Indian Legends of Minnesota Part 7

High rode the sun in heaven next day before The stricken mother found along the sh.o.r.e The object of her unremitting quest.

The cooling wave whereon she lay at rest Had stilled the tumult of Winona's breast Along that shapely ruin's plastic grace, And in the parting of her braided hair, The hopeless mother's glances searching there The Thunder-Bird's mysterious mark might trace.

So died Winona, and let all beware, For vengeance follows fast and will not spare, Nor maid, nor warrior that dares offend Who hath the cruel Thunder-Bird for friend.

THE PEACE-PIPE QUARRY

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Outward swell the rolling prairies like the waves of ocean deep; Higher rise the crested billows rolling upward as they sweep From horizon to horizon, and the air grows pure and free, "On the mountains of the prairie," on the wind-swept emerald sea.

As in olden time the zealots who would build unto their G.o.d, Sacred temples for his wors.h.i.+p, chose a "high place," and the sod Of the consecrated mountain was made holy by the rites Of footsore and weary pilgrims who had sought the sacred heights, So instinctively the red-men, roaming o'er the boundless main, Looked for their Manitou above the low level of the plain; Sought and found him on the summit of the green wave's swelling crest Rising upward like a mountain, in the valley of the West.

Not to him they founded temples, gilded fanes and altars fair; Looking up, they saw already Manitou enthroned there In the fastness of the mountain, with his sphynx-like, stony face Watching like a guardian spirit, o'er the dusky lawless race Who regarded not each other, and their deadly hatred slaked In the blood of friends and foemen, when their slumbering ire was waked.

"Gitche Manitou, the Mighty," the Great Spirit throned above, Was a G.o.d of truth and wisdom, was a G.o.d of peace and love; And as G.o.d upon Mount Sinai, stooping from his heavenly throne, Gave the law unto his people, deeply graven into _stone_, "Gitche Manitou, the Mighty," in compa.s.sion for the race Of unlettered, untaught heathen who knew not his G.o.d-like face Save they saw it in the tempest or the lightning's livid glare, Or in some familiar emblem they could see, or feel, or wear, Taught them peace and love to kindred, through an emblem formed of stone, Fas.h.i.+oned in the well-known outlines of a thing they called their own.

In the caverns of his store-house, deeply sunken in the ground, Lay the mystical red pipe-stone, never yet by sachem found.

With his strong right hand almighty, rent he now the ground in twain, Broke the red stone of the quarry, and, resounding o'er the plain, Came this message to the warriors:--"Let this be to you a sign: Make you calumets of pipe-stone, pledge you peace and love divine, By the smoking of this signet. Let it pa.s.s from hand to hand.

Cease you from your wars and wrangling, and be brothers in the land."

The Great Spirit's words were heeded, and the calumet, the pipe Which they often smoked together in their councils, was the type Of good-will and peace thereafter, and upon the quarry's site, Hostile tribes and tongues and races meeting, never meet to fight.

Many legends and traditions cl.u.s.ter round this sacred spot; Many histories and records deep with hidden meaning fraught, Have been chiseled on the ledges at the ancient bowlders' base, Who, like strangers in the valley, drifted to a resting place.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Here, ere Manitou had given to the tribes the pipe of peace, Saw he mighty war and bloodshed, saw the tribes of men decrease, Until fleeing from destruction, come three maidens to the rocks-- The last remnant of all women, hiding from the fearful shocks Of the deadly fight and carnage which was raging through the air, Driven to these three large bowlders, as a refuge in despair.

Now in memory of the conflict and the part the bowlders bore, They are named in weird tradition, "The Three Maidens," evermore.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Here the thunder-bird portentous, Wakan, terrible in might, Made his home in awful grandeur on the cliff's mysterious height.

Here the flapping of his pinions brought the fierce, hot lightning's glare, Glazing all the fissured surface like enamel smooth and fair; Melting all the red rock's substance till a foot-print of the bird, Plastic then, took form and hardened for a witness of the word.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Falls of Winnewissa._]

Northward, just beyond the quarry, stands the famous "Leaping Rock,"

With its proud head reared to heaven, with an air that seems to mock And to set at stern defiance, boastful braves who seek for fame, And from agile feats to gather for themselves an envied name.

Hither came to try his daring, with brave heart to valor nerved, Hopefully a young Sioux chieftain, never from his purpose swerved, Came in all his youthful vigor, with his band of stalwart braves, From the land of the Dakotas; zealously his spirit craves To lead them all in bravery as he oft before has led, And the plumes of the war eagle proudly waving on his head, To wear in boastful triumph on the far-famed treacherous height, And in his tribe's traditions, thus his envied name to write.

Fearlessly he stands a moment on the overhanging edge Of the nearest cliff's high summit, eyes the small and slippery ledge Just beyond the yawning chasm which his daring feet must leap; Stands there bold and free and fearless, taking inward at a sweep All the fearful odds and chances, the deep chasm he must cross-- Calculates with hope of winning, never with a fear of loss.

High above him arch the heavens; deep below him yawns the gulf; In his ears the cataract thunders, and before him stands the rough, Towering rock with air defiant, standing mocking, beckoning there.

With a fixed resolve and purpose, he leaps upward in the air-- Leaps, but not as he had counted, for his feet touch not the goal, But his body plunges downward, and the young Sioux warrior's soul, Rising upward through the ether, seeks the happy hunting ground Just as anxious friends and kindred gather hastily around, Dropping tears unto his memory and with slow and measured tread, Bear away the bold young chieftain, to the mansions of the dead.

Fear the falls of Winnewissa sweetly wooing to repose With its murmurous plash of waters perfume-laden of the rose, 'Neath the soil which once _his_ kindred claimed and lived in until we Rising eastward like a storm-cloud, swept the land from sea to sea.

Sleepeth well the brave young warrior in this legend-hallowed ground, The long sleep that knows no waking till the common trump shall sound.

Still the Indian camp-fires glimmer round the sacred quarry's edge, And the calumet, the peace-pipe, is to them a friendly pledge: And the doubting pale-face dwelling near the blood-red mystic stone, Feels around him peace and safety like Elijah's mantle thrown.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Long may Manitou, the mighty, the Great Spirit throned above, Smile upon his helpless children, fill their lives with peace and love; And at last, in the great council, at the bidding of his voice, May they meet to smoke the peace-pipe with the people of his choice.

The Song of Hiawatha.

THE PEACE-PIPE.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

On the Mountains of the Prairie,[14]

On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry,[15]

Gitche Manito, the mighty, He the Master of Life, descending, On the red crags of the quarry Stood erect, and called the nations, Called the tribes of men together.

From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning, O'er the precipice plunging downward Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet.

And the Spirit, stooping earthward, With his finger on the meadow Traced a winding pathway for it, Saying to it, "Run in this way!"

From the red stone of the quarry With his hand he broke a fragment, Molded it into a pipe-head, Shaped and fas.h.i.+oned it with figures; From the margin of the river Took a long reed for a pipe-stem, With its dark green leaves upon it; Filled the pipe with bark of willow, With the bark of the red willow; Breathed upon the neighboring forest, Made its great boughs chafe together, Till in flame they burst and kindled; And erect upon the mountains, Gitche Manito, the mighty, Smoked the calumet, the Peace-Pipe, As a signal to the nations.

And the smoke rose slowly, slowly, Through the tranquil air of morning, First a single line of darkness, Then a denser, bluer vapor, Then a snow-white cloud unfolding, Like the tree-tops of the forest, Ever rising, rising, rising, Till it touched the top of heaven, Till it broke against the heaven, And rolled outward all around it.

From the Vale of Tawasentha, From the Valley of Wyoming,[16]

From the groves of Tuscaloosa,[17]

From the far-off Rocky Mountains, From the Northern lakes and rivers All the tribes beheld the signal, Saw the distant smoke ascending, The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe.

And the Prophets of the nations Said: "Behold it, the Pukwana!

By this signal from afar off, Bending like a wand of willow, Waving like a hand that beckons, Gitche Manito, the mighty, Calls the tribes of men together, Calls the warriors to his council!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

II.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

By the sh.o.r.es of Gitche Gumee, By the s.h.i.+ning Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the s.h.i.+ning Big-Sea-Water.

There the wrinkled, old Nokomis Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes, Safely bound with reindeer sinews; Stilled his fretful wail by saying, "Hus.h.!.+ the Naked Bear will hear thee!"

Lulled him into slumber, singing, "Ewa-yea! my little owlet!

Who is this, that lights the wigwam?

With his great eyes lights the wigwam?

Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Hiawatha's Wooing.