The Campfire Stories Handbook INDIAN LEGENDS III ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Origin of Bears told by Osiyo, Night Owl (Svnoi Uguku)! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cherokee Bear Legend In the long ago time, there was a Cherokee Clan call the Ani-Tsa-gu-hi (Ahnee-Jah-goo-hee), and in one family of this clan was a boy who used to leave home and be gone all day in the mountains. After a while he went oftener and stayed longer, until at last he would not eat in the house at all, but started off at daybreak and did not come back until night. His parents scolded, but that did no good, and the boy still went every day until they noticed that long brown hair was beginning to grow out all over his body. Then they wondered and asked him why it was that he wanted to be so much in the woods that he would not even eat at home. Said the boy, "I find plenty to eat there, and it is better than the corn and beans we have in the settlements, and pretty soon I am going into the woods to say all the time." His parents were worried and begged him not leave them, but he said, "It is better there than here, and you see I am beginning to be different already, so that I can not live here any longer. If you will come with me, there is plenty for all of us and you will never have to work for it; but if you want to come, you must first fast seven days." The father and mother talked it over and then told the headmen of the clan. They held a council about the matter and after everything had been said they decided: "Here we must work hard and have not always enough. There he says is always plenty without work. We will go with him." So they fasted seven days, and on the seventh morning al the Ani-Tsa-gu-hi left the settlement and started for the mountains as the boy led the way. When the people of the other towns heard of it they were very sorry and sent their headmen to persuade the Ani Tsaguhi to stay at home and not go into the woods to live. The messengers found them already on the way, and were surprised to notice that their bodies were beginning to be covered with hair like that of animals, because for seven days they had not taken human food and their nature was changing. The Ani Tsaguhi would not come back, but said, "We are going where there is always plenty to eat. Hereafter we shall be called Yonv(a) (bears), and when you yourselves are hungry come into the woods and call us and we shall shall come to give you our own flesh. You need not be afraid to kill us, for we shall live always." Then they taught the messengers the songs with which to call them and bear hunters have these songs still. When they had finished the songs, the Ani Tsaguhi started on again and the messengers turned back to the settlements, but after going a little way they looked back and saw a drove of bears going into the woods. Aho! We are all Related! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mt. Shasta Grizzly Legend by Joaquin Miller ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Before people were on the Earth, the Chief of the Great Sky Spirits grew tired of his home in the Above World because it was always cold. So he made a hole in the sky by turning a stone around and around. Through the hole he pushed snow and ice until he made a big mound. This mound was Mount Shasta. Then Sky Spirit stepped from the sky to the mountain and walked down. When he got about halfway down, he thought: "On this mountain there should be trees." So he put his finger down and eveywhere he touched, up sprang trees. Everywhere he stepped, the snow melted and became rivers. The Sky Spirit broke off the end of his big walking stick he had carried from the sky and threw the pieces in the water. The long pieces became Beaver and Otter. The smaller pieces became fish. From the other end of his stick he made the animals. Biggest of all was Grizzly Bear. They were covered with fur and had sharp claws just like today, but they could walk on their hind feet and talk. They were so fierce looking that the Sky Spirit sent them to live at the bottom of the mountain. When the leaves fell from the trees, Sky Spirit blew on them and made the birds. Then Sky Spirit decided to stay on the Earth and sent for his family. Mount Shasta became their lodge. He made a BIG fire in the middle of the mountain and a hole in the top for the smoke and sparks. Every time he threw a really big log on the fire, the Earth would tremble and sparks would fly from the top of the mountain. Late one spring, Wind Spirit was blowing so hard that it blew the smoke back down the hole and burned the eyes of Sky Spirit's family. Sky Spirit told his youngest daughter to go tell Wind Spirit not to blow so hard. Sky Spirit warned his daughter: "When you get to the top, don't poke your head out. The wind might catch your hair and pull you out. Just put your arm through and make a sign and then speak to Wind Spirit." The little girl hurried to the top of the mountain and spoke to Wind Spirit. As she started back down, she remembered that her father had told her that the ocean could be seen from the top of the mountain. He had made the ocean since moving his family to the mountain and his daughter had never seen it. She put her head out of the hole and looked to the west. The Wind Spirit caught her hair and pulled her out of the mountain. She flew over the ice and snow and landed in the scrubby fir trees at the timberline, her long red hair flowing over the snow. There Grizzly Bear found her. He carried the little girl home with him wondering who she was. Mother Grizzly Bear took care of her and brought her up with her cubs. The little girl and the cubs grew up together. When she bacame a young woman, she and the eldest son of Gizzly Bear were married. In the years that followed they had many children. The children didn't look like their father or their mother. All the grizzly bears throughout the forest were proud of these new creatures. They were so pleased, they made a new lodge for the red-haired mother and her strange looking children. They called the Lodge - Little Mount Shasta. Ater many years had passed, Mother Grizzly Bear knew that she would soon die. Fearing that she had done wrong in keeping the little girl, she felt she should send word to the Chief of the Sky Spirits and ask his forgiveness. So she gathered all the grizzlies at Little Mount Shasta and sent her oldest grandson to the top of Mount Shasta, in a cloud, to tell the Spirit Chief where he could find his daughter. The father was very glad. He came down the mountain in great strides. He hurried so fast the snow melted. His tracks can be seen to this day. As he neared the lodge, he called out for his daughter. He expected to see a little girl exactly as he saw her last. When he saw the strange creatures his daughter was taking care of, he was surprised to learn that they were his grandchildren and he was very angry. He looked so sternly at the old grandmother that she died at once. Then he cursed all the grizzlies. "Get down on your hands and knees. From this moment on all grizzlies shall walk on four feet. And you shall never talk again. You have wronged me." He drove his grandchildren out of the lodge, threw his daughter over his shoulder and climbed back up the mountain. Never again did he come to the forest. Some say he put out the fire in the center of his lodge and returned to the sky with his daughter. Those strange grandchildren scattered and wandered over the earth. They were the first Indians, the ancestors of all the Indian Tribes. That is why the Indians living around Mount Shasta never kill Grizzly Bear. Whenever one of them was killed by a grizzly bear, his body was burned on the spot. And for many years all who passed that way cast a stone there until a great pile of stones marked the place of his death. Source: Native Net Lists; NativeWeb ------------------------------------------------------------------------ How Grandmother Spider Brought Fire to the People ------------------------------------------------------------------------ In the beginning there was no fire, and the world was cold, until the Thunders, who lived up in Galun lati (Gah-lun-lah-tee), sent their lightening and put fire into the bottom of a hollow sycamore tree which grew on an island. The animals knew it was there, because they could see the smoke coming out at the top, but they could not get to it on account of the water, so they held a council to decide what to do. This was in the long ago time, when the animals could talk one to the other. Every animal that could fly or swim was anxious to go after the fire. The Raven offered, and because he was so large and strong they thought he could surely do the work, so he was sent first. He flew high and far across the water and alighted on the sycamore tree, but while he was wondering what to do next, the heat had scorched all his feathers black, and he was frightened and came back without the fire. The little Screech Owl (wa'huhu [wah-hoo-hoo]) volunteered to go, and reached the place safely, but while he was looking down into the hollow tree a blast of hot air came up and nearly burned out his eyes. He managed to fly home as best he could, but it was a long time before he could see well, and his eyes are red to this day. The the Hooting Owl (Uguku [OO-goo-koo]) and the Horned Owl (Tskili [Skee-lee]) went, but by the time they got to the hollow tree, the fire was burning so fiercely the the smoke nearly blinded them, and the ashes carried up by the wind made white rings about their eyes. They had come home again without the fire, but with all the rubbing they were never able to get rid of the white rings. Now no more of the birds would venture, and so the little Uksuhi (Ook- soo-hee)snake, the black racer, said he would go through the water and bring back some fire. He swam across to the island and crawled through the grass to the tree, and went in by a small hole at the bottom. The smoke and heat were too much for him, too, and after dodging about blindly over the hot ashes until he was almost on fire himself he managed by good luck get out again at the same hole, but his body had been scorched black, and he has ever since had the habit of darting and doubling back on his track as if trying to escape from close quarters. He came back, and the great black snake, Gule'gi (Goo-lay-kee), "The Climber," offered to go for fire. He swam over to the island and climbed up the tree on the outside, as the blacksnake always does, but when he put his head down into the hole the smoke choked him so that he fell into the burning stump, and before he could climb out again he was as black as the Uksu'hi. Now they held another council, for still there was no fire, and the world was cold, but birds, snakes, and four footed animals, all had some excuse for not going, because they were all afraid to venture near the burning sycamore, until at last Kanane'ski Amai'yehi (Kah-nah-nay Ah-eye-yay-hee [the Water Spider]) said she would go. This is not the water spider that looks like a mosquito, but other one, with black downy hair and red stripes on her body. She can run on top of the water or dive to the bottom, so there would be no trouble to get over to the island, but the question was, How could she bring back the fire? "I'll manage that," said the Water Spider; so she spun a thread from her body and wove it into a tusti (toos-tee) bowl, which she fastened on her back. Then she crossed over to the island and through the grass to where the fire was still burning. She put one little coal of fire into her bowl, and came back with it, and ever since we have had fire, and the Water Spider still keeps her tusti bowl. That is how fire came to the People. Hope you all enjoyed the story. Aho! We are All Related! -=Standing Bear=- Sources: Native Net Lists ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Beginning of Thunder by Miwok indians of Tuolumne county ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Bear's sister-in-law, Deer, had two beautiful daughters, called Fawns. Bear was a horrible, wicked woman, and she wanted the Fawns for herself. So this is what she did. One day she invited Deer to accompany her when she went to pick clover. The two Fawns remained at home. While resting during the day, after having picked much clover, Bear offered to pick out lice from Deer's head. While doing so she watched her chance, took Deer unaware, and bit her neck so hard that she killed her. Then she devoured her, all excepting the liver. This she placed in the bottom of a basket filled with clover, and took it home. She gave the basket of clover to the Fawns to eat. When they asked where their mother was, she replied, "She will come soon. You know she is always slow and takes her time in coming home." So the Fawns ate the clover, but when they reached the bottom of the basket, they discovered the liver. Then they knew that their aunt had killed their mother. "We had better watch out, or she will kill us too," they said to one another. They decided to leave without saying anything and go to their grandfather. So the next day when Bear was away they got together all the baskets and awls which belonged to Deer and departed. They left one basket, however, in the house. When Bear returned and found the Fawns missing she hunted for their tracks and set out after them. After she had tracked them a short distance, the basket, left at home, whistled. Bear ran back to the house, thinking the Fawns had returned. But she could not find them and so set out again, following their tracks. The Fawns, meanwhile, had proceeded on their journey, throwing awls and baskets in different directions. These awls and baskets whistled. Each time Bear thought that the Fawns were whistling, and left the trail in search of them. And each time that Bear was fooled in this manner, she became angrier and angrier. She shouted in her anger. "Those girls are making a fool of me. When I capture them I'll eat them." The awls only whistled in response and Bear ran toward the sound. There was no one there. Finally, the Fawns, far ahead of Bear, came to the river. On the opposite side they saw Daddy Longlegs. They asked him to stretch his leg across the river so that they might cross safely. They told him that Bear had killed their mother and they were fleeing from her. So when Bear at last came to the river, Daddy Longlegs stretched his leg over again, but when the wicked aunt of the two Fawns, walking on his leg, reached the middle of the river, Daddy Longlegs gave a sudden jump and threw her into the river. But Bear did not drown. She managed to swim to the shore, where she again started in pursuit of the Fawns. But the Fawns were far ahead of their aunt, and soon reached their grandfather's house. Their grandfather was Lizard. They told him of the terrible fate which had overtaken their mother. "Where is Bear?" he asked them. "She is following us and will soon be here," they replied. Upon hearing this Lizard threw two large white stones into the fire and heated them. When Bear arrived outside of Lizard's house she could not find an entrance. She asked Lizard how she should enter, and he told her that the only entrance was through the smokehole, so she must climb on the roof and enter that way. He also told her that when she entered she must close her eyes tightly and open wide her mouth. Bear did as she was instructed, for she was very anxious to get the two Fawns, whom Lizard had told her were in his house. But as Bear entered, eyes closed and mouth open, Lizard took the red hot stones from the fire and thrust them down her throat. Bear rolled from the top of Lizard's house dead. Lizard then skinned her and dressed her hide, after which he cut it in two pieces, one large and one small. The larger piece he gave to the older Fawn, the smaller piece to the younger. Then Lizard instructed the girls to run about and see what kind of noise was made by Bear's skin. The girls proceeded to run around, the skins making all kinds of loud noises. Lizard, watching them, laughed and said to himself, "The girls are all right. They are Thunders. I think I had better send them up to the sky." When the Fawns came to Lizard to tell him that they were going to return home, he said, "Do not go home. I have a good place for you. I shall send you to the sky." So the girls went up to the sky. There Lizard could hear them running about. Their aunt's skin, which they had kept, makes the loud noises, that we call thunder. When the Fawn girls ran around in the sky Rain and Hail fell. So now whenever the girls (Thunders, as Lizard called them) run around above, rain begins to fall. Source: Native Net Lists ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Turtle Dancer's Two Sons from Tunkashila (grandfather) by Gerald Hausman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "When they were still young and playing at hunting, the younger said to the elder, 'If you could be any animal, which would it be?" "And the elder brother answered. 'Why, Wolf Brother, of course.' "'Why Wolf Brother?' "'Because he is lean and strong, well formed for the hunt. He can travel miles without meat or water. A fierce fighter, he never runs from battle. But tell me, Brother, what animal would you choose to be?' "'I would choose Fox Brother. He is fast and tricky, knows every hiding place there is. His tracks are hard to follow; he does not fight unless he has to.' "Now, when they were a little older, the younger one was captured by an enemy war party, and while his brother became known as Wolf Brother, a war chief who was feared throughout the land, his younger brother vanished before he could make a name for himself." One day, when Wolf Brother was on the warpath, he encountered an enemy leader whose warriors were in every way equal to his own. A vicious battle took place. Neither side was the winner; both sides suffered great losses. 'Who is the war chief who shows such cleverness on the field?' Wolf Brother asked one of his men. "'That is the one that cannot be tracked; they call him Fox Young Man.' "'I see,' Wolf Brother said. "For twelve days, the fighting dragged on, neither side overcoming the other. The dead and dying were uncountable. Finally, Wolf Brother sent a messenger across to the other war chief. 'It is between the two of us,' he proclaimed. 'Tell your men to go home, and I will tell mine to do the same. Then, if I cannot find you in four days time, we will declare a truce and put down our bows.' "Fox Young Man sent word back that he agreed to these terms. And on a day when the sun shone on the first frost of winter, Wolf Brother, alone, went after Fox Young Man." "The tail should be easy to follow, Wolf Brother thought, for the hand of Cold Maker has whitened the grass. But by noon, the trail of Fox Young Man had melted away into the thin, dry air, and there was nothing left to follow. The next day, there was a light prickling of rain. Wolf Brother again picked up the trail, yet by dusk, the tracks, moving in a tightly wound circle, had doubled back to the place where they had begun that morning. On the following day, Wolf Brother tracked Fox Young Man into the frozen swamp where rising steam made the trail impossible to follow; it meandered from one tussock of grass to another, finally slipping into the cold, trackless water where no trail is ever left behind. That night, under the winter stars, Wolf Brother prayed for his wolf spirit, his ally, to come and help him." "In the morning, before dawn, he shed his warm robe, leggins, and shirt. Then he rolled on the frozen ground, stinging his skin with nettles of ice. 'Grant me sight of him; that is all I ask,' he said, breathing the risen sun into his being and praying to the Father. But that day was harder than any other. Fox Young Man, it seemed, was playing with Wolf Brother, leading him in and out of the leafless trees, making him ford the ice-bound streams, taking him up hill and down, tiring him out. So that, by the end of the day, his eyes were weak and he missed many signs. That night, a fever came upon him, and he shivered the night away. Just before dawn, he glimpsed the smoky form of a gray fox standing over him, laughing, but he was certain it was a fever dream, teasing his mind, taunting him like the fox chief he was chasing." "'This day grant his death to me,'Wolf Brother prayed to the wolf spirit, his ally. Then he cut a piece of his little finger off and left it on a sun stone in a pool of blood. Yet by noon, he had made no progress. The fox tracks appeared to increase; wherever he glanced, there were more and more of them. 'I must have the heart of him,' Wolf Brother swore, slashing his chest with his knife and leaving a piece of flayed skin on yet another sun stone. By nightfall, he was no better off; all day the tricky fox had led him around by the nose, promising him plenty, giving him nothing but tracks and more tracks. That night, he was in too much pain to make a fire. He shook all over with a raging fever. I believe I am going to die, he thought, and he sang his death song of the wolf through his clenched teeth. But even as he sang, a shadow stole across the camp, and he saw it out of the corner of his eye. The shadow thickened in the starlight. Wolf Brother, trembling, readied his bow underneath his robe. The shadow came close, sniffing at the stars. Then, with the bow drawn under his robe, Wolf Brother waited and the shadow of the fox washed over him. Suddenly, he released the bowstring. The arrow struck and the fox dropped in his tracks, dead.'I have killed you!' Wolf Brother cried, throwing off his robe, though when he went to inspect the body of the slain fox, he found only a little patch of gray fur stuck in some rabbitbrush. "'Enemy, I call you out!" he cried, his voice ringing hollow in the empty hills. "'I am here,' came a soft-voiced reply, and as Wolf Brother turned around, he saw that Fox Young Man greeted him with smiling teeth. "'Did you think I would give myself up so easily?' "Wolf Brother, still holding the small patch of fox skin, flapped it in the face of his adversary; then he fell to his knees, for the fever still had him in its claws. "'My brother,' said Fox Young Man, 'you have been fooled by a spirit fox, my double, whom you have been chasing all this time while I was safe and warm in my lodge.' "He laughed as Wolf Brother grew furious. He growled, 'I would have your blood.' But Fox Young Man only shook his head in a gentle, mocking manner. "'Do you not understand, Brother?' Fox Young Man asked. "'I understand that you have won, and I have lost.' "Fox Young Man looked at his brother and pity filled his heart. "'We once traveled together, you and I,' he said. 'Yet it seems we have grown far apart. I do not live to fight; I fight only so that I may live.' "Wolf Brother, teeth rattling with the fever that was burning his bones, rasped, 'I shall honor the peace between us, but I will not acknowledge you as my brother.' "'The peace is enough,' Fox Young Man whispered softly, sadly, and he disappeared into the falling night of prarie stars." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Story of Snake's Medicine from Tunkashila (grandfather) by Gerald Hausman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "In time, the warrior hero known as Snake's Medicine grew tired of having adventures. He was all but lame, and wanted to settle down, have a family, and give up the warrior's way" "Did he put his lance in the earth?" one of the children around the storyteller's camp fire asked. "He did indeed'" replied Many Names, "and became a chief known far and wide for his great wisdom and power." "Did he ever have children, Grandfather?" And Many Names Told them: "He married a young woman named Buffalo Calf, but it is hard to say why they did not have any children. They tried, but for them it was no possible. For many years, the two lived in a childless world, a world without stars, a world of winters without spring. And then one day while Snake's Medicine was gathering mushrooms in the woods, he saw something that caught his eye; a pine knot growing out of the trunk of a great pine tree. Now the more he studied it, the more he became convinced that this might be an answer to his, and his wife's childless lodge. Here was a burl of twisted wood, a pine knot that looked just like the face of a child. He took out his knife and freed the knot, then sat down and carved the bark off it. Such a wonderful thing, he thought, this little pine knot looks just like a happy boy. When he was through whittling, he brought the pine knot home to his wife, saying nothing of it except that he had found it on the trail." "Buffalo Calf took the pine knot in her arms, hugged it to her breast, and placed it in a fine cradle board of bead and fur.'Husband,' she said, 'speak to no one of this, for it is our secret and no one else's.' He agreed, and the two of them fed and clothed the pine knot, calling it Carving Boy. They talked to it and treated it tenderly, just as if it had been their newborn son. Buffalo Calf fed it stew of boiled corn, and while this gruel, of course, ran out of the whittled mouth of Carving Boy, the two delighted parents did not really care, for at last their wish was granted...they had a child." "Now, eleven moons grew from thin to full, and Snake's Medicine and Buffalo Calf pretended they had a son named Carving Boy. But one morning as Buffalo Calf was feeding him some crushed berries, he suddenly broke out of his cradle board, and roared, 'Mother, get me some meat!' Well, Buffalo Calf nearly fell over, she was so surprised, but her sense of devotion took over imediately, and she fed Carving Boy a piece of broiled buffalo hump, which he devoured in one bite, without even swallowing. For the rest of the day, he ate whatever she offered him. And he grew quite stout, so that by the time Snake's Medicine came home from hunting, deer slung over his shoulder, the starved boy wanted to eat all of it." "Snake's Medicine was amazed. Here was the boy he had carved out of a pine knot, eating raw deer meat! Nor was that all: Carving Boy could not seem to fill his belly; he ate all of that deer...blood, bones, horns, hooves, even the fur...and there was nothing left for his mother and father, but still they did not complain, for this child was what they had always wanted." "Now, Carving Boy grew very large; in four days he was as big as a skin tent. And by then, as you can imagine, he was eating horses, popping them into his mouth like strawberries. When his father's horses were gone, he ate the horses of other people. And when they were gone, we went out on a hunt and ate a whole buffalo herd.. Nor was that all...for Carving Boy now began to eat the hills and the mountains, the plains and the valleys." At this the children listening to the old chief Many Names became a little uneasy. They began to look over their shoulders, and as the wind moaned around the teepee walls, little shivers went up their spines and their eyes got big. "Is he out there somewhere?" one of the children wanted to know. The chief shook his head. "He is no longer around," he said somewhat sadly. "What happened to him/" "Well, his father had to kill him with a stone ax. First, he chopped off one of his feet, so Carving Boy toppled over; then chopped off one of his knees; and then split his belly. And what do you think happened then?" The children looked at one another with wondering eyes. No one could guess. "Then," the old chief went on, "all the animals Carving Boy had eaten came out of his belly and ran away. There were deer, buffalo, elk, antelope, rabbits, mice, rats, and squirrels, not to mention the flocks of birds and the hills and mountains and valleys." "Was that when he died?" a boy asked. "Oh," said the old chief, "don't you know that a lie *never* dies, never goes away? That Carving Boy is still out there somewhere, and just like all the lies of this world, he ia waiting, once again, to be born." "Grandfather, what happened to the great warrior Snake's Medicine?" a girl questioned. Many Names grinned and, stirring the fire, said, "He is still around." The children looked all around them. "You mean he is still alive?" The old chief shrugged. "I suppose so." "What keeps him alive?" asked the girl "Stories," the old chief said, chuckling, "stories and little children, just like yourselves." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Story of the White Deer Named Virginia Dare from Tunkashila (grandfather) by Gerald Hausman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Viginia Dare was the firstborn girl from the first white colony settlement. Along the bay islands, where the pale people set up their first permanent settlement, there was born a child, the one known as Virginia Dare. And the people of the islands, the Chesapeake people, called the newborn White Fawn. Around the pine-speckled islands and sea-grass peninsulas, her story was told. It said that upon the child's death, her spirit would assume the form of a frosted fawn whose face, because her race had come from accross the sea, would always gaze wistfully in that direction, as if yearning for that faraway shore. The story went on to say that if ever a runner should catch the fawn after she was fully grown into a white deer and shoot her with an arrow whose head was cast of silver, this would restore her to mortal form. Now, the far banks and islands of coasts, not often met by travelers, were home to the Hatteras people, but the long salt-bitten winters presided over by hungry moons seperated them from their pale friends, and in time, they lost touch with one another. One autumn day, a hunter named Little Oak came upon some ruined, abondoned log houses in the saw grass of the settlement of Roanoke. There were no pale people living there anymore; the berry brambles and rose hips had grown up between the cracks of the wind-washed logs. Slow autumn turtles lay by the cold hearthsides of cracked ashen clay. All that the hunter named Little Oak could find was an old baby's rattle, clutched by the claws of a rose thorn. Then he spied a beautiful white doe. By instinct, he drew his bow, but he would not let the arrow loose, holding it in check, the barred turkey feathers itching at his ear. Time passed and the white doe was well known amoung the hunters of Roanoke Island. Often she was seen browsing amid the brown herd of deer that lived there. But she always remained apart, turning her head to the east, sad-eyed and dreaming on the direction of the distant sea. Those who were compelled to hunt her said that their arrows, though well-aimed, fell harmless at her hooves...whereupon she would leap with the west wind, swift as milkweed down, bounding the sand hills, driving the quick curlews and iron-winged cranes up into the cold gray, slate-colored sky. Talk of the white doe flowed like a river tumbling from its source in the clefted rocks; it went various ways. Some of the people had fear of the animal, thinking her spirit was one of desolation. They said none but the spirit deer could travel the high grassy grounds od Croatan and yet the same day be seen in the cranberry bogs of East Lake. Always sad, head ever turned toward the eastern-glinting sea, always beautiful, always a little apart, the white doe danced in a dream of her own making. Then, early one autumn, the people of the islands decided what to do: They would hold a great deer hunt, and all the finest bow hunters would be invited to join in. Afterward, there would be a feast and celebration. Now the plan, they say, was to hunt the milk white doe. If any runner or hunter...and all the best were gathered there...could bring her down with an arrow, then all would know if she was flesh or spirit; and, thereafter, if she should prevail, then no one would ever go after her again. It was thus decreed, and the hunt and race was on. Some took to the high sunburned mounds above the sound; some went to the low thistle meadows of the flat ocean islands. Hunters and runners alike spread out like a peat fire across good ground, quaking ground, low ground and high; and the bird-swept praries rang with their chants. The best bows were drawn and the straightest arrows noched. Only one hunter, howere, had a arrow with a cast-silver tip that had come from over the sea from the island known as England...a silver arrow point given, they say, by the great queen herself. This was a thing that could, it was told, reach the heart of even the most charmed lives. And it happened that the swift doe was chased from the rank grass of the shaky land; a bowstring's angry twang sent her flying on the north wind's breath. Through tangled wood and trailless bog, through morass and highland, she sped. And the myriad bowstrings made the sounds of harmless bees in the wake of her whiteness. She plunged on through the billows of the sound, reaching the sand hills on Roanoke. Here, she stood atop the ruins of the olf fort, gray-logged and silvery-splintered, breathing the easternmost breeze from the afar, panting, her small tongue flickering like a pink petal. Now, in the deep, wind-blown grass, Little Oak appeared, took aim at the glowing form before him, and let loose the fated bowstring that burned the air and sent the silver-headed arrow on an irretrievable mission. The beautiful sad-eyed doe leapt, heart pierced, into the air and sank desparately to the ground. Then Little Oak threw down his bow, ran to her side, lifted the head of snow, soft as a cloud, looked into the dying eyes, and saw, suddenly, the face of a pretty young woman, who, through dry, heart-spent lips, whispered her name, Virginia Dare, and died. So goes the story. And the lost Virginia Dare, what of her? Did she die in infancy? Did her child bones mingle with the dust of her legend and blossom in the wild rores of Croatan? Did she ever grow to womanhood? Did she end her life in whatever darkness that still enshrouds the lost pale colony that vanished into the deep mists? ------------------------------------------------------------------------