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CH EM AWA AMERICAN
CHEMAWA(gJAMERICAN
Published Weekly at the U. S. Indian School, Chemawa
Oregon. Address all communications to
Ruthyn Turney, Manager
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LEGEND OF THE COWARDLY HUNTER
By VICTOR SMITH
Sitting before an open fire, watching its comforting
blaze, alternately dozing and listening to the autumn
leaves as they scurried around the corner of the house,
out of reach of the chill November wind, I recall a
legend told me by my father.
Long ago, in an Indian village located on the North
western Coast, lived a wicked brave who hunted and
fished, not from necessity, but in order to pass away the
time. He often killed deer, only to leave them for the
crows to feast upon, and he considered that he enjoyed
such ungracious “sport.”
As may well be imagined, the Great Spirit soon
heard of this. There was a summons and the wicked
brave appeared before Manitou, who asked, “Why
are you so cruel, killing when you are not in want of
food? You shall be punished.”
The selfish brave became uneasy and drew out his
knife to sharpen it upon a smooth stone. In doing
this he sharpened the anger of Manitou who thun
dered, “For your sins you shall become a deer, and
your people shall hunt you!”
At this the hunter dropped his knife, which, as it
fell, split his foot. With incredible and merciless
speed antlers sprouted upon his head and when he
made an effort to protest, he found he could only
mumble; even the skins he wore for protection became
permanently attached to him.
Terribly frightened, he dashed from the lodge of
the Great Spirit and sought refuge in the forest. But
this availed him nothing, for he had become, as
Manitou had ordered, a deer, with a deer’s meekness
and timidity, and doomed to flee, sadly terrified, be
fore the hunters.
To this day, the deer cannot remain long in one
place, but must wander tar, fearing man, and realizing
that it is a hunted creature.
Somehow, I believe, while I am “reminiscing,” that
my father had a purpose in repeating this legend to
me—at least it taught me never to kill wantonly.
STULL MAKING
By THERESA NEWMAN, Sophomore
The making of mining timber around Wallace and
Kellogg, Idaho, is less formally called “stull making. ’ ’
Stulls are made from white pine, yellow pine, red or
white fir, and tamarack.
Some operators, who have timber to cut, employ
only one or two helpers and pay according to the
“piece,” which means by the foot.
In the making of stulls, a good ax and crosscut saw
must be used. Trees are selected with regard to sound
ness and straightness. A tree is first cut down, then
it is sawed into the proper lengths—from six feet to
twenty-four feet. Some trees will yield four to five
good logs, while others only produce one or two.
After the sawing, the logs are ready for “peeling.”
In the spring, stull-makers sometimes use what is
called a “spud.” It has a head much like that of a
small spade. In size the spud is about four inches
across and from three to four inches in depth. Spuds
are made of steel and are filed to a very sharp edge.
With this tool, and at the right time of the year, 600
feet of timber may be peeled in a day. During the
fall and winter months, all peeling must be done with
an axe, for during those months the bark is tight.
The stulls are, at last, either skidded down the hill
side (in summer), or, after packing them with snow,
down ground chutes (in winter). If this is done in
winter the snow hardens and freezes, then a great lot
of logs are let loose from above. In this way they
are brought closer to the landing.
In spring the logs are hauled out on trucks to the
lakes or the Coeur d’Alene river, and there they are
dumped into booms, which are themselves made of
large stulls 40 feet in length. Boomsticks are chained
together to form a corral.
When the booms are filled, they may be valued at
several hundred dollars. The buyer will very likely
come with a tug boat and take the booms to his own
landing and load them on cars to be shipped to the
mines in Kellog, Wallace, and other mining towns.
WE EAT ONCE A YEAR
Our entire force, following a custom of many years’
standing, had “big eats” in the shop last Saturday
noon. For years the last Saturday before Christmas
has been known with us as “our day,” the time when
we feast and make merry with some of our invited
friends. Well, to cut a long story short, last Saturday
was the day and from “devils” to ye scribe we dined,
not wisely, but too well. The memory is still with
us but our appetites are a little shy—we are not yet eat
ing quite up to our standard; that is, not all of us.
ESCORTS
Sun., Dec. 29—McBride
----- Mr. Ratzberg
Miss Peterson
Winona ------ Mrs. Mote
Mr. Berry
Hawley ------ Mr. James
Mrs. James