Once in the long ago there lived a
great warrior named Milkanops. He lived in a
land of high, rocky mountains, and to the far north
there lived a tribe of fierce, warlike Indians who
were the enemies of his tribe. Many battles
were fought between the two tribes, but Milkanops
always won. At last, one autumn day, they fought
from sunrise to sunset, and although Milkanops won
the victory once more, he received his death wound.
The poisoned arrow pierced his side just as the battle
was won.
His warriors carried him to his lodge
and laid him on his couch of deerskins.
“Send for my son,” he
told them. “Send for Aseelkwa.”
At once they brought the young warrior to his father’s
side.
“My boy,” said the dying
chief, “I have been called to the happy hunting
ground, and soon my spirit will be wandering with the
happy ones there. Before I go, I wish to ask
one thing of you. Promise me that you will not
be a warrior as I have been, but will live to be a
great chief, for that is what your name means, Aseelkwa,
Big Chief. Yonder to the north are enemies, and
they will want you to go to war with them, as I have
done many times. Do not listen to their challenges,
but try to keep peace between the tribes and make your
tribe great and good, rather than strong and warlike.”
The young boy, weeping, promised his
father to obey his commands, and not long after, the
spirit of Milkanops started on its journey to the
happy hunting ground.
As the months went by the enemies
of Aseelkwa made many attempts to engage in war with
him and his tribe, but to all of these challenges he
gave no reply. A few years went by, and now the
young boy was a full-grown warrior, but he did not
call himself one. To all who spoke of him as
a warrior, he would make answer that he was a chief
and would not engage in battle. His enemies
could not entice him, so they said he was a coward,
and taunted him and said he was afraid to fight them.
One day one of the wise men came to
Aseelkwa and said, “Oh, Big Chief, Hahola, the
Rattlesnake, is a traitor. He has told our enemies
that you are indeed a coward, as they say you are,
and they have planned to attack our camp when the
moon has faded to a narrow band in the sky.”
“And Hahola, is he going to
help them?” asked the chief, in a stern voice.
“Yes, O Great Chief. He
will let them know when you are fast asleep in your
lodge. Then, in the darkness, they will surround
it and take you prisoner.”
“It is well you have told me,”
said the chief. “Now I must fast and dream
and see what I am to do.”
So for nine days he fasted and dreamed.
Then, after that time, he called his medicine men
and said, “I have fasted and dreamed, and in
my dreams I saw the spirit of my father Milkanops.
He told me that I must not fight these enemies, but
that I and my tribe must journey to the far south
and there find a new hunting ground.”
Early the next morning Aseelkwa and
the tribe set out on their journey. For many
days and many nights they travelled. They crossed
rivers and climbed steep hills, and at length they
reached a land where the hills were lower and greener
than their rocky mountains had been. In front
of them lay a very long, narrow valley with low hills
on either side, and, just behind these, there rose
one larger than the others, a tall, rocky mountain.
“In my dreams,” said Aseelkwa,
“I saw this long, narrow valley and that tall
hill, and the spirit of my father told me that here
we must make our new camp and hunt in these green
hills.”
The Indians were glad to know they
had reached the end of their journey, for they were
footsore and weary. Quickly they built their
lodges on the hillside and went forth in search of
food.
That night Aseelkwa called his medicine
men to go with him to the top of the high hill, and
there hold a council. He knew that Hahola, the
Rattlesnake, would have told of their departure, and
by this time the northern Indians would be well on
their way in pursuit. Aseelkwa seated himself
at the foot of a tall pine-tree, and the medicine men
placed themselves in a circle around him. The
night was dark, for the moon was only a narrow band
in the sky. They had made no fire, for fear
their enemies might see it. Scarcely had Aseelkwa
begun to speak when a slight noise was heard.
It sounded like some loosened stones falling down
the mountain side. At once every warrior was
on his feet and peering through the darkness.
“Look,” said Aseelkwa.
“There at the foot of the hill creeps away
Hahola, the Rattlesnake. Our enemies are in hiding.
Let us go down to them.”
Down the hill they came, but before
they reached the bottom, from behind every pine-tree
and every stone there leaped a warrior, with fiendish
yells. Out rang the war-whoop of Aseelkwa, and
from every lodge there sprang forth the warriors who
had fought for Milkanops, his father. Then,
in the darkness, there followed a terrible battle.
Many warriors fell on both sides, struck down with
tomahawks. For some time it seemed as if the
enemy must win. Then, little by little, Aseelkwa’s
army began to drive them back. At last they had
them at the entrance to the narrow valley, and there
was fought the fiercest part of the battle.
But at last the enemy were forced out of the valley,
and once in the open, they turned and vanished in
the darkness. During this last fight Aseelkwa
had been missing, and now his warriors began to search
for him among the wounded. At last they found
him, and there at his side lay Hahola, dead.
“Lift me up,” said Aseelkwa,
“and carry me to the high hill, and there lay
me under the pine-tree.” They did as he
commanded, and after they laid him down he turned
to them and spoke in a very weak voice.
“My warriors,” he said,
“in a few moments my spirit shall have gone to
join that of my fathers in the happy hunting grounds.
I dreamed of this battle, and everything has been
just as I dreamed. Our enemies are defeated,
and Hahola, the traitor, is dead. Bury him where
he fell in the valley. By morning you will find
that the Great Spirit has placed a barrier between
you and your enemies, over which they can never cross.
And remember, my brave warriors, that although I am
not with you, that always shall the spirit of Aseelkwa
watch over his tribe. You shall fight no more
battles, but instead shall cultivate and make fruitful
these hills.”
Then he sank back upon the grass,
and his spirit passed to the happy hunting grounds.
The warriors buried him where he lay,
and then, as he had commanded them, buried Hahola
in the narrow valley. When the sun rose next
morning, they knew what Aseelkwa had meant, for where
the valley had been the night before, there now was
a long, narrow lake, whose still, blue waters told
nothing of its great depth, for in the centre of this
lake, just where Hahola was buried, there is no bottom
to be found. Then the warriors looked up on the
high hill, and again they knew what Aseelkwa had meant.
For, from the topmost point of the high rock, Aseelkwa’s
face, carved in stone, looked down over the lake and
valley. There, calm and serene and peaceful,
it still watches over the hills that have been made
fruitful, over the tribe that is always at peace,
and over the lake whose deep, blue waters are always
ready to frown on the canoes of their enemies.