The Chemawa American, December 19, 1928, Page 4, Image 4

The CHEMAWA AMERICAN
• Page 4
A BESSON FROM THE A NT
’
(C ontinued from page 1)
of wisdom. Erom this story we can learn a valuable
lesson.
The dictionary gives as a definition for the ant, “ A
social insect.” Does it not seem strâhge after all that
the insects can teach us valuable lessons? Even though
Sometimes we think of them as pests and otten destroy
their homes that they have built through so much toil
and industry. If one watches he will find that these
homes are immediately repaired. This is a most valu­
able lesson.. They never falter, never give up.
Any boy or girl armed with the qualities possessed
by this little insect will never be beaten down by the
wany hard lessons to get and the difficult problems to
solve.
THE CHIEF WHO HAD TO FLY
By AGNES SCOTT. Chemawa Student
Once upon a time there was a certain tribe that
camped by a big hill with a river flowing by it.
There was in this tribe a chief who had been sick for
a long time. As he was not able to go on the tribe
had to camp at this place. In those days an Indian
had to do the thing he dreamed he did or something
serious would happen. One night the sick chief
•dreamed that he had to fly. This worried him very
much, as he didn’t know what to do.
, He was getting better and thought possibly this
¿ ream meant he could fly to good health. He was a
good chief and desired to live for his tribe, so he set
a day on which to fly.
The sun came up brightly that morning and all the
people of his tribe, being hopeful that he could ac­
tually do as his dream bade him, prepared a great feast.
Mis wings had been made by two pretty girls who
spent days gathering eagle feathers and hunting the
colored plumage of the smaller birds.
After the feast the chief spoke to the tribe, telling
them how he had led them and now this impossible
thing had been required of him, and he believed it
was for some great good that was coming to the tribe.
They then ascended the hill, feasted again, and sang
songs for his success. Climbing to the highest point,
he told thè maidens to put his wings on. They did so.
Sick and weak, but fearless, he leaped; The river
was too wide. The opposite bank was too far off.
His body was too shattered and he plunged into the
middle of the stream. He was never seen again.
When I see flying machines passing over my head
I wonder if that dream did not, after all, have its
’meaning? I wonder if all our great inventors did not
'at'some time dream dreams?
The story is of course an Indian folk tale that has
come true through some white man’s dream. I still
wonder more what the drowned chief would think if
he saw one passing over his Happy Hunting Grounds?
THE BIR TH OF THE CASCADES
By LUCIL1A WINNESHUTTE, Chemawa Student
Once upon a time there lived at the foot of the hill
we now call Three Finger Jack a lovely Indian maiden.
She was so beautiful that she ¡shunned the rest of the
tribe. Her father, Yohmush, was very proud of her
and kept a clqse watch over her while she lived away
from the tribesmen.
Suddenly she disappeared and for seven years the
people wondered where Eamet Cowish—Blue Water
—had gone. This was her name, because she dressed
in blue grass and swam in the blue water of the Des­
chutes.
After a long search she was found. She became very
angry to think the tribe had hunted her when she had
tried so hard to keep away from them. She warned
her people that for this the evil spirit would come and
turn them into rocks, hills and trees.
Another seven years passed and all this time the tribe
waited for the change. Finally, one day Yohmush went
hunting with two warriors, Thunder and Sun, Sud­
denly a strange feeling came over them. They could
not move and the three of them became the three enor­
mous hills shaped like three fingers.
This is the Indian history of this strange-looking
mountain, Three Finger Jack. All the other hills
around represent the tribe of chief Yohmush. They
are banded together in one great line extending north
and south, now known as the Cascade Range, instead
of Yohmush’s people. • Today sportsmen go chasing
and hunting over these hills that were once real people
according to the Indian legend.
Mount - Jefferson, the highest And' "noblest peak
among them all; situated in Central Oregon, was once
the beautiful Indian maiden, L,amet Cowish.
BOCAL
Mr. Downie, our athletic coach, was in Portland on
business last Monday.
Dr. Sisco and his corp of nurses have seen heroic
service of late attending those ill with flu. All are
getting well on schedule time, too.
We are willing to wager that 90 percent of our
recent “ flu” victims will be able to take nurishment
in the school dining-room at 12 m. next Tuesday.
Subscribe for The Chemawa American—50 cents
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