  Little Beaver was full of excitement, for soon the winter would be over and he and his friend Jumping Rabbit would once again be able to take their little canoe and go to the lake and streams to catch the fine fish that waited in the early spring for the bait to be cast. The Cayuga village had weathered the winter well, and now the first signs of spring were beginning to show. With the bursting forth of the spring flowers and the green shoots of plants and grass and the green leaves the Cayuga village seemed to come alive. One of the first tasks was the uncovering of the canoes. (When winter approached, the canoes were all hauled far above the lake water’s edge and covered completely with mounds of sand. This kept them from drying out and cracking during the cold winter.) Finally all the canoes had been uncovered, and the Indians took to the lakes and the streams again, fishing and hunting to replenish the food supply that had been used during the winter. One morning Little Beaver searched for his friend Jumping Rabbit for a long time and when he could not find him, he decided to go off by himself. Walking to the edge of the lake he found that his father had uncovered his canoe for him. Stepping into the canoe he paddled across the lake to the mouth of a stream which was new to him. This stream led to the Lake of the Rushes where the girls and women gathered the rushes each spring to make new mats for the platforms of the wigwam. Here he had not been before. As Little Beaver paddled he saw many signs of spring, but he was searching for big game. He wanted to be the first young boy to bring a deer back to the village. Soon he beached his canoe on the side of the Rush Lake and moved inland searching for signs of the deer. Suddenly he came upon the tracks of what seemed to be a fine big buck. Following carefully along the track of the deer he noticed that the deer was moving slowly. Then suddenly the spaces between the tracks became bigger and he knew that the deer had begun to move faster. Suddenly the noises of the woods ceased and it was very quiet. Up ahead a shadow flitted across the trail. Little Beaver dropped upon his belly and then he heard it—the cry of the great horned owl. But still he knew that the owl would not cry at this time of day and from a short distance off the trail he heard an answering cry. Through the fading light among the trees up ahead, he saw a small group of warriors gather. One of these warriors placed his hand alongside his mouth, and the cry of the horned owl once again was heard and from another direction an answer. Then Little Beaver knew that these were unfriendly Indians from the north and they had invaded the land of the Cayugas. They could be here for one reason only, to raid his village. “I must return at once to the village and warn my people of this danger.” Little Beaver turned and retreated down the path to where he had left his canoe. Pushing it out into the lake he immediately began paddling as fast as his arms could go for the mouth of the stream that would lead into the next lake and to the shore of his village. He reached the mouth of the stream just as the dark storm clouds started to gather over the lake. And then it was raining and raining hard. This would slow up the attackers, but it would not stop them and Little Beaver had to get to his village quickly to warn his people of the danger. He dipped his paddle deep into the waters of the lake and the canoe moved forward. But now the wind was getting stronger and his arms began to ache from the effort. He paddled harder and harder but soon his arms became weak and he was still a great distance from the shore. Besides the danger of the storm it was fast approaching nightfall, and ahead Little Beaver could see the friendly fires of his village being lit one at a time. These would act as beacons of direction for the enemy. He chanced a glance behind and then he heard it again. The cry of the horned owl. The cry was coming from almost directly behind and in the dusk he could see the canoes of the enemy slipping from the stream into the lake. The storm passed and the waters became calm, and now Little Beaver’s job was easier, but so was that of the enemy. He paddled with all his might though he felt his arms would fall off. Finally he reached the shore and he leaped out onto the sand. Without waiting to pull his canoe ashore he rushed for the village. He turned to glance at the lake once more and he could see the canoes of the enemy drawing along the shore, closer to the village with each stroke. He rushed to his father and quickly told him what he had seen. His father dashed from the wigwam and glanced toward the lake. Just then they both heard it once again. The cry of the great horned owl. His father stopped and listened and then placing his own hand to the side of his mouth he answered the whistle. Then he turned to his son. “It is all right my son. These are friends come to join in a great celebration. It is your uncle and his people from the north. Be not afraid, for they are friends.” Little Beaver looked at his father. He smiled and taking his father’s hand they walked toward the lakeside. Stepping from the canoes were a number of Cayuga warriors and they came with many bundles. The two groups greeted each other and then the leader of the visitors came forward. “Your father has explained that you thought we were unfriendly Indians come to call. I, for one, am glad that you are not a grown warrior right now, for your arrow shaft might have found its place in my heart in the forest. We had hoped to surprise your people with our visit but when we saw your canoe glide away from the Lake of the Rushes we knew we had been seen. And so, my little brave, let me congratulate you on a fine job of paddling. You came across the lake in a storm without slowing your stroke. I have told my brother that if we had been the enemy you would have reached the village far ahead of us and we would now be walking the trail of the happy hunting ground.” That night Little Beaver slept very soundly. He had a great adventure on his first trip to the Lake of the Rushes and it would be a long time to come before he would go alone again. |
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