Now add up all these high numbers:
Farsight88Quicksight50Hearing50Feeling84Quickness80Guessing Length82Aim64Your aliveness number is498
But very few can score so high. If you can score 400 you are surely alive; you can see like a hawk, you can take in at a glance, you can hear like an owl, you can feel like a blind man, you are quick as a cat, you are a good judge of size, and you can aim true; That is, you are asalive as an Indian.
Make24 little white sticks, each about three inches long, and as thick as a pencil. They are easy to make of willow shoots, after the bark is peeled off. While the young folk hide their eyes, the Guide walks off in the woods, ties a white rag on a tall stake or limb, for the point of beginning. Then, one step apart and in a very crooked line, sets each of the little white sticks in the ground, standing straight up. Under the last stick should be buried the treasure; usually a stick of chocolate. This the players are to find by following the sticks.
When the young folk get used to it, the line should be longer, the sticks farther apart, and the last one may be ten steps from the last but one.
When they are well trained at it, scraps of paper, white beans, corn, or even chalk marks on trees, instead of sticks, will serve for trail; and still later holes prodded in the ground with a sharp pointed cane will do.
This game can be played in the snow; in which case, the track of the Guide, when he hides the treasure, takes the place of the sticks.
Finally it makes a good game for indoors on a rainy day. In which case we use buttons, corn, or scraps of white cotton for trail sticks. Of course the trail now should be upstairs and down, and as long and crooked as possible.
Oneof the best developers of imagination is the Moving Picture. Sometimes called Pantomime, or Dumb-show which means all signs without sounds.
The one who is to put on the "movie" is given a subject and must then stand out on the stage or Council Ring, and carry all the story to the spectators, without using any sound and with as few accessories as possible.
The "print between the reels" is supplied by the Guide who simply announces what is needed to explain.
The following subjects have been used successfully (unless otherwise stated they are for one actor each):
Miss Muffet and the Spider—the well-known Nursery Rhyme
Old Mother Hubbard
Little Jack Horner
Mary and her Little Lamb
Red Ridinghood—walk through the woods, meeting the wolf, etc.
Robinson Crusoe—finding the track of a man in the sand
A Barber Shop—shaving a customer (two actors)
The Man's First Speech at a Dinner
The Politician who was rotten-egged after vainly trying to control a meeting
Joyride in a Ford Car—ending in a bad upset (two actors)
The Operation—a scene in a hospital following the accident (two or more)
The Professor of Hypnotism and His Subject (two actors)
The Man who Found a Hair in His Soup
The Young Lady Finds a Purse, on opening it a mouse jumps out and she remembers that it is 1st of April
A Young Man Telephoning to His Best Girl
A Man Meeting and Killing a Rattlesnake
Lighting a Lamp
Drawing a Cork
Looking for a Lost Coin—finding it in one pocket or shoe
A Musician Playing His Own Composition
The Sleeping Beauty and the Prince (two actors)
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
William Tell and the Apple (best rendered in caricature with a pumpkin and two actors)
Eliza Crossing the Ice
The Kaiser Signing His Abdication
The Judgment of Solomon (three actors)
Brutus Condemning His Two Sons to Death.
If youlive in the country, I can show you an old Woodcraft trick. Look for a hollow tree. Sometimes you can pick one out afar, by the dead top, and sometimes by noting a tree that had lost one of the biggest limbs years ago. In any case, basswoods, old oaks and chestnuts are apt to be hollow; while hickories and elms are seldom so, for once they yield to decay at all, they go down.
Remember that every hollow tree is a tenement house of the woods. It may be the home of a score of different families. Some of these, like Birds and Bats, are hard to observe, except at nesting time. But the fourfoots are easier to get at. For them, we will arrange a visitors' book at the foot of the tree, so that every little creature in fur will write his name, and some passing thought, as he comes to the tree.
How?
Oh, it is simple; I have often done it. First clear and level the ground around the tree for three or four feet; then cover it with a coat of dust, ashes, or sand—whichever is easiest to get; rake and brush it smooth; then wait over one night.
Next morning—most quadrupeds are night-walkers—come back; and you will find that every creature on four feet that went to the tree tenement-house has left us its trail; that is its track or trace.
No two animals make the same trail, so that every Squirrel that climbed, every 'Coon or 'Possum, every Tree-mouse, and every Cottontail that went by, has clearly put himself on record without meaning to do so; and we who study Woodcraft can read the record, and tell just who passed by in the night.
Onceupon a time there was a girl who was very anxious to know what sort of a husband she should get; so, of course, she went to the old wood-witch.
The witch asked a few questions, then said to the girl: "You walk straight through that woods, turn neither to right nor left, and never turn back an inch, and pick me out a straight stick, the straighter the better; but pick only one, and bring it back."
So the girl set out. Soon she saw a fine-looking stick close at hand; but it had a slight blemish near one end, so she said: "No; I can do better than that." Then she saw another that was perfect but for a little curve in the middle, so she passed it by.
Thus she went, seeing many that were nearly perfect; but walking on, seeking one better, till she was quite through the woods. Then she realized her chances were nearly gone; so she had to take the only stick she could find, a very crooked one indeed, and brought it to the witch, saying that she "could have got a much better one had she been more easily satisfied at the beginning."
The witch took the stick, waved it at the girl and said:"then this is your fortune;through the woods and through the woods and out with a crooked stick. If you were less hard to please, you would have better luck; but you will pass many a good man by, and come out with a crooked stick."
Maybe some of our Woodcraft girls can find an initiation in this. Put it just as the witch did it, but let it be considered a success if the stick is two feet long and nowhere half an inch out of true line. Let me add a Woodcraft proverb which should also have its mead of comfort—The Great Spirit can draw a straight line with a crooked stick.
Forthis we need a Nana-bo-jou; that is, a grown-up who can drum and sing. He has a drum and drumstick, and a straw or paper club; also two goblins, these are good-sized boys or girls wearing ugly masks, or at least black hoods with two eyeholes, made as hideous as possible; and any number of children, from three or four up, for animals. If each has the marks, colours, etc., of some bird or beast, so much the better.
First, Nana-bo-jou is seen chasing the children around the outside of the circle, trying to catch one to eat; but failing, thinks he'll try a trick and he says: "Stop, stop, my brothers. Why should we quarrel? Come, let's hold a council together and I will teach you a new dance."
The animals whisper together and the Coyote comes forward, barks, then says:
"Nana-bo-jou, I am the Coyote. The animals say that they will come to council if you will really make peace and play no tricks."
"Tricks!" says Nana-bo-jou, "I only want to teach you the new songs from the South."
Then all the animals troop in and sit in a circle. Nana-bo-jou takes his drum and begins to sing:
"New songs from the South, my brothers,Dance to the new songs."
Turning to one, he says: "Who are you and what can you dance?"
The answers are, "I am the Beaver [or whatever it is] and I can dance the Beaver Dance."
"Good! Come and show me how."
So the Beaver dances to the music, slapping the back of his flat right hand, up and under his left hand for a tail, holding up a stick in both paws to gnaw it, and lumbering along in time to the music, at the same time imitating the Beaver's waddle.
Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Fine! That is the best Beaver Dance I ever saw. You are wonderful; all you need to be perfect is wings. Wouldn't you like to have wings so you could fly over the tree-tops, like the Eagle?"
"Yes," says the Beaver.
"I can make strong medicine and give you wings, if all the animals will help me," says Nana-bo-jou. "Will you?"
"Yes," they all cry.
"Then all close your eyes tight and cover them with your paws. Don't look until I tell you. Beaver, close your eyes and dance very fast and I will make magic to give you wings."
All close and cover their eyes. Nana-bo-jou sings very loudly and, rushing on the Beaver, hits him on the head with the straw club. The Beaver falls dead. The two goblins run in from one side and drag off the body.
Then Nana-bo-jou shouts: "Look, look, now! See how he flies away! See, there goes the Beaver over the tree-tops." All look as he points and seem to see the Beaver going.
Different animals and birds are brought out to dance their dances and are killed as before. Then the Crow comes out, hopping, flopping, cawing. Nana-bo-jou looks at him and says: "You are too thin. You are no good. You don't need any more wings," and so sends him to sit down.
Then the Coyote comes out to do the Coyote Dance, imitating Coyote, etc.; but he is very suspicious and, in answer to the questions, says: "No; I don't want wings. The Great Spirit gave me good legs, so I am satisfied"; then goes back to his seat.
Next the Deer, the Sheep, etc., come out and are killed; while all the rest are persuaded that the victims flew away. But the Coyote and the Loon have their doubts. They danced in their turns, but said they didn't want any change. They are satisfied as the Great Spirit made them. They are slow about hiding their eyes. At last, they peek and realize that it is all a trap and the Loon shouts: "Nana-bo-jou is killing us! It is all a trick! Fly for your lives!"
As they all run away, Nana-bo-jou pursues the Loon, hitting him behind with the club, which is the reason that the Loon has no tail and has been lame behind ever since.
The Loon shouts the Loon battle-cry, a high-pitched quavering LUL-L-L-O-O-O and faces Nana-bo-jou; the animals rally around the Loon and the Coyote to attack the magician. All point their fingers at him shouting "Wakan Seecha" (or Black Magic). He falls dead in the circle. They bury him with branches, leaves, or a blanket, and all the animals do their dances around him.
Before beginning, the story of the dance should be told to the audience.
Horns for the Caribou DanceHorns for the Caribou Dance
Theeasiest of our campfire dances to learn, and the best for quick presentation, is the Caribou Dance. It has been put on for public performance after twenty minutes' rehearsing, with those who never saw it before, because it is all controlled and called off by the Chief. It does equally well for indoor gymnasium or for campfire in the woods.
In the way of fixings for this, you need only four pairs of horns and four cheap bows. Real deer horns may be used, but they are scarce and heavy. It is better to go out where you can get a few crooked limbs of oak, cedar, hickory or apple tree; and cut eight pairs, as near like those in the cut as possible, each about two feet long and one inch thick at the butt. Peel these, for they should be white; round off all sharp points of the branches, then lash them in pairs, as shown. A pair, of course, is needed for each Caribou. These are held in the hand and above the head, or in the hand resting on the head.
The four Caribou look best in white. Three or four hunters are needed. They should have bows, but no arrows. The Chief should have a drum and be able to sing the Muje Mukesin, or other Indian dance tune. One or two persons who can howl like Wolves should be sent off to one side, and another that can yell like a Lynx or a Panther on the other side, well away from the ring. Otherwise the Chief or leader can do the imitations. Now we are ready for
THE DANCE OF THE WHITE CARIBOU
The Chief begins by giving three thumps on his drum to call attention; then says in a loud, singing voice: "TheCaribou have not come on our hunting grounds for three snows. We need meat. Thus only can we bring them back, by the big medicine of the Caribou Dance, by the power of the White Caribou."
He rolls his drum, then in turn faces each of the winds, beckoning, remonstrating, and calling them by name; Kitchi-nodin (West); Keeway-din (North); Wabani-nodin (East); Shawani-nodin (South). Calling last to the quarter whence the Caribou are to come, finishing the call with a long KO-KEE-NA. Then as he thumps a slow single beat the four Caribou come in in single file, at a stately pace timed to the drum. Their heads are high, and they hold the horns on their heads, with one hand, as they proudly march around. The Chief shouts: "The Caribou, The Caribou!" After going round once in a sun circle (same way as the sun), they go each to a corner. The Chief says: "They honour the symbol of the Great Spirit." The drum stops; all four march to the fire. They bow to it together, heads low, and utter a long bellow.
Then the Chief shouts: "They honour the four Winds, the Messengers."
Then the Caribou back up four paces each, turn suddenly and make a short bow, with a short bellow, then turn and again face the fire.
The Chief shouts: "Now they live their wild free lives on the plain." He begins any good dance song and beats double time. The Caribou dance around once in a circle.
The Chief shouts: "Full of life they fight among themselves."
The first and second Caribou, and third and fourth, close in combat. They lower their heads, lock horns held safely away from the head, snort, kick up the dust, and dance around each other two or three times.
The music begins again, and they cease fighting and dance in a circle once more.
The music stops. The Chief shouts: "They fight again." Now the first and fourth and second and third lock horns and fight.
After a round or so the music begins again and they cease fighting and again circle, dancing as before.
The Chief calls out: "The Wolves are on their track."
Now the howling of Wolves is heard in the distance, from the fellows already posted.
The Caribou rush toward that side and face it in a row, threatening, with horns low, as they snort, stamp, and kick up the dust.
The Wolf-howling ceases. The Caribou are victorious. The Chief shouts: "They have driven off the Wolves." They turn away and circle once to the music, holding their heads high.
Now Panther-yelling (or other menacing sound) is heard in the other direction. The Chief shouts: "But now the Panthers have found them out."
Again the Caribou line up and show fight. When it ceases, the Chief cries out: "They have driven off the Panther." Now they dance proudly around, heads up, chests out as they step, for they have conquered every foe.
Then the Chief calls out: "But another, a deadlier enemy comes. The hunters are on their trail." The hunters appear, crawling very low and carrying bows. They go half around the ring, each telling those behind by signs, "Here they are; we have found them," "Four big fellows," "Come on," etc. When they come opposite the Caribou, the first hunter lets off a short "yelp." The Caribou spring to the opposite side of the ring, and then line up to defy this new noise; but do not understand it, so gaze as they prance about in fear. The hunters draw their bows together, andmake as though each lets fly an arrow. The first Caribou drops, the others turn in fear and run around about half of the ring, heads low, and not dancing; then they dash for the timber. The hunters run forward with yells. The leader holds up the horns. All dance and yell around the fallen Caribou and then drag it off the scene.
The Chief then says: "Behold, it never fails; the Caribou dance brings the Caribou. It is great medicine. Now there is meat in the lodge and the children cry no longer."
TheWoodcraft Council Robe is something which every one may have, and should make for himself. It may be of any shade, of gray, buff, orange, or scarlet. The best ones are of a bright buff. In size they are about five feet by six feet, and the stuff may be wool, cotton, silk, or a mixture. My own is of soft or blanket cotton.
The Council RobeThe Council Robe
The robe is used as a wall banner, a personal robe, or a bed spread, and has for the first purpose two or more tag-loops sewn on the top. For the second, it has a head-hole or poncho-hole, an upright slit near one end (hh), and for the last, there are one or two buttons or tie-strings to close the poncho-hole. These are the useful features of the robe.
The ornamental features are the records on it. While these vary with each owner, the following usually appear: The Fourfold fire, near the middle; the Woodcraft shield, the owner's totem, the symbols of each coup and each degree won by the owner.
To this many add a pictographic record of great events or of camps they have visited.
The easiest way to make the robe is to use paints on the cotton fabric.
The favourite way and more beautiful way, is to use appliqués of coloured cloths for the design.
The most beautiful is to embroider in silk or mercerized cotton. But the last is very slow, and calls for much labour as well as some money.
On the preceding page are shown four different styles of robe; you may choose or adapt which you please, except that only a Sagamore may use the one with the 24 feathers in the centre.
Thestory is very old, and it may not be true, but this is how they tell it in many countries.
The animals had chosen the lion for their King because his looks and his powers seemed to fit him best of all for the place. So the birds made up their minds that they also would have a royal leader.
After a long council it was decided that, in spite of strong opposition from the Ostrich and his followers, the one with the greatest powers of flight should be King. And away all flew to see which could go the highest.
One by one they came down tired out, till only two were to be seen in the air: the Eagle and the Turkey-buzzard still going up. At last they got so high that the Turkey-buzzard froze his ears off for they were naked. Then he gave it up. The Eagle went still higher to show how strong he was, then sailed downward to claim the royal honours.
But just as they were about to give him the crown, the Wren hopped off the top of the Eagle's head, where he had been hiding in the long feathers, and squeaked out, "No matter how high he was, I was a little bit higher, so I am King."
"You," said the Eagle; "Why I carried you up."
"Nothing to do with it," said the Wren.
"Then let's try it over," said the Eagle.
"No, no," said the Wren, "one try was agreed on, and it's settled now, I was higher than you."
And they have been disputing over it ever since. The lawyers take the Wren's side and the soldiers take the Eagle's side.
The peasants in Europe sometimes speak of the Eagle as "the King of the Birds," but they always call the Wren the "Little King." And that is why we call our gold-crowned Wrens, Kinglets, or Kingwrens and I suppose that is why they wear a crown of gold.
It wasat the great winter Carnival of Montreal not long ago. Looking out of a window on a stormy day were five children of different races: an Eskimo, a Dane, a Russian, an Indian, and a Yankee. The managers of the Carnival had brought the first four with their parents; but the Yankee was the son of a rich visitor.
"Look," cried the little Eskimo from Alaska, as he pointed to the driving snow. "Look at the ivory chips falling! El Sol is surely carving a big Walrus tusk into a fine dagger for himself. See how he whittles, and sends the white dust flying."
Of course he didn't say "El Sol," but used the Eskimo name for him.
Then the Dane said: "No, that isn't what makes it. That is Mother Earth getting ready for sleep. Those are the goose feathers of her feather bed, shaken up by her servants before she lies down and is covered with her white mantle."
The little Indian, with his eyes fixed on the storm, shookhis head gravely and said: "My father taught me that these are the ashes from Nana-bo-jou's pipe; he has finished his smoke and is wrapping his blanket about him to rest. And my father always spake true."
"Nay, you are all wrong," said the little Russian. "My grandmother told me that it is Mother Carey. She is out riding in her strongest, freshest steed, the White Wind. He has not been out all summer; he is full of strength and fury; he spumes and rages. The air is filled with the foam from his bridle, and froth from his shoulders, as she rides him, and spurs him, and rides him. I love to see it, and know that she is filling the air with strength and with messages. They carry me back to my own dear homeland. It thrills me with joy to see the whiteness."
But the Yankee boy said: "Why, it's just snowing."
Therewas once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all his time in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He used to look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the singing bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds' eggs.
But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts of song, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noises and movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks, and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it a great rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned that the woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quick to avoid him.
One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found a bird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seen it; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I could see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If I could see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only every bird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!"
The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on the path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in a long robe, and in her hand a rod.
She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of this Woods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to be different from other boys. Your request shall be granted."
Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over with wonderful little lamps—long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green, high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked were lamps—twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forest shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and here and there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. A beautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and found a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, and there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weird song he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were the marvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reached forth to clutch the wonderful prize, and—in an instant all the lights went out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on the pathway shone again the soft light. It grewbrighter, till in the middle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady—the Fairy of the Woods. But she was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I fear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep this in mind:
"Who reverence not thelamp of life can neversee its light."
Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again.
Oncea great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetest voice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is the calling of the Screech Owl."
Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most often makes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night, especially in the autumn nights.
It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-bye to the dear dying summer.
Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his little soul into a song that seemed to be
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!The leaves are falling:Ohhhh! Ohhhh!A sad voice calling;Ohhhh! Ohhhh!The Woodbirds flying;Ohhhh! Ohhhh!Sweet summer's dying,Dying, Dying.
The Lament of the Owl. Notation by Ann Seton
[You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]
[You can see the sheet music (PDF file) by clickinghere.]
A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say; but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."
Oh, thatwas a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and spread the news.
All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells of pleasure in another's joy.
The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know their speech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyful happening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, the highest rank of happiness impended.
Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of the bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the wedding day had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not her peers? And the Evil One—he came, but slunk away, for the blessing of the one Great Oversoul was on them.
Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth, the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet; renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye wanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green, but find it mostly in your souls, andsing!
Everygood Woodcrafter should know the way of the Council Ring.
Select some quiet level place out of doors; in the woods if possible, for it is so much better if surrounded by trees.
Make a circle of low seats; the circle should be not less than 12 feet or more than 20 feet across, depending somewhat on the number to take part.
In the middle prepare for a small fire. At one side is a special seat for the Chief; this is called the Council Rock.
On very important occasions take white sand or lime, and draw a circle around the fire. Then from that draw the four lamps and the twelve laws as in Tale 105.
When all is ready with the Guide on the Council Rock, and the Scouts in their seats, the Guide stands up and says: "Give ear my friends, we are about to hold a council. I appoint such a one, Keeper of the fire and so-and-so, Keeper of the tally. Now let the Fire-keeper light the fire."
Next the Tally-keeper calls the roll. After which the business part of the Council is carried on exactly the same as any ordinary meeting, except that instead of addressing the "Chairman," they say, "O Chief"; instead of "yes" they say "ho," instead of "no" they say "wah."
The order of doings in Council is:—
Opening and fire-lightingRoll CallReading and accepting tally of last CouncilReports of Scouts (things observed or done)Left-over businessNew businessHonoursHonourable mention(For the good of the Tribe) Complaints and suggestions.(Here business ends and entertainment begins.)ChallengesGames, contests, etc.Close by singing Omaha Prayer (Tale 108)
The Sandpainting of the FireThe Sandpainting of the Fire
WhenI was staying among the Navaho Indians, I met John Wetherall, the trader. He had spent half his life among them, and knew more of their ways than any other white man that I met. He told me that part of the education of Navaho priest was knowing the fifty sandpaintings of his tribe. A sandpainting is a design made on the ground or floor with dry sands of different colours—black, white, gray, yellow, red, etc. It looks like a rug or a blanket on the ground, and is made up of many curious marks which stand for some man, place, thing, or idea. Thus, the first sandpainting is a map of the world as the Navaho knew it, with rivers and hills that are important in their history. These sandpaintings cannot be moved; a careless touch spoils them, and a gust of wind can wipe them out. Theyendure only in the hearts and memories of the people who love them.
In the Woodcraft Camp there is but one sandpainting that is much used; that is, the Sandpainting of the Fourfold Fire. When I make it in camp, I use only white sand or powdered lime; but indoors, or on paper, I use yellow (or orange) and white.
This is the story of the sandpainting. The fire is the symbol of the Great Spirit; around that we draw a great circle, as in the diagram.
At each of the four sides we light another fire; these four are called Fortitude, Beauty, Truth, and Love, and come from the Fire through Spirit, Body, Mind, and Service.
Then from each of these we draw three golden rays. These stand for the twelve laws of Woodcraft, and they are named in this way:
Be Brave, Be Silent and Obey;Be Clean, Be Strong, Protect Wild Life alway;Speak True, Be Reverent, Play Fair as you Strive!Be Kind; Be Helpful; Glad you are alive.
And the final painting is as in the drawing. Of course the names are not written on the real thing though the Woodcraft scout should know them.
The Woodcraft KalendarThe Woodcraft Kalendar
TheWoodcraft Kalendar is founded on the Indian way of noting the months. Our own ancestors called them "Moons" much as the Indians did. Our word "month" was once written "moneth" or "monath" which meant a "moon or moon's time of lasting." The usual names for the moons to-day are Latin, but we find we get closer to natureif we call them by their Woodcraft names, and use the little symbols of the Woodcraft Kalendar.
Afarin our dry southwestern country is an Indian village; and in the offing is a high mountain, towering up out of the desert. It is considered a great feat to climb this mountain, so that all the boys of the village were eager to attempt it. One day the Chief said: "Now boys, you you may all go to-day and try to climb the mountain. Start right after breakfast, and go each of you as far as you can. Then when you are tired, come back: but let each one bring me a twig from the place where he turned."
Away they went full of hope, each feeling that he surely could reach the top.
But soon a fat, pudgy boy came slowly back, and in his hand he held out to the Chief a leaf of cactus.
The Chief smiled and said: "My boy, you did not reach the foot of the mountain; you did not even get across the desert."
Later a second boy returned. He carried a twig of sagebrush.
"Well," said the Chief. "You reached the mountain's foot but you did not climb upward."
The next had a cottonwood spray.
"Good," said the Chief; "You got up as far as the springs."
Another came later with some buckthorn. The Chief smiled when he saw it and spoke thus: "You were climbing; you were up to the first slide rock."
Later in the afternoon, one arrived with a cedar spray, and the old man said: "Well done. You went half way up."
An hour afterward, one came with a switch of pine. To him the Chief said: "Good; you went to the third belt; you made three quarters of the climb."
The sun was low when the last returned. He was a tall, splendid boy of noble character. His hand was empty as he approached the Chief, but his countenance was radiant, and he said: "My father, there were no trees where I got to; I saw no twigs, but I saw the Shining Sea."
Now the old man's face glowed too, as he said aloud and almost sang: "I knew it. When I looked on your face, I knew it. You have been to the top. You need no twigs for token. It is written in your eyes, and rings in your voice. My boy, you have felt the uplift, you have seen the glory of the mountain."
Oh Ye Woodcrafters, keep this in mind, then: the badges that we offer for attainment, are not "prizes"; prizes are things of value taken by violence from their rightful owners. These are merely tokens of what you have done, of where you have been. They are mere twigs from the trail to show how far you got in climbing the mountain.
THE OMAHA TRIBAL PRAYER. Harmonized by Prof. J. C. Fillmore.
[You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]
[You can see the sheet music (PDF file) by clickinghere.]
This old Indian prayer is sung by the Council standing in a great circle about the fire with feet close together, hands and faces uplifted, for it is addressed to the Great Spirit. At the final bars the hands and faces are lowered to the fire.
WILD ANIMALS I HAVE KNOWN, 1898
The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen, The Pacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners.)
The stories of Lobo, Silverspot, Molly Cottontail, Bingo, Vixen, The Pacing Mustang, Wully and Redruff. (Scribners.)