Part 1

WIGWAM WONDER TALES

[Illustration: “There will be no living with him,” said the crow]

WIGWAM WONDER TALES

BY WILLIAM THOMPSON

ILLUSTRATED BY CARLE MICHEL BOOG

NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 1919

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

Published September, 1919

[Illustration: Publisher’s colophon]

DEDICATION

This book is affectionately dedicated to H. T., who for ten years has been my constant companion. We have travelled together from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. Have climbed glaciers of Alaska and shivered in the fogs of Newfoundland. Have rocked in the crafts of the North Sea fishermen. Have looked from the Phœnician ruins of Eze to the island of Corsica. Have enjoyed the nature smiles of southern Europe from Italy to Setubal, the ancient Cetubriga of the Romans. Have strolled along the highways and byways of Germany, Holland, France, Belgium, Moresnet, Italy, and romped together in the cork-groves of Portugal and the olive-groves of Spain. We have shared the same room in spooky inns along the trails of Don Quixote in La Mancha, and have ridden fourth-class with a first-class ticket hundreds of kilometres ... because dogs were not allowed in first-class compartments on European railways.

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE GIANT BUTTERFLY AND THE MOUSE 1

WACTU, THE ANIMAL PAINTER 15

ALITOCI AND THE GIANT BIRDS 28

NIONA AND THE MOON MAN 40

WHY DOGS DO NOT TALK 56

MR. FISH AND YONI 68

FIRE BOY AND WATER BOY 92

OLD SPOT AND THE CUPIDS 107

THE UNDERWATER PEOPLE 129

WATC’ AGIC KILLS THE TALKING-BIRDS 144

ILLUSTRATIONS

“There will be no living with him,” said the crow _Frontispiece_

PAGE

Every one laughed. What a joke! This tiny mouse offering to release the sun! 5

“Come down,” said Ayas. “I wish to discuss a business offer with you” 9

Over their heads they heard a little voice calling, “They fit perfectly” 13

This he did, much to the amazement of the beaver 17

Wactu waited patiently for the color-sprites to dance on the snow and lakes 21

On and on the frightened old man was carried 29

Down the big tree he lowered himself 33

The birds walked off in another direction 37

“Niona, you are so, so beautiful” 41

Niona felt herself being drawn up and up 47

“I’m coming!” 53

So Nudi and his dog, Happy, would wander off to the mountains 57

One day, trailing a bear, Happy told all she knew of Neti’s romance 61

“Yes,” said Tiki, “she has told that which she should not.” 65

There he found a strange and very large fish splashing and floundering 73

“My! how fast we are going!” 83

“Mr. Fish! Mr. Fish!” called Yoni 89

“We have brought a goose and caribou tongues, and we will share them with you” 97

Looking up to her he waved his hand and smiled 101

He sat without discomfort in the midst of the flames 105

“You’ve got a fine catch this morning” 113

It was but the work of a few seconds and all was over 121

“How really clever Old Spot is” 125

They suddenly saw a man passing along in the dusk 131

“Do ha-s tei-ul tuk,” which means “Do not kill me” 137

He looked up and saw a giant frog standing on his left foot 141

Once there was a man who wandered all over the earth 145

“My good brother, what have you on your back?” 149

And he began to sing in a harsh voice 153

WIGWAM WONDER TALES

THE GIANT BUTTERFLY AND THE MOUSE

When Ayas was a small child, hardly able to walk, he would try to catch the sunbeams that played with his fingers and toes. Onitu, an old woman who had noticed his efforts, smiled and said: “He will be a sun-catcher some day; in all truth, Ayas will be a sun-catcher.”

Of course, the people did not know the meaning of her strange remark, and looked serious.

Ayas grew to be a man, and travelled the long, lonely trails of the forest in search for game. One day, being very tired, as it was oppressively warm, he lay down to sleep. During his slumber something that passed scorched his leather coat. This made him very angry, for upon the coat he had worked long days with needle and thread, putting many colored beads in fantastic design. As he arose, his coat fell from his back, and the thread holding the beads parted, scattering them upon the ground.

“I’ll find out my enemy!” declared Ayas, so loud that the animals of the forest became frightened and ran to their holes, or scampered away in many directions.

Unstringing his bow, lashed many times around with caribou sinew, he made a snare across the road, and over the spot where he had been sleeping. Then he went home.

The next day the sun did not rise, or the next, and the medicine-men were consulted; but they were as much mystified as the people, who met in their lodges, many of them too frightened to speak. “Had the Great Spirit deserted his people? Was this the end of all things?”

Ayas’ sister, who suspected her brother had been up to some mischief, went to him and said: “What have you been doing that the sun does not give light?”

He replied: “I set a snare the other day; I will go and see if I have caught anything.”

So he went back to the wood where he had set his snares, and the nearer he approached the hotter it became. When he arrived at the opening of the trail he saw he had snared the sun. He tried to release it, but it would not keep still, jumping up and down so fast Ayas could not grasp the snares.

“Keep still!” he cried, but his command was of no avail. So he called all the animals from near and far to help him; but it was so hot they dared not approach, fearing their fur would be scorched, and as winter was drawing near, they would not risk that which kept them warm.

A wee ground-mouse was looking on from his tiny hole under a great ant-hill that had been deserted. He called to Ayas and said: “Go to the giant butterfly who makes wings over there in the dead pine. If he will agree to make for me a pair of wings and guarantee a good fit that I may fly back should the sun take me with him, I’ll release it.”

Every one laughed. What a joke! This tiny mouse offering to release the sun when the great animals of the forest dare not attempt it! A lynx, just ready to spring at the silly little creature, was prevented from doing so by Ayas, who gave him a stroke across his snout. This is the reason the lynx has such a short nose.

[Illustration: Every one laughed. What a joke! This tiny mouse offering to release the sun!]

Ayas looked at the ant-hill. How large it was, and how small the beings that had made it. “Perhaps the mouse can do as it agrees,” he thought.

It was so hot the grass began to scorch, and leaves became seared. Something must be done.

“Go to the butterfly and tell him I wish to speak to him,” Ayas demanded of the mouse.

“He will not come and scorch his wings. He has the finest pair in all the lands about here,” answered the mouse.

Ayas thought the mouse was right; so he started off for the wing factory. When he got near the old tree he called, and slowly, from a great hole in the trunk peered the face of Mr. Butterfly.

“Come down,” said Ayas. “I wish to discuss a business offer with you.” The great winged creature slowly drew himself out of the hole, and spreading his wings, glided to the earth. He was so enormous Ayas was but a tiny being compared to him.

[Illustration: “Come down,” said Ayas. “I wish to discuss a business offer with you”]

“The sun has become entangled in my snare,” said Ayas, “and a young and very tiny mouse promises that he will release it if you will furnish him with a pair of wings. The fit must be guaranteed as well as the quality, as he may be required to make a long journey, and must be assured they will stand the strain; and in addition, they must be made of material that will be able to withstand great heat.”

“What will be my compensation?” asked Mr. Butterfly.

“What do you expect?” asked Ayas.

“That is not the way I bargain,” replied Mr. Butterfly. “What is it worth to you?”

Ayas thought a moment. Knowing that if the sun was not released, soon all the hunting-grounds would be destroyed by fire, he decided to make a good offer, so he said: “I’ll give you five portions of clover honey, two hundred fresh wild roses, and build a long ladder to your hole, that you may not need to fly when you grow old.”

This appealed to Mr. Butterfly, for his wing joints did not work as smoothly as when he was younger.

“Throw in a measure of goose oil and it’s a bargain,” said he.

“Very well,” said Ayas. “Have you any wings in stock that will fit?”

“I cannot tell without seeing your friend; bring him here and upon your return I’ll have a few pairs ready for a try-on.”

So Ayas went back and told the mouse he had fixed up the matter, so they returned together, the mouse in the pouch of Ayas’ coat. Many wings were tried on, and finally little Johnny Mouse selected a pair that seemed satisfactory, although not bigger than the wings of a sparrow.

“Go up the tree and fly down,” said Mr. Butterfly, and up crawled the mouse until he had gone so far they could not see him. Over their heads they heard a little voice calling, “They fit perfectly. My! this is wonderful!” And down glided the wee mouse in little circles to the ground.

[Illustration: Over their heads they heard a little voice calling, “They fit perfectly”]

“Now to keep my promise,” said he, flying around Ayas’ head and settling on his right shoulder.

Saying good-afternoon to Mr. Butterfly, who was to call for his supplies the following day, Ayas and the mouse returned to the struggling sun. Going to the strings of sinew, the mouse began to gnaw, and very soon, one after another of the strands holding the sun parted. With one great effort, it burst the remaining bonds and started again on its path of day, giving light to all the world.

If it had not been for the mouse the sun would have remained a prisoner, and there would have been no day. If it had not been for the sun, bats would have always remained mice.

WACTU, THE ANIMAL PAINTER

As long as the birds could remember, Wactu had lived among them. This was a very long time ago, and before the rays of the sun had penetrated the deep mist that surrounded the earth. It was only now and then that the people living in the lowlands could see the golden shafts of light tipping the great mountain-tops as they stood like mighty gods, covered with garments of snow. The snows, melting slowly, formed lakes high up in the mountain valleys, and across the great glaciers and fields of ice all the colors of the painter’s palette passed like a pageant of beauty among the mountain peaks.

For ever so long Wactu had stripped the white birches that he called the “white ghosts of the forest” of their bark and made baskets of it, for what reason the magpie and owl had been very much perplexed to know.

One morning a large timber-wolf called to discuss a matter of importance with Wactu, who was the King of the Kingdom of Animals, and master of the woodlands.

“I’m growing very tired of so much sameness of color among my subjects,” he said to the wolf. “It’s always black or white. Why don’t you go up the mountain and bathe in the lake and roll on the snows, and become beautiful of color? See!” pointing to the rays of light piercing the mist, “See! Is that not more fair than your gray costume?”

But old wolf only grunted an indifferent acknowledgment, for he had little sentiment for anything but his appetite. His indifference caused Wactu to ejaculate: “You are the most acrimonious of all my people. Go bring me a young beaver, and mind you do not devour him before he serves my purpose.”

Wactu had decided upon a plan by which there was to be a change of fashion among his subjects, and he began preparations then and there.

Old wolf returned with a young whimpering beaver-cub, crying at the top of his voice, for Mr. Wolf had not been over-careful in handling the youth, who, being accustomed to the tender solicitude of fond parents, did not understand the rougher ways of one who at any moment was liable to devour him. Wactu instructed the wolf to hold Young Beaver tight as he wanted to pluck a few hairs from his back and tail. This he did, much to the amazement of the beaver, who, though crying lustily, was more frightened than hurt.

[Illustration: This he did, much to the amazement of the beaver]

“Take him back to his mother,” demanded Wactu, “and mind your appetite does not prompt you to rashness, for I may want you to bring him to me again.” So Mr. Wolf disappeared in the wood.

Wactu always had his suspicions that Mr. Wolf feasted on Young Beaver, for when he needed more hair for his brushes, he always looked carefully for the places he had plucked, but could not find them; so he of course knew that Mr. Wolf had not brought him the same animal. As Mr. Wolf had served him well he never made any reference to the matter.

For many days that followed Wactu made journeys to the mountains, and waited patiently for the color-sprites to dance on the snow and lakes; and as they appeared, he caught them and thrust them into his baskets. There were red, blue, green, orange, and yellow sprites--indeed, all the colors of the rainbow. Several times one end of the arch dipped into the waters of the lakes, and as Wactu knew the spirits of his departed friends formed the beautiful colors, he was careful not to capture them, so waited for the rainbow to pass before collecting material for his interesting undertaking.

[Illustration: Wactu waited patiently for the color-sprites to dance on the snow and lakes]

When Wactu returned to his lodge, the owls, eagles, and hawks would go far out on the limbs of the tall trees so that he could not hear them, and discuss the state of his mind, for they had “never seen him do such strange things before.” Once or twice they flew down, unbeknown to their master, and lifted the baskets, but, finding them very light, they were convinced that they contained nothing that would do them harm.

Being King of the Kingdom of Animals and Birds, Wactu knew the language of all his people; so one morning, while he was tying up the beaver hairs and making brushes of different sizes--some with long handles and some with short--he called the skylark, the long-eared owl, the raven, the sparrow-hawk, the cuckoo, the chaffinch, the gray wag-tail, the spotted flycatcher, the crested titmouse, the woodpecker, the robin, the nightingale, the blackbird, the crow, and all the other feathered people of his empire, and said:

“My good people, it will be many thousands of years before the mists and clouds surrounding this great world are dispersed by the goddess of the sun. It is my purpose to hasten the work of Nature, by painting all of my people in the colors of the rainbow. Could you bathe in the rays of the sun, I would be saved all my trouble. You would then be like a queen on her throne, arrayed in all the glories of color. Who will be the first to change his or her plain garment for one of beauty? I have collected all the colors to complete Nature’s works.”

* * * * *

“I will,” called Mr. Peacock, as Wactu reached for his colors, and placed them beside him in rows.

“Step right up and I will begin,” said Wactu in a pleased tone. So the peacock, with his long flowing tail trailing behind him, his head bowed in an embarrassed, coy way, approached Wactu, who, after placing him in a position most convenient, began to apply the mystical tints that were to make Mr. Peacock the most vain and conceited of all featherdom.

Beginning at the head, he painted the neck, wings, and body. When the tail was to be renovated, he had to stand up and go around, as it was so long. Once or twice he stepped on it. The peacock winced though it did not hurt him at all.

“There will be no living with him,” said the crow as he noticed the peacock straighten up and throw his head back in a haughty manner.

“Right you are,” said the raven.

“Such arrogance,” said the wren, loud enough for Mr. Peacock to hear.

Wactu, having completed his toilet, asked him to step off a bit so that he could see if the colors had run. This he did ’midst expressions of admiration from some, and, Wactu was sorry to know, suppressed jeers of others.

“Me next,” said Miss Robin Redbreast as she surveyed the plain, soiled whiteness of her clothing.

“Get on my knee,” said Wactu in a gentle voice, for she was very small and timid. “What colors for you, Miss Robin?”

“Red on my breast, and for the others, those that will not soil easily.”

In the meantime, Mr. Peacock, who had always heretofore mingled with his people on an equal social footing, had strutted away, and was standing alone in self-satisfied admiration, his beautiful tail spread like a giant fan. The humming-bird afterward told his mate he heard him say, “I am more beautiful than the sun,” and Mrs. Humming-Bird replied, “I really believe he thinks it is so.”

One by one the birds were bedecked with new garments. The old fogies like the raven, crow, and blackbirds said, “None of it for us,” and went away quite satisfied with their old clothes.

There were many animals who had come out of mere idle curiosity, standing about wondering what would happen to them if old Wactu did not use up all of his colors. Mr. Porcupine felt quite confident that the royal decorator would not insist upon any reform in _his_ apparel, no matter what changes he made in the others.

ALITOCI AND THE GIANT BIRDS

Alitoci, a beaver chief, who had become too old to work, spent most of his time when the weather was not too cold along the rivers, fishing. He had three dogs that helped him in winter, but in summer they did no work, though they must eat; so Alitoci fished for them.

One day he was sitting by a dark water-hole full of fish, saying to himself: “Here shall I get plenty of food for my faithful dogs.”

So he fished until he had caught all he could carry. As he was not strong, he had but few. He climbed up the bank to return home.

It was growing dark, and as his head was bowed from age, he could not see a great bird hovering over him. This bird was enormous in size, and its wings spread like the limbs of a large tree. Suddenly it swooped upon him, and took him up toward the clouds that were piled in the heavens like great banks of snow. On and on the frightened old man was carried. Still remembering his faithful dogs, he held on to his strings of fish until his hands were so tired he had to let them fall to the earth, many thousands of feet below.

[Illustration: On and on the frightened old man was carried]

His coat was old and he could hear the sinew giving under his weight, for though aged, he was still a heavy man, and there was a great strain on the coat.

The old man could see only the wings of the giant bird as they went up and down, slowly, in flight.

“Where are you taking me?” said he in great terror; but the bird did not reply.

After a long journey over rivers and mountains, he was dropped into a large nest that rested on the limbs of a dead tree. The bird said to his young ones, who seemed very much frightened: “Take good care of the old man; I will go for food.” So the bird departed to seek young animals like the rabbit, ermine, and small fox, as his children were too young to eat the larger game.

When it was growing light, for the morning dawned while the father bird was away, the mother returned. She was not quite so large and strong as her husband, but she also was big enough to carry a man for miles through the air.

“How does it happen that you smell of a man?” she asked her children.

“We should smell of a man when father brought one here for us,” the young ones said in chorus, without meaning to deceive their mother.

They were so large, although very young birds, that they could easily hide the man under their wings, and their mother did not know he was there, which was well for the old man, for she would have eaten him had she known the truth.

The old man trembled so that it shook the birds, and the mother, thinking them ill, said: “Why do you shake so; are you not well?”

“Oh, yes,” they replied, “we are very well indeed.”

She seemed satisfied.

The old man thought of his poor dogs who were waiting for food, and of the fish he had lost after working so hard to catch them. The fear for his own safety worried him, too, but greatest of all his troubles was the weight of the birds sitting on him, and the added weight of the mother caused him still more distress. When the sun came up he was sure he would be seen.

As the sun rose higher and higher, one by one the birds fell asleep. “Now is my chance,” thought the old man, lame and out of breath. So out of the nest he crawled and down the big tree he lowered himself. He waited at times to hear if there was any chattering in the nest, but heard none, so he went on and reached the ground in safety.

[Illustration: Down the big tree he lowered himself]

“Now,” thought the old man, “if I should try to return home they might wake up and find me gone and follow me, and take me back to the nest.”