The Pearl Story Book Part 8

(Algonquin Legend)

Adapted from "Algonquin Indian Tales," by Egerton R. Young. Copyright, 1903, by Egerton R. Young. Reprinted by permission of the Abington Press, Publishers.

Long ago Wild Rabbit of the Northland wore a brown fur coat, throughout the year. Today, when the long winter months come, Wild Rabbit changes his coat of brown to one that is the colour of the snow. And this is how the change happened.

Wild Rabbit could not defend himself from his many foes. Almost all the animals,--foxes of all kinds, wildcats, wolves, wolverines, weasels, and ermine hunted Wild Rabbit for food. Then there were the fierce birds,--the eagles, hawks, and owls--that were always on the lookout for rabbits, young or old. The result was that with this war continually waged against them, the poor rabbits had a hard time of it, especially in winter. They found it very difficult to hide themselves when the leaves were off the trees and the ground was covered with snow.

In those days of long ago the animals used to have a large council.

There was a great father at the head of each kind of animal and bird, and these leaders used to meet and talk about the welfare of their kind. There was always peace and friendship among them while at the council. They appointed a king and he presided as chief. All the animals that had troubles or grievances had a right to come and speak about them at the council, and if it were possible, all wrongs were remedied.

Sometimes queer things were said. At one council the bear found great fault with the fox who had deceived him and had caused him to lose his beautiful tail by telling him to go and catch fish with it in a big crack in the ice. The bear sat fishing so long that the crack froze up solidly and, to save his life, the bear had to break off his tail.

But all the things they talked about were not so funny as the bear's complaint. They had their troubles and dangers and they discussed various plans for improving their condition; also, they considered how they could best defeat the skill and cleverness of the human hunters.

At one of the council meetings, when the rabbit's turn to be heard came, he said that his people were nearly all destroyed, that the rest of the world seemed to be combined against his race and they were killing them by day and night, in summer and winter. Also, he declared that the rabbits had little power to fight against enemies, and, therefore, his people were almost discouraged, but they had sent him to the council to see if the members could suggest any remedy or plan to save the rabbit race from complete destruction.

While the rabbit was speaking the wolverine winked at the wildcat, while the fox, although he tried to look solemn, could not keep his mouth from watering as he thought of the many rabbits he intended to eat.

Thus it can be seen that the rabbit did not get much sympathy from his enemies in the council. But his friends,--the moose, the reindeer, and the mountain goat--stood up in the meeting and spoke out bravely for their little friend. Indeed, they told the animals that had laughed at the little rabbit's sad story that if they continued to kill all the rabbits they could find there would soon be none left.

Then these cruel animals would be the greatest sufferers, for what else could they find to eat in sufficient numbers to keep them alive, if the rabbits were all gone?

This thought sobered the thoughtless animals at first but they soon resumed their mocking at the poor little rabbit and his story. As they happened to be in the majority, the council refused to do anything in the matter.

When the moose heard the decision of the council he was very sorry for his poor little brother rabbit. He lowered his head and told the rabbit to jump on one of his flat horns. The moose then carried him some distance away from the council and said, "There is no hope for you here. Most of the animals live on you and so they will not do anything that will make it more difficult for you to be caught than it now is. Your only hope is to go to Manabozho, and see what he can do for you. His name was once Manabush, which means Great Rabbit, so I am sure he will be your friend because I think he is a distant relative of yours."

Away sped the rabbit along the route described by the moose, who had lately found out where Manabozho was stopping.

The rabbit was such a timid creature that, when he came near to Manabozho, he was much afraid that he would not be welcomed. However, his case was desperate, and although his heart was thumping with fear he hurried along to have the matter decided as soon as possible.

To his great joy he found Manabozho in the best humour and the little creature was received most kindly. The great Master saw how weary the little rabbit was after the long journey so he made the little fellow rest on some fragrant gra.s.s in the sunshine. Then Manabozho went out and brought in some of the choicest things in his garden for the rabbit.

"Tell me all your troubles, little brother," said Manabozho. "Also, tell me about the council meeting."

The rabbit repeated his story and told all about the treatment he had received at the council.

When the Great Master heard how unjustly the little rabbit had been treated he grew very angry and said, "And that is the way they treated little brother rabbit at the council we have given them, is it? And they know we expect them to give the smallest and weakest the same kind of justice as they offer the biggest and strongest! It is high time for some one to report the council news to me if such unfair meetings take place. Look out, Mr. Fox, Mr. Wolverine, and Mr.

Wildcat, for if I take you in hand you'll be sorry little brother rabbit was obliged to come to Manabozho for help."

The Great Master had worked himself up into such a furious temper that the rabbit was frightened almost to death. But when Manabozho saw this he laughed and said, "I'm sorry to have frightened you, little brother. But I was so very angry with those animals for ill-treating you that I forgot myself. And now tell me what you wish me to do for you?"

After a long talk about the matter it was decided that there should be two great changes made. First, the eyes of the rabbit should be so increased in power that in the future they would be able to see by night as well as by day. Second, in all the Northland where much snow falls during many months of the year the rabbits of that region should change their coats for the winter season into a beautiful white colour like the snow.

And the rabbits of the Northland now have a much better time than they had formerly. In their soft white coats they can glide away from their enemies, or they can sometimes escape notice by remaining perfectly still on the white earth. (_Adapted._)

THE YEW

Janet Harvey Kelman

Once upon a time a discontented Yew tree grew in a wood. Other trees, it thought, had larger and more beautiful leaves which fluttered in the breeze and became red and brown and yellow in the sunshine, and the Yew tree pined because the fairies had given it such an unattractive dress. One morning the sunshine disclosed that all its green leaves had changed into leaves made of gold, and the heart of the Yew tree danced with happiness. But some robbers, as they stole through the forest, were attracted by the glitter, and stripped off every golden leaf. Again the tree bemoaned its fate, and next day the sun shone on leaves of purest crystal. "How beautiful!" thought the tree; "see how I sparkle!" But a hailstorm burst from the clouds, and the sparkling leaves lay shivered on the gra.s.s. Once more the good fairies tried to comfort the unhappy tree. Smooth broad leaves covered its branches, and the Yew tree flaunted these gay banners in the wind.

But, alas, a flock of goats came by and ate of the fresh young leaves "a million and ten." "Give me back again my old dress," sobbed the Yew, "for I see that it was best." And ever since its leaves remain unchanging, and it wears the sombre dress which covered its boughs in the days when King William landed from Normandy on our sh.o.r.es, and the swineherd tended his pigs in the great forests which covered so much of Merry England.

HOW THE PINE TREE DID SOME GOOD

Samuel W. Duffield

It was a long narrow valley where the Pine Tree stood, and perhaps if you want to look for it you might find it there today. For pine trees live a long time, and this one was not very old.

The valley was quite barren. Nothing grew there but a few scrubby bushes; and, to tell the truth, it was about as desolate a place as you can well imagine. Far up over it hung the great, snowy caps of the Rocky Mountains, where the clouds played hide and seek all day, and chased each other merrily across the snow. There was a little stream, too, that gathered itself up among the snows and came running down the side of the mountain; but for all that the valley was very dreary.

Once in a while there went a large grey rabbit, hopping among the sagebushes; but look as far as you could you would find no more inhabitants. Poor, solitary little valley, with not even a cottonwood down by the stream, and hardly enough gra.s.s to furnish three oxen with a meal! Poor, barren little valley lying always for half the day in the shadow of those tall cliffs--burning under the summer sun, heaped high with the winter snows--lying there year after year without a friend! Yes, it had two friends, though they could do it but little good, for they were two pine trees. The one nearest the mountain, hanging quite out of reach in a cleft of the rock, was an old, gnarled tree, which had stood there for a hundred years. The other was younger, with bright green foliage, summer and winter. It curled up the ends of its branches, as if it would like to have you understand that it was a very fine, hardy fellow, even if it wasn't as old as its father up there in the cleft of the rock.

Now the young Pine Tree grew very lonesome at times, and was glad to talk with any persons who came along, and they were few, I can tell you. Occasionally, it would look lovingly up to the father pine, and wonder if it could make him hear what it said. It would rustle its branches and shout by the hour, but the father pine heard him only once, and then the words were so mixed with falling snow that it was really impossible to say what they meant.

So the Pine Tree was very lonesome and no wonder. "I wish I knew of what good I am," he said to the grey rabbit one day. "I wish I knew,--I wish I knew," and he rustled his branches until they all seemed to say, "Wish I knew--wish I knew."

"O pshaw!" said the rabbit, "I wouldn't concern myself much about that. Some day you'll find out."

"But do tell me," persisted the Pine Tree, "of what good you think I am."

"Well," answered the rabbit, sitting up on her hind paws and washing her face with her front ones, in order that company shouldn't see her unless she looked trim and tidy--"well," said the rabbit, "I can't exactly say myself what it is. If you don't help one, you help another--and that's right enough, isn't it? As for me, I take care of my family. I hop around among the sagebushes and get their breakfast and dinner and supper. I have plenty to do, I a.s.sure you, and you must really excuse me now, for I have to be off."

"I wish I was a hare," muttered the Pine Tree to himself, "I think I could do some good then, for I should have a family to support, but I know I can't now."

Then he called across to the little stream and asked the same question of him. And the stream rippled along, and danced in the sunshine, and answered him. "I go on errands for the big mountain all day. I carried one of your cones not long ago to a point of land twenty miles off, and there now is a pine tree that looks just like you. But I must run along, I am so busy. I can't tell you of what good you are. You must wait and see." And the little stream danced on.

"I wish I were a stream," thought the Pine Tree. "Anything but being tied down to this spot for years. That is unfair. The rabbit can run around, and so can the stream; but I must stand still forever. I wish I were dead."

By and by the summer pa.s.sed into autumn, and the autumn into winter, and the snowflakes began to fall.

"Halloo!" said the first one, all in a flutter, as she dropped on the Pine Tree. But he shook her off, and she fell still farther down on the ground. The Pine Tree was getting very churlish and cross lately.

However, the snow didn't stop for all that and very soon there was a white robe over all the narrow valley. The Pine Tree had no one to talk with now. The stream had covered himself in with ice and snow, and wasn't to be seen.

The hare had to hop around very industriously to get enough for her children to eat; and the sagebushes were always low-minded fellows and couldn't begin to keep up a ten-minutes' conversation.

At last there came a solitary figure across the valley, making its way straight for the Pine Tree. It was a lame mule, which had been left behind from some wagon-train. He dragged himself slowly on till he reached the tree. Now the Pine, in shaking off the snow, had shaken down some cones as well, and they lay on the snow. These the mule picked up and began to eat.

"Heigh ho!" said the tree, "I never knew those things were fit to eat before."

"Didn't you?" replied the mule. "Why I have lived on these things, as you call them, ever since I left the wagons. I am going back on the Oregon Trail, and I sha'n't see you again. Accept my thanks for breakfast. Good-bye."