Part 14 (1/2)
These were worn as blankets; when not in use they were carefully folded and laid away in boxes. They wore close and fine blankets of the wool of the mountain sheep and the hair of the mountain goat. These were closely woven and had a fine long fringe along the lower border. They were covered with patterns representing the totem animals. The blanket itself was a dirty white in color, but the designs were worked in black, yellow, or brown. Further south, among the Ts.h.i.+mps.h.i.+an Indians of British Columbia, fine blankets were woven of the soft and flexible inner bark of the cedar; these were bordered with strips of fur.
[Ill.u.s.tration.]
Blanket: Chilcat Indians, Alaska. (From Niblack.)
These Indians still wear the ancient hat. Among the southern tribes it is made of cedar bark, and is soft and flimsy. In the north it is made of spruce or other roots, and is firm and unyielding. The shape of the lower part of the hat is a truncated cone. Among the Tlingit and Haida this is surmounted by a curious, tall cylinder, which is divided into several joints, or segments, called _skil_. The number of these shows the importance of the wearer.
[Ill.u.s.tration.]
Halibut Hooks of Wood. (From Originals in Peabody Museum.)
The food of these tribes came largely from the sea. Fish were speared, trapped, and caught with hook and line. For halibut, queer, large, wooden hooks were used. When the fish had been drawn to the surface, they were killed with wooden clubs. Both hooks and clubs were curiously carved.
Flesh of larger fishes, like halibut and salmon, was dried in the sun or over fire, and packed away. Clams were dried and strung on sticks. Seaweed was dried and pressed into great, square flat cakes; so were berries and sc.r.a.ped cedar bark. The people were fond of oil, and got it from many different fish. The most prized was that of the oolachen or candle-fish.
This fish is so greasy that when put into a frying-pan, there is soon nothing left but some bones and scales floating about in the grease! To get this oil, the little fish were thrown into a canoe full of water. This was heated with stones made very hot in a fire, and then dropped into it.
The heat drove out the oil, which floated on the top and was skimmed off and put into natural bottles-tubes of hollow seaweed stalk. At all meals a dish of oil stood in the midst of the party, and bits of dried fish, seaweed cake, or dried bark were dipped into it before being eaten.
XXVIII. SOME RAVEN STORIES.
All the Northwest Coast tribes had many stories. Some of these stories had been borrowed from tribe to tribe, and were told at many different places.
Usually, however, the single tribes had stories that were favorites with them and really belonged to them. The favorite stories among the Tlingit and Haida were about the raven, whom they called _yetl_. There were many stories told of him and his doings. It is difficult sometimes to tell just what yetl was-whether bird or man. He could take on many forms, and was usually the friend of the Indians. In the olden time they did not have fire, daylight, fresh water, or the oolachen fish. It was yetl, the raven, called also _Nekilstlas_, who got them these good things.
All of these precious things belonged to a great chief who had a lovely daughter. The raven made love to this maiden. Once when at their house he pretended to be thirsty and begged her for a drink of water. The girl brought it to him in a bucket. He drank a little and laid the rest aside.
By and by every one in the house was fast asleep except the raven; he was watching. He then got up quietly, put on his feather coat, took up the bucket in his bill and flew away with it. He was in such a hurry that he spilled the water here and there, and where it fell there have since been rivers and lakes. Never since that time have the Indians been without water.
But it was much harder to get the fire. Nekilstlas no longer dared to go to the chief's house or to make love to the maiden. He, however, changed himself into a spruce needle and floated on the water. He was thus got into the house without any one's knowing it, and there he changed into a little boy baby, whom the girl treated like her own son. He stayed there a long time, waiting his chance. At last, one day, he seized a burning brand from the fire and flew out of the smoke-hole in the roof with it. He was so careless that he set fire to many things. At the north end of Vancouver Island many of the trees are black, almost as if they were burned, and they say that was done by Nekilstlas when he flew away with the fire.
However that may be, since then the Indians have had fire.
The old chief had the sun and the moon, but he kept them away from the people, and was very proud to think that he alone had light. Nekilstlas had to think a long time before he could make a plan to secure these for the Indians. At last he made himself an imitation sun and put on it something which made it s.h.i.+ne. He then taunted the chief by telling him that he too had a light. For a time the chief did not believe him. At last Nekilstlas drew back his feather coat and let a piece of his bogus sun be seen. The chief believed it, and was so angry that he placed his real sun and moon in the sky, where they have been lights to the Indians ever since.
The last of the four possessions which the raven wanted to get from the old chief for his human friends was the oolachen fish, which yields the oil of which the Indians are so fond. The s.h.a.g is a dirty seaside bird that has the unpleasant habit of vomiting up its food when it is excited.
He was, however, a special friend of the chief, and one of the few whom he used to invite to eat oolachen with him. One time the s.h.a.g had been eating pretty heartily at the chief's house, and afterward the raven set him and the sea-gull to fighting. In his excitement the s.h.a.g threw up the fish he had eaten. The raven took the scales and smeared himself and his canoe all over with them. Going then to the chief's house, he asked if he might come in and rest, that he was tired out from catching oolachen. The chief thought at first that he was telling a lie, but when he saw the scales, he thought there must be other oolachen besides his, and in his rage he opened the boxes in which he kept them and let them all loose. Since then the Indians have had abundance of the oolachen to give them the oil they need.
Besides these stories of the things the raven got for them, there are others. The raven is not always the friend of men, and sometimes he does them harm and not good. There is a story of the raven and the fisherman.
This fisherman had much trouble from some one stealing the bait and fish from his fish-hook. The thief was no one else than the raven. The fisherman finally put a magic hook on his line and let it down. When the raven tried to steal from this he was caught. When he had been pulled up to the surface of the water, he struggled fearfully, by pressing against the canoe with his feet and his wings. The fisherman, however, was too strong for him. He pulled so hard that he tore the raven's beak off, and then, seizing him, dragged him in sh.o.r.e. When he pulled off the raven's beak, the bird turned into a man, but he kept his face so covered up with his feather garment that only his eyes could be seen. The fisherman could not make him uncover his face; but one young man who stood by picked up a handful of dirt and rubbed it into the raven's eyes. Smarting with pain and taken by surprise, the raven threw off his mantle, and the men saw who he was. The raven was so angry, that ever since then ravens and their friends, the crows, have constantly troubled fishermen.
The Ts.h.i.+mps.h.i.+an, who live south of the Tlingit, on the mainland, have a story of the raven. They say that two boys lived in a village. One of them was the son of a chief. One day the chief's son said to the other, when they were playing, ”Let us take skins of birds and fly up to heaven.” They did so, and found things up there quite like this world. They found a house there, near a pond of water; and in this house lived a chief, who was a sort of deity. The daughters of this deity caught the two boys and were finally married to them, although the deity did not like them, and tried in every way to do them harm. They always escaped, however. They lived together there for a long time, and at last the wife of the chief's son had a little boy baby. One day, when she was playing with the baby, the little one slipped out of her hands, and fell down, down, from the sky into the sea. It happened that it was found and saved by the chief, who was really the baby's grandfather, though no one knew it at the time. When the little one had been taken to the village, it would not, for some time, eat anything. They offered it salmon and berry cake and hemlock bark, but he would not touch any of them. At last his grandfather said, ”Feed him some fish stomachs.” Then the little fellow began to eat very greedily, and before he got through he had eaten up all the food that the village had stored away for use. Then he surprised every one by saying, ”Don't you know who I am? I am the raven.”