Once, many long years ago, there was
a green hill covered with long grass, which whispered
and talked as the wind blew through it. It was
the great friend of all the animals, especially the
wild deer, the gray wolf, and the fox.
One summer day the whispering grass
was very excited. The south wind had brought
strange news to it, and now, as the sun rose up to
noonday, they could see this strange thing for themselves.
It meant great danger to their friends the animals,
and they must send a message to warn them. So
the grass called to the butterflies, and told them
to go at once to the deer, the wolf, and the fox,
and tell them to come to the green hill. Away
flew the butterflies, and soon the animals had gathered
to hear what this message might mean.
“Listen, my brothers,”
said the whispering grass. “There is great
danger for you this day, for across the prairie there
comes a band of hunters to take your lives.”
“Hunters? What are they?”
asked the animals. “We have never heard
of such things.”
“They are Indians,” returned
the grass, “with bows and arrows deadly
arrows that will pierce your hearts. These hunters
are very near, and once they see you they will shoot
their arrows at you, and that is your end.”
“What must we do?” asked
the animals. “You are wise, whispering
grass; tell us what we may do to save ourselves.”
“Go to your homes,” answered
the grass, “and remain there until sundown to-morrow.
If all is safe, I shall send my messengers, the butterflies,
to you at that hour to tell you to come to me.”
The animals did as they were commanded,
and by the time the hunters reached the foot of the
hill, there was nothing living to be seen but some
dainty butterflies that hovered above the grass.
The remainder of that day and all the next the hunters
searched for game in the hills, but not a deer could
they see, not a wolf, not a fox. In the late
afternoon they returned to their camp at the foot of
the hill. They were tired and very hungry, for
they had not brought food with them, as they expected
to find game.
“Let us return,” said
one hunter. “There is no game in this land,
and I am hungry. Let us go back to our village.”
“Not so,” said the second
hunter. “Let us wait until to-morrow.
Perhaps to-morrow we shall see game.”
“Yes, let us wait until to-morrow,”
said a third hunter, “and to-night we shall
eat grass. See, yonder is a hill well covered
with grass. If the animals eat it, why can not
we?”
“But it is whispering grass,”
said the first hunter, in a low voice. “And
he who eats of whispering grass can no longer kill
anything with his arrows.”
“Not so, brother,” said
the second hunter. “It is not whispering
grass. Listen; there is a west wind blowing through
it, and yet we can hear no sound of whispering.”
They all listened intently, and as
the second hunter had said, there was no sound of
whispering. The wind was waving the grass blades
and bending them low, and not a sound came from them.
“You are right. It is
not whispering grass,” said the first hunter,
“and I am hungry; let us eat.”
So they all gathered many handfuls
of the green grass, and putting it into a pot, they
boiled it, then gathering around the pot, they ate
the grass with much relish. Then, rolling themselves
in their deerskins, they fell asleep.
It was now the sunset hour; so, calling
the butterflies to it, the whispering grass gave them
a message for the animals.
“Go to your brothers,”
it said, “and tell them all is safe now; that
at sunrise to-morrow morning they may come forth from
their homes and wander as usual among the hills.
Their enemies, the hunters, will try to shoot them
with their arrows, but they must not be afraid, for
now these arrows can never touch them.”
The butterflies flew away quickly
and gave the message to the deer, the wolf, and the
fox.
At sunrise the next morning the animals
came forth gladly, and they had not gone far, when
they saw the hunters coming towards them. Remembering
the message of their friend, the grass, they did not
fear to remain, and soon saw that the grass had been
right. The hunters aimed their arrows at them
and shot, but every arrow flew through the air and
fell harmlessly at their feet. All day this strange
thing happened, and at last the hunters, tired and
discouraged, went back to their camp at the foot of
the hill.
“My brothers,” said the
first hunter, “that was indeed whispering grass
which we ate last night. For see, all day our
arrows have failed to hit their mark, though the game
has been many.”
“Why did the grass not whisper,
then?” asked the second hunter. “It
deceived us.”
“Yes, it deceived us,”
said the third hunter. “It kept silence
while we listened, so that we might be tempted to
eat of it. Now we have lost our power of hunting
and shall be laughed at by the other hunters.”
“We must fight this whispering
grass,” said the first hunter. “Let
us go and pull it up by the roots, so that never again
it may be able to deceive any hunter.”
“Let us wait until the moon
rises high in the sky,” said the second hunter.
“Then, indeed, we shall uproot the whispering
grass and leave the green hill bare and naked.”
The butterflies, who had been hovering
near, heard what the Indians were saying, and now
they flew with all speed to the animals and told them
what was going to happen to the whispering grass.
“Oh, my brothers,” said
the butterflies, “your enemies, the hunters,
have planned to kill the whispering grass to-night.
Can you not save it?”
“We must save it,” said
the deer. “The whispering grass is our
friend. It saved our lives, and now we must save
it.” Turning to the fox, the deer said,
“Oh, brother, you are wise and great. Can
you not think of a plan to save the grass?”
“I am not wise enough for that,”
said the fox, “but I know one who is wise.
You, my brothers, remain here, while I run with all
speed to the Dark Hills where the Manitou of the Bright
Fire lives. He is wise and great, and he will
help us.”
Saying this, the fox ran at full speed
in the direction of a long line of hills, and it was
not long before he reached a small opening which led
down under them. Entering this, he found himself
in a long passage, at the end of which a red light
could be seen. When he reached the end of the
passage, he found himself in a large, low cave.
In the centre of this cave a bright red fire glowed,
and by its light he could see a dark figure seated
on the floor near the fire. It turned its face
as the fox entered, and he saw the kind face of the
Manitou of the Bright Fire.
“You have come to me for help,”
said the Manitou, in a deep, soft voice. “What
is wrong, my brother?”
“Our friend, the whispering
grass, is going to be uprooted to-night by the hunters,”
said the fox. “Can you tell us how to save
the grass, for it has been kind and has saved us from
these same hunters?”
“My brother,” said the
Manitou, “do you see these things which look
like dark stones?” As he said this, he pointed
to where a heap of black objects resembling stones
was lying on the floor of the cave. “I
have gathered these from the bowels of the earth.
Many years ago Gitche Manitou, the Mighty Spirit,
put them there. He took pieces of the midnight
sky and mixed with each piece a million sunbeams.
Then He hid these deep in the earth, where man would
find them when he needed light and heat. I shall
place some of these dark stones in my fire, while
you return to your brothers, the wolf and the deer.
Bid them return with you, and when you again reach
my cave these stones shall be ready for you.
Now go, and waste no time, for you must have everything
ready before the hunters awaken.”
The fox needed no second bidding.
Away he went like the wind. When he reached
the deer and the wolf, he found them anxiously waiting
for him. Quickly giving them the Manitou’s
message, they all ran back to the cave. When
they reached it, they found that the Manitou had placed
a number of the dark stones in his fire, and that
now they were no longer dark stones but bright red
ones.
“My children,” said the
Manitou, “take these burning coals and place
them in a circle on the hillside among the whispering
grass. They will not harm the grass and their
heat will not burn you as you journey back.
But after this, always beware of a glowing fire, for
I can give you my protection this time only.”
The animals at once seized as many
of the burning coals as they could carry and raced
back to the hill. The night was dark, as the
moon had not yet risen, and when at length they gained
the hillside, they saw that the hunters still slept.
Obeying the Manitou, they placed the coals in a circle
on the side of the hill, and then hid behind some
trees.
Scarcely had they done this, when
the hunters awakened. At once they noticed the
strange, glowing circle on the hillside. They
rubbed their eyes and looked again; it was still there,
burning and yet having no flame. Terrified,
they gazed at it, not daring to climb the hillside.
At last one said:
“My brothers, let us return
at once to our village. This whispering grass
must be a great friend of Gitche Manitou, and we have
done wrong to eat of it. Let us return and warn
our brothers.”
“You are right, my brother,”
said the other hunter. “We will return
and tell of this strange, terrible warning which Gitche
Manitou has sent to us.”
So saying, they turned and disappeared
rapidly in the darkness, while the circle on the hillside
glowed brightly until the sun rose. When daylight
came there was nothing to be seen of the coals, but
on the hillside where they had been there was a large,
brown circle, which could be seen quite plainly from
the valley. And there it can be seen to this
day.
On climbing the hill, the circle vanishes,
and not a spot of burnt grass is to be found, but
always from the valley below the brown circle can
be seen. And the animals from that night have
been afraid of glowing fire, for they know the Manitou
cannot give his protection another time.
But he has been their greatest friend
ever since that night. When they are in any
trouble they go at once to the Dark Hills, and, creeping
through the long passage, reach the cave where the
bright fire glows. There they tell the kind Manitou
all that makes them sad, and he comforts them.
In the autumn he tells the deer where to hide in the
hills, so that the hunters cannot kill them.
In the long, cold winter he tells the hungry gray
wolf where to find food, and in the summer he shows
the red fox how to double on his trail so that none
may catch him. And to all of them he has taught
the secret of the glowing fire, that its brightness
means danger, save when they rest beside it in his
cave under the Dark Hills.