Wigwam wonder tales

When Ayas was a small child, hardly able to walk, he would try to catch the sunbeams that played with his fingers and toes. Onitu, an old woman who had noticed his efforts, smiled and said: “He will be a sun-catcher some day; in all truth, Ayas will be a sun-catcher.”

Of course, the people did not know the meaning of her strange remark, and looked serious.

Ayas grew to be a man, and travelled the long, lonely trails of the forest in search for game. One day, being very tired, as it was oppressively warm, he lay down to sleep. During his slumber something that passed scorched his leather coat. This made him very angry, for upon the coat he had worked long days with needle and thread, putting many colored beads in fantastic design. As he arose, his coat fell from his back, and the thread holding the beads parted, scattering them upon the ground.

“I’ll find out my enemy!” declared Ayas, so loud that the animals of the forest became frightened and ran to their holes, or scampered away in many directions.

Unstringing his bow, lashed many times around with caribou sinew, he made a snare across the road, and over the spot where he had been sleeping. Then he went home.

The next day the sun did not rise, or the next, and the medicine-men were consulted; but they were as much mystified as the people, who met in their lodges, many of them too frightened to speak. “Had the Great Spirit deserted his people? Was this the end of all things?”

Ayas’ sister, who suspected her brother had been up to some mischief, went to him and said: “What have you been doing that the sun does not give light?”

He replied: “I set a snare the other day; I will go and see if I have caught anything.”

So he went back to the wood where he had set his snares, and the nearer he approached the hotter it became. When he arrived at the opening of the trail he saw he had snared the sun. He tried to release it, but it would not keep still, jumping up and down so fast Ayas could not grasp the snares.

“Keep still!” he cried, but his command was of no avail. So he called all the animals from near and far to help him; but it was so hot they dared not approach, fearing their fur would be scorched, and as winter was drawing near, they would not risk that which kept them warm.

A wee ground-mouse was looking on from his tiny hole under a great ant-hill that had been deserted. He called to Ayas and said: “Go to the giant butterfly who makes wings over there in the dead pine. If he will agree to make for me a pair of wings and guarantee a good fit that I may fly back should the sun take me with him, I’ll release it.”

Every one laughed. What a joke! This tiny mouse offering to release the sun when the great animals of the forest dare not attempt it! A lynx, just ready to spring at the silly little creature, was prevented from doing so by Ayas, who gave him a stroke across his snout. This is the reason the lynx has such a short nose.

Ayas looked at the ant-hill. How large it was, and how small the beings that had made it. “Perhaps the mouse can do as it agrees,” he thought.

It was so hot the grass began to scorch, and leaves became seared. Something must be done.

“Go to the butterfly and tell him I wish to speak to him,” Ayas demanded of the mouse.

“He will not come and scorch his wings. He has the finest pair in all the lands about here,” answered the mouse.

Ayas thought the mouse was right; so he started off for the wing factory. When he got near the old tree he called, and slowly, from a great hole in the trunk peered the face of Mr. Butterfly.

“Come down,” said Ayas. “I wish to discuss a business offer with you.” The great winged creature slowly drew himself out of the hole, and spreading his wings, glided to the earth. He was so enormous Ayas was but a tiny being compared to him.

“The sun has become entangled in my snare,” said Ayas, “and a young and very tiny mouse promises that he will release it if you will furnish him with a pair of wings. The fit must be guaranteed as well as the quality, as he may be required to make a long journey, and must be assured they will stand the strain; and in addition, they must be made of material that will be able to withstand great heat.”

“What will be my compensation?” asked Mr. Butterfly.

“What do you expect?” asked Ayas.

“That is not the way I bargain,” replied Mr. Butterfly. “What is it worth to you?”

Ayas thought a moment. Knowing that if the sun was not released, soon all the hunting-grounds would be destroyed by fire, he decided to make a good offer, so he said: “I’ll give you five portions of clover honey, two hundred fresh wild roses, and build a long ladder to your hole, that you may not need to fly when you grow old.”

This appealed to Mr. Butterfly, for his wing joints did not work as smoothly as when he was younger.

“Throw in a measure of goose oil and it’s a bargain,” said he.

“Very well,” said Ayas. “Have you any wings in stock that will fit?”

“I cannot tell without seeing your friend; bring him here and upon your return I’ll have a few pairs ready for a try-on.”

So Ayas went back and told the mouse he had fixed up the matter, so they returned together, the mouse in the pouch of Ayas’ coat. Many wings were tried on, and finally little Johnny Mouse selected a pair that seemed satisfactory, although not bigger than the wings of a sparrow.

“Go up the tree and fly down,” said Mr. Butterfly, and up crawled the mouse until he had gone so far they could not see him. Over their heads they heard a little voice calling, “They fit perfectly. My! this is wonderful!” And down glided the wee mouse in little circles to the ground.

“Now to keep my promise,” said he, flying around Ayas’ head and settling on his right shoulder.

Saying good-afternoon to Mr. Butterfly, who was to call for his supplies the following day, Ayas and the mouse returned to the struggling sun. Going to the strings of sinew, the mouse began to gnaw, and very soon, one after another of the strands holding the sun parted. With one great effort, it burst the remaining bonds and started again on its path of day, giving light to all the world.

If it had not been for the mouse the sun would have remained a prisoner, and there would have been no day. If it had not been for the sun, bats would have always remained mice.