🧚 The Beaver Stick

In ancient times, long before the people had found horses and used them instead of dogs to bear burdens and drag lodge poles, there lived Man-yan—New Robe—an orphan.1

New Robe’s parents had died when he was a little child, and he was brought up by an old woman who also died before he grew up to be a man.2 His parents, hopeful for his future, had given their son a good name, but in all his life up to the time he was seventeen or eighteen years old, he had never worn a new robe or any other new article of clothing.3 The cast-off garments of the well-to-do were thought good enough for him.4 He was always dirty and ragged, and his matted and tangled hair hung low over his forehead, and almost hid his sore red eyes.5 Somewhere he had picked up an old bow, but it had no strength; and even if it had been strong and full of quick spring, the broken-pointed flint heads of his arrows would not have pierced the flesh of any large animal.6 He had an old flint knife, but its edge was so ragged and blunted that it would scarcely cut a piece of boiled meat.7

Yet New Robe lived along contentedly enough, for he knew nothing better than all this.8 He never thought that he was different from other young men, until one day he chanced to overhear the conversation of some young women.9 He was lying half asleep in a patch of willows when the girls came along, and, stopping near him, sat down and kept on talking.10

“Well,” said one, “you have each told your choice, but you have not spoken of the very handsomest and nicest of all the young men.11 Why have you forgotten New Robe?”12

They all shrieked with laughter—she who had spoken most of all—and then began to jest about him, and New Robe’s face grew hot as he heard the many unkind things they said about his appearance and his poverty.13 One of the girls, however, had a better heart.14

“It is wrong,” she said, “for us to talk in this way about the young man.15 He cannot help being poor, and I am sorry for him.16 I must say, though, that he might be cleaner and neater than he is.17 I wish I could talk to him; I would like to tell him some things that would be for his good.”18

“Why, you must be in love with him,” one of the girls exclaimed, laughing.19

“Well,” replied the other, “I pity the poor young man, and, if my father would allow me, I would marry him and make a man of him.20 All he needs to change his ways is kindness and teaching.”21

In the evening New Robe met this girl, Mas-tah ki—Raven Woman—as she was coming from the river with a skin of water.22 Already he had combed out his hair and washed himself, and she stared at him in surprise.23

“Ah,” he said, stopping her in the path.24 “To-day I heard your kind words, and have taken them to my heart.25 I am going away to try to earn a name, to try to become a chief.26 Pray for me; ask the Sun to help me.”27

“I will pray for you every day,” said the girl.28

“And if I return such a man that no one need be ashamed of me,” he asked, “will you be my wife?”29

“Yes, gladly,” she replied.30 “And now go; people are looking at us.”31

The next morning New Robe left the camp.32 He did not know where to go, nor what he was going to do.33 Something seemed to tell him to push forward, and that somehow, in some way, he would be fortunate.34 He had but little food, only some tough, dried meat, and his weapons were poor and of little use; yet he did not fear that he would starve, or suffer any harm from the animals or from the enemy.35

It was late in the fall, and the nights were very cold.36 One evening, after a long day’s tramp, he came to the edge of a broad beaver pond.37 Tall, thick grass grew on the dam, and he pulled armfuls of this and heaped it up, and then crawled under the pile to pass the night.38 It was a warm, soft nest, and he was already almost asleep when some one called his name.39 He lifted his head and looked out from under the grass, and saw standing near by a handsome young man, very beautifully dressed.40

“Come,” said the stranger, “this is a cold and cheerless place.41 My father’s lodge is close by, and he asks you to be his guest.”42

New Robe arose and shook the grass from his robe.43 “It is strange,” he said, “that I did not see your camp.44 Before I descended into the valley from the prairie I looked carefully over it, up and down.”45

“It is very near here,” the stranger replied.46 “Come, let us go in.47 My father waits for us, and the night is cold.”48

He started, and led the way out over the ice, which had frozen from the shore for some distance out into the pond.49 New Robe followed, wondering why they should take that course.50 Presently they reached the edge of the ice; just beyond, a large beaver house rose above the water.51

“That is our home,” said the stranger.52 “Now, I am going to dive, and you must follow me.53 Just shut your eyes, and do not be afraid.”54

With a great splash he disappeared in the water, and New Robe, after hesitating a little and praying to the Sun for aid in this strange adventure, closed his eyes and pitched headlong into the place where his companion had disappeared.55 After swimming a few strokes, he felt the pressure of the water suddenly give way, and, opening his eyes, found that he was in a great circular lodge.56 From the doorway a pool of water extended into the centre of it, and between its edge and the walls were beds of soft and beautiful robes.57 On the one at the back sat a kind-looking old man, who spoke pleasantly to him and bade him take a seat by his side; and as New Robe stepped out of the pool he found that he was perfectly dry—no part of his clothing or person had been wet by the water he had passed through.58 Near the old man sat his wife, a handsome old woman, and on other beds reclined their two sons, one of whom had guided New Robe to the place.59 They all wore clothing of beautiful material and fashion, but he now noticed that the skin of each of these persons, wherever it could be seen—even their faces—was covered with fine fur, that of the two sons being pure white.60

“You are welcome, my son,” said the old man—“welcome to the lodge of the Beaver Chief.61 One of my sons saw you creeping into your nest of grass, and I bade him invite you in.62 These nights are cold for one to be without shelter.”63

“Yes,” added his wife, “and no doubt the poor young man is hungry; he seems to be lean and pinched.”64

“Oh!65 Ai!66 To be sure,” said the old man; “of course he is hungry: just give me a dish, and I will prepare some food for him.”67

New Robe looked in astonishment at what the Beaver Chief was doing.68 He took a large buffalo chip and placed it in the dish, and began to break it up into fine pieces, singing, as he did so, a strange song.69 The hard, dry stuff turned into rich pemmican, and when the last bit of the chip had been broken up the bowl was passed to him.70 His wonder increased when he found that the food tasted as good as it looked.71

“Our only food,” said the old man, “is the bark of the trees; for, after all, you know, we are actually beavers, although we have the power to change our bodies into the form of any living thing.72 But there are many secret and wonderful things that we have learned through much prayer and through the search for different medicines.73 Stay with us for a time, and perhaps you may learn something of them.74 Just look about you and see how many we have gathered in our time.”75

Indeed, there were more than one could count.76 They hung on the walls and from the roof, enclosed in beautiful pouches and sacks of strange shape.77 New Robe wondered what they were, and wished he could open each one and examine it.78

The pool in the centre of the lodge was never still; the current coming in from the door whirled slowly around and around.79 On its surface floated a short piece of beaver cutting which seemed very old and quite water-soaked; yet it did not sink, nor, like other pieces of wood, finally float out on the current constantly entering and going out of the doorway.80 Night and day it whirled slowly around the circumference of the pool.81 Although there was no fire in the lodge, it was warm enough, and not colder at night than in the daytime: thus little covering was needed when its occupants went to bed.82