smoke was
in his nostrils. In his ears was the war-cry of the flames. He sprang to
the door of his lodge and saw the fiery river leaping down the mountain.
"My people, my people," he cried, "the flames are upon us!" With cries
of fear the people in the village fled far away into the forest, and the
flames feasted upon the homes they loved.
The two hunters went to look upon the mountain, and when they came
back, they said sadly, "There are no flowers on the mountain. Not a
bird-song did we hear. Not a living creature did we see. It is all dark
and gloomy. We know the fire is there, for the blue smoke still floats
up to the sky, but the mountain will never again be our friend."
PART III. THE BIRD OF FLAME
When the Great Spirit saw the work of the flames, he was very angry.
"The fires of this mountain must perish," he said. "No longer shall its
red flames light the midnight sky."
The mountain trembled with fear at the angry words of the Great Spirit.
"O father of all fire and light," cried the Fire Spirit, "I know that the
flames have been cruel. They killed the beautiful flowers and drove
your children from their homes, but for many, many moons they
heeded my words and were good and gentle. They drove the frost and
cold of winter from the wigwams of the village. The little children
laughed to see their red light in the sky. The hearts of your people will
be sad, if the flames must perish from the earth."
The Great Spirit listened to the words of the gentle Spirit of Fire, but he
answered, "The fires must perish. They have been cruel to my people,
and the little children will fear them now; but because the children once
loved them, the beautiful colors of the flames shall still live to make
glad the hearts of all who look upon them."
Then the Great Spirit struck the mountain with his magic war-club. The
smoke above it faded away; its fires grew cold and dead. In its dark and
gloomy heart only one little flame still trembled. It looked like a star.
How beautiful it was!
The Great Spirit looked upon the little flame. He saw that it was
beautiful and gentle, and he loved it. "The fires of the mountain must
perish," he said, "but you little, gentle flame, shall have wings and fly
far away from the cruel fires, and all my children will love you as I do."
Swiftly the little thing rose above the mountain and flew away in the
sunshine. The light of the flames was still on its head; their marvelous
colors were on its wings.
[Illustration]
So from the mountain's heart of fire sprang the first humming-bird. It is
the bird of flame, for it has all the beauty of the colors of the flame, but
it is gentle, and every child in all the earth loves it and is glad to see it
fluttering over the flowers.
THE STORY OF THE FIRST BUTTERFLIES.
The Great Spirit thought, "By and by I will make men, but first I will
make a home for them. It shall be very bright and beautiful. There shall
be mountains and prairies and forests, and about it all shall be the blue
waters of the sea."
As the Great Spirit had thought, so he did. He gave the earth a soft
cloak of green. He made the prairies beautiful with flowers. The forests
were bright with birds of many colors, and the sea was the home of
wonderful sea-creatures. "My children will love the prairies, the forests,
and the seas," he thought, "but the mountains look dark and cold. They
are very dear to me, but how shall I make my children go to them and
so learn to love them?"
Long the Great Spirit thought about the mountains. At last, he made
many little shining stones. Some were red, some blue, some green,
some yellow, and some were shining with all the lovely colors of the
beautiful rainbow. "All my children will love what is beautiful," he
thought, "and if I hide the bright stones in the seams of the rocks of the
mountains, men will come to find them, and they will learn to love my
mountains."
When the stones were made and the Great Spirit looked upon their
beauty, he said, "I will not hide you all away in the seams of the rocks.
Some of you shall be out in the sunshine, so that the little children who
cannot go to the mountains shall see your colors." Then the southwind
came by, and as he went, he sang softly of forests flecked
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