  Just where the river bends on its course stands a high point or headland. It is covered with short, sweet grass and white clover, and partly shaded with trees. From its highest point there is a beautiful view of the river, which you may watch sparkling in the sun or dreaming in the moonlight. To the north the path of the river is almost straight for a mile or more; to the south the wooded hills on its farther side confront you, for here it turns and for at least a half mile flows to the west, before it turns southward again. On this headland a company of friends and neighbors were camping; and on the highest point was built the camp fire. It was the children’s daily task (or pleasure) to collect sticks and bark to keep this fire going from dusk until bedtime. Around it the hammocks were swung, and here the company assembled each night. But one night, when the moon was very bright and sent its path of silver far across the water, all were on the river, except two children and one who loved them. The children nestled close to their friend, and listened to the soft voices calling or singing across the water. The summer breeze broke it into a thousand little ripples of light. “How the river shines to-night! it seems full of pearls,” one child said, softly. The other one asked, “Are there pearls in this river as there are in the Mississippi?” “Oh, quantities of them; but the river hides them safely,” answered their friend. “Can you tell us where it hides them? Please tell us,” they pleaded; and their friend told softly the following legend:— Years ago, before there were any white men beside this river, there lived in a village just around the bend an Indian boy. He was not uncommonly handsome, brave, or good, but very much the reverse; and he spent all of his days and most of his nights idling in his canoe on the river. He did not fish or set traps or do any of the work that the other boys did, but allowed his father and mother to furnish him with food and clothing. His grandfather would shake his head and tell him that some day he would displease the spirit who dwelt in the river, and that harm would befall him. But he was wilful, and laughed at the mention of the spirit. He did not believe there was one; he had never seen it. One night when he had been far up the river in his canoe, he came floating down in the moonlight, just as that boat is floating there. Do you see that tree that stands out on that point by itself? Yes; just there was once a sand-bar. The moon shone on it, and the yellow sand was like gold, as the boy neared it; he idly gazed at it, for he was half asleep; but his attention was suddenly attracted by a wonderful sight. He lay down in the canoe and let his eyes come just above its rim, and this is what he saw as he slowly drifted past. An immense mussel shell lay just on the edge of the bar, half in and half out of the water. It was wide open, and was so large that the half of it formed a beautiful seat or throne. The upper valve curved over like a canopy, and seemed to protect a beautiful girl who was reclining in the hollow of the shell. Her face, a soft bronze in color, stood out in relief against the mother-of-pearl lining of her throne. Her hair waved round her in shining curves. Her hands were clasped above her head. Her dress was of some shining white material, soft and lustrous as silk; she was gazing up into the moonlit sky, and seemed lost in thought. But it was not her beauty or her strange appearance that attracted the boy; his eyes had caught the shine of a wonderful belt she wore around her waist. It seemed to catch and hold the moonbeams and the sparkle of the water. It was made of many strings of what appeared to be the most beautiful wampum the boy had ever seen. (Wampum? Oh, you must ask your mamma to tell you to-morrow what it is; this is not an instructive tale, this is a fairy story.) But it was not wampum; the beads were pearls. The boy had never seen or heard of pearls, so he naturally decided that it was a belt of glorified wampum, and his heart went out to it; he longed exceedingly to possess it, for he was covetous. He floated down past the bar, and left the beautiful vision behind him; but all night long he dreamed of the belt, and vowed to himself that he would possess it, if the girl ever returned; so he set his wits to work and devised a plan. He determined to capture her and demand the belt for her ransom. He secured a stout deerskin, and concealing it in his canoe, he entered and paddled a long distance up the river. He spent the day in making out of the skin a strong noose, and practised throwing it until he was perfect in the art. Then, when night came and the moon was rising, he drifted as before down to the sand-bar. The beautiful girl in the great shell was there, and around her waist shone the pearls. Fortune favored him to-night, for she was asleep. He ventured near her, his feet making no sound on the sands. When close enough he sprang toward her, like a young panther on his prey. She jumped to her feet with a cry, and the noose fell over her head, slipped down past her shoulders, and pinioned her arms to her side. She tried to break away from it, but it held her securely. Turning, she saw her captor; her eyes flashed. “Cruel wretch!” she cried. “Why do you treat me thus? Have I not allowed you the freedom of the waters, and because I thought that you loved them, have I not guarded you from many dangers? Do you know who I am?” The boy answered, “I do not know, nor do I care. You must go with me to the village; you shall be adopted into the tribe.” In vain she implored him to set her at liberty; he would not listen. But pretending finally to melt under her prayers and tears, he said, “I will release you if you will give me that belt of wampum you wear around your waist.” The girl looked at him sternly. “Can I give away what is not mine? These pearls belong to the river; and because I am the Spirit of the Waters, I am allowed to wear them. I will loan them to you, but there are conditions. You must promise that while you wear them you will refrain from cruel or cowardly deeds, and, because your heart is evil, you must spend to-day (for day is breaking) in the deep woods, fasting and alone, praying to the Great Spirit for a heart pure enough to wear these pearls. If when the moon has waned and grown bright again, the pearls are not dimmed and you have refrained from evil, the belt may be given to you. But I know that you will not keep it; I shall have it soon again.” She started up in alarm. She started up in alarm. So saying, after he had loosed her hands a little, she unclasped her belt and held it out to him. He snatched it rudely, and said boastfully, “What I get, I keep.” Then he hastened to loose the thong, for he saw that daylight was coming, and he feared that some one would find him there and compel him to return the belt. The girl sprang into the shell; it closed, and sank with her into the water, while the boy, overjoyed, made off with his prize. The pearls were very large, and seemed to shed a soft light around him. He bound the belt around his waist; it was too short, but he lengthened it out with strings. He entered at once into the deep wood to fast and pray to the Great Spirit, as he had been told to do. But his mind was so fixed upon the belt that he forgot to ask for a heart pure enough to wear it. When evening came, he entered the village. It was the hour of rest after the toils of the day, and men, women, and children were in front of their tepees. Very haughtily he strode past his neighbors. Exclamations of wonder and delight, and questions as to where he had obtained the belt, assailed him. He answered that he had “found” it, but would not tell where. His grandfather shook his head mysteriously; he did not believe that he had found it. “The River Spirit is weaving her enchantments for the boy; I fear for him greatly,” he said. This made the boy very angry with the old man, and he treated him rudely. Each day that he wore the belt he grew more insolent and vain. He spent all his time in admiring himself and the belt. And each day the pearls grew dimmer. He saw that they were fading, and he tried to brighten them. He bathed them in the river and polished them with care, but they did not regain their lustre. One night when the moon had waned and come again, he was out in his canoe on the river. He had asked a younger boy to go with him, for he feared that, if alone, the spirit would meet him. The child asked him repeatedly where he had found the belt; finally becoming enraged at his questions, the boy raised his paddle and struck him. He fell backward into the water. The boy did not attempt to help him, but turned his back upon him, and paddled swiftly away. The Spirit of the River saw it all, and hastening to the child, she bore him safe to the shore. The boy hastened up the river until he saw with alarm that he was near the sand-bar where he had secured the belt; and when he felt a hand steadily drawing him to the bar, he was frantic with fear. He resisted with all his might, but the canoe kept steadily on. When it reached the bar, he was thrown violently out on to the sand, and the boat drifted away bottom upward. He sprang to his feet, and was confronted by the spirit; but now she was no delicate girl, but a woman, strong and terrible. “Give me the pearls,” she said, “and the river shall hide them henceforth from the greed of mortals.” The boy sullenly returned the belt; and, at a word from the spirit, there came up through the sand and from the river thousands of mussels. Each shell was gaping wide, and into each she dropped a pearl. When all were gone, the shells closed with a snap, and disappeared as quickly as they had come. The spirit turned to the boy. “Since you know the secret that the river would keep, your lips must be always closed. Stay by these waters forever, and search in vain for the pearls.” So saying, she changed him into a sand-hill crane, and he may still be seen, standing on the sand-bars, looking intently into the water for the pearls. “We have seen him,” cried the children. “He was over on that sand-bar, on the other side of the river, this afternoon.” By and by the smallest child said, softly, “I am sorry for that poor, naughty, sandhill crane.” |
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