Once there was a little Cree boy named
Koto. His father was a chief and a great hunter,
and Koto always longed for the time when he would
be able to hunt like his father and bring back large
game to the wigwam. One summer day the chief
and all the hunters were away on a hunting trip.
There was no one left in the camp but a few of the
women and some children. Koto wandered around,
not knowing what to do, when suddenly he thought of
a very daring thing. One pony had been left
because it had been lame, and now Koto made up his
mind that he would get on its back and gallop over
the prairie. He knew that the pony’s foot
was nearly better, and he thought that one gallop could
not hurt it.
So he jumped on the pony’s back,
waved his arms, and called out to it to run, and away
they went. Koto’s long, dark hair and the
pony’s mane blew in the wind, and they both
were enjoying the gallop when something terrible happened.
The pony caught his foot in a badger hole and fell
heavily to the ground. Koto was tossed in the
air, and then fell with one foot pinned under him.
For a long time the two sufferers
lay there in the hot sun on the prairie. At
length Koto’s mother, who had missed him, found
them. She carried Koto back to the wigwam and
laid him on his bed of skins. She told him that
his leg was broken and that the pony’s leg was
broken also, and that the hunters would have to kill
it when they returned. Poor Koto wept bitterly.
He did not mind his own broken leg, but to think
that he had really killed the little pony nearly broke
his heart. For many days he lay on his bed, and
at last he was able to get up and move around with
the help of a little crutch, which his father had made
from the branch of a tree.
When winter came, the Indians moved
their camp to the woods along the bank of the Assiniboine
River. Koto was not able to walk well, so remained
in his lodge until all the camp had been moved.
Then his father came to carry him to the camp that
was protected from the cold north wind.
“My son,” he said, as
he walked along with Koto in his arms, “I have
a surprise for you. You shall not live in a
wigwam this winter.”
“Why not?” asked Koto.
“I like my wigwam. It is warm and keeps
the cold wind away.”
“Wait, and you shall see,”
said his father. “You will like your new
lodge much better.”
When they reached the camp, Koto saw
what the chief had meant. During the summer
some white men had camped there and had built a log
cabin for themselves. Then they had gone away,
leaving the little cabin deserted, and now the chief
had taken it for his lodge. Koto was very much
pleased with his new home, and the door which opened
on hinges was always a great surprise to him.
He was not able to go out during that long winter,
but he was never lonely, for the first day they were
in the cabin a strange visitor came. It was
a little, brown bird which had been deserted by its
mate, and it flew in to get away from the cold.
All winter it remained with Koto, feeding from his
food at mealtime, and hopping around him during the
day as he was weaving his baskets. At night
it slept on a little board that was nailed to the
wall near Koto’s bed of skins.
When springtime came and the door
was left open, Koto noticed that the bird’s
mate had returned. It flew to the bushes near
the house and called to Koto’s bird, but she
would not go, and at last her mate came to the doorway.
Again he called, and this time she went out, but she
came back at mealtime and remained with Koto all night.
Every day after that she would fly out in the morning
and come back three or four times during the day,
while her mate would never come past the doorway.
Then one day she did not come back. Koto watched
and waited for her. The long day passed and evening
came, still there was no sign of the bird. The
next day went by, and the next, and little Koto began
to look very sad as he sat at the door watching for
her.
At last he hobbled out and sat very
quietly under the trees. In a little while he
came back as quickly as he could, his face shining
for joy. When he entered the cabin, he looked
around eagerly. Then his face grew sad again.
“She is not here,” he
said sadly. “My little bird is not here.”
“No, she is not here,”
said his mother, “Did you think she was?”
“Yes, I saw her fly in, but she is not here.”
Koto went out again and seated himself
under the trees once more, but he saw no sign of his
bird all the rest of that day. The next day he
went to the same place to watch, and not long after
he came hobbling in eagerly with his face shining
for joy as before. He looked around the cabin,
and again he grew sad, for there was no bird to be
seen.
Each day after that the same thing
happened. As he sat under the trees he saw the
little bird fly into the cabin, but when he entered
there was no bird to be seen. He grew sadder
and looked so thin that the chief became sad, too.
“My son,” he said, “you
must not think of this bird. It has flown away.
It will not come back. This is a spirit bird
that you see enter the cabin. Try not to think
of it and be happy.”
But the little Cree boy only shook
his head and said, “I saw her go in and she
does not come out and she is not in the cabin.
Where is she? Where is my little bird?”
So the chief made up his mind that
he would watch and see if the little bird really did
fly into the cabin. The next day he watched with
Koto under the trees, and in a few minutes the little
boy grasped his hand.
“Look,” he said, “look,
there is my little bird.” And there in
a tree near them were two brown birds, one of them
Koto’s pet. They flew away together; then
one, when it reached the side of the cabin, suddenly
disappeared. Quickly seizing his father’s
hand, Koto and the chief reached the door of the little
home. They looked eagerly around the room, but
there was not a bird to be seen. They searched
every place, for the chief was sure that he had seen
it enter. There was no trace of it any place.
Going out, he looked at the side of the little house,
and there was a hole between the logs where the bird
might easily enter. Coming in, he looked for
the hole on the inside, but could not find it.
Then he noticed that an old, gray jacket, which had
been left there by the white men, was hanging where
the hole ought to be.
He took down the jacket and Koto gave
a cry of delight. For from a pocket of the coat
peaked the head of his little bird, and there was
the hole between the logs, where the coat had hung.
The bird seemed quite pleased that they had found
her, and after a while flew off her nest to peck from
Koto’s hand. After some days her eggs were
hatched, and then the father bird consented to enter
the cabin and help feed the young ones. When
the little birds grew large enough, they flew away
with the father bird, but for the rest of the summer
Koto’s little brown friend remained with him,
watching him weave his baskets, and seemed very pleased
when at last he was able to walk a little.
When fall came, she went away with
the other birds, but this time Koto was not sad, for
he knew she was happy, and he was happy, too, because
he could now walk.