In the beginning there was no fire, and the world was cold, until the Thunders
(Ani′-Hyûñ′tĭkwălâ′skĭ), who lived up in Gălûñ′lătĭ, 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 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. Then the Hooting Owl (U′guku′) and the Horned Owl (Tskĭlĭ′) went, but
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 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′hĭ 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
a small hole at the bottom. The heat and smoke were too much for him, too, 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 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, Gûle′gĭ, “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′hĭ.
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 Kănăne′skĭ Amai′yĕhĭ (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 the 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.