly strong, poisonous and ugly. He wasa real devil. [Illustration: The Hickory Horn-devil (1/2 life size)] I did not know his history then; I did not learn it for a long timeafter, but I can tell it to you now. Once upon a time there was a little, greenish, blackish worm. He lovedpretty things, and he hated to be ugly, as he was. No one wanted him, and he was left all alone, a miserable little outcast. He complainedbitterly to Mother Carey, and asked if she would not bless him with somegrace, to help him in his troubles. Mother Carey said: "Little ugly worm; you are having a hard time, because in your other life, before you came into this shape, you had anugly, hateful spirit. You must go through this one as you are, until theGreat Sleep comes; after that, you will be exactly what you have made ofyourself. " Then the little ugly worm said: "Oh Mother Carey, I am as miserable as Ican be; let me be twice as ugly, if, in the end, I may be twice asbeautiful. " Mother Carey said gravely, "Do you think you could stand it, littleworm? We shall see. " From that time the worm got bigger and uglier, no creature would eventalk to him. The birds seemed to fear him, and the Squirrels puffed outlittle horror-snorts, when they saw him coming, even the other wormskept away from him. So he went on his lonely life, uglier and more hated than ever. He livedchiefly on a big hickory tree, so men called him the Hickory Horn-devil. One day as he was crawling on a fence, a hen with chickens came runningafter him, to eat him. But when she saw how ugly he was she cried: "Oh, Lawk, lawk! Come away, children, at once!" At another time he saw a Chipmunk teaching its little ones to play tag. They looked so bright and happy, he longed, not to join them because hecould only crawl, but to have the happiness of looking on. But when hecame slowly forward, and the old Chipmunk saw him waving his horns andlooking like a green poisonous reptile, she screamed, "Run, mychildren!" and all darted into their hole while Mother Chipmunk stuffedup the doorway with earth. But the most thrilling thing of all that he saw was one day as the sunwent down, a winged being of dazzling beauty alighted for a moment onhis hickory tree. Never had the Horn-devil seen such a dream ofloveliness. Her slender body was clad in rose velvet, and her wings wereshining with gold. The very sight of her made him hate himself, yet hecould not resist the impulse to crawl nearer, to gaze at her beauty. But her eyes rested a moment on his horrible shape, and she fled infear, while a voice near by said: "The Spangled Queen does not lovepoisonous reptiles. " Then the poor little Horn-devil wished he weredead. He hid away from sight for three days. Hunger however forced himout, and as he was crawling across a pathway, a man who came along wasgoing to crush him underfoot, but Mother Carey whispered, "No, don't doit. " So the man let him live, but roughly kicked the worm aside, andbruised him fearfully. Then came Mother Carey and said: "Well, little ugly worm! Is your spiritstrong, or angry?" The worm said bravely, though feebly: "Mother, Mother Carey, I am tryingto be strong. I want to win. " The breezes were losing their gentle warmth when Mother Carey came tohim one day, and said: "Little one, your trial has been long, but it isnearly over. "Prepare to sleep now, my little horny one, you have fought a bravefight; your reward is coming. Because your soul has been made beautifulby your suffering, I will give you a body blazing with such beauty asshall make all stand in adoration when you pass. " Then Mother Earthsaid, "Our little one shall have extra care because he has had extratrials. " So the tired little Horn-devil did not even have to makehimself a hammock, for Mother Earth received him and he snuggled intoher bosom. As Mother Carey waved her wand, he dropped off asleep. And heslept for two hundred days. Then came the great Awakening Day, the resurrection day of the woods. Many new birds arrived. Many new flowers appeared. Sleepers woke fromunderground, as Mother Carey's silent trumpeters went bugling ahead ofher, and her winged horse, the Warm Wind, came sweeping across themeadows, with the white world greening as he came. The bundle-baby of the Horn-devil woke up. He was cramped and sleepy, but soon awake. Then he knew that he was a prisoner, bound up in silkencords of strength. But new powers were his now, he was able to break thecords and crawl out of his hole. He put up his feelers to find thosehorrible horns, but they were gone, and his devil form fell off him likea mask. He had wings, jewelled wings! on his back now. Out he came tofluff the newfound wings awhile, and when they were spread and supple heflew into the joyful night, one of the noblest of all the things thatfly, gorgeous in gold and velvet, body and wings; filled with the joy oflife and flight, he went careering through the soft splendour of thecoming night. And as he flew, he glimpsed a radiant form ahead, a beinglike himself, with wings of velvet and gold. At first he thought it wasthe Princess of the Hickory Tree, but now his eyes were perfect, and hecould see that this was a younger and more beautiful Spangled Princessthan the one of his bygone life, and all his heart was filled with theblazing fire of love. Fearlessly now he flew to overtake her; for wasshe not of his own kind? She sped away, very fast at first, but maybeshe did not go as fast as she could, for soon he was sailing by herside. At first she turned away a little, but she was not cross orfrightened now. She was indeed inclined to play and tease. Then in theirown language, he asked her to marry him, and in their own language shesaid, "yes. " Away they flew and flew on their wedding flight, high inthe trees in the purple night, glorious in velvet and gold, more happythan these printed words can tell. The wise men who saw them said, "There go the Royal Citheronia and hisbride. " And Mother Carey smiled as she saw their bliss, and rememberedthe Hickory Horn-devil. FOOTNOTE: [B] Let the Guide illustrate with some local measure. THINGS TO SEE IN AUTUMNTIME [Illustration: The Purple and Gold of Autumn] Things to See in Autumntime TALE 38 The Purple and Gold of Autumn There was once an old gentleman named Father Time, and he had fourbeautiful daughters. The eldest was called Winter Time. She was tall and pale. She dressedchiefly in white wool trimmed with wonderful lacework. She was muchadmired by some, but others considered her very cold and distant. Andmost agreed that she was the least winsome of the sisters. The second one was called Spring Time, and she was dressed in beautifulgolden-green satin. She had a gentle, sunny disposition; some thoughther the loveliest. The third was Summer Time, and her robe was dark-green velvet. She waswarm-hearted and most attractive, full of life and energy, and as unlikethe eldest sister as possible. The youngest was Autumn Time. She certainly was a wonderful creature, with red rosy cheeks, plump form, and riotous good spirits. Her robeswere gorgeous and a little extravagant, for she wore a new one everyday, and of all that she had, the one that she loved the best and worethe latest was of purple and gold. We can go out in October and see thepurple and gold, and gather some scraps of the robe, for it is on everywayside and every hillside. TALE 39 Why the Chicadee Goes Crazy Twice a Year A long time ago, when it was always summer in our woods, the Chicadeeslived merrily with their cousins, and frolicked the whole year round. But one day Mother Carey sent the small birds a warning that they mustmove to the South, when the leaves fell from the trees, for hard frostand snow were coming, and maybe starvation too. All the cousins of the Chicadees listened to the warning and got readyto go; but Tomtit, their leader, only laughed and turned a dozen wheelsaround a twig that served him for a bar. "Go to the South?" said he. "Not I; I am too happy here; and as forfrost and snow, I never saw any, and I don't believe there are suchthings. " Very soon the leaves fell from the trees and the Nut-hatches and theKing-wrens were so busy getting ready to go that the Chicadees left offplay for a minute, to ask questions. They were not pleased with theanswer they got, for the messenger had said that all of them were totake a long, long journey that would last for days, and the littleKing-wrens had actually to go as far as the Gulf of Mexico. Besides, they were to fly by night, to avoid their enemies, the Hawks, and theweather at this season was sure to be stormy. So the Chicadees said itwas all nonsense, and went off, singing and chasing one another throughthe woods, led by Tomtit singing a new song in which he made fun of thetravellers. Tom Tom Tiddy-Mouse! Hid away in our house, Hid his brother in the cellar, Wasn't he a silly feller? But their cousins were quite serious. They picked out wise leaders andformed themselves into bands. They learned that they must follow theirleader, they must twitter as they flew in the darkness, so as to letthose behind know where\he leaders were; they must follow the greatrivers southward; they must wait for a full moon before starting, andnever travel by day. The noisy, rollicking Chicadees continued to make fun of their cousinsas they saw them now gathering in the woods along the river; and atlength, when the moon was big, bright, and full, the cousins arose tothe call of the leaders and all flew away in the gloom. The Chicadeessaid that all the cousins were crazy, made some good jokes about theGulf of Mexico, and then dashed away on their favourite game of tag andtumble through the woods, which, however, did seem rather quiet now, andbare of leaves; while the weather, too, was certainly turninguncomfortably cool. At length the frost and snow really did come, and the Chicadees were ina bad way. Indeed, they were frightened out of their wits, and dashedhither and thither, seeking in vain for some one to set them aright onthe way to the warm land. They flew wildly about the woods, till theywere truly crazy. I suppose there was not a squirrel-hole or a hollowlog in the neighbourhood that some Chicadee did not enter to inquire ifthis was the Gulf of Mexico. But no one could tell anything about it, noone was going that way, and the great river was hidden under ice andsnow. About this time a messenger from Mother Carey was passing with a messageto the Caribou in the Far North; but all he could tell the Chicadees wasthat he could not be their guide, as he had other business. "Besides, "he said, "you had the same notice as your cousins whom you called'crazy. ' And from what I know of Mother Carey, you will probably have tostick it out here all through the snow, not only now, but in everywinter after this; so you may as well make the best of it. " This was sad news for the Chicadee Tomtits; but they were brave littlefellows, and seeing they could not help themselves, they went aboutmaking the best of it. Before a week had gone by they were in theirusual good spirits again, scrambling about the snowy twigs, or chasingone another as before. They were glad to remember now that Mother Carey said that winter wouldend. They told each other about it so much that even at its beginning, when a fresh blizzard came on, they would gleefully remark to oneanother that it was a "sign of spring, " and one or another of the flockwould lift his voice in the sweet little chant that we all know so well: [Illustration: Spring soon] Another would take it up and answer back: [Illustration: Spring com-ing] and they would keep on repeating the song until the dreary woods rangagain with the good news, and the wood-people learned to love the bravelittle bird that sets his face so cheerfully, to meet so hard a case. And winter did end. Spring did come at last. And the sign of its comingwas when the ice broke on the stream and the pussy willow came purringout above it. The air was full of the good news. The Chicadees felt it, and knew it through and through. They went mad with joy, chasing eachother round and round the trees and through the hollow logs, shouting"The spring is here, the spring is here, Hurree, Hurree, Hurree, " and inanother week their joyous lives were going on as before the troublecame. But to this day, when the chill wind blows through the deserted woods, the Chicadees seem to lose their wits for a few days, and dart into allsorts of queer places. They may then be found in great cities, or openprairies, cellars, chimneys, and hollow logs; and the next time you findone of the wanderers in any out-of-the-way corner, be sure to rememberthat the Chicadee goes crazy twice a year, in the fall and in thespring, and probably went into his strange hole or town in search of theGulf of Mexico. TALE 40 The Story of the Quaking Aspen or Poplar The leaf of the Quaking Asp is like the one marked "a" in the drawing. Its trunk is smooth, greenish, or whitish, with black knots of bark like"c". All the farmers know it as Popple, or White Poplar; but the hunterscall it Quaking Asp or Aspen. [Illustration: The Story of the Quaking Aspen] The name "quaking" was given because it is for ever shaking its leaves;the slightest wind sets them all rustling. They move so easily becauseeach leaf-stem is like a thin, flat strap set on edge; while theleaf-stem of such as the oak is nearly round and scarcely rustles atall. Why does the Quaking Asp do this? No doubt, because it lives inplaces where the hot dust falls thick on the leaves at times, and if itdid not have some trick of shaking it off, the leaf would be choked andbent so that the tree could scarcely breathe; for the leaves are thelungs of the trees. So remember, when the Poplar rustles loudly, it iscoughing to clear its lungs of the dust. Some trees try to hide their troubles, and quickly cover up theirwounds; but the Aspen has a very touchy skin and, once it is wounded, itshows the scar as long as it lives. We can, therefore, go to any Aspentree, and have it tell us the story of its life. Here is the picture ofone. The black marks at the forks (c) are scars of growth; the belts ofdots (d) were wounds given by a sapsucker to rob it of its sap; the flatplaces (e) show where a Red Squirrel gnawed off the outer bark. If a Raccoon climbed the tree (f), or an insect bored into the trunk, weare sure to see a record of it in this sensitive bark. Now, last of all, the paper on which this story is printed was likelymade out of Aspen wood. TALE 41 The Witch-hazel [Illustration: Witch-hazel] These are the things to make you remember the Witch-hazel; its forkedtwig was used--nay, still is used--as a magic rod to show where there isrunning water underground; that is, where it is possible to find waterby sinking a well. Its nuts are explosive, and go off with a _snap_, shooting the seeds that are inside, ten or twenty feet away, when thecold dry days of autumn come. Third, its curious golden-thread flowersappear in the fall. As Cracked Jimmy used to sing:- Witch-hazel blossoms in the fall, To cure the chills and fevers all. --_Two Little Savages. _ On November 16, 1919, after a sharp frost, I went out in the morning toget some Witch-hazel flowers for this drawing, and found them bloomingaway in the cold air, vigorously as ever. Imagine a flower that canbloom while it is freezing. In the drawing I have shown the flower, likea 4-lipped cup with four yellow snakes coiling out of it. But these are not the deadly snakes one hears about. They are rathersymbols of old Æsculapius, the famous healer of the long ago, whoseemblem was the cup of life with curling snakes of wisdom about it. Inthe Witch-hazel has been found a soothing balm for many an ache andpain. The Witch-hazel you buy in the drugstores, is made out of the barkof this tree. If you chew one of the little branches you will know it bythe taste. Near the top is a flower that is finished, its snakes have fled; and atthe top of all is a bud for next year. That is, they are--_is_, _has-been_ and _going-to-be_. The nuts are shown in the corner. Note, last of all, that it is a sociable little tree; it always goeswith a crowd. There are generally three or four Witch-hazels from oneroot, and there is always a family of cousins not far away. TALE 42 How the Shad Came and How the Chestnut Got Its Burrs In the woods of Poconic there once roamed a very discontented Porcupine. She was forever fretting. She complained that everything was wrong, tillit was perfectly scandalous, and Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, gettingtired of her grumbling, said: "You and the world I have made don't seem to fit; one or the other mustbe wrong. It is easier to change you. You don't like the trees, you areunhappy on the ground, and think everything is upside down, thereforeI'll turn you inside out, and put you in the water. " And so thePorcupine was turned into a new creature, a fish, called the Shad. Thatis why he is so full of little sharp bones. Then after the old Porcupine had been turned into a Shad, the young onesmissed their mother, and crawled up into a high Chestnut tree to lookfor her coming. Wahkonda happened to pass that way, and they allchattered their teeth at him, thinking themselves safe. They were notwicked, but at heart quite good, only badly brought up; oh, soill-trained, and some of them chattered and groaned as Wahkonda camenearer. Then Wahkonda was sorry for them, remembering that he had takentheir mother from them, and said: "You look very well up there, youlittle Porkys, so you had better stay there for always, and be part ofthe Chestnut tree. " And he touched each one with his magic wand andturned it into a burr that grew tight to the tree. That is how it cameabout. There they hang like a lot of little Porcupines on the twigs ofthe tree. They are spiney and dangerous, utterly without manners, andyet most of them have a good little heart inside. TALE 43 How the Littlest Owl Came After the Great Spirit had made the world and the creatures in it, hemade the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo. This was like an Owl, but bigger thananything else alive, and his voice was like a river plunging over arocky ledge. He was so big that he thought he had done it all himself, and he became puffed up. He forgot the Great Spirit, who decided toteach him a lesson in this wise: He called the Blue-jay, the mischief-maker of the woods, and told himwhat to do. Away went the Blue-jay to the mountain at the top of whichwas the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo making thunder in his throat. The Blue-jayflew up to his ear, and said: "Pooh, Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, you don't callthat a big noise! You should hear Niagara; then you would never twitteragain. " The Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo was so mad at hearing his big wonderful songcalled a twitter, that he said: "Niagara, Niagara! I'm sick of hearingabout Niagara. I will go and silence Niagara with my voice. " So he flewto Niagara while the Blue-jay snickered and followed to see the fun. Now when Niagara Falls was made the Great Spirit said to it, "Flow onfor ever. " That last word of the Great Spirit it took up as it rushedon, and never ceases to thunder out "For ever! For ever! For ever!" When they came to Niagara the mighty cataract, the Blue-jay said, "Now, Gitchee, you can beat that I am sure. " So Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo beganbawling to drown the noise of it, but could not make himself heard. "Wa-wa-wa, " said the Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo, with great effort and only fora few heart beats. "_For ever, For ever, For ever_, " thundered the river, steadily, easily, ceaselessly. "Wa-wa-wa--!" shrieked Gitchee O-kok-o-hoo; but his voice was so utterlylost that he could not hear it himself, and he began to feel small, andsmaller; and as he began to feel small, a strange thing happened--hebegan to get small and smaller, until he was no bigger than a Sparrow;and his voice, instead of being like a great cataract, became like thedropping of water, just a little Tink-tank-tink, Tink-tank-tink. And this is why the Indians give to this smallest of the Owls the nameof "The Water-dropping Bird, " who was once the greatest of allcreatures, but is now shrunk to be the littlest of the Owls, because hebecame proud and forgot the Great Spirit. TALE 44 The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts Once upon a time there was a rich boy, who knew all about the city, andnothing about the woods. He went for an outing into the wilderness, andgot lost. He wandered all day until he was very tired and hungry. Thesun was low when he came to a little pathway. He followed it, and it ledto a small log cabin. When he knocked, an old woman opened the door. Hesaid, "Please, Ma'am, I am lost and very hungry, will you give mesomething to eat?" [Illustration: The Wood-witch and the Bog-nuts] The old woman looked sharply at his clothes, and knew that he wasrich, so she said: "Poor people are wise, they can take care ofthemselves in the woods. They don't get lost. But you rich people arefools, and I wish you would go away. " "I will, if you'll give me something to eat, " he answered. Then the old woman said: "Listen, foolish rich boy, in the woods besideyou right now is a friend who feeds the poor people, maybe she will feedyou. She is tall and slim, her eyes are brownish purple and her hair isgreen, and by this you may know her--she has five fingers on one handand seven on the other. Her house is in the brier thicket; she climbs tothe roof and stands there all day waving her hands, and shouting out inwood-talk, 'There are cocoanuts in my cellar. ' "Now go and find her, maybe she will feed you. She always feeds us poorfolks, " and the witch slammed the door. The boy was puzzled. As he stood in doubt, there was a loud noise, andhis friends arrived. They brought him the food and comfort that heneeded. Then he said: "I wish to know what that old wood-witch meant by the ladywith the purple eyes and green hair. " So he went again to the log cabinand knocked. When the old woman came, and saw a lot of people about, she wasfrightened for she knew she had been unkind. But the boy said: "NowGranny, you needn't be afraid, I want you to show me the friend that hasseven fingers and a cellar full of cocoanuts. " "I'll show you, if you promise to do me no harm, " she answered. "Of course, I'll promise, " replied the boy. Then Granny Wood-witch went hobbling to the nearest thicket and cackledout loud, as she pointed out a trailing vine that had sometimes fiveleaflets on a stalk and sometimes seven. "See, see, that's the lady. See seven fingers on that hand and five on this. Now follow her feetdown and dig in the ground. " They dug and found strings of lovely brown nuts as big as walnuts. "See, see, " chuckled the wood-witch. "See the cocoanuts in the cellar. " * * * * * Go forth and look for it, ye Woodcrafters. You will find it throughoutEastern America on the edge of every wood. Its flower is like apurple-brown sweet-pea, and is in bloom all summer long. Follow down itsvine, dig out a few of the potatoes or nuts, and try them, raw, boiled, or if ye wish to eat them as Indian Cake, clean them, cut them inslices, dry till hard, pound them up into meal, and make a cake the sameas you would of oatmeal. The wild things love them, the Indians love them, and this was the breadof the wood-witch. The books call it Bog Potato and Ground Nuts. It isthe third secret of the woods. TALE 45 The Mud-dauber Wasp If you look under the roof of any wooden barn in Eastern America you arelikely to see the nest of the common Mud-wasp. [Illustration: The Mud-dauber Wasp (life size)] If you look on warm sunny days along the edge of some mud puddle you aresure to see a curious steel-blue wasp, with a very thin waist, workingaway at a lump of mud. She seems to be breathing hard with her body, asshe works with her yellow legs, but she finally goes off laden with agob of mud. This is the Mud-wasp at work, building a strong mud-nest forher family. The nest is the one we have seen hung under the roof ofthe shed, always put where no rain can reach it. In the drawing are two of these nests. Once the cradle is ready, the mother Wasp goes spider-hunting. Whenevershe can find a spider, she pounces on it, and with her sting, she stabsit in the body, so as to paralyze it, but not kill it. Then she carriesit to the mud cell and packs it in, at the far end. Many spiders arecaught and preserved this way, for they do not usually die though theycannot move. When the cell is full, the Wasp lays an egg on the last spider, andseals up the opening with a mud lid. Very soon the egg hatches out a little white grub which begins on thespider next to him, eating the legs first, and the body last, so as tokeep it alive as long as possible, though of course the spider has nofeeling. Then he eats the next spider, and the next, growing as he eats, until he nearly fills the cell, and the spiders are all eaten up. Now the grub goes to sleep, and next spring comes out as a full-grownMud-wasp to do exactly as the mother did, though it never saw thatMother or had a lesson from any one in the many strange things it mustdo to live. I went into my boat-house to-day, November 20, 1919, to get a mud nestfor this drawing. There were 86 on the roof; some of them with 20 or 30cells, and besides there was a lot of paper nests by other Wasps. Thenest I took had two cells, one open and empty, and the other with a mudlid on tight. This held a long, shiny brown transparent case, in whichwas a white grub much too small for the big coat he was wearing. Thegrub was sound asleep, and would have come out next spring, as a bigsteel-blue Mud-wasp had I let him alone. But there are plenty ofMud-wasps so I fed him to the Chicadees, which likely is what MotherCarey would have done. [Illustration: The Cicada and the Katydid (life size)] TALE 46 The Cicada and the Katydid Once upon a time, long, long ago, the birds whose job it was to make thewoods merry with their songs, decided to go on strike. They said, "Wehave sung all day, all springtime, and half way through the summer, butnow we are moulting, the weather is frightfully hot; we need a rest, andwe are going to stop singing, to take a holiday. " Then Dame Nature, who is sometimes called the All-mother, or MotherCarey, said: "Dear me, this will never do! No songbirds, woods silentall through the dog-days. Now who will be strike-breakers and volunteerto supply the music till the birds get once more in a good humour?" Then up at that question got a long-winged insect like a big fly, and along-legged insect like a green grasshopper, and both said at once, "Iwill. " Amid low murmurs of "Scab! Scab!" from many of the Wood-birds. "You. I forgot that you two had any voices at all!" said Mother Carey. Then the long-winged creature, whose name is Cicada, began, "True, myvoice isn't much, but I have invented a most successful musicalCastanet. Listen!" Then he began an extraordinary racket like an alarm clock, a threshingmachine, and a buzz-saw all going together. He filled the grove with hisnoise, and set all the woodfolk laughing with his funny performance. Though, of course, he didn't mean to be funny; he thought it was fine. Then as the Cicada ceased, Mother Carey said to the Green Hopper, whosename was Katy, "Now, Katy, what can you do?" "I do not brag of my voice, dear Mother, " said she, "but I am athrilling performer on the violin. " Then she humped herself up over a green fiddle that she had under hercloak, and nearly deafened them with its hoarse screechings. There was no doubt that these two could make as much noise as a woodfull of birds; both were eager to take sole charge, and a bitter disputearose as to whose idea it was first. But Mother Carey settled it by dividing the time. "You, " she said toCicada, "can take charge of the music by day, and you, " she said to theGreen one, "must take it up at sundown in place of the nightingale, andkeep it up, till the night breaks, and both of you continue till thefrost comes, or until the birds are back on the job. " That is how it all came about. But there is considerable feeling yet among the Katies, that they shouldget all the night work, and never be seen performing. They think thattheir ancestor was the original inventor of this cheap substitute forbird song. And it is made all the worse by a division among themselves. Some say "she did" and some say "she didn't. " If you notice in earlyAugust, they are nearly all shouting, "Katy-did. " Then by the end of themonth, "Katy-didn't" is stronger. In September it is still mixed. InOctober their work is over, the chorus ended, but you hear an occasional"Katy-did" and finally as late as Indian Summer, which is Hallowe'en, Ihave heard the last of the fiddlers rasp out "she did"; and do it indaytime, too, as though to flout the followers of Cicada. And, if thelast word be truth, as they say, we may consider it settled, that Katyreally and truly _did_. And yet I believe next year the same disputewill arise, and we shall have the noisy argument all over again. If you look at the portraits of Cicada, the Hotweather-bug or Locust, and of the Katydid, you will not see their musical instruments veryplainly, but believe me they have them; and you can hear them any latesummer hot-weather time, in any part of the Eastern States and someparts of southern Canada. And now let me finish with a secret. Katy is not a lady at all, but ahe-one disguised in green silk stockings, and a green satin dress. TALE 47 The Digger Wasp that Killed the Cicada Strange things are done in the realm of Mother Carey; strange things andcruel. At least so they seem to us, for we do not know the plan that isbehind them. We know only that sometimes love must be cruel. I am goingto tell you of a strange happening, that you may see any hot day inAugust. And this is how it came about. At that meeting in the woods when the Cicada and the Katydid undertookto be musicians, while the birds were on strike, there was one stronginsect who gave off an angry "_Bizz, Bizz_" that sounded like "_Scab, Scab_. " That was the big yellow-and-black Digger Wasp, the biggest ofthe wasps, with a sting that is as bad as that of a baby rattlesnake. And that very day she declared war on the Cicada and his kind. TheKatydids she could not touch, because the Wasp cannot see at night. But the Cicada was easy to find. As soon as the day got hot, and thatawful buzzing began in the trees, the Big Digger got her sting ready, and went booming along in the direction of the sound. [Illustration: The Digger Wasp (life size)] Now Mother Carey had given the Cicada bright eyes and strong wings, andit was his own business to take care of himself; but he was so pleasedwith his music that he never saw the fierce Digger Wasp, till shecharged on him. And before he could spread his wings, she had stabbedhim through. His song died away in a few shrieks, and then the Cicada lay still. Butnot dead, for the Digger had stuck her poison dagger into the nervecentre, so that he was paralyzed and helpless, but still living. Now the Digger set about a plan. She wanted to get that Cicada body intoher den, to feed her young ones with it. But the Cicada was bigger andheavier than she was, so that she could not carry it. However, she wasbent on doing it, she got all ready, took tight hold with her claws, then swooped from the tree, flying as strongly as she could, till theweight of the Cicada brought her to the ground within fifty feet, whilethe den was fully a hundred feet away. But the Wasp dragged the Cicadaup the trunk of another tree, then took another long sloping flight asbefore. One more climb and skid down, brought her to her den--a hole ina bank that she had dug out; that is why she is called the Digger Wasp. The passage was a foot long and had a crook in the middle. At the endwas a round room an inch and a half high. Here the Digger left hervictim's body and right on its breast, to one side, laid an egg. This hatched in two or three days, and began to feed on the Cicada. In aweek it had eaten the Cicada and grown to be a big fat grub. Then itspun a cocoon, and made itself into a bundle-baby, resting all autumnand all winter in that dark den. But when the spring came with its glorious wakening up, great changescame over the bundle-baby of the Digger. It threw off the cocoon and itsouter skin, and came forth from the gloom into the sunshine, a bigstrong Digger Wasp with a sting of its own, and a deadly feud with allscreaming Cicadas. Although it never saw its mother, or got any lessonsfrom her, it goes after the buzzing hotweather-bugs, when August comes, and treats them exactly as she did. TALE 48 How the Indian Summer Came Wahkonda, the Great Spirit, the Ruler of the World, had found pleasurethe whole summer long in making mountains, lakes, and forests. Then whenthe autumn came, and the leaves fell from the trees, He lighted His pipeand sat down to look over the things He had made. As He did so, the north wind arose for Cold Time was coming, and blewthe smoke and ashes of the pipe into His face. Then He said: "Cease yourblowing, all ye winds, until I have finished smoking. " So, of course, there was dead calm. Wahkonda smoked for ten days, and during all that time there were noclouds in the sky, for there was no wind to bring them; there wasunbroken, calm sunny weather. But neither was there any wind to carryoff the smoke, so it hung, as the teepee smoke hangs at sunrise, and itdrifted over the valleys and forests in a blue haze. Then at last when the Great Spirit finished His smoke and Hismeditation, He emptied out His pipe. That was the signal, the north windbroke loose, and came howling down from the hills, driving the leavesbefore it, and warning all wild things to be ready, for soon there wouldbe winter in the woods. And it hath been so ever since. When the leaves have fallen and beforeyet the Ice-king is here, there come, for a little while, the calmdreamy days, when the Great Spirit is smoking His pipe, and the smoke ison the land. The Red-men call them the Smoking Days, but we call itIndian Summer. THINGS TO SEE IN WINTERTIME [Illustration: The North Star or Home Star] Things to See in Wintertime TALE 49 The North Star, or the Home Star If you are going to be a Woodcrafter, you must begin by knowing theNorth Star, because that is the star which will show you the way home, if you get lost in the woods at night. That is why the Indians call itthe "Home Star. " But first, I must tell you how it came to be, and the story begins along, long time ago. In those far-off days, we are told, there were two wonderful hunters, one named Orion, and the other named Boötes (Bo-o-tees). Orion huntedeverything and I shall have to leave him for another story. Boötes wasan ox-driver and only hunted bears to save his cattle. One day he wentafter a Mother Bear, that had one little cub. [Illustration: The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back] He chased them up to the top of a mountain so high, that they leaped offinto the sky, and just as they were going, Boötes shot his arrows afterthem. His very first arrow hit the Little Bear in the tail--they hadlong tails in those days--and pinned him to the sky. There he has hungever since, swinging round and round, on the arrow in his tail, whilehis mother runs bawling around him, with Boötes and his dogs chasingher. He shot arrows into her tail, which was long and curved, into herbody, and into her shoulder. Seven big arrows he shot, and there theyare yet, in the form of a dipper pointing always to the cub who iscalled the "Little Bear. " The shining head of the big arrow in the endof the Little Bear's tail is called the North Star or Pole Star. You canalways tell which is the North Star, by the two Pointers; these are thetwo bright stars that make the outer side of the Dipper on the BigBear's shoulder. A line drawn through them, points out the North Star. The Dipper, that is the Big Bear, goes round and round the PoleStar, once in about twenty-four hours; so that sometimes the Pointers areover, sometimes under, to left or to right; but always pointing out thePole Star or North Star. This star shows nearly the true north; and, knowing that, a travellercan find his way in any strange country, so long as he can see thisfriendly Home Star. TALE 50 The Pappoose on the Squaw's Back Now that you know how the Bears and the Big Dipper came, you should knowthe Indian story of the Old Squaw. First find the bright star that is at the bend of the Dipper handle. This is called the "Old Squaw"; on her back is a tiny star that theycall "The Pappoose. " As soon as an Indian boy is old enough to understand, his mother takeshim out into the night when it is calm and clear, and without any moonor any bright lights near, and says, "My child, yonder is the Old Squaw, the second of the seven stars; she is going over the top of the hill; onher back she carries her pappoose. Tell me, my child, can you see thepappoose?" [Illustration: Orion Fighting the Bull] Then the little redskin gazes, and from his mother's hand he takes twopebbles, a big one and a little one, and he sets them together on herpalm, to show how the two stars seem to him. When the mother is surethat he did see them clearly, she rejoices. She goes to the fire anddrops a pinch of tobacco into it, for incense to carry her message, thenlooking toward the sky she says: "Great Spirit, I thank Thee that mychild has the eyes of a hunter. " * * * * * These things are not new, O Woodcrafter. The wise men of our race callthe Big Star "Mizar" one of the chariot horses, and the little star"Alcor" or the Rider. In all ages it has been considered proof offirst-class eyes, to see this little star. Can you see it? Have you theeyes of a hunter? TALE 51 Orion the Hunter, and His Fight With the Bull In the 49th Tale I told you there were two giants among the mightyhunters in the sky, Boötes, whose adventure with the Bears you havealready heard, and Orion. (O-ry´-on). Orion was the most famous of all. In his day men had no guns; they hadnothing but clubs, spears, and arrows to fight with, and the beasts werevery big and fierce as well as plentiful, yet Orion went whenever he wasneeded, armed chiefly with his club, fought the wild beasts, all alone, killing them or driving them out, and saving the people, for the joy ofdoing it. Once he killed a lion with his club, and ever afterward worethe lion's skin on his arm. Bears were as nothing to him; he killed themas easily as most hunters would rabbits, but he found his match, when hewent after a ferocious wild Bull as big as a young elephant. As soon as the Bull saw him, it came rushing at him. It happened to beon the other side of a stream, and as it plunged in, Orion drew his bowand fired seven quick shots at the Bull's heart. But the monster wascoming head on, and the seven arrows all stuck in its shoulder, makingit madder than ever. So Orion waved his lion skin in his left hand, andwith his club in the right, ran to meet the Bull, as it was scramblingup the bank from the water. The first whack of the club tumbled the Bull back into the water, but itturned aside, went to another place, and charged again. And again Orionlanded a fearful blow with the club on the monster's curly forehead. By this time, all the animals had gathered around to see the big fight, and the gods in heaven got so interested that they shouted out, "Holdon, that is good enough for us to see. Come up here. " So they moved the mighty Hunter and the Bull, and the River and all theanimals, up to heaven, and the fight has gone on there ever since. In the picture I have shown a lot of animals besides Orion and the Bull, but the only things I want you to look now in the sky, are Orion's beltwith the three stars on it, and the Pleiades on the Bull's shoulder, theseven spots where the seven arrows struck. And remember these stars cannot be seen in summer, they pass over us inwinter time. You can find Orion by drawing a straight line across therim of the Dipper, beginning at the inner or handle side, passingthrough the outer or Pointers side, and continued for twice the lengthof the Dipper, handle and all, this will bring you to Betelgeuze, thebig star in the Giant's right shoulder, below that are the three starsof his belt, sometimes called the "Three Kings. " TALE 52 The Pleiades, that Orion Fired at the Bull [Illustration: The Pleiades] When late autumn comes the Pleiades (Ply'-a-dees) appear in the eveningsky to the eastward. These are the seven shots in the Bull's shoulder, the seven arrows from Orion's bow. The Guide can locate them bycontinuing the line of Orion's belt, eight times the length of the beltto the right, as one faces the Hunter, so Orion must have been veryclose indeed. At first they look like a faint light with a few brightpin-points scattered through. Tennyson described them as: Glittering like a swarm of fireflies Tangled in a silver braid. The best time to see them is some clear night about Christmas, whenthere is no moon, and the Pleiades are nearly overhead, above the mistand smoke of the horizon, and there are no electric lights near by. Study them attentively. Make a tube of your two hands and look through. Look on the ground, then look back again; look not straight at them, buta little to one side; and at last, mark down on paper how many you canclearly see, putting a big spot for the big one, and little spots forthe little ones. Poor eyes see nothing but a haze; fairly good eyes seefour of the pin-points; good eyes see five; the best of eyes see seven. I can see seven on a clear winter night when there are no clouds and nomoon. This is as high as you need expect to get, although it is saidthat some men in clear air on a mountain top have seen ten, while thetelescope shows that there are 2, 000. In taking these eyesight tests you may use your spectacles if youusually wear them. TALE 53 The Twin Stars Two-Bright-Eyes went wandering out To chase the Whippoorwill; Two-Bright-Eyes got lost and left Our teepee--oh, so still! Two-Bright-Eyes was carried up To sparkle in the skies And look like stars--but we know well That that's our lost Bright-Eyes. She is looking for the camp, She would come back if she could; She still peeps thro' the tree-tops For the teepee in the wood. TALE 54 Stoutheart and His Black Cravat Do you know the bird that wears a black cravat, which he changes once ayear? It is the English Sparrow, the commonest of all our birds. Hishair is gray, but he must have been red-headed once, for just back ofhis ears there is still a band of red; and his collar, maybe, was whiteonce, but it is very dingy now. His shirt and vest are gray; his coat isbrown with black streaks--a sort of sporting tweed. The new cravat comeswhen the new feathers grow in late summer; and, at first, it is barredwith gray as if in half mourning for his sins. As the gray tips wearoff, it becomes solid black; that is, in March or April. In summer, itgets rusty and worn out; so every year he puts on a new one in lateAugust. The hen sparrow is quite different and wears no cravat. She has ablack-and-brown cape of the sporting pattern, but her dress iseverywhere of brownish Quaker gray. The song of the English Sparrow is loud and short; but he tries to makeup, by singing it over and over again, for many minutes. He eats many bad bugs, and would be well liked, if he did not steal thenests and the food of Bluebirds, Woodpeckers, Swallows, and others thatare prettier and more useful birds, as well as far better singers thanhe is. But there is much to admire in the Sparrow. I do not know of any birdthat is braver, or more ready to find a way out of trouble; and if hecannot find a way, he cheerfully makes the best of it. Some years ago I was at Duluth during a bitterly cold spell of weather. The thermometer registered 20° or 30° below zero, and the blizzard windwas blowing. Oh my, it was cold. But out in the street were dozens ofEnglish Sparrows chirruping and feeding; thriving just as they do inwarmer lands and in fine weather. When black night came down, colder yet, I wondered what the littlestout-hearts would do. Crawl into some hole or bird-house, maybe? ordive into a snowdrift? as many native birds do. I found out; and the answer was most unexpected. In front of the hotel was a long row of electric lights. At nineo'clock, when I chanced to open the window for a breath of air, my eyefell on these; on every bulb was an English Sparrow sound asleep withthe overarching reflector to turn the storm, and the electric bulb belowhim to warm his toes. My hat is off. Our Department of Agriculture maydeclare war on the Sparrow; but what is the use? Don't you think that acreature who is not afraid of blizzard or darkness, and knows how to useelectric lights, is going to win its life-battle, and that he surely ishere to stay? TALE 55 Tracks, and the Stories They Tell [Illustration: Tracks, and the Stories They Tell] Sometimes, in town, just after rain, when the gutters are wet, and thepavement dry, look for the tracks of some Dog that walked with wetfeet on the pavement. You will find that they are like "a" in thedrawing. A Dog has five toes on his front feet, but only four touch thepavement as he walks. The claws also touch, and make each a little mark. Now look for the track of a Cat; it is somewhat like that of the Dog, but it is smaller, softer, and the claws do not show (b). They are toogood to be wasted on a pavement; she keeps them pulled in, so they aresharp when she has use for them. Make a drawing of each of these, and make it life size. When there is dust on the road, or snow, look for Sparrow tracks; theyare like "c. " Note how close together the front three toes are. The inner two arereally fast together, so they cannot be separated far and the hind toeis very large. Last of all, note that the tracks go two and two, becausethe Sparrow goes "hop hop, hop. " These things mean that the Sparrow isreally a tree bird; and you will see that, though often on the ground hegets up into a tree when he wishes to feel safe. Look for some Chicken tracks in the dust; they are like "d" in thedrawing because the Chicken does not go "hop, hop, hop" like theSparrow, but "walk, walk, walk. " The Chicken is a ground bird. Most ofthe song birds hop like the Sparrow, and most of the game birds walklike a Chicken. But the Robin (e) goes sometimes hopping and sometimesrunning, because part of his life is in the trees, and part on theground. TALE 56 A Rabbit's Story of His Life, Written by Himself Yes, the Rabbit wrote it himself and about himself in the oldest writingon earth, that is the tracks of his feet. [Illustration: A WOODCRAFT TRAGEDY As shown by the Tracks and Signs in the Snow] In February of 1885, one morning after a light snowfall, I went trampingthrough the woods north of Toronto, when I came on something that alwaysmakes me stop and look--the fresh tracks of an animal. This was thetrack of a Cottontail Rabbit and I followed its windings with thrills ofinterest. There it began under a little brush pile (a); the bed of brownleaves showing that he settled there, before the snow-fall began. Nowhere (b) he leaped out after the snow ceased, for the tracks are sharp, and sat looking around. See the two long marks of his hind feet and infront the two smaller prints of his front feet; behind is the mark madeby his tail, showing that he was sitting on it. Then he had taken alarm at something and dashed off at speed (c), fornow his hind feet are tracking ahead of the front feet, as in mostbounding forefoots, and the faster he goes, the farther ahead those hindfeet get. See now how he dodged about here and there, this way and that, among thetrees, as though trying to escape some dreaded enemy (c, d, e, f). But what enemy? There are no other tracks, and still the wild jumpingwent on. I began to think that the Rabbit was crazy, flying from an imaginaryfoe; possibly that I was on the track of a March Hare. But at "g" Ifound on the trail for the first time a few drops of blood. That told methat the Rabbit was in real danger but gave no clue to its source. At "h" I found more blood and at "j" I got a new thrill, for there, plain enough on each side of the Rabbit track, were finger-like marks, and the truth dawned on me that these were the prints of great wings. The Rabbit was fleeing from an eagle, a hawk, or an owl. Some twentyyards farther "k" I found in the snow the remains of the luckless Rabbitpartly devoured. Then I knew that the eagle had not done it, for hewould have taken the Rabbit's body away, not eaten him up there. So itmust have been a hawk or an owl. I looked for something to tell mewhich, and I got it. Right by the Rabbit's remains was the largetwin-toed track (l) that told me that an owl had been there, and thattherefore he was the criminal. Had it been a hawk the mark would havebeen as shown in the left lower corner, three toes forward and one back, whereas the owl usually sets his foot with two toes forward and twobackward, as in the sketch. This, then, I felt sure was the work of anowl. But which owl? There were two, maybe three kinds in that valley. Iwished to know exactly and, looking for further evidence, I found on asapling near by a big soft, downy, owlish feather (m) with three brownbars across it; which told me plainly that a Barred Owl or Hoot Owl hadbeen there recently, and that he was almost certainly the killer of theCottontail. This may sound like a story of Sherlock Holmes among the animals--aflimsy tale of circumstantial evidence. But while I was making my notes, what should come flying through the woods but the Owl himself, back tomake another meal, no doubt. He alighted on a branch just above my head, barely ten feet up, and there gave me the best of proof, next to eyewitness of the deed, that all I had gathered from the tracks and signsin the snow was quite true. I had no camera in those days, but had my sketch book, and as he sat, Imade a drawing which hangs to-day among my pictures that are beyondprice. Here, then, is a chapter of wild life which no man saw, which man couldnot have seen, for the presence of a man would have prevented it. Andyet we know it was true, for it was written by the Rabbit himself. If you have the seeing eye, you will be able to read many strange andthrilling happenings written for you thus in the snow, the mud, and eventhe sand and the dust. TALE 57 The Singing Hawk Listen, Guide and young folk, I want to add another bird to your listto-day; another secret of the woods to your learning. I want you to know the Singing Hawk. Our nature writers nearly alwaysmake their hawks scream, but I want you to know a wonderful Hawk, rightin your own woods, that really and truly sings, and loves to do it. It is a long time ago since I first met him. I was going past a littleravine north of Toronto, on a bright warm mid-winter day, when a loudcall came ringing down the valley and the bird that made it, a largehawk, appeared, sailing and singing, _kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-ye-o, ky-ye-o, ky-oodle, ky-oodle, kee-o, kee-o_ and on; over andover again, in a wild-wood tone that thrilled me. He sailed with setwings to a near-by tree, and ceased not his stirring call; there was noanswer from the woods, but there was a vibrant response in my heart. Itmoved me through and through. How could it do so much, when it was sosimple? I did not know how to tell it in words, but I felt it in myboyish soul. It expressed all the wild-wood life and spirit, the joy ofliving, the happy brightness of the day, the thrill of the comingspring, the glory of flight; all, all it seemed to voice in its simpleringing, "_kee-o, kee-o, kee-o, kee-yi-o_"; never before had I seen abird so evidently rejoicing in his flight; then singing, it sailed awayfrom sight; but the song has lingered ever since in the blessed part ofmy memory. I often heard it afterward, and many times caught theBlue-jay in a feeble imitation of its trumpet note. I never forgot theexact timbre of that woodland call; so when at length, long after, Itraced it to what is known in books as the "Red-shouldered Hawk, " it wasa little triumph and a little disappointment. The books made it all socommonplace. They say it has a loud call like "kee-o"; but they do notsay that it has a bugle note that can stir your very soul if you lovethe wild things, and voices more than any other thing on wings the gloryof flight, the blessedness of being alive. To-day, as I write, is December 2, 1917; and this morning as I walked inmy homeland, a sailing, splendid hawk came pouring out the old refrain, "_kee-yi-o, kee-yi-o, kee-oh_. " Oh, it was glorious! I felt littleprickles in the roots of my hair as he went over; and I rejoiced aboveall things to realize that he sang just as well as, yes maybe a littlebetter than that first one did, that I heard in the winter woods someforty years ago. TALE 58 The Fingerboard Goldenrod "Oh, Mother Carey! All-mother! Lover of us little plants as well as thebig trees! Listen to us little slender Goldenrods. "We want to be famous, Mother Carey, but our stems are so little and ourgold is so small, that we cannot count in the great golden show ofautumn, for that is the glory of our tall cousins. They do not need us, and they do not want us. Won't you give us a little job all our own, ourvery own, for we long to be doing something?" [Illustration: The Compass Goldenrod Pointing Toward the North] Then Mother Carey smiled so softly and sweetly and said: "Little slenderGoldenrods, I am going to give you something to do that will win yougreat honour among all who understand. In the thick woods the moss onthe trunk shows the north side; when the tree is alone and in the open, the north side is known by its few branches; but on the open prairie, there is no plant that stands up like a finger post to point the northfor travellers, while the sun is hid. " "This, then do, little slender Goldenrods; face the noon sun, and as youstand, throw back your heads proudly, for you are in service now. Throwback your heads till your golden plumes are pointing backward to thenorth--so shall you have an honourable calling and travellers will beglad that I have made you a fingerboard on the plains. " So the slender Goldenrod and his brothers rejoiced and they stood upstraight, facing the noon sun, and bent backward, throwing out theirchests till their golden caps and plumes were pointed to the north. And many a traveller, on cloudy days and dark nights, has been cheeredby the sight of the Compass Goldenrod, pointing to the north and helpinghim to get home. This does not mean that every one of them points to the north all thetime. They do their best but there are always some a little wrong. Yetyou can tell the direction at night or on dark days if you look at a bedof them that grew out in full sunlight. "Yon is the north, " they keep on singing, all summer long, and even whenwinter comes to kill the plant, and end its bloom, the brave littlestalk stands up there, in snow to its waist, bravely pointing out thenorth, to those who have learned its secret. And not only in winterstorms, but I have even found them still on guard after the battle, whenthe snow melted in springtime. Once when I was a boy, I found a wholebank of them by a fence, when the snow went off in April, and I wrotein their honour this verse: Some of them bowed are, and broken And battered and lying low But the few that are left stand like spearmen staunch Each pointing his pike at the foe. TALE 59 Woodchuck Day, February Second Sixth Secret of the Woods [Illustration: WOODCHUCK DAY: COLD WEATHER "To be, or not to be"] It was Monapini that told Ruth Pilgrim, and Ruth Pilgrim told the littlePilgrims, and the little Pilgrims told the little Dutchmen, and thelittle Dutchmen told it to all the little Rumours, and the grandchild ofone of these little Rumours told it to me, so you see I have it straightand on good authority, this Sixth Secret of the Woods. The story runs that every year the wise Woodchuck retires to sleep inhis cozy home off the subway that he made, when the leaves begin tofall, and he has heard the warning. Mother Carey has sung the death-songof the red leaves; sung in a soft voice that yet reaches the farthesthills: "Gone are the summer birds. Hide, hide, ye slow-foots. Hide, for the blizzard comes. " And Mother Earth, who is Maka Ina, cries to her own: "Come, hide in mybosom, my little ones. " And the wise Woodchuck waits not till theblizzard comes, but hides while he may make good housing, and sleeps forthree long moons. But ever on the second sun of the Hunger-moon (and this is the SixthSecret) he rouses up and ventures forth. And if so be that the sun isin the sky, and the snow on the bosom of his Mother Earth, so that hisshadow shall appear on it, he goeth back to sleep again for one and ahalf moons more--for six long weeks. But if the sky be dark with cloudsand the earth all bared of snow so that no shadow shows, he says, "Theblizzard time is over, there is food when the ground is bare, " and endshis sleep. This is the tale and this much I know is true: In the North, if heventure forth on Woodchuck Day, he sees both sun and snow, so sleepsagain; in the South there is no snow that day, and he sleeps no more;and in the land between, he sleeps in a cold winter, and in an openwinter rouses to live his life. These things I have seen, and they fit with the story of Monapini, soyou see the little Rumour told me true. THINGS TO KNOW [Illustration: How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story] Things to Know TALE 60 How the Pine Tree Tells Its Own Story Suppose you are in the woods, and your woods in Canada, or the NorthernStates; you would see at once two kinds of trees: Pines and Hardwoods. Pines, or Evergreens, have leaves like needles, and are green all theyear round; they bear cones and have soft wood. The Hardwoods, or Broadleaves, sometimes called Shedders, have broadleaves that are shed in the fall; they bear nuts or berries and havehard wood. Remember this, every tree that grows has flowers and seeds; and the treecan always be told by its seeds, that is, its fruit. If you find a treewith cones on it, you know it belongs to the Pine family. If you findone with broad leaves and nuts or berries, it belongs to theHardwoods. [C] Of these the Pines always seem to me more interesting. * * * * * In September, 1002, I had a good chance to study Pine trees in themountains of Idaho. There was a small one that had to be cut down, so Imade careful drawings of it. It was fourteen years old, and across thestump it showed one ring of wood for each year of growth, and a circleof branches on the trunk for each year. Notice that between thebranches, the trunk did _not_ taper; it was an even cylinder, but gotsuddenly smaller at each knot by the same amount of wood as was neededby those branches for their wood. If we begin in the centre of the stump, and at the bottom of the trunk, we find that the little tree tells us its own story of its life andtroubles. Its first year, judging by the bottom section of the trunk(No. 1) and by the inmost ring, was just ordinary. Next year accordingto section 2 and ring 2, it had a fine season and grew nearly twice asmuch as the first year. The third year the baby Pine had a very hardtime, and nearly died. Maybe it was a dry summer, so the little treegrew only 2-1/2 inches higher while the ring of wood it added was nothicker than a sheet of paper. Next year, the fourth, it did better. Andthe next was about its best year, for it grew 7-1/2 inches higher, andput on a fine fat ring of wood, as you see. In its eleventh year, it had some new troubles; either the season wasdry, or the trees about too shady, or maybe disease attacked it. For itgrew but a poor shoot on the top, and the ring of wood on the stump isabout the thinnest of all. Of course, a saw-cut along the second joint showed but thirteen rings, and the third but twelve while one through the top joint, the one whichgrew this year, showed but a single ring. Thus the Pine tree has in itself a record of its whole life; and this iseasy to read when the tree is small; but in later life the lower limbsdisappear, and the only complete record is in the rings of growth thatshow on the stump. These never fail to tell the truth. Of course, you are not to go around cutting down trees merely to counttheir rings and read their history, but you should look at the ringswhenever a new stump gives you a good chance. Then Hardwoods as well asPines will spread before you the chapters of their life; one ring foreach year that they have lived. TALE 61 Blazes All hunters and Indians have signs to let their people know the way. Some of these signs are on trees, and are called "Blazes. " One of thosemuch used is a little piece of bark chipped off to show the white wood;it means: "This is the way, or the place. " Another sign is like anarrow, and means: "Over there, " or "Go in that direction. " No matterwhat language they speak, the blazes tell everyone alike. So a blaze isa simple mark that tells us something without using words or letters, and it depends on where it is placed for part of its meaning. On the following page are some blazes used in our towns to-day. You willfind many more if you look, some in books; some on the adjoining page. TALE 62 Totems[D] [Illustration: BLAZES. ] A Totem is a simple form used as the emblem or symbol of a man, a groupof men, an animal, or an idea; it does not use or refer to words orletters, so it is the same in all languages. Unlike the blaze it doesnot depend on its position for part of its meaning. [Illustration: Some well known TOTEMS] Among peoples that cannot read or write, each leading man had a Totemthat he used, instead of writing his name. He put this mark on hisproperty, and at length put it on his shield and armour to distinguishhim in battle. Out of this grew heraldry. [Illustration: Indian Symbols] Modern trade-marks are Totems though often spoiled by words or lettersadded. The Totem continues in use because it is so easy to see a longway off, and can be understood by all, no matter what their language. Most of the great railway companies have a Totem and the use of suchthings is increasing to-day. Here in the drawing are some Totems seen daily in our towns. Doubtlessyou can add to the number. TALE 63 Symbols If you have thought much about it, O Guide! you will surely find that, for decoration, it is better to use a beautiful symbol of anything, rather than a good photograph of it. For the symbol lets the imaginationloose, and the other chains it to the ground; the one is the spirit, andthe other the corpse. These things you cannot tell to the little folks, but you can prove them to yourself, and you will see why I wish to givesome symbols here for use. There is another reason, one which you _can_ give to them. It is this:Only the highly trained artist can make a good portrait drawing, whilethe smallest child, if it sticks to symbols, is sure, in some degree, ofa pleasant success in its very first effort. These that I give, are copied from Indian art, and whether in colour, inraised modelling, or in black lines, can be used successfully todecorate anything that you are likely to make. [Illustration: Seventeen Gestures Currently Used in the Sign Language] TALE 64 Sign Language All men, especially wild men, and some animals have a language of signs. That is, they talk to each other without making any sounds; usinginstead, the movements of parts of the body. This is "eye talk, " whilewords are "ear talk. " Among the animals, horses bob their heads when they are hungry and pawwith a front foot when thirsty or eager to be off. Dogs wag their tailswhen pleased, and cows shake their heads when angry. Policemen, firemen, railway men, and others use signs because there istoo much noise to be heard. School children use signs because they arenot allowed to talk in school. Most children know the signs for "yes"and "no, " "come here, " "go away, " "hurry up, " "you can't touch me, ""hush!", "shame on you!", "up, " "down, " "word of honour, " "swimming, "etc. The traffic policeman is using signs all day long. By a movement of thehand he signals:--stop, go on, come here, hurry up, wait, turn around, go by, stay back, over there, you look out, right here, and one or twoothers. How many signs can you add to these two lists? TALE 65 The Language of Hens Yes; Hens talk somewhat as we do; only they haven't so many words, anddon't depend on them as we have to. There are only ten words in ordinary hen-talk. The _cluck, cluck_ of the mother means "Come along, kiddies. " The low _kawk_ of warning, usually for a hawk. The _chuck, chuck_ of invitation means, "Good food. " The _tuk-ut-e-ah-tuk_ means, "Bless my soul, what is that?" The _cut, cut, get your hair cut_, of a Hen that has just laid and isfeeling greatly relieved; no doubt, saying, "Thank goodness, that'sdone!" or maybe it is a notice to her mate or friend that "Business isover, let's have some fun. Where are you?" The soft, long-drawn _tawk--tawk--tawk_, that is uttered as the Henstrolls about, corresponds to the whistling of the small boy; that is, it is a mere pastime, expressing freedom from fear or annoyance. The long, harsh, _crauk, crauk_ of fear when captured. The quick _clack, clack, clatter_ when springing up in fear of capture. The _put, put_ of hunger. And, of course, the _peep, peep_ of chickens and the_cock-a-doodle-doo_, which is the song of the Rooster. Some Hens may have more; but these given here are hen-talk formother-love, warning, invitation, surprise, exultation, cheerfulness, fear, astonishment, and hunger. Not a bad beginning in the way oflanguage. TALE 66 Why the Squirrel Wears a Bushy Tail "Oh, Mother, look at that Gray Squirrel!" shouted Billie. "What abeautiful bushy tail he has!" Then, after a pause he added, "Mother, what is its tail for? Why is it so big and fluffy? I know a 'Possum hasa tail to hang on a limb with, and a Fish can swim with his tail, butwhy is a Gray Squirrel's tail so bushy and soft?" Alas! Mother didn't know, and couldn't tell where to find out. It waslong after, that little Billie got the answer to his childish, butreally important question. The Alligator may use his tail as a club, theHorse, his tail as a fly-flapper, the Porcupine his tail as a spikedwar-club, the 'Possum his as a hooked hanger, the Fox his as a muffler, the Fish his as a paddle; but the Gray Squirrel's tail is a parachute, alandeasy. I have seen a Gray Squirrel fall fifty feet to the ground, buthis tail was in good condition; he spread it to the utmost and it landedhim safely right side up. I remember also a story of a Squirrel that lost his tail by an accident. It didn't seem to matter much for a while. The stump healed up, and theSquirrel was pert as ever; but one day he missed his hold in jumping, and fell to the ground. Ordinarily, that would have been a small matter;but without his tail he was jarred so severely that a dog, who saw himfall, ran up and killed him before he could recover and climb a tree. TALE 67 Why a Dog Wags His Tail There is an old story that the Dog said to the Cat: "Cat, you are afool; you growl when you are pleased and wag your tail when you areangry. " Which happens to be true; and makes us ask: Why does a Dog waghis tail to mean friendship? The fact is, it is part of a wig-wag code, which is doubly interestingnow that all our boys are learning wig-wagging with a white flag. Wethink that our army people invented this method; but Woodcraft men knowbetter. First, notice that any Dog that has any white on his body has at least alittle white on the end of his tail. This is well known; and the reasonis that the wild ancestor had a white brush on the end of his tail; awhite flag, indeed; and this was the flag of his signal code. Suppose, then, that a wild Dog, prowling through the woods, sights someother animal. Instantly he crouches; for it is good woodcraft to avoidbeing seen and then watch from your hiding-place. As the stranger comesnear, the crouching Dog sees that it is one of his own kind, and that itis needless to hide any longer; indeed, that it is impossible to remainhidden. So the moment the stranger stops and looks at the crouching Dog, the latter stands straight up on all fours, raises his tail up high, andwags the white tip from side to side in the sign which means, "Let's befriends. " Every Dog knows the sign, every Dog in every town does it yet; every boyhas seen it a thousand times. We flatter ourselves that we invented thewig-wag code with our little white flag. Maybe so; but the Dog had itlong before we did. TALE 68 Why the Dog Turns Around Three Times Before Lying Down Yes, they all do it; the big St. Bernard, the foolish littlest lap Dog, the ragged street Dog; give them bare boards, or a silken cushion, orsnow, three turns around and down they go. Why? Not so hard to answer as some simple questions. Long, long ago, thewild great-great-grandfather of the Dog--a yellow creature with blackhair sprinkled on his back, sharp ears, light spots over his eyes, and awhite tail-tip--used to live in the woods, or on the prairies. He didnot have a home to which he might return every time he wanted to restor sleep; so he camped wherever he found himself, on the plains, in athicket, or even in some hole in a rock; and he carried his bedclotheson his back. But he always found it worth while to add a little comfortby smoothing the grass, the leaves, the twigs, or the pebbles beforelying down; and the simplest way to do this was by curling up, andturning round three times, with the body brushing the high grass orpebbles into a comfortable shape for a bed. Yes, and they all do it to-day just the same, big and little, which isonly one of the many proofs that they are descended from the samewild-wood great-grandfather, and still remember his habits. TALE 69 The Deathcup of Diablo [Illustration: The Deathcup Toadstool] The world went very well in those bright days of the long ago, when thewedding of El Sol and Maka Ina set all living things rejoicing. Greenyouth and sparkling happiness were everywhere. Only one therewas--Diablo--who found in it poor comfort. He had no pleasure in thegrowing grass. The buttercups annoyed him with the gayness of theirgold. It was at this time he chewed their stalks, so that many eversince have been flattened and mangled. And the cherry with its fragrantbloom he breathed on with his poison breath, so its limbs were burnt andblackened into horrid canker bumps. And poisonous froth he blew on thesprouting rose leaves, so they blackened and withered away. The jewelweed, friend of the humming birds, he trampled down, but it rose so manytimes and so bravely, that he left the yellow dodder like an herb-worm, or a root-born leech to suck its blood all summer long, and break itdown. Then to trail over the trunks of trees and suck their life, heleft the demon vine, the Poison Ivy with its touch of burning fire. Heput the Snapping Turtle in the beautiful lakes to destroy its harmlesscreatures and the Yellow-eyed Whizz he sent, and the Witherbloom withits breath of flame. And last he made the Deathcup Toadstool, and sowed it in the woods. He saw the Squirrels eating and storing up the sweet red russula. He sawit furnish food to mice and deer, so he fashioned the Deathcup Amanitato be like it; and scattered it wherever good mushrooms grew, a trap forthe unwary. Tall and shapely is the Deathcup; beautiful to look upon and smellinglike a mushroom. But beware of it, a very little is enough, a morsel ofthe cup; the next night or maybe a day later the poison pangs set in. Too late perhaps for medicine to help, and Amanita, the Deathcup, thechild of Diablo, has claimed another victim. How shall we know the deadly Amanita among its kindly cousins, the goodmushrooms? Wise men say by these:--The poison cup from which itssprings; the white kid collar on its neck; the white or yellow gills;and the white spores that fall from its gills if the cup, without thestem, be laid gills down on a black paper for an hour. By these things we may know the wan Demon of the woods, but the wisestGuides say to their tribe:--"Because death lurks in that shapelymushroom, though there are a hundred good for food, they are much alike, and safety bids you shun them; let them all alone. " So Diablo went on his way rejoicing because he had spoiled so much goodfood for good folk. This, the danger of the Deathcup, is the Seventh Secret of the Woods. [Illustration: The Poison Ivy] TALE 70 Poison Ivy or the Three-Fingered Demon of the Woods You have been hearing about good fairies and good old Mother Carey andMedicine in the Sky. Now I am going to warn you against thethree-fingered Demon, the wicked snakevine that basks on stone walls andclimbs up the tree trunk, and does more harm than all the other plants, vines, trees, and bushes put together; for it is not like the Deathcup, easy to see and easy to let alone. This is the Poison Ivy. Does it not look poisonous as it crawlssnake-like up some trunk, sending suckers out into the tree to suck thesap; and oozing all over its limbs with poison in tiny wicked littledrops? Sometimes it does not climb but crawls on the ground, but by thisye may always know it: It has only three fingers on its hand; that is, only three leaflets on each stalk. The one thing that looks like it, is the Boston Ivy, but that does notgrow in the woods, and the Poison Ivy leaf always has the little bumpand bite out on the side of the leaf as you see in the drawing. It is known and feared for its power to sting and blister the skin whenit is handled or even touched. The sting begins with an unpleasantitching which gets worse, especially if rubbed, until it blisters andbreaks open with sores which are very hard to heal. The cause of the sting is a blistering oil, which is found in tiny dropson all parts of the leaf and branches; it is a fixed oil; that is, itwill not dry up, and as long as it is on the skin, it keeps on burningand blistering, worse and worse. THE CURE And this is the cure for the sting of the Demon Vine:-- Anything that will dissolve and remove oil without injuring the skin:-- Hot water, as hot as you can stand it, is good; a little salt in ithelps. Hot soapy water is good. Hot water with washing soda is good. A wash of alcohol is good. But best of all is a wash of strong alcohol in which is a little sugarof lead as an antiseptic. * * * * * The Guide should remember that three persons out of five are immune fromPoison Ivy, while a few are so sensitive that they are poisoned by fliescarrying it to them on their feet. It can be easily cured if treated atonce; if neglected it often becomes very bad and may need the help of adoctor. This is the Eighth Secret of the Woods. TALE 71 The Medicine in the Sky This is one of the greatest and best secrets of Woodcraft--The Medicinein the Sky. Let me tell you a story about it. There was once an Indian who left hisown people, to live with the white man, in the East. But the GreatSpirit was displeased, for he did not mean the Indian to live in housesor cities. After a year, the red man came back very thin and sick, coughing nearly all night, instead of sleeping. He believed himselfdying. The wise old Medicine Man of his tribe said, "You need the Medicine ofthe Sky. " He took it and got quite well and strong. Another Indian, who had gone to visit with a distant tribe of red men, came back with some sickness on his skin that made it very sore. It wasfar worse than Poison Ivy, for it began to eat into his flesh. TheMedicine Man said, "Sky Medicine will cure you. " And it did. One day a white man, a trader, came with chest protectors to sell to theIndians. He was sure they needed them, because he did; and, although sowell wrapped up, he was always cold. He suffered whenever the wind blew. The old Medicine Man said, "We don't need your chest pads, and you wouldnot if you took the Sky Medicine. " So the trader tried it, and by andby, to his surprise and joy, no matter whether it was hot or coldoutdoors, he was comfortable. This man had a friend who was a learned professor in a college, and hetold him about the great thing he had learned from the old Indian. Theprofessor was not old, but he was very sick and feeble in body. He couldnot sleep nights. His hair was falling out, and his mind filled withgloomy thoughts. The whole world seemed dark to him. He knew it was akind of disease, and he went away out West to see his friend. Then hemet the Medicine Man and said to him, "Can you help me?" The wise old Indian said, "Oh, white man, where do you spend your days?" "I spend them at my desk, in my study, or in the classroom. " "Yes, and your nights?" "In my study among my books. " "And where do you sleep?" "I don't sleep much, though I have a comfortable bed. " "In the house?" "Yes, of course. " "Listen, then, O foolish white man. The Great Spirit set Big Medicine inthe sky to cure our ills. And you hide from it day and night. What doyou expect but evil? This do and be saved. Take the Sky Medicine inmeasure of your strength. " He did so and it saved him. His strength came back. His cheeks grewruddy, his hands grew steady, his hair ceased falling out, he slept likea baby. He was happy. Now what is the Sky Medicine? It is the glorious sunlight, that cures somany human ills. We ask every Woodcrafter to hold on to its blessings. * * * * * And in this wise, O Guide, you must give it to the little ones. Make itan honourable exploit to be sunburnt to the elbows without blistering;another to be sunburnt to the shoulders; another to the waist; andgreatest of all, when sunburnt all over. How are they to get this? Letthem go to some quiet place for the last, and let the glory fall ontheir naked bodies, for ten minutes each day. Some more, and some less, according to their strength, and this is the measure--so long as it ispleasant, it is good. In this way they will inherit one of the good things of the woods and bestrong and hardened, for there is no greater medicine than the Sun inthe sky. TALE 72 The Angel of the Night O Guide of the young Tribe! Know you the Twelfth Secret of the Woods?Know you what walked around your tent on that thirtieth night of yourcamp out? No! I think you knew, if you continued for thirty nights, butyou knew not that you knew. These things, then, you should have inheart, and give to those you are leading. The Great Spirit does not put out good air in the daytime and poison airat night. It is the same pure air at night, only cooler. Therefore usemore clothing while you sleep. But while the outdoor air is pure, theindoor may be foul. Therefore sleep out of doors, and you will learn theblessedness of the night, and the night air, with its cooling kindlyinfluence laden. Those who come here to our Camp from life in town and sleeping in closerooms, are unaccustomed, and nervous it may be, so that they sleeplittle at first. But each night brings its balm of rest. Strength comes. Some know it in a week. The town-worn and nerve-weary find it atfarthest in half a moon. And in one full moon be sure of this, when thenight comes down you will find the blessed balm that the Great Spiritmeant for all of us. You will sleep, a calm sweet vitalizing sleep. You will know this the twelfth secret of the woods: What walked aroundyour tent that thirtieth night? You know not, you heard nothing, for youslept. Yet when the morning comes you feel and know that round yourcouch, with wings and hands upraised in blessed soothing influence, there passed the Angel of the Night, with healing under her wings, andpeace. You saw her not, you heard her not, but the sweet healing of herpresence will be with you for many after moons. FOOTNOTES: [C] The Guide will note that there are rare exceptions to these rules. [D] The Guide will remember that Totemism and Tabuism were ideas whichgrew up long after the use of Totems began. THINGS TO DO [Illustration: Nests of Kingbird, Oriole, Vireo, Robin, Goldfinch, Phoebe (1/4 life size)] Things to Do TALE 73 Bird-nesting in Winter What good are old bird-nests? These are some of the ends they serve. ADeermouse seeking the safety of a bramble thicket and a warm house, willmake his own nest in the forsaken home of a Cat-bird. A Gray Squirrelwill roof over the open nest of a Crow or Hawk and so make it a castlein the air for himself. But one of the strangest uses is this: TheSolitary Sandpiper is a bird that cannot build a tree nest for itselfand yet loves to give to its eggs the safety of a high place; so it laysin the old nest of a Robin, or other tree bird, and there its young arehatched. But this is only in the Far North. There are plenty of oldbird-nests left for other uses, and for you. Bird-nesting in summer is wicked, cruel, and against the law. Butbird-nesting in winter is good fun and harms no one, if we take only thelittle nests that are built in forked twigs, or on rock ledges. For mostlittle birds prefer to make a new nest for themselves each season. If you get: A Goldfinch, floss nest; A Phoebe, moss nest; A Robin, mud nest; A Vireo, good nest; A Kingbird, rag nest; An Oriole, bag nest; you have six different kinds of beautiful nests that are easily keptfor the museum, and you do no harm in taking them. TALE 74 The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite [Illustration: The Ox-eye Daisy or Marguerite] Do you know that "Daisy" means "day's eye, " because the old countryDaisy opens its eyes when day comes, and shuts them every night. But ourDaisy is different and much bigger, so we have got into the way ofcalling it "Ox-eye. " Some of our young people call it "Love-me;love-me-not, " because they think it can tell if one is loved. They pullout the white rays of the flower one by one, saying, "He loves me; heloves me not; he loves me; he loves me not. " Then what they are sayingas the last is pulled, settles the question. If the Daisy says "He lovesme, " they take a second Daisy and ask the next question, "Will he marryme?" Then, pulling the rays as before, "This year, next year, some time, never. " And in this way they learn all that the Daisies know about theseimportant matters. We call it "our Daisy, " but it is not a true native of America. Its homeis Europe. The settlers of New England, missing the flower of theirhomeland, brought it over and planted it in their gardens. It spreadwidely in the North; but it did not reach the South until the time ofthe Civil War, when it is said to have gone in with the hay forSherman's Army, to become a troublesome weed in the fields. * * * * * This scrap of history is recorded in a popular ballad. There's a story told in Georgia 'Tis in everybody's mouth, That 'twas old Tecumseh Sherman Brought the Daisy to the South. Ne'er that little blossom stranger In our land was known to be, Till he marched his blue-coat army From Atlanta to the sea. [Illustration: The Monkeys in the Tree Tops] TALE 75 A Monkey-hunt We all love to go a-hunting; every one of us in some way; and it is onlythe dislike of cruelty and destruction that keeps most of us fromhunting animals continually, as our forebears did. Some of my best days were spent in hunting. The Arabs say, "Allahreckons not against a man's allotted span the days he spends in thechase. " I hope that I may help many of you to go a-hunting, and to get the goodthings of it, with the bad things left out. Come! Now it is the spring of the year, and just the right time for aMonkey-hunt. We are going prowling along the brookside where we arepretty sure of finding our game. "See, there is a Monkey tree and it isfull of the big Monkeys!" "What! That pussy-willow?" Yes, you think they are only pussy-willows, but wait until you see. Weshall take home a band of the Monkeys, tree and all, and you will learnthat a pussy-willow is only a baby Monkey half done. Now let us get a branch of live elderberry and one or two limbs of thelow red sumac. It is best to use sumac because it is the only handy woodthat one can easily stick a pin through, or cut. The pieces should befive or six inches long and about half an inch to an inch thick. Theyshould have as many odd features as possible, knots, bumps, fungus, moss, etc. ; all of which add interest to the picture. To these we must add a lot of odd bits of dry cane, dry grasses, oldflower-stalks, moss, and gravel, etc. , to use for background andforeground in the little jungle we are to make for our Monkeys to playin. It is delightful to find the new interest that all sorts of queerweeds take on, when we view them as canes or palms for our littlejungle. Now with the spoils of our hunt, let us go home and preserve thetrophies. Cut off about three inches of the elderberry wood and have it clear ofknots; cut a flat ended ramrod so as just to fit the bore, and force outthe pith with one clean sharp push: or else whittle away the surroundingwood. The latter way gives a better quality of pith. Now take a piece of the pith about one-third the size of a bigpussy-willow, use a very sharp knife and you will find it easy towhittle it into a Monkey's head about the shape of "a" and "b. " Use a very sharp-pointed, soft black pencil to make the eyes, nose, theline for the mouth and the shape of the ears; or else wait till the pithis _quite dry_, then use a fine pen with ink. If you are skilful with the knife you may cut the ears so that they hangas in "d. " Stick an ordinary pin right down through the crown of the head into abig pussy-willow that will serve as a body (e). If you glue the head onit is harder to do, but it keeps the body from being mussed up. Cut twoarms of the pith (ff) and two feet (gg), drawing the lines for thefingers and toes, with the sharp black pencil, or else ink as before. Cut a long, straight pointed piece of pith for a tail, dip it in boilingwater, then bend it to the right shape "h. " Cut a branch of the sumac so that it is about four inches high, and ofthe style for a tree; nail this on a block of wood to make it stand. Sometimes it is easier to bore a hole in the stand and wedge the branchinto that. Set the Monkey on the limb by driving the pin into it as at "i, " or elseglueing it on; and glue on the limbs and tail. Sometimes a little wadof willow-down on the Monkey's crown is a great help. It hides the pin. Now set this away for the glue to harden. Meanwhile take an ordinary cigar box about two inches deep, line it withwhite paper pasted in; or else paint it with water colour in Chinesewhite. Colour the upper part sky colour; the lower, shaded into green, getting very dark on the bottom. Lay a piece of glass or else a scrap ofan old motor-car window-isinglass on the bottom, and set in a couple oftacks alongside to hold it; this is for a pool. Make a mixture of liquid glue, one part; water, five parts; then stir inenough old plaster of Paris, whitening, or even fine loam to make a softpaste. Build banks of this paste around the pool and higher toward theback sides. Stick the tree, with its stand and its Monkeys, in this, toone side; dust powder or rotten wood over the ground to hide itswhiteness; or paint it with water colours. Use all the various dry grasses, etc. , to form a jungle; sticking themin the paste, or glueing them on. And your jungle with its Monkeys is complete. * * * * * Many other things may be used for Monkeys. I have seen good ones made ofpeanuts, with the features inked on, and a very young black birch catkinfor tail. Beautiful birds also can be made by using a pith body andbright feathers or silks glued on for plumes. The pith itself is easilycoloured with water colours. You will be delighted to see what beautiful effects you can get by useof these simple wild materials, helped with a little imagination. And the end of the Monkey-hunt will be that you have learned a new kindof hunting, with nothing but pleasant memories in it, and trophies toshow for proof. [Illustration: The Horsetail and the Jungle] TALE 76 The Horsetail and the Jungle Long, long ago, millions of years ago, this world was much hotter thanit is now. Yes, in mid-winter it was hotter than it is now inmid-summer. Over all Pennsylvania there were huge forests of things thatlooked a little like palms, but some looked like pipes with joints, andhad wheels of branches or limb wheels at every joint. They were as tallas some palms, and grew in swamps. When one of those big joint-wheels fell over, it sank into the mud andwas forgotten. So at last the swamp was filled up solid with theirtrunks. Then for some unknown reason all the big joint-trees died, and the sand, mud, and gravel levelled off the swamp. There they lay, and slowlybecome blacker and harder under the mud, until they turned into coal. That is what we burn to-day, the trunks of the wheel-jointed swamptrees. But their youngest great-grandchild is still with us, and shows, in its small way, what its great ancestors were like. You will find it along some railway bank, or in any damp woods. Countrypeople who know it, call it Joint Grass or Horsetails; the books call itEquisetum. The drawing will show you what to look for. Gather a handful and take them home. Then get some of the moss known asground-pine, a small piece of glass (the Guide should see that the edgesof the glass are well rubbed with a stone, to prevent cutting thefingers), a cigar box, and white paste or putty, as in the Monkey-hunt. Make a pool with the glass, and banks around it of the paste. Now coverthese banks with the ground pine; using a little glue on the under sideof each piece, but leave an open space without moss at the back, nearthe pool. Take a pointed stick and make holes through the moss into theclay or putty, and in each hole put one of the Horsetails, cutting itoff with scissors if too tall for the top, till you have a thicket ofthese stems on each side; only make more on one side than on the other. * * * * * Now for the grand finish. You must make an extinct monster. Get half awalnut shell; cut a notch at one end where the neck will be; fill theshell with putty; stick in wooden pegs for legs, tail, and head. Thecentral stalk of a tulip-tree fruit makes a wonderful sculptured tail;the unopened buds of dogwood do for legs, also cloves have been used. Any nobby stick serves for head if you make eyes and teeth on it. When dry this makes a good extinct monster. Set it on the far bank ofthe water, and you have a jungle, the old Pennsylvania jungle of thedays when the coal was packed away. TALE 77 The Woods in Winter Go out to the nearest chestnut tree, and get half a small burr; trim itneatly. Fill it with putty; set four wooden pegs in this for legs, alarge peg for a head and a long thin one for a tail. On the head put twolittle black pins for eyes. Now rub glue on the wooden pegs and sprinklethem with powdered rotten wood, or fine sand, and you have a BurrPorcupine. Sometimes carpet tacks are used for legs. You will have towear strong leather gloves in making this, it is so much like a realPorcupine. Now go into your woods and get a handful of common red cedar twigs withleaves on, or other picturesque branches, some creeping moss of thekind used by flower dealers to pack plants, various dried grasses, and afew flat or sharp-cornered pebbles. Take these home. Get a cigar box ora candy-box, some paper, clay or putty and glass, as already describedfor the Monkey-hunt. Make a pond with the glass and a bank with the clayand pebbles. Paint the top of the clay, and tops of the pebbles with thethin glue, and also part of the glass; then sprinkle all with powderedchalk, whitening, plaster of Paris or talcum powder for snow. Put thePorcupine in the middle, and you have the "Woods in Winter. " TALE 78 The Fish and the Pond [Illustration: The Fish and the Pond--and the Cone] Go out and get the cone of a Norway Spruce tree, or a White Spruce; thisis the body of your Fish. Cut two round spots of white paper for eyes, glue them on, and when dry, put a black ink spot in the middle of each. Add a curved piece of paper on each side for gills. Then with an awl orwith the point of the scissors make holes in the sides, in which putfins cut out of brown paper, fixing them in with glue. Then, with theknife blade, make a long cut in the back, and split the tail, and ineach cut glue a thick piece of brown paper cut fin shape. When dry, drawlines on these with ink. Now you have a good Fish. For the pond, take a cigar-box, paint the lower quarter of it darkgreen, and the upper part shaded into light blue, for sky. Glue a pieceof glass or else carwindow celluloid level across this near the bottom. This is for water. Hide all the back and side edges of the glass withclay banks as described in the Monkey-hunt, or with moss glued on. Put afine black thread to the Fish's back, another to his tail, and hanghim level above the water by fastening the threads to the top of thebox. Label it "Pond Life" or the "Fish at Home. " TALE 79 Smoke Prints of Leaves [Illustration: Smoke Prints of Leaves] Collect one or two leaves that have strongly marked ribs; elm andraspberry are good ones. Take a piece of paper that is strong, butrather soft, and about as big as this page. Grease, or oil it all overwith paint-oil, butter, or lard. Then hold it, grease-side down, in thesmoke of a candle, close to the flame, moving it about quickly so thatthe paper won't burn, until it is everywhere black with soot. Lay the paper flat on a table, soot-side up, on a piece of blottingpaper. Lay the leaf on this; then, over that, a sheet of paper. Pressthis down over all the leaf. Lift the leaf and lay it on a piece ofsoft, white paper; press it down as before, with a paper over it, onwhich you rub with one hand while the other keeps it from slipping; liftthe leaf, and on the lower paper you will find a beautiful line-drawingof the leaf, done in black ink; which, once it is dry, will never rubout or fade away. At one corner write down the date and the name of the leaf. TALE 80 Bird-boxes [Illustration: Bird-boxes] You can win honours in Woodcraft if you make a successful bird-box. Thatis one made by yourself, and used by some bird to raise its brood in. There are three kinds of birds that are very ready to use the nestingplaces you make. These are the Robin, Wren, and Phoebe. But eachbird wants its own kind exactly right, or will not use it. First the Robin wants a shelf, as in the picture. It should be hungagainst a tree or a building, about ten feet up, and not much exposed tothe wind. It should also be in a shady place or at least not where itgets much sun. The nails sticking up on the floor are to hold the nest so the wind willnot blow it away. The Phoebe-shelf is much the same only smaller. The Wren-box should be about four or five inches wide and six incheshigh inside, with a hole exactly seven eighths inch wide. If any bigger, the Wren does not like it so well, and other birds may drive the Wrenaway. Many Wren-boxes are made of tomato tins, but these are hard to cuta hole in. The Wren-box should be hung where the sun never shines on itall summer, as that would make it too hot inside. TALE 81 A Hunter's Lamp [Illustration: A Hunter's Lamp] In the old pioneer days, every hunter used to make himself a lamp, forit was much easier to make than a candle. It is a good stunt inWoodcraft to make one. Each woodcrafter should have one of his ownhandiwork. There are four things needed in it: The bowl, the wick, thewick-holder and some fat, grease, or oil. For the bowl a big clam shell does well. For wick a strip of cotton rag rolled into a cord as thick as a slatepencil, and about two inches long; a cotton cord will do, or perhaps thefibrous bark of milkweed or other native stuff is the truly woodcraftthing. For wick-holder get a piece of brick, stone, or a small clam shell aboutas big as a half dollar. Bore a hole through the middle to hold thewick. It is not easy to get the hole through without splitting thestone, but sometimes one can find a flat pebble already bored. Sometimesone can make a disc of clay with a hole in it, then burn this hard in afierce fire, but the most primitive way is to rub the bump of a smallclam shell on a flat stone till it is worn through. For oil use the fat, grease, lard, or butter of any animal, if it isfresh, that is without salt in it. Fill the bowl with the grease, soak the wick in grease and set it in theholder so that half an inch sticks up; the rest is in the grease. Theholder rests on the bottom of the bowl. Light the end that sticks up. It will burn with a clear, steady lighttill all the oil is used up. To have made a lamp that will burn for half an hour is counted an"honour" in Woodcraft, and may win you a badge if you belong to aWoodcraft Tribe. TALE 82 The Coon Hunt Take a little bundle of white rags, or paper, as large as a walnut; callthis the "Coon. " While all the young folks hide their eyes or go out ofthe room, the Guide puts the Coon on some place, high or low, but inplain view; then, going away from it, shouts "Coon!" Now the young scouts have to find that Coon, each looking about forhimself. As soon as one sees it, he says nothing, but sits down. Eachmust find it for himself, then sit down silently, until all are down. Last down is the "booby"; first down is the winner; and the winner hasthe right to place the Coon the second time, if the Guide does not wishto do it. This is often played indoors and sometimes a thimble is used for theCoon. TALE 83 The Indian Pot This is something everyone can make, no matter how young, and each, including the Guide, should make one. Get a lump of good stiff clay; yellow is better than blue, only becauseit is a better colour when finished. Work the clay up with water till soft, pick out all stones, lumps, andstraws. Then roll it out like a pancake; use a knife to cut this intolaces a foot long and about as thick as a pencil. Dip your fingers in water, take one of these laces and coil it round andround as in "a, " soldering it together with water rubbed on and into thejoints. Keep on adding, shaping and rubbing, till you have a saucerabout three inches across and a quarter of an inch thick. Put this awayin some shady place to set, or harden a little; otherwise it would falldown of its own weight. After about an hour, wet the rim, and build up on that round and roundwith laces as before, until you have turned the saucer into a cup, aboutfour inches across, and, maybe three inches high. Set this away tostiffen. Then finish the shape, by adding more coils, and drawing it ina little. When this has stiffened, make a "slip" or cream of clay andwater, rub this all over the pot inside and out; use your fingers and aknife to make it smooth and even. When this is done, use a sharp point, and draw on the pot any of the Indian designs show in the sketches, using lines and dots for the shading. [Illustration: The Indian Pot] Now set the pot in some shady place to dry. High above the stove in thekitchen is a good place, so long as it is not too near the stove-pipe. After one day bring it nearer the heat. Then about the second day, putit in the oven. Last of all, and this is the hardest part to do, letthe Guide put the bone-dry pot right into the fire, deep down into thered coals at night, and leave it there till next day. In the morningwhen the fire is dead, the pot should be carefully lifted out, and, ifall is well, it will be of hard ringing red terra cotta. The final firing is always the hardest thing to do, because the pots areso easily cracked. If they be drawn out of the fire while they are yethot, the sudden touch of cold air usually breaks them into pieces. Now remember, O Guide! A pot is made of the earth, and holds the thingsthat come out of the earth to make life, that feed us and keep us. So onit, you should draw the symbols that stand for these things. At the footof preceding page you see some of them. TALE 84 Snowflakes, the Sixfold Gems of Snowroba [Illustration: Snowflakes] You have heard of the lovely Snowroba, white calm beautiful Snowroba, the daughter of King Jackfrost the Winter King, whose sad history wastold in the first Tale. You remember how her robe was trimmed with whitelace and crystal gems, each gem with six points and six facets and sixangles, for that is one of the strange laws of the white Kingdom, thesixfold rule of gems. I did not give a good portrait of the WhitePrincess, but I can show you how to make the Jewels which sparkled onher robe. Take a square of thin white paper three or four inches wide (a). Fold itacross (b), and again, until it is a square (c), half as wide as "a. "Mark on it the lines as in "d, " and fold it in three equal parts as in"e. " Now with pencil draw the heavy black lines as in "f, g, h. " Cutalong these lines with scissors, open out the central piece, and youhave your snow-gems as on facing page. You can see for yourself that these are true to the gem-law of the WhiteKingdom, if, when next the snow comes down, you look for the biggestflakes as they lie on some dark surface. You will find many patterns allof them beautiful, and all of them fashioned in accordance with the law. Are You Alive? Little boy or girl, are you all alive? Just as alive as an Indian? Canyou see like a hawk, feel like a blind man, hear like an owl? Are youquick as a cat? You do not know! Well, let us find out in the next eighttales. In these tests 100 is kept in view as a perfect score in eachdepartment, although it is possible in some cases to go over that. TALE 85 Farsight 1. Hold up a page of this book, and see how far off you can read it. Ifat 60 inches, measured with a tapeline from your eye to the book, thenyour eye number is 60, which is remarkably good. Very few get as high as70. 2. Now go out at night and see how many Pleiades you can count; see Tale52. If you see a mere haze, your star number is 0; if you see 4 littlepin points in the haze, your number is 8; if you see 6, your number is12. If you see 7 your number is 14; and you will not get beyond that. 3. Now look for the Pappoose on the Squaw's back, as in Tale 50. If youdo not see it, you score nothing. If you can see it, and prove that yousee it, your number is 14 more. Now add up these, thus: 60 plus 14 plus 14; this gives 88 as your_farsight_ number. Anything over 60 means you can see like a hawk. TALE 86 Quicksight Take two boards, cards or papers, each about half a foot square; dividethem with black lines into 25 squares each, i. E. 5 each way; get 6 nutsand 4 pebbles, or 6 pennies and 4 beans; or any other set of two thingsdiffering in size and shape. Let the one to be tested turn his back, while the Guide places 3 nutsand 2 pebbles on one of the boards, in any pattern he pleases, exceptthat there must be only one on a square. Now, let the player see them for 5 seconds by the watch; then cover itup. From memory, the player must place the other 3 nuts and 2 pebbles on theother board, in exactly the same pattern. Counting one for every onethat was right. Note that a piece exactly on the line does not count;but one chiefly in a square is reckoned to be in that square. Do this 4 times. Then multiply the total result by 5. This gives his_quicksight_ number, to be added to his _aliveness_ score. TALE 87 Hearing Can you hear like an owl? An owl can find his prey by hearing afterdark. His ears are wonderful. Let us try if yours are. 1. _Watch-test. _ First, you must be blindfolded, and in some perfectlyquiet place indoors. Now have the Guide hold a man's watch (open ifhunting-cased), near your head; if you can hear it at 40 inches, measured on a tapeline, and prove that you do, by telling exactly whereit is, in several tries, your hearing number is 40, which is high. If at20 inches, it is low (20 pts. ); if at 60 inches (60 pts. ), it isremarkable. Anything over 50 points means you can hear like an owl. Inthis you go by your best ear. 2. _Pindrop-test. _ Sometimes it is difficult to get a good watch-test. Then the trial may be made with an ordinary, silvered brass stick-pin, 1-1/8 inches long, with small head. Lay the pin on a block of wood thatis exactly half an inch thick. Set this on a smooth polished board, ortable top of hardwood, not more than an inch thick, and with open spaceunder it. Set it away from the edge of the table so as to be clear ofthe frame and legs. After the warning "ready, " let the Guide tip theblock of wood, so the pin drops from the block to the table top (half aninch). If you hear it at 35 feet in a perfectly still room, your hearingis normal, and your hearing number is 35. If 20 feet is your farthestlimit of hearing it, your number is 20, which is low. If you can hear itat 70 feet, your number is 70, which is remarkable. You can use either the watch-test or the pin-test. If you use both, youadd the totals together, and divide by 2, to get your _hearing_ number. TALE 88 Feeling 1. Have you got wise fingers like a blind man? Put 10 nickels, 10 coppers and 10 dimes in a hat or in one hand if youlike. Then, while blindfolded, separate them into three separate piles, all of each kind in a separate pile, within 2 minutes. If it takes youthe full 2 minutes (120 seconds), you are slow, and your feel number is0. If you do it without a mistake in 1 minute and 20 seconds, your feelnumber is 40, one point for each second you are less than 2 minutes. Butyou must take off 3 points for every one wrongly placed, so 3 wronglyplaced would reduce your 40 to 31. I have known some little boys on theEast Side of New York to do it in 50 seconds without a mistake, so theirfeel-number by coins was 70. That is, 120 seconds minus 50 secondsequals 70. This is the best so far. 2. Now get a quart of corn or beans. Then when blindfolded, and usingbut one hand, lay out the corn or beans in "threes"; that is, three at atime laid on the table for 2 minutes. The Guide may move the piles asideas they are made. Then stop and count all that are exactly three in apile (those with more or less do not count at all). If there are 40piles with 3 in each, 40 is your number, by corn. 3. The last test is: Can you lace your shoes in the dark, orblind-folded, finishing with a neat double bow knot? Arrange it so your two shoes together have a total of at least 20 holesor hooks to be used in the test, i. E. , which do not have the lace inthem when you begin. Allow 1 point for each hole or hook, i. E. , 20points, finish the lacing in 2 minutes, in any case stop when the 2minutes is up; then take off 2 points for each one that is wronglylaced, or not laced. Thus: Supposing 4 are wrong, take off 4 times 2from 20, and your blindfold lacing number is 12; if the number wrong was10 or more, your lacing number is 0; if you had 3 wrong, your number is14. Suppose by these three tests--coins, corn, and laces--you scored 40, 30, and 14; add these together and they give your _feel_ number; 84. TALE 89 Quickness Put down 12 potatoes (or other round things) in a row, each one exactly6 feet from the last, and the last 12 feet from a box with a hole in it, just large enough to take in one potato. Now at the word "go, " run andget the first potato, put it through the hole into the box; then get thesecond, bring it to the box, and so on, one at each trip. After oneminute, stop. Now multiply the number of potatoes in the box by 10, andyou have your _quickness_ number. If you have 8 in the box, you score 80points, you are as quick as a cat. Very few get over 80. No one so farhas made 100 points. TALE 90 Guessing Length Take two common nails, or other thin bits of metal, and lay them on atable or board, at what you guess to be exactly one yard (36 inches)apart. Then let the Guide lay the tape-line on it, and, allowing 20points for exactly right, take off 1 point for each half inch you arewrong, over or under. Do not count quarter inches, but go by the nearesthalf-inch mark. Do this 5 times, add up the totals, that will give your_guessing-length_ number. Thus, if your first guess turns out to be 37 inches, that is, 2half-inches too much, 2 from 20 gives 18 points. Your next guess was 34inches, that is 4 half-inches too little, 4 from 20 gives 16 points. Your next guess gave 12 points, your next 17, and your last 19. Thetotal, 18 plus 16 plus 12 plus 17 plus 19, equals your number of_guessing length_ or 82. TALE 91 Aim or Limb-control Take 25 medium-sized potatoes, and set up a bucket or bag whose mouth isround and exactly one foot across. Draw a line exactly 10 feet from thebucket or bag. Toe that line, and throw the potatoes, one by one, intothe bag. Those that go in, then bounce out, are counted as in. Do itfour times, then add up all the four totals of those that went in; thatgives your _aim_ or _control_ number. For example, suppose that in the 4 tries you got 10 in the first time, 15 in the second, 20 in the third, 19 in the fourth. Add these together, it gives your arm-control or _aim_ number as 64. Now add up all these high numbers: Farsight 88 Quicksight 50 Hearing 50 Feeling 84 Quickness 80 Guessing Length 82 Aim 64 Your aliveness number is 498 But very few can score so high. If you can score 400 you are surelyalive; you can see like a hawk, you can take in at a glance, you canhear like an owl, you can feel like a blind man, you are quick as a cat, you are a good judge of size, and you can aim true; That is, you are as_alive as an Indian_. TALE 92 A Treasure Hunt Make 24 little white sticks, each about three inches long, and as thickas a pencil. They are easy to make of willow shoots, after the bark ispeeled off. While the young folk hide their eyes, the Guide walks off inthe woods, ties a white rag on a tall stake or limb, for the point ofbeginning. Then, one step apart and in a very crooked line, sets each ofthe little white sticks in the ground, standing straight up. Under thelast stick should be buried the treasure; usually a stick of chocolate. This the players are to find by following the sticks. When the young folk get used to it, the line should be longer, thesticks farther apart, and the last one may be ten steps from the lastbut one. When they are well trained at it, scraps of paper, white beans, corn, oreven chalk marks on trees, instead of sticks, will serve for trail; andstill later holes prodded in the ground with a sharp pointed cane willdo. This game can be played in the snow; in which case, the track of theGuide, when he hides the treasure, takes the place of the sticks. Finally it makes a good game for indoors on a rainy day. In which casewe use buttons, corn, or scraps of white cotton for trail sticks. Ofcourse the trail now should be upstairs and down, and as long andcrooked as possible. TALE 93 Moving Pictures One of the best developers of imagination is the Moving Picture. Sometimes called Pantomime, or Dumb-show which means all signs withoutsounds. The one who is to put on the "movie" is given a subject and must thenstand out on the stage or Council Ring, and carry all the story to thespectators, without using any sound and with as few accessories aspossible. The "print between the reels" is supplied by the Guide who simplyannounces what is needed to explain. The following subjects have been used successfully (unless otherwisestated they are for one actor each): Miss Muffet and the Spider--the well-known Nursery Rhyme Old Mother Hubbard Little Jack Horner Mary and her Little Lamb Red Ridinghood--walk through the woods, meeting the wolf, etc. Robinson Crusoe--finding the track of a man in the sand A Barber Shop--shaving a customer (two actors) The Man's First Speech at a Dinner The Politician who was rotten-egged after vainly trying to control a meeting Joyride in a Ford Car--ending in a bad upset (two actors) The Operation--a scene in a hospital following the accident (two or more) The Professor of Hypnotism and His Subject (two actors) The Man who Found a Hair in His Soup The Young Lady Finds a Purse, on opening it a mouse jumps out and she remembers that it is 1st of April A Young Man Telephoning to His Best Girl A Man Meeting and Killing a Rattlesnake Lighting a Lamp Drawing a Cork Looking for a Lost Coin--finding it in one pocket or shoe A Musician Playing His Own Composition The Sleeping Beauty and the Prince (two actors) Goldilocks and the Three Bears William Tell and the Apple (best rendered in caricature with a pumpkin and two actors) Eliza Crossing the Ice The Kaiser Signing His Abdication The Judgment of Solomon (three actors) Brutus Condemning His Two Sons to Death. TALE 94 A Natural Autograph Album If you live in the country, I can show you an old Woodcraft trick. Lookfor a hollow tree. Sometimes you can pick one out afar, by the dead top, and sometimes by noting a tree that had lost one of the biggest limbsyears ago. In any case, basswoods, old oaks and chestnuts are apt to behollow; while hickories and elms are seldom so, for once they yield todecay at all, they go down. Remember that every hollow tree is a tenement house of the woods. It maybe the home of a score of different families. Some of these, like Birdsand Bats, are hard to observe, except at nesting time. But the fourfootsare easier to get at. For them, we will arrange a visitors' book at thefoot of the tree, so that every little creature in fur will write hisname, and some passing thought, as he comes to the tree. How? Oh, it is simple; I have often done it. First clear and level the groundaround the tree for three or four feet; then cover it with a coat ofdust, ashes, or sand--whichever is easiest to get; rake and brush itsmooth; then wait over one night. Next morning--most quadrupeds are night-walkers--come back; and youwill find that every creature on four feet that went to the treetenement-house has left us its trail; that is its track or trace. No two animals make the same trail, so that every Squirrel that climbed, every 'Coon or 'Possum, every Tree-mouse, and every Cottontail that wentby, has clearly put himself on record without meaning to do so; and wewho study Woodcraft can read the record, and tell just who passed by inthe night. TALE 95 The Crooked Stick Once upon a time there was a girl who was very anxious to know what sortof a husband she should get; so, of course, she went to the oldwood-witch. The witch asked a few questions, then said to the girl: "You walkstraight through that woods, turn neither to right nor left, and neverturn back an inch, and pick me out a straight stick, the straighter thebetter; but pick only one, and bring it back. " So the girl set out. Soon she saw a fine-looking stick close at hand;but it had a slight blemish near one end, so she said: "No; I can dobetter than that. " Then she saw another that was perfect but for alittle curve in the middle, so she passed it by. Thus she went, seeing many that were nearly perfect; but walking on, seeking one better, till she was quite through the woods. Then sherealized her chances were nearly gone; so she had to take the only stickshe could find, a very crooked one indeed, and brought it to the witch, saying that she "could have got a much better one had she been moreeasily satisfied at the beginning. " The witch took the stick, waved it at the girl and said: "then this isyour fortune; _through the woods and through the woods and out with acrooked stick_. If you were less hard to please, you would have betterluck; but you will pass many a good man by, and come out with a crookedstick. " * * * * * Maybe some of our Woodcraft girls can find an initiation in this. Put itjust as the witch did it, but let it be considered a success if thestick is two feet long and nowhere half an inch out of true line. Let meadd a Woodcraft proverb which should also have its mead of comfort--TheGreat Spirit can draw a straight line with a crooked stick. TALE 96 The Animal Dance of Nana-bo-jou For this we need a Nana-bo-jou; that is, a grown-up who can drum andsing. He has a drum and drumstick, and a straw or paper club; also twogoblins, these are good-sized boys or girls wearing ugly masks, or atleast black hoods with two eyeholes, made as hideous as possible; andany number of children, from three or four up, for animals. If each hasthe marks, colours, etc. , of some bird or beast, so much the better. First, Nana-bo-jou is seen chasing the children around the outside ofthe circle, trying to catch one to eat; but failing, thinks he'll try atrick and he says: "Stop, stop, my brothers. Why should we quarrel?Come, let's hold a council together and I will teach you a new dance. " The animals whisper together and the Coyote comes forward, barks, thensays: "Nana-bo-jou, I am the Coyote. The animals say that they will come tocouncil if you will really make peace and play no tricks. " "Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you the new songs fromthe South. " Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou takes hisdrum and begins to sing: "New songs from the South, my brothers, Dance to the new songs. " Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you dance?" The answers are, "I am the Beaver [or whatever it is] and I can dancethe Beaver Dance. " "Good! Come and show me how. " So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of his flat righthand, up and under his left hand for a tail, holding up a stick in bothpaws to gnaw it, and lumbering along in time to the music, at the sametime imitating the Beaver's waddle. Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine! That is the best Beaver Dance I ever saw. Youare wonderful; all you need to be perfect is wings. Wouldn't you like tohave wings so you could fly over the tree-tops, like the Eagle?" "Yes, " says the Beaver. "I can make strong medicine and give you wings, if all the animals willhelp me, " says Nana-bo-jou. "Will you?" "Yes, " they all cry. "Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your paws. Don'tlook until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes and dance very fast and Iwill make magic to give you wings. " All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very loudly and, rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with the straw club. TheBeaver falls dead. The two goblins run in from one side and drag off thebody. Then Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Look, look, now! See how he flies away! See, there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops. " All look as he points andseem to see the Beaver going. Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their dances andare killed as before. Then the Crow comes out, hopping, flopping, cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and says: "You are too thin. You are nogood. You don't need any more wings, " and so sends him to sit down. Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance, imitating Coyote, etc. ; but he is very suspicious and, in answer to the questions, says:"No; I don't want wings. The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I amsatisfied"; then goes back to his seat. Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc. , come out and are killed; while all therest are persuaded that the victims flew away. But the Coyote and theLoon have their doubts. They danced in their turns, but said they didn'twant any change. They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. Theyare slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and realize that itis all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou is killing us! It is alla trick! Fly for your lives!" As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon, hitting him behindwith the club, which is the reason that the Loon has no tail and hasbeen lame behind ever since. The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched quaveringLUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the animals rally around the Loonand the Coyote to attack the magician. All point their fingers at himshouting "Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the circle. They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket, and all the animalsdo their dances around him. Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told to theaudience. TALE 97 The Caribou Dance [Illustration: Horns for the Caribou Dance] The easiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best for quickpresentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been put on for publicperformance after twenty minutes' rehearsing, with those who never sawit before, because it is all controlled and called off by the Chief. Itdoes equally well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods. In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs of horns andfour cheap bows. Real deer horns may be used, but they are scarce andheavy. It is better to go out where you can get a few crooked limbs ofoak, cedar, hickory or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near likethose in the cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inchthick at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off allsharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs, as shown. A pair, of course, is needed for each Caribou. These are held in the hand andabove the head, or in the hand resting on the head. The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four hunters are needed. They should have bows, but no arrows. The Chief should have a drum andbe able to sing the Muje Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or twopersons who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side, andanother that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the other side, wellaway from the ring. Otherwise the Chief or leader can do the imitations. Now we are ready for THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to call attention;then says in a loud, singing voice: "The Caribou have not come on ourhunting grounds for three snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bringthem back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the power of theWhite Caribou. " He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds, beckoning, remonstrating, and calling them by name; Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din(North); Wabani-nodin (East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to thequarter whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with a longKO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single beat the four Caribou come inin single file, at a stately pace timed to the drum. Their heads arehigh, and they hold the horns on their heads, with one hand, as theyproudly march around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!"After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun), they goeach to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour the symbol of the GreatSpirit. " The drum stops; all four march to the fire. They bow to ittogether, heads low, and utter a long bellow. Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds, the Messengers. " Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly and make a shortbow, with a short bellow, then turn and again face the fire. The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on the plain. " Hebegins any good dance song and beats double time. The Caribou dancearound once in a circle. The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves. " The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close in combat. They lower their heads, lock horns held safely away from the head, snort, kick up the dust, and dance around each other two or threetimes. The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance in a circleonce more. The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again. " Now the first andfourth and second and third lock horns and fight. After a round or so the music begins again and they cease fighting andagain circle, dancing as before. The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track. " Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from the fellowsalready posted. The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row, threatening, with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick up the dust. The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious. The Chief shouts:"They have driven off the Wolves. " They turn away and circle once to themusic, holding their heads high. Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard in the otherdirection. The Chief shouts: "But now the Panthers have found them out. " Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it ceases, the Chiefcries out: "They have driven off the Panther. " Now they dance proudlyaround, heads up, chests out as they step, for they have conquered everyfoe. Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy comes. Thehunters are on their trail. " The hunters appear, crawling very low andcarrying bows. They go half around the ring, each telling those behindby signs, "Here they are; we have found them, " "Four big fellows, " "Comeon, " etc. When they come opposite the Caribou, the first hunter lets offa short "yelp. " The Caribou spring to the opposite side of the ring, andthen line up to defy this new noise; but do not understand it, so gazeas they prance about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, andmake as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou drops, theothers turn in fear and run around about half of the ring, heads low, and not dancing; then they dash for the timber. The hunters run forwardwith yells. The leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around thefallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene. The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou dance bringsthe Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there is meat in the lodge andthe children cry no longer. " TALE 98 The Council Robe The Woodcraft Council Robe is something which every one may have, andshould make for himself. It may be of any shade, of gray, buff, orange, or scarlet. The best ones are of a bright buff. In size they are aboutfive feet by six feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or amixture. My own is of soft or blanket cotton. The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed spread, andhas for the first purpose two or more tag-loops sewn on the top. For thesecond, it has a head-hole or poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end(hh), and for the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings toclose the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the robe. The ornamental features are the records on it. While these vary witheach owner, the following usually appear: The Fourfold fire, near themiddle; the Woodcraft shield, the owner's totem, the symbols of eachcoup and each degree won by the owner. To this many add a pictographic record of great events or of camps theyhave visited. [Illustration: The Council Robe] The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the cotton fabric. The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use appliqués ofcoloured cloths for the design. The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized cotton. But thelast is very slow, and calls for much labour as well as some money. On the preceding page are shown four different styles of robe; you maychoose or adapt which you please, except that only a Sagamore may usethe one with the 24 feathers in the centre. THINGS TO REMEMBER Things to Remember TALE 99 How the Wren Became King of the Birds The story is very old, and it may not be true, but this is how they tellit in many countries. The animals had chosen the lion for their King because his looks and hispowers seemed to fit him best of all for the place. So the birds made uptheir minds that they also would have a royal leader. After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong oppositionfrom the Ostrich and his followers, the one with the greatest powers offlight should be King. And away all flew to see which could go thehighest. One by one they came down tired out, till only two were to be seen inthe air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still going up. At last theygot so high that the Turkey-buzzard froze his ears off for they werenaked. Then he gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show howstrong he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours. But just as they were about to give him the crown, the Wren hopped offthe top of the Eagle's head, where he had been hiding in the longfeathers, and squeaked out, "No matter how high he was, I was a littlebit higher, so I am King. " "You, " said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up. " "Nothing to do with it, " said the Wren. "Then let's try it over, " said the Eagle. "No, no, " said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's settled now, Iwas higher than you. " And they have been disputing over it ever since. The lawyers take theWren's side and the soldiers take the Eagle's side. The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle as "the King of theBirds, " but they always call the Wren the "Little King. " And that is whywe call our gold-crowned Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I supposethat is why they wear a crown of gold. TALE 100 The Snowstorm It was at the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long ago. Lookingout of a window on a stormy day were five children of different races:an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian, an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers ofthe Carnival had brought the first four with their parents; but theYankee was the son of a rich visitor. "Look, " cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he pointed to thedriving snow. "Look at the ivory chips falling! El Sol is surely carvinga big Walrus tusk into a fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles, and sends the white dust flying. " Of course he didn't say "El Sol, " but used the Eskimo name for him. Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That is Mother Earthgetting ready for sleep. Those are the goose feathers of her featherbed, shaken up by her servants before she lies down and is covered withher white mantle. " The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shook his headgravely and said: "My father taught me that these are the ashes fromNana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his smoke and is wrapping hisblanket about him to rest. And my father always spake true. " "Nay, you are all wrong, " said the little Russian. "My grandmother toldme that it is Mother Carey. She is out riding in her strongest, fresheststeed, the White Wind. He has not been out all summer; he is full ofstrength and fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foamfrom his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides him, andspurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and know that she is fillingthe air with strength and with messages. They carry me back to my owndear homeland. It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness. " But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing. " TALE 101 The Fairy Lamps There was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all histime in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He usedto look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at thesinging bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got aninsight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds'eggs. But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts ofsong, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noisesand movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks, and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these verytracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it agreat rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned thatthe woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quickto avoid him. One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found abird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seenit; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only Icould see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If Icould see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only everybird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!" The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on thepath, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in along robe, and in her hand a rod. She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of thisWoods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to bedifferent from other boys. Your request shall be granted. " Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over withwonderful little lamps--long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green, high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked werelamps--twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forestshone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and hereand there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. Abeautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, andfound a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, andthere was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weirdsong he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were themarvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reachedforth to clutch the wonderful prize, and--in an instant all the lightswent out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on thepathway shone again the soft light. It grew brighter, till in themiddle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady--the Fairy of the Woods. Butshe was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "Ifear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep thisin mind: "Who reverence not the lamp of life can never see its light. " Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again. TALE 102 The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods Once a great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetestvoice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is thecalling of the Screech Owl. " Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most oftenmakes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night, especially in the autumn nights. It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-byeto the dear dying summer. Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put hislittle soul into a song that seemed to be Ohhhh! Ohhhh! The leaves are falling: Ohhhh! Ohhhh! A sad voice calling; Ohhhh! Ohhhh! The Woodbirds flying; Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Sweet summer's dying, Dying, Dying. [Illustration: The Lament of the Owl. Notation by Ann Seton] A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dearvoice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say;but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away. " TALE 103 Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwoodseemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams werelaughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins onthem from above. The oak trees and the birches put on littleglad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up theirgreen candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste toglint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang involleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guardof honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its nakedlimbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled andspread the news. All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells ofpleasure in another's joy. The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know theirspeech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyfulhappening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, thehighest rank of happiness impended. Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of thebridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the weddingday had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not herpeers? And the Evil One--he came, but slunk away, for the blessing ofthe one Great Oversoul was on them. Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth, the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet;renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, yewanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green, but find it mostly in your souls, and _sing_! TALE 104 Running the Council Every good Woodcrafter should know the way of the Council Ring. Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if possible, for it is so much better if surrounded by trees. Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less than 12 feetor more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat on the number to takepart. In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a special seatfor the Chief; this is called the Council Rock. On very important occasions take white sand or lime, and draw a circlearound the fire. Then from that draw the four lamps and the twelve lawsas in Tale 105. When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock, and the Scouts intheir seats, the Guide stands up and says: "Give ear my friends, we areabout to hold a council. I appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire andso-and-so, Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the fire. " Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the business part ofthe Council is carried on exactly the same as any ordinary meeting, except that instead of addressing the "Chairman, " they say, "O Chief";instead of "yes" they say "ho, " instead of "no" they say "wah. " The order of doings in Council is:-- Opening and fire-lighting Roll Call Reading and accepting tally of last Council Reports of Scouts (things observed or done) Left-over business New business Honours Honourable mention (For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions. (_Here business ends and entertainment begins. _) Challenges Games, contests, etc. Close by singing Omaha Prayer (Tale 108) TALE 105 The Sandpainting of the Fire [Illustration: The Sandpainting of the Fire] When I was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met John Wetherall, thetrader. He had spent half his life among them, and knew more of theirways than any other white man that I met. He told me that part of theeducation of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings of histribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground or floor with drysands of different colours--black, white, gray, yellow, red, etc. Itlooks like a rug or a blanket on the ground, and is made up of manycurious marks which stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, thefirst sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew it, withrivers and hills that are important in their history. Thesesandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch spoils them, and a gustof wind can wipe them out. They endure only in the hearts and memoriesof the people who love them. In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting that is much used;that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold Fire. When I make it in camp, I use only white sand or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I useyellow (or orange) and white. This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol of theGreat Spirit; around that we draw a great circle, as in the diagram. At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four are calledFortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come from the Fire throughSpirit, Body, Mind, and Service. Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These stand for thetwelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named in this way: Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey; Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway; Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive! Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive. And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course the names are notwritten on the real thing though the Woodcraft scout should know them. TALE 106 The Woodcraft Kalendar [Illustration: The Woodcraft Kalendar] The Woodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way of noting themonths. Our own ancestors called them "Moons" much as the Indians did. Our word "month" was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a"moon or moon's time of lasting. " The usual names for the moons to-dayare Latin, but we find we get closer to nature if we call them bytheir Woodcraft names, and use the little symbols of the WoodcraftKalendar. TALE 107 Climbing the Mountain Afar in our dry southwestern country is an Indian village; and in theoffing is a high mountain, towering up out of the desert. It isconsidered a great feat to climb this mountain, so that all the boys ofthe village were eager to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys, you you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain. Start rightafter breakfast, and go each of you as far as you can. Then when you aretired, come back: but let each one bring me a twig from the place wherehe turned. " Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely could reach thetop. But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his hand he held outto the Chief a leaf of cactus. The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach the foot of themountain; you did not even get across the desert. " Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush. "Well, " said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's foot but you did notclimb upward. " The next had a cottonwood spray. "Good, " said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs. " Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief smiled when he saw itand spoke thus: "You were climbing; you were up to the first sliderock. " Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray, and the old mansaid: "Well done. You went half way up. " An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To him the Chiefsaid: "Good; you went to the third belt; you made three quarters of theclimb. " The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall, splendid boy ofnoble character. His hand was empty as he approached the Chief, but hiscountenance was radiant, and he said: "My father, there were no treeswhere I got to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea. " Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and almost sang: "Iknew it. When I looked on your face, I knew it. You have been to thetop. You need no twigs for token. It is written in your eyes, and ringsin your voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the gloryof the mountain. " * * * * * Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges that we offerfor attainment, are not "_prizes_"; prizes are things of value taken byviolence from their rightful owners. These are merely tokens of what youhave done, of where you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail toshow how far you got in climbing the mountain. [Illustration: THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER. Harmonized by PROF. J. C. FILLMORE. ] Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa dhin a-ton-he. Wa-kon-da dhe-dhu Wa-pa-dhin a-ton-he. (By permission from Alice C. Fletcher's "Indian Story and Song. ") Translation: Father a needy one stands before thee; I that sing am he. This old Indian prayer is sung by the Council standing in a great circleabout the fire with feet close together, hands and faces uplifted, forit is addressed to the Great Spirit. At the final bars the hands andfaces are lowered to the fire. Books by Ernest Thompson Seton WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, 1898 The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen, ThePacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners. ) THE TRAIL OF THE SANDHILL STAG, 1899 The story of a long hunt that ended without a tragedy. (Scribners. ) BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY, 1900 The story of old Wahb from cubhood to the scene in Death Gulch. (TheCentury Company. ) LOBO, RAG AND VIXEN, 1900 This is a school edition of "Wild Animals I Have Known, " with some ofthe stories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners. ) THE WILD ANIMAL PLAY, 1900 A musical play in which the parts of Lobo, Wahb, Vixen, etc. , are takenby boys and girls. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) THE LIVES OF THE HUNTED, 1901 The stories of Krag, Randy, Johnny Bear, The Mother Teal, Chink, TheKangaroo Rat, and Tito, the Coyote. (Scribners. ) PICTURES OF WILD ANIMALS, 1901 Twelve large pictures for framing (no text), viz. , Krag, Lobo, Tito Cub, Kangaroo Rat, Grizzly, Buffalo, Bear Family, Johnny Bear, Sandhill Stag, Coon Family, Courtaut the Wolf, Tito and her family. Out of print. (Scribners. ) KRAG AND JOHNNY BEAR, 1902 This is a school edition of "The Lives of the Hunted" with some of thestories and many of the pictures left out. (Scribners. ) TWO LITTLE SAVAGES, 1903 A book of adventure and woodcraft and camping out for boys, telling howto make bows, arrows, moccasins, costumes, teepee, war-bonnet, etc. , andhow to make a fire with rubbing sticks, read Indian signs, etc. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) MONARCH, THE BIG BEAR OF TALLAC, 1904 The story of a big California grizzly that is living yet. (Scribners. ) ANIMAL HEROES, 1905 The stories of a Slum Cat, a Homing Pigeon, The Wolf That Won, A Lynx, AJackrabbit, A Bull-terrier, The Winnipeg Wolf, and a White Reindeer. (Scribners. ) WOODMYTH AND FABLE, 1905 A collection of fables, woodland verses, and camp stories. (The CenturyCompany. ) BIRCH-BARK ROLL, 1906 The Manual of the Woodcraft Indians, first edition, 1902. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, 1907 Showing the Ten Commandments to be fundamental laws of all creation. 78pages. (Scribners. ) THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX, 1909 or Domino Reynard of Goldur Town, with 100 illustrations by the author. 209 pages. A companion volume to "Biography of a Grizzly. " (The Century Company. ) LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTHERN ANIMALS, 1909 In two sumptuous quarto volumes with 68 maps and 560 drawings by theauthor. Pages, 1267. Said by Roosevelt, Allen, Chapman, and Hornaday to be the best work everwritten on the Life Histories of American Animals. (Scribners. ) BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, 1910 A handbook of Woodcraft, Scouting, and Life Craft Including theBirch-Bark Roll. 192 pages. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) Theyear-book of the Boy Scouts of America is now handled by the AmericanNews Co. ROLF IN THE WOODS, 1911 The Adventures of a Boy Scout with Indian Quonab and little dog Skookum. Over 200 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES, 1911 A canoe journey of 2, 000 miles in search of the Caribou. 415 pages withmany maps, photographs, and illustrations by the author. (Scribners. ) THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT AND INDIAN LORE, 1912 with over 500 drawings by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) THE FORESTER'S MANUAL, 1912 One hundred of the best-known forest trees of eastern North America, with 100 maps and more than 200 drawings. Out of print. (Doubleday, Page& Co. ) WILD ANIMALS AT HOME, 1913 with over 150 sketches and photographs by the author. 226 pages. In thisMr. Seton gives for the first time his personal adventures in studyingwild animals. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) MANUAL OF THE WOODCRAFT INDIANS, 1915 The fourteenth Birch-Bark Roll. 100 pages. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) WILD ANIMAL WAYS, 1916 More animal stories introducing a host of new four-footed friends, with200 illustrations by the author. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR BOYS, 1917 A handbook of Woodcraft and Outdoor life for members of the WoodcraftLeague. 440 pp. 700 ills. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) WOODCRAFT MANUAL FOR GIRLS, 1917 Like the foregoing but adapted for girls. 424 pp. , Illus. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) THE PREACHER OF CEDAR MOUNTAIN, 1917 A novel. A tale of the open country. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) SIGN TALK, 1918 A Universal Signal Code, Without Apparatus, for use in the Army, theNavy, Camping, Hunting, Daily Life and among the Plains Indians. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) WOODLAND TALES, 1921 Delightful children's stories, of fable and fairy-tale flavour, with thewild things of the woodland for their heroes. In the heart of each somenature secret is revealed. (Doubleday, Page & Co. ) BY MRS. ERNEST THOMPSON SETON (Published by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. ) A WOMAN TENDERFOOT, 1901 A book of outdoor adventures and camping for women and girls. How todress for it, where to go, and how to profit the most by camp life. NIMROD'S WIFE, 1907 A companion volume, giving Mrs. Seton's side of the many campfires sheand her husband lighted together in the Rockies from Canada to Mexico. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Page 79, "gr dy" changed to "greedy" (as greedy as he) Page 134, "throught he" changed to "through the" (through the outer)