章节正文
her to the last and that I die for her sake. Take this belt and
give it to her. She gave it to me as a pledge of her love for me,"
and he being then turned to a great fish, swam to the middle of the
river and there remained, only his great fin remaining above
the water.
The friend went home and told his story. There was great mourning
over the death of the five young men, and for the lost lover. In
the river the great fish remained, its fin just above the surface,
and was called by the Indians "Fish that Bars," because it bar'd
navigation. Canoes had to be portaged at great
labor around the obstruction.
The chief's daughter mourned for her lover as for a husband, nor
would she be comforted. "He was lost for love of me, and I shall
remain as his widow," she wailed.
In her mother's tepee she sat, with her head covered with her robe,
silent, working, working. "What is my daughter doing," her mother
asked. But the maiden did not reply.
The days lengthened into moons until a year had passed. And then
the maiden arose. In her hands were beautiful articles of
clothing, enough for three men. There were three pairs of
moccasins, three pairs of leggings, three belts, three shirts,
three head dresses with beautiful feathers, and sweet smelling
tobacco.
"Make a new canoe of bark," she said, which was made for her.
Into the canoe she stepped and floated slowly down the river toward
the great fish.
"Come back my daughter," her mother cried in agony. "Come back.
The great fish will eat you."
She answered nothing. Her canoe came to the place where the great
fin arose and stopped, its prow grating on the monster's back. The
maiden stepped out boldly. One by one she laid her presents on the
fish's back, scattering the feathers and tobacco over his broad
spine.
"Oh, fish," she cried, "Oh, fish, you who were my lover, I shall
not forget you. Because you were lost for love of me, I shall
never marry. All my life I shall remain a widow. Take these
presents. And now leave the river, and let the waters run free, so
my people may once more descend in their canoes."
She stepped into her canoe and waited. Slowly the great fish sank,
his broad fin disappeared, and the waters of the St. Croix
(Stillwater) were free.
THE ARTICHOKE AND THE MUSKRAT
On the shore of a lake stood an artichoke with its green leaves
waving in the sun. Very proud of itself it was, and well satisfied
with the world. In the lake below lived a muskrat in his tepee,
and in the evening as the sun set he would come out upon the shore
and wander over the bank. One evening he came near the place where
the artichoke stood.
"Ho, friend," he said, "you seem rather proud of yourself. Who are
you?" "I am the artichoke," answered the other, "and I have many
handsome cousins. But who are you?"
"I am the muskrat, and I, too, belong to a large family. I live in
the water. I don't stand all day in one place like a stone."
"If I stand in one place all day," retorted the artichoke, "at
least I don't swim around in stagnant water, and build my lodge in
the mud."
"You are jealous of my fine fur," sneered the muskrat. "I may
build my lodge in the mud, but I always have a clean coat. But you
are half buried in the ground, and when men dig you up, you are
never clean."
"And your fine coat always smells of musk," jeered the artichoke.
"That is true," said the muskrat. "But men think well of me,
nevertheless. They trap me for the fine sinew in my tail; and
handsome young women bite off my tail with their white teeth and
make it into thread."
"That's nothing," laughed the artichoke. "Handsome young warriors,
painted and splendid with feathers, dig me up, brush me off with
their shapely hands and eat me without even taking the trouble to
wash me off."
THE RABBIT AND THE BEAR WITH THE
FLINT BODY
The Rabbit and his grandmother were in dire straits, because the
rabbit was out of arrows. The fall hunt would soon be on and his
quiver was all but empty. Arrow sticks he could cut in plenty, but
he had nothing with which to make arrowheads.
"You must make some flint arrowheads," said his grandmother. "Then
you will be able to kill game."
"Where shall I get the flint?" asked the rabbit.
"From the old bear chief," said his old grandmother. For at that
time all the flint in the world was in the bear's body.
So the rabbit set out for the village of the Bears. It was winter
time and the lodges of the bears were set under the shelter of a
hill where the cold wind would not blow on them and where they had
shelter among the trees and bushes.
He came at one end of the village to a hut where lived an old
woman. He pushed open the door and entered. Everybody who came
for flint always stopped there because it was the first lodge on
the edge of the village. Strangers were therefore not unusual in
the old woman's hut, and she welcomed the rabbit. She gave him a
seat and at night he lay with his feet to the fire.
The next morning the rabbit went to the lodge of the bear chief.
They sat together awhile and smoked. At last the bear chief spoke.
"What do you want, my grandson?"
"I have come for some flint to make arrows," answered the rabbit.
The bear chief grunted, and laid aside his pipe. Leaning back he
pulled off his robe and, sure enough, one half of his body was
flesh and the other half hard flint.
"Bring a stone hammer and give it to our guest," he bade his wife.
Then as the rabbit took the hammer he said: "Do not strike too
hard."
"Grandfather, I shall be careful," said the rabbit. With a stroke
he struck off a little flake of flint from the bear's body.
"Ni-sko-ke-cha? So big?" he asked.
"Harder, grandson; strike off bigger pieces," said the bear.
The rabbit struck a little harder.
"Ni-sko-ke-cha? So big?" he asked.
The bear grew impatient. "No, no, strike off bigger pieces. I
can't be here all day. Tanka kaksa wo! Break off a big piece."
The rabbit struck again--hard! "Ni-sko-ke-cha?" he cried, as the
hammer fell. But even as he spoke the bear's body broke in two,
the flesh part fell away and only the flint part remained. Like a
flash the rabbit darted out of the hut.
There was a great outcry in the village. Openmouthed, all the
bears gave chase. But as he ran the rabbit cried: "Wa-hin-han-yo
(snow, snow) Ota-po, Ota-po--lots more, lots more," and a great
storm of snow swept down from the sky.
The rabbit, light of foot, bounded over the top of the snow. The
bears sunk in and floundered about helpless. Seeing this, the
rabbit turned back and killed them one by one with his club. That
is why we now have so few bears.
STORY OF THE LOST WIFE
A Dakota girl married a man who promised to treat her kindly, but
he did not keep his word. He was unreasonable, fault-finding, and
often beat her. Frantic with his cruelty, she ran away. The whole
village turned out to search for her, but no trace of the missing
wife was to be found.
Meanwhile, the fleeing woman had wandered about all that day and
the next night. The next day she met a man, who asked her who she
was. She did not know it, but he was not really a man, but the
chief of the wolves.
"Come with me," he said, and he led her to a large village. She
was amazed to see here many wolves--gray and black, timber wolves
and coyotes. It seemed as if all the wolves in the world were
there.
The wolf chief led the young woman to a great tepee and invited her
in. He asked her what she ate for food.
"Buffalo meat," she answered.
He called two coyotes and bade them bring what the young woman
wanted. They bounded away and soon returned with the shoulder of
a fresh-killed buffalo calf.
"How do you prepare it for eating?" asked the wolf chief.
"By boiling," answered the young woman.
Again he called the two coyotes. Away they bounded and soon
brought into the tent a small bundle. In it were punk, flint and
steel--stolen, it may be, from some camp of men.
"How do you make the meat ready?" asked the wolf chief.
"I cut it into slices," answered the young woman.
The coyotes were called and in a short time fetched in a knife in
its sheath. The young woman cut up the calf's shoulder into slices
and ate it.
Thus she lived for a year, all the wolves being very kind to her.
At the end of that time the wolf chief said to her:
"Your people are going off on a buffalo hunt. Tomorrow at noon
they will be here. You must then go out and meet them or they will
fall on us and kill us."
The next day at about noon the young woman went to the top of a
neighboring knoll. Coming toward her were some young men riding on
their ponies. She stood up and held her hands so that they could
see her. They wondered who she was, and when they were close by
gazed at her closely.
"A year ago we lost a young woman; if you are she, where have you
been," they asked.
"I have been in the wolves' village. Do not harm them," she
answered.
"We will ride back and tell the people," they said. "Tomorrow
again at noon, we shall meet you."
The young woman went back to the wolf village, and the next day
went again to a neighboring knoll, though to a different one. Soon
she saw the camp coming in a long line over the prairie. First
were the warriors, then the women and tents.
The young woman's father and mother were overjoyed to see her. But
when they came near her the young woman fainted, for she could not
now bear the smell of human kind. When she came to herself she
said:
"You must go on a buffalo hunt, my father and all the hunters.
Tomorrow you must come again, bringing with you the tongues and
choice pieces of the kill."
This he promised to do; and all the men of the camp mounted their
ponies and they had a great hunt. The next day they returned with
their ponies laden with the buffalo meat. The young woman bade
them pile the meat in a great heap between two hills which she
pointed out to them. There was so much meat that the tops of the
two hills were bridged level between by the meat pile. In the
center of the pile the young woman planted a pole with a red flag.
She then began to howl like a wolf, loudly.
In a moment the earth seemed covered with wolves. They fell
greedily on the meat pile and in a short time had eaten the last
scrap.
The young woman then joined her own people.
Her husband wanted her to come and live with him again. For a long
time she refused. However, at last they became reconciled.
THE RACCOON AND THE CRAWFISH
Sharp and cunning is the raccoon, say the Indians, by whom he is
named Spotted Face.
A crawfish one evening wandered along a river bank, looking for
something dead to feast upon. A raccoon was also out looking for
something to eat. He spied the crawfish and formed a plan to catch
him.
He lay down on the bank and feigned to be dead. By and by the
crawfish came near by. "Ho," he thought, "here is a feast indeed;
but is he really dead. I will go near and pinch him with my claws
give it to her. She gave it to me as a pledge of her love for me,"
and he being then turned to a great fish, swam to the middle of the
river and there remained, only his great fin remaining above
the water.
The friend went home and told his story. There was great mourning
over the death of the five young men, and for the lost lover. In
the river the great fish remained, its fin just above the surface,
and was called by the Indians "Fish that Bars," because it bar'd
navigation. Canoes had to be portaged at great
labor around the obstruction.
The chief's daughter mourned for her lover as for a husband, nor
would she be comforted. "He was lost for love of me, and I shall
remain as his widow," she wailed.
In her mother's tepee she sat, with her head covered with her robe,
silent, working, working. "What is my daughter doing," her mother
asked. But the maiden did not reply.
The days lengthened into moons until a year had passed. And then
the maiden arose. In her hands were beautiful articles of
clothing, enough for three men. There were three pairs of
moccasins, three pairs of leggings, three belts, three shirts,
three head dresses with beautiful feathers, and sweet smelling
tobacco.
"Make a new canoe of bark," she said, which was made for her.
Into the canoe she stepped and floated slowly down the river toward
the great fish.
"Come back my daughter," her mother cried in agony. "Come back.
The great fish will eat you."
She answered nothing. Her canoe came to the place where the great
fin arose and stopped, its prow grating on the monster's back. The
maiden stepped out boldly. One by one she laid her presents on the
fish's back, scattering the feathers and tobacco over his broad
spine.
"Oh, fish," she cried, "Oh, fish, you who were my lover, I shall
not forget you. Because you were lost for love of me, I shall
never marry. All my life I shall remain a widow. Take these
presents. And now leave the river, and let the waters run free, so
my people may once more descend in their canoes."
She stepped into her canoe and waited. Slowly the great fish sank,
his broad fin disappeared, and the waters of the St. Croix
(Stillwater) were free.
THE ARTICHOKE AND THE MUSKRAT
On the shore of a lake stood an artichoke with its green leaves
waving in the sun. Very proud of itself it was, and well satisfied
with the world. In the lake below lived a muskrat in his tepee,
and in the evening as the sun set he would come out upon the shore
and wander over the bank. One evening he came near the place where
the artichoke stood.
"Ho, friend," he said, "you seem rather proud of yourself. Who are
you?" "I am the artichoke," answered the other, "and I have many
handsome cousins. But who are you?"
"I am the muskrat, and I, too, belong to a large family. I live in
the water. I don't stand all day in one place like a stone."
"If I stand in one place all day," retorted the artichoke, "at
least I don't swim around in stagnant water, and build my lodge in
the mud."
"You are jealous of my fine fur," sneered the muskrat. "I may
build my lodge in the mud, but I always have a clean coat. But you
are half buried in the ground, and when men dig you up, you are
never clean."
"And your fine coat always smells of musk," jeered the artichoke.
"That is true," said the muskrat. "But men think well of me,
nevertheless. They trap me for the fine sinew in my tail; and
handsome young women bite off my tail with their white teeth and
make it into thread."
"That's nothing," laughed the artichoke. "Handsome young warriors,
painted and splendid with feathers, dig me up, brush me off with
their shapely hands and eat me without even taking the trouble to
wash me off."
THE RABBIT AND THE BEAR WITH THE
FLINT BODY
The Rabbit and his grandmother were in dire straits, because the
rabbit was out of arrows. The fall hunt would soon be on and his
quiver was all but empty. Arrow sticks he could cut in plenty, but
he had nothing with which to make arrowheads.
"You must make some flint arrowheads," said his grandmother. "Then
you will be able to kill game."
"Where shall I get the flint?" asked the rabbit.
"From the old bear chief," said his old grandmother. For at that
time all the flint in the world was in the bear's body.
So the rabbit set out for the village of the Bears. It was winter
time and the lodges of the bears were set under the shelter of a
hill where the cold wind would not blow on them and where they had
shelter among the trees and bushes.
He came at one end of the village to a hut where lived an old
woman. He pushed open the door and entered. Everybody who came
for flint always stopped there because it was the first lodge on
the edge of the village. Strangers were therefore not unusual in
the old woman's hut, and she welcomed the rabbit. She gave him a
seat and at night he lay with his feet to the fire.
The next morning the rabbit went to the lodge of the bear chief.
They sat together awhile and smoked. At last the bear chief spoke.
"What do you want, my grandson?"
"I have come for some flint to make arrows," answered the rabbit.
The bear chief grunted, and laid aside his pipe. Leaning back he
pulled off his robe and, sure enough, one half of his body was
flesh and the other half hard flint.
"Bring a stone hammer and give it to our guest," he bade his wife.
Then as the rabbit took the hammer he said: "Do not strike too
hard."
"Grandfather, I shall be careful," said the rabbit. With a stroke
he struck off a little flake of flint from the bear's body.
"Ni-sko-ke-cha? So big?" he asked.
"Harder, grandson; strike off bigger pieces," said the bear.
The rabbit struck a little harder.
"Ni-sko-ke-cha? So big?" he asked.
The bear grew impatient. "No, no, strike off bigger pieces. I
can't be here all day. Tanka kaksa wo! Break off a big piece."
The rabbit struck again--hard! "Ni-sko-ke-cha?" he cried, as the
hammer fell. But even as he spoke the bear's body broke in two,
the flesh part fell away and only the flint part remained. Like a
flash the rabbit darted out of the hut.
There was a great outcry in the village. Openmouthed, all the
bears gave chase. But as he ran the rabbit cried: "Wa-hin-han-yo
(snow, snow) Ota-po, Ota-po--lots more, lots more," and a great
storm of snow swept down from the sky.
The rabbit, light of foot, bounded over the top of the snow. The
bears sunk in and floundered about helpless. Seeing this, the
rabbit turned back and killed them one by one with his club. That
is why we now have so few bears.
STORY OF THE LOST WIFE
A Dakota girl married a man who promised to treat her kindly, but
he did not keep his word. He was unreasonable, fault-finding, and
often beat her. Frantic with his cruelty, she ran away. The whole
village turned out to search for her, but no trace of the missing
wife was to be found.
Meanwhile, the fleeing woman had wandered about all that day and
the next night. The next day she met a man, who asked her who she
was. She did not know it, but he was not really a man, but the
chief of the wolves.
"Come with me," he said, and he led her to a large village. She
was amazed to see here many wolves--gray and black, timber wolves
and coyotes. It seemed as if all the wolves in the world were
there.
The wolf chief led the young woman to a great tepee and invited her
in. He asked her what she ate for food.
"Buffalo meat," she answered.
He called two coyotes and bade them bring what the young woman
wanted. They bounded away and soon returned with the shoulder of
a fresh-killed buffalo calf.
"How do you prepare it for eating?" asked the wolf chief.
"By boiling," answered the young woman.
Again he called the two coyotes. Away they bounded and soon
brought into the tent a small bundle. In it were punk, flint and
steel--stolen, it may be, from some camp of men.
"How do you make the meat ready?" asked the wolf chief.
"I cut it into slices," answered the young woman.
The coyotes were called and in a short time fetched in a knife in
its sheath. The young woman cut up the calf's shoulder into slices
and ate it.
Thus she lived for a year, all the wolves being very kind to her.
At the end of that time the wolf chief said to her:
"Your people are going off on a buffalo hunt. Tomorrow at noon
they will be here. You must then go out and meet them or they will
fall on us and kill us."
The next day at about noon the young woman went to the top of a
neighboring knoll. Coming toward her were some young men riding on
their ponies. She stood up and held her hands so that they could
see her. They wondered who she was, and when they were close by
gazed at her closely.
"A year ago we lost a young woman; if you are she, where have you
been," they asked.
"I have been in the wolves' village. Do not harm them," she
answered.
"We will ride back and tell the people," they said. "Tomorrow
again at noon, we shall meet you."
The young woman went back to the wolf village, and the next day
went again to a neighboring knoll, though to a different one. Soon
she saw the camp coming in a long line over the prairie. First
were the warriors, then the women and tents.
The young woman's father and mother were overjoyed to see her. But
when they came near her the young woman fainted, for she could not
now bear the smell of human kind. When she came to herself she
said:
"You must go on a buffalo hunt, my father and all the hunters.
Tomorrow you must come again, bringing with you the tongues and
choice pieces of the kill."
This he promised to do; and all the men of the camp mounted their
ponies and they had a great hunt. The next day they returned with
their ponies laden with the buffalo meat. The young woman bade
them pile the meat in a great heap between two hills which she
pointed out to them. There was so much meat that the tops of the
two hills were bridged level between by the meat pile. In the
center of the pile the young woman planted a pole with a red flag.
She then began to howl like a wolf, loudly.
In a moment the earth seemed covered with wolves. They fell
greedily on the meat pile and in a short time had eaten the last
scrap.
The young woman then joined her own people.
Her husband wanted her to come and live with him again. For a long
time she refused. However, at last they became reconciled.
THE RACCOON AND THE CRAWFISH
Sharp and cunning is the raccoon, say the Indians, by whom he is
named Spotted Face.
A crawfish one evening wandered along a river bank, looking for
something dead to feast upon. A raccoon was also out looking for
something to eat. He spied the crawfish and formed a plan to catch
him.
He lay down on the bank and feigned to be dead. By and by the
crawfish came near by. "Ho," he thought, "here is a feast indeed;
but is he really dead. I will go near and pinch him with my claws
- pledge [pledʒ]
n.信物；誓约vt.使发誓 (初中英语单词) - working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- maiden [´meidn] n.少女 a.未婚的 (初中英语单词)
- tobacco [tə´bækəu] n.烟草(叶)；卷烟 (初中英语单词)
- descend [di´send] v.下来，下降 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- jealous [´dʒeləs] a.妒忌的 (初中英语单词)
- rabbit [´ræbit] n.兔子，野兔 (初中英语单词)
- grandmother [´græn,mʌðə] n.(外)祖母 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- unusual [ʌn´ju:ʒuəl] a.不平常的；异常的 (初中英语单词)
- awhile [ə´wail] ad.少顷；片刻 (初中英语单词)
- hammer [´hæmə] n.锤子 v.重击 (初中英语单词)
- helpless [´helpləs] a.无助的，无依靠的 (初中英语单词)
- timber [´timbə] n.木材；木料；横梁 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- neighboring [´neibəriŋ] a.邻近的；接壤的 (初中英语单词)
- prairie [´preəri] n.大草原 (初中英语单词)
- cunning [´kʌniŋ] a.&n.狡猾(诡诈)的 (初中英语单词)
- boldly [´bəuldli] ad.大胆地；醒目地 (高中英语单词)
- impatient [im´peiʃənt] a.不耐烦的，急躁的 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- dakota [də´kəutə] n.&a.达科他人(语) (高中英语单词)
- frantic [´fræntik] a.发狂的；急忙的 (高中英语单词)
- cruelty [´kru:əlti] n.残忍；残酷行为 (高中英语单词)
- buffalo [´bʌfələu] n.水牛；野牛 (高中英语单词)
- grating [´greitiŋ] n.格栅 a.刺耳的 (英语四级单词)
- muskrat [´mʌskræt] n.麝鼠 (英语四级单词)
- grandson [´grænsʌn] n.孙子；外孙子 (英语四级单词)
- outcry [´autkrai] n.喊叫；强烈抗议 (英语四级单词)
- unreasonable [ʌn´ri:zənəbl] a.不合理的；荒唐的 (英语四级单词)
- sheath [ʃi:θ] n.鞘，壳，套 (英语四级单词)
- leggings [´legiŋz] n.绑腿，裹腿 (英语六级单词)
- stagnant [´stægnənt] a.停滞的；萧条的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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