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Wildfire
A Reader
By Alianor True ISLAND PRESS
Copyright © 2001 Island Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-55963-907-1
CHAPTER 1
The First Fire
CHEROKEE TALE
IN THE BEGINNING THERE was no fire, and the world was cold, until the Thunders (Ani'-Hyun'tikwala'ski), who lived up in Galun'lati, sent their lightning 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 a long time ago.
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') 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 burnt 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. Then the Hooting Owl (U'guku') and the Horned Owl (Tskili) went, but by the time they got to the hollow tree the fire was burning so fiercely that the smoke nearly blinded them, and the ashes carried up by the wind made white rings about their eyes. They had to come home again without the fire, but with all their rubbing they were never able to get rid of the white rings.
Now no more of the birds would venture, and so the little Uksu'hi 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 heat and smoke 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 to 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 on his track as if trying to escape from close quarters. He came back, and the great blacksnake, Gule'gi, "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 (the Water Spider) said she would go. This is not the water spider that looks like a mosquito, but the 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 fire? "I'll manage that," said the Water Spider; so she spun a thread from her body and wove it into a tusti 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.
CHAPTER 2
How Tol'-le-loo Got the Fire for the Mountain People
A TALE OF THE NORTHERN MIWOK
THE MOUNTAIN PEOPLE lived in the Sierra near the Mokelumne River, which they called Ut'-ta Wah-kah'-loo, meaning big river. They had no fire and the world was dark. The Valley People lived on the San Joaquin Plain, which they called Ol-law'-win. Their roundhouse was not far from the spot now occupied by the city of Stockton. They had a small fire in the middle of the roundhouse and Wit'-tab-bah the Robin was its keeper.
Wek'-wek the Falcon and We'-pi-ah'-gah the Golden Eagle were Chiefs of the Valley People. Among the members of their tribe were Mol'-luk the Condor; Hoo'a-zoo the Turkey Buzzard; Hoo-loo'-e the Dove; Te-wi'-yu the Red-shafted Flicker, who must have been very close to the fire as anyone can see from the red under his wings and tail; and Wit'-tab-bah the red-breasted Robin, who was keeper of the fire. There were also Hah-ki'-ah the Elk, Hal'-loo-zoo the Antelope, Sahk'-mum-chah the Cinnamon Bear, and others.
The Mountain People were in darkness and wanted fire but did not know where it was or how to get it. O-la'-choo the Coyote-man tried hard to find it but did not succeed. After a while Tol'-le-loo the White-footed Mouse discovered the fire and the Mountain People sent him to steal it.
Tol'-le-loo took his flute (loo'-lah) of elderberry wood and went down into the valley and found the big roundhouse of Wek'-wek and We'-pi-ah'-gah and began to play. The people liked the music and asked him to come inside. So he went in and played for them. Soon all the people felt sleepy. Wit'-tab-bah the Robin was sure that Tol'-le-loo had come to steal the fire, so he spread himself over it and covered it all up in order to hide it, and it turned his breast red. But Tol'-le-loo kept on playing his flute and in a little while all the people were sound asleep; even Wit'-tab-bah could not keep awake.
Then Tol'-le-loo ran up to Wit'-tab-bah and cut a little hole in his wing and crawled through and stole the fire and put it inside his flute. When he had done this he ran out with it and climbed up to the top of the high mountain called Oo'-yum-bel'-le (Mount Diablo) and made a great fire which lighted up all the country till even the blue mountains far away in the east [the Sierra Nevada Range] could be seen. Before this all the world was dark.
When Wek'-wek awoke he saw the fire on Oo'-yum-bel'-le and knew that Tol'-leloo had stolen it. So he ran out and followed him and after a while caught him.
Tol'-le-loo said, "Look and see if I have the fire."
Wek'-wek looked but could not find it, for it was inside the flute. Then Wek'wek pitched Tol'-le-loo into the water and let him go.
Tol'-le-loo got out and went east into the mountains and carried the fire in his flute to the Mountain People; then he took it out of the flute and put it on the ground and covered it with leaves and pine needles and tied it up in a small bundle. O-la'-choo the Coyote smelled it and wanted to steal it. He came up and pushed it with his nose and was going to swallow it when it suddenly shot up into the sky and became the Sun.
O-la'-choo sent Le'-che-che the Hummingbird, and another bird, named Le-che-koo'-tah-mah, who also had a long bill, after it, but they could not catch it and came back without it.
The people took the fire that was left and put it into two trees, oo'-noo the buckeye and mon'-o-go the incense cedar, where it still is and where it can be had by anyone who wants it.
CHAPTER 3
Excerpt from The Journals of the Expedition under the Command of Captains Lewis and Clark
MERIWETHER LEWIS
October 29th, 1805
In the evening, the prairie took fire, either by accident or design, and burned with great fury, the whole plain being enveloped in flames: so rapid was its progress that a man and a woman were burnt to death before they could reach a place of safety, another man with his wife and child were much burnt, and several other persons narrowly escaped destruction. Among the rest a boy of the half white breed escaped unhurt in the midst of the flames; his safety was ascribed to the great medicine spirit, who had preserved him on account of his being white. But a much more natural cause was the presence of mind of his mother, who seeing no hopes of carrying off her son, threw him on the ground, and covering him with the fresh hide of a buffalo, escaped herself from the flames; as soon as the fire had passed, she returned and found him untouched, the skin having prevented the flame from reaching the grass on which he lay.
CHAPTER 4
The Alarm Camp
WASHINGTON IRVING
Fire—The Wild Indians
We now came to a halt, and had to content ourselves with an indifferent encampment. It was in a grove of scrub oaks, on the borders of a deep ravine, at the bottom of which were a few scanty pools of water. We were just at the foot of a gradually sloping hill, covered with half-withered grass, that afforded meagre pasturage. In the spot where we had encamped, the grass was high and parched. The view around us was circumscribed, and much shut in by gently swelling hills.
Just as we were encamping, Tonish arrived, all glorious from his hunting match; his white horse hung all round with buffalo meat. According to his own account, he had laid low two mighty bulls. As usual, we deducted one half from his boastings; but now that he had something real to vaunt about, there was no restraining the valour of his tongue.
After having in some measure appeased his vanity by boasting of his exploit, he informed us, that he had observed the fresh track of horses, which, from various circumstances, he suspected to have been made by some roving band of Pawnees. This caused some little uneasiness. The young men who had left the line of march in pursuit of the two buffaloes had not yet rejoined us. Apprehensions were expressed that they might be waylaid and attacked. Our veteran hunter, "old Ryan," also, immediately on our halting to encamp, had gone off on foot, in company with a young disciple. "Dat old man will have his brains knocked out by de Pawnees yet," said Beatte; "he tink he know every ting, but he don't know Pawnees any how."
Taking his rifle, the Captain repaired on foot to reconnoitre the country from the naked summit of one of the neighbouring hills. In the mean time, the horses were hobbled and turned loose to graze in the adjacent fields, and wood was cut, and fires made, to prepare the evening's repast.
Suddenly there was an alarm of fire in the camp! The flame from one of the kindling fires had caught to the tall dry grass: a breeze was blowing; there was danger that the camp would soon be wrapped in a light blaze. "Look to the horses!" cried one; "drag away the baggage!" cried another; "take care of the rifles and powder-horns!" cried a third: all was hurry-scurry and uproar. The horses dashed wildly about; the men snatched away rifles and powder-horns; others dragged off saddles and saddle-bags: meantime, no one thought of quelling the fire, nor, indeed, knew how to quell it. Beatte, however, and his comrades, attacked it in the Indian mode, beating down the edges of the fire with blankets and horse-cloths, and endeavouring to prevent its spreading among the grass; the rangers followed their example, and in a little while the flames were happily quelled.
The fires were now properly kindled in places from whence the dry grass had been cleared away. The horses were scattered about a small valley, and on the sloping hillside, cropping the scanty herbage. Tonish was preparing a sumptuous evening's meal from his buffalo meat, promising us a rich soup and a prime piece of roast beef; but we were doomed to experience another and more serious alarm.
There was an indistinct cry from some rangers on the summit of the hill, of which we could only distinguish the words, "The horses! the horses! get in the horses!"
Immediately a clamour of voices arose: shouts, enquiries, replies, were all mingled together, so that nothing could be clearly understood, and every one drew his own inference.
"The Captain has started buffaloes," cried one, "and wants horses for the chase." Immediately a number of rangers seized their rifles, and scampered for the hilltop. "The prairie is on fire beyond the hill," cried another. "I see the smoke! the Captain means we shall drive the horses beyond the brook."
By this time a ranger from the hill had reached the skirts of the camp. He was almost breathless, and could only say that the Captain had seen Indians at a distance.
"Pawnees! Pawnees!" was now the cry among our wild-headed youngsters.
"Drive the horses into the camp!" cried one. "Saddle the horses!" cried another. "Form the line!" cried a third. There was now a scene of clamour and confusion that baffles all description. The rangers were scampering about the adjacent fields in pursuit of their horses. One might be seen tugging his steed along by a halter; another, without a hat, riding bare-backed; another driving a hobbled horse before him, that made awkward leaps like a kangaroo.
The alarm increased. Word was brought from the lower end of the camp, that there was a band of Pawnees in a neighbouring valley. "They had shot old Ryan through the head, and were chasing his companion!" "No, it was not old Ryan that was killed, it was one of the hunters that had been after the two buffaloes." "There are three hundred Pawnees just behind the hill!" cried one voice. "More, more!" cried another.
Our situation, shut in among hills, prevented our seeing to any distance, and left us a prey to all these rumours. A cruel enemy was supposed to be at hand, and an immediate attack apprehended. The horses by this time were driven into the camp, and were dashing about among the fires, and trampling upon the baggage. Every one endeavoured to prepare for action: but here was the perplexity. During the late alarm of fire, the saddles, bridles, rifles, powder-horns, and other equipments, had been snatched out of their places, and thrown helter-skelter among the trees.
"Where is my saddle?" cried one. "Has anyone seen my rifle?" cried another. "Who will lend me a ball?" cried a third, who was loading his piece. "I have lost my bullet-pouch."
"For God's sake help me to girth this horse!" cried another; "he is so restive I can do nothing with him!" In his hurry he had put on the saddle the hind part before.
Some affected to swagger and talk bold; others said nothing, but went on steadily preparing their horses and weapons; and on these I felt the most reliance. Some were evidently excited and elated with the idea of an encounter with Indians, and none more so than my young Swiss fellow-traveller, who has a passion for wild adventure. Our man Beatte led his horses in the rear of the camp, placed his rifle against a tree, then seated himself by the fire in perfect silence.
On the other hand, little Tonish, who was busy cooking, stopped every moment form his work to play the fanfaron, singing, swearing, and affecting an unusual hilarity, which made me strongly suspect that there was some little fright at bottom to cause all this effervescence.
About a dozen of the rangers, as soon as they could saddle their horses, dashed off in the direction in which the Pawnees were said to have attacked the hunters. It was now determined, in case our camp should be assailed, to put our horses in the ravine in rear, where they would be out of danger from arrow or rifle ball, and to take our stand within the edge of the ravine. This would serve as a trench, and the trees and thickets with which it was bordered would be sufficient to turn aside any shaft of the enemy. The Pawnees, beside, are wary of attacking any covert of the kind; their warfare, as I have already observed, lies upon the open prairies, where, mounted upon their fleet horses, they can swoop like hawks upon their enemy, or wheel about him and discharge their arrows. Still I could not but perceive that, in case of being attacked by such a number of these well-mounted and warlike savages as were said to be at hand, we should be exposed to considerable risk, from the inexperience and want of discipline of our newly-raised rangers, and from the very courage of many of the younger ones, who seemed bent on adventure and exploit.
By this time the Captain reached the camp, and every one crowded around him for information. He informed us that he had proceeded some distance on his reconnoitring expedition, and was slowly returning towards the camp, along the brow of a naked hill, when he saw something on the edge of a parallel hill that looked like a man. He paused and watched it; but it remained so perfectly motionless that he supposed it a bush, or the top of some tree beyond the hill. He resumed his course, when it likewise began to move in a parallel direction. Another form now rose beside it, of some one who had either been lying down, or had just ascended the other side of the hill. The Captain stopped and regarded them; they likewise stopped. He then lay down upon the grass, and they began to walk. On his rising they again stopped, as if watching him. Knowing that the Indians are apt to have their spies and sentinels thus posted on the summit of naked hills, commanding extensive prospects, his doubts were increased by the suspicious movements of these men. He now put his foraging cap on the end of his rifle, and waved it in the air. They took no notice of the signal. He then walked on until he entered the edge of a wood which concealed him from their view. Stepping out of sight for a moment, he again looked forth, when he saw the two men passing swiftly forward. As the hill on which they were walking made a curve toward that on which he stood, it seemed as if they were endeavouring to head him off before he should reach the camp. Doubting whether they might not belong to some large party of Indians, either in ambush or moving along the valley beyond the hill, the Captain hasted his steps homeward, and, descrying some rangers on an eminence between him and the camp, he called out to them to pass the word to have the horses driven in, as these are, generally, the first object of Indian depredation.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Wildfire by Alianor True. Copyright © 2001 Island Press. Excerpted by permission of ISLAND PRESS.
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