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There was once a man named “Great Walker” who began to fast for a blessing. One day he finally had a dream in which a Loon Spirit blessed him, and afterwards said to him, “Great Walker, I also bless you with this other thing. When I worked for our chief in Spiritland and swept out his lodge, I removed bad things and swept them outside — so too will this medicine sweep bad things from your body. No matter what bad thing you swallow, it shall not kill you, for this medicine will sweep it out.” Then Great Walker looked at the Loon Spirit and saw something growing out of his back. That was the medicine plant. The Loon Spirit continued: “When you want to use this plant, don’t just dig it up, but first make offerings of a white feather, a white deerskin, and red feathers. Pour me tobacco and I shall smoke it. Then you may dig it up — and when you use it you will not fail in anything. I bless you alone with this herb.” Great Walker performed many cures with this purgative medicine and passed the knowledge of it on to his descendants.

In recent times an old man named “Dog Head” followed the warleader Smoke Walker to Tippecanoe. In that battle Smoke Walker was killed, but before he died, Dog Head told him that he would give his son Small Snake a blessing. As they made their escape from the battlefield, Dog Head told Small Snake, “My son, I promised your father that I would give you a blessing. It is not a thing like the Medicine Lodge, for that would not go on after your death. I shall give you a medicine of great value that first came to a man named ‘Great Walker’.” Then he told Small Snake the story of how Great Walker acquired the medicine from the spirits.

The owner of the medicine kept it hidden in a small hole in the side of a cliff. When he went to get it, it was gone. He said, “We should have been more careful where we kept it.”

Dog Head spoke the truth, for even to this day the descendant of Small Snake have benefited people with this medicine.

Paul Radin, The Winnebago Tribe (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990 [1923]) 24-25.

There was a man named Mânîxedega (“Great Walker”), a member of the Medicine Rite. Once he looked through space and saw before his eyes the land called Wa’ûni. There it was that a great white Waterspirit dwelt. This spirit blessed him with everything, and caused him to hear a holy song. The Waterspirit spoke and said to him, “Mânîxedega, you have caused the members of the Medicine Rite a great good. You have drummed yourself and the members of the Rite into Life. They shall depend on you, and you will do good to them,” he said as he blessed him. And nearby the Waterspirit was a pure white marten. This one was his attendant. And the marten blessed him too, saying, “Behold, I bless you with this.” And when he looked, there he saw a wondrous plant growing right out of the marten’s back, as the spirit lay reclining upon the surface of the waters. “Human, I too shall bless you. This plant is a purgative, and will sweep clean all evil things from your stomach. If an evil one would poison you, take this plant and it shall make you vomit, and the plant will clean out all evils from your stomach, as I will help in my spirit home to purify you as well. Thus no evil shall touch your stomach,” the marten said to him.Thus it was said. And the song that we now use in the Medicine Rite is the one with which Mânîxedega was blessed.

Paul Radin, The Road of Life and Death: A Ritual Drama of the American Indians. Bollingen Series V (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973 [1945]) 137-138.

There was a man of the Anishinabeg nation and he was a seer. He was very holy and had great powers of witchcraft. When he visited people at night, he would do so by flying through the air. He had three friends, and they too were witches with the same ability to fly through the air. People greatly feared them because of their powers. One night the four of them agreed that they would have a contest to see who could fly best at night.

Among the Hotcâgara there was also a great seer. His name was Mânîxedega (“Great Walker”). He had gained knowledge of what these men were going to do. On the night of the contest, Mânîxedega used his own night powers to get there and there he waited for them with great patience. Finally, the four Anishinabeg arrived at their rendezvous point. Each took off into the night in turn, and of the first three, Mânîxedega used his powers to ensure they would be lost. The fourth witch dove down from high in the air and landed on a strip of land. As he stood there, unexpectedly, he had deer horns (?) on his head. These Mânîxedega seized and held onto tightly.

The other Anishinabeg materialized, and asked Mânîxedega to pay them a visit. This he agreed to do. Finally, Mânîxedega came to where the witches lived. They tried to persuade him to let them give him their powers, but he refused, asking instead that they might give him the plants and potions that they used to gain these powers. But they pretended that they did not know anything about these matters. Finally, he asked them for their life-engendering greeting and the all power inherent within it. This they granted him, and it is this greeting that is used to this day in the Medicine Rite. It is spoken in the language in which it was given.

Paul Radin, The Road of Life and Death: A Ritual Drama of the American Indians. Bollingen Series V (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973 [1945]) 138-139.

THE fire was burning steadily, but the mother stirred it with a stick to a brighter flame. It snapped and crackled and sent a myriad of sparks flying upward through the opening at the top of the lodge. This roused the daughter a little as she sat gazing into the fire. Her mind had been wandering here and there to this and that one of her associates — to one who had been to school, to another who had staid at home and was a thorough Indian, comparing the life of the one with the life of the other.

She herself had for a long time desired knowledge of the white man’s ways, and now her family had given their consent to her going to school. To-morrow was to be the first day of a new life in the boarding school.

Thinking of all these things, the girl had forgotten that her father and three of the leading medicine-men were making ready for the vapor bath, in purification for the coming sacred festival.

“Are you not going to dance with the other girls?” asked her mother. “Why do you not? Do, for the last time. It will please your father.”

The grandmother was sitting on the opposite side of the fire. Now she spoke up rather sharply:
“The last time! You talk as if this was her last day on earth! Are you not going for her every festival dance? If not, she will forget how to dance before the winter is over.”

So far she had spoken without looking around. Now she turned about and addressed the girl directly: “Schoolgirls can’t dance, because they have to wear white men’s shoes. If they ask you to wear shoes at school, don’t you do it — don’t you do it!”

The grandmother had been the last of the family to give her consent to the girl’s going to school, and had at last yielded much against her will. Her chief objection had been that the girl was too old for school life, and ought now to be given away in marriage.

Just then came the sound of many voices outside. A girl lifted up the door-flap and peeped in. She asked the young girl if she was ready. The girl smiled, but did not move until her mother said, “Hurry, they are waiting for you.”

As she spoke, the mother drew out a basket from under the blankets and took from it a great pile of beads. These she hung around her daughter’s neck till they reached half way up to her ears. Then she hung in her ears silver ear-rings that jingled with every movement of her head. Silver rings were on her fingers and silver bracelets on her arms, and then she was ready to join her friends.

While the men inside the vapor bath lodge were clearing their throats and trying their voices in several songs, the young girls stood about talking and laughing. Now the men in the vapor lodge began beating their hands in time to their singing. The noise of talking and laughter ceased, and the girls began dancing around the lodge. The fire flamed up, lighting up the faces of the dancing girls and those of the older women who had come to look on.

The girl’s mother came, after a little while, to look on with the rest. As she passed a group of women she heard one tell the others that Gray Wolf’s pretty daughter was going away to school. They all exclaimed with regretful voices, and one said: “Such a graceful dancer! Why does her mother let her go?”

Gray Wolf’s wife thought her daughter was not as gay as she was used to be at such festivals, but to the mother’s eyes she seemed more beautiful than ever. How could she let her go!

When the dance was over, the people scattered. Mother and daughter went back to their wigwam and retired for the night.

The next morning the girl took all her beautiful things from the basket and told her mother to give them to her sister-in-law; her pony, she said, was to be given to her brother. She put on her plainest dress, one little silver ring on finger, and that was all. Gray Wolf brought the ponies, and all was ready. The girl took her best blanket to wear on the journey, but told her mother she would send it back by her father and that she might have it.

Not many words were said at parting, nor did she and her father say much upon the journey.

When they got in sight of the school-house the girl’s courage fell a little, and she begged her father to come and see her often, and to bring her mother and grandmother, and the father promised.

She had been the joy and life of their home, and he longed to have her go back with him, but she had always had her own way.

Gray Wolf’s Daughter. ,Hinook-Mahiwi-Kilinaka (Angel de Cora) Editor ,Harper’s New Monthly Magazine 99 (Nov. 1899): 860-862.,Published: 1899

An old couple had ten sons who were consummate hunters. Their skill was so great that full racks of their meat ran in rows as far as the eye could see. One day a terrible hunger came over the father, so that every time he finished eating, he seemed all the more famished. They boiled whole kettles of meat for him, and he ate it all and drank the soup, yet nothing sated him. In time the meat racks were empty, and despite their prowess, the sons could not keep their father fed. One day the oldest son said to the others, “I am beginning to fear father. It is like he is becoming another person. Next he may eat us.” So that night, the sons slipped out of the village to escape their now ravenous father. However, the next night one of the sons returned and quietly awoke his mother to give her some meat. After he left, she did not eat it all, but woke her husband and gave him some of the food. The old man realized now what had happened and that his sons had deserted him. It made his heart sore to think that his sons would not share the bounty of the hunt with him, so the old man wandered off to die. As he was walking, he reached a creek. By then his anger waxed hot. He resolved that his sons should die, so he took a handful of snow and cast it in the direction that he had come. No sooner had the snow scattered in the wind that it began to snow, and back in the village a blizzard raged.

As the old man walked along the stream, he could see something under the ice. He cracked the ice with his cane, and quite unexpectedly, he found bear entrails. These he ate. He left the creek and there, unexpectedly, was a road, and in this road were tracks made by hunters. So he followed the tracks back to their source in a lodge. He entered within but no one was inside. There was a big kettle cooking that contained nothing but buffalo tongues. As always, he was very hungry, but out of politeness, he touched none of the food. Finally, a man entered the lodge and set his pack down. He was impressed with the old man’s restraint, so he dished out the food, saying, “Grandfather, eat as much as you can, for my brothers will bring more.” Now the oldest brother had packed a bear, and soon after came the second oldest carrying buffalo meat. Each brother returned in the order of his birth: the third brother had an elk, and the fourth had a black deer, the fifth had venison, the sixth had a marten, the seventh had a beaver, the eighth had an otter, and the ninth had a raccoon. Each of the brothers hunted only the animal that he himself brought back. The old man, as usual, ate everything that was brought before him. The oldest brother had an idea: he would hunt a bear, declare a Bear Feast, then allow the old man to be the only one to participate. Maybe then he would feel better. So it was done, and just as the eldest brother had thought, so it proved to be: the old man felt at least a little better. This was done four times in succession, and the fourth time the old man felt very much better.

Then one day while the brothers were out hunting, a stranger came walking up to the lodge, his gourd rattling with every step. He boldly came in, and said, “I am here to challenge your grandsons to a game.” “I will tell them,” said the old man, but when the brothers returned, he had forgotten all about it. The next day, the visitor returned, and repeated his challenge, but again the old man forgot about it. The third time that the man came, he pulled out a warclub and swung it at the old man’s head, but he ducked and the club hit with such force that it left a pit in the lodge floor. The challenger warned him, “Don’t forget, or next time I will kill you!” When the eldest son returned, the old man announced that he had something important to tell him, but all the other brothers should be present. So each brother called the other, until the youngest of the hunters arrived. When the last of them came, he knocked over trees a he ran, but his brothers yelled, “slow down.” When he did, he slipped, and when he fell the wind suddenly became calm. Then the old man told them all what had happened, but he said, “The youngest brother must also be told.” This last brother lived behind a partition, and never went out to hunt. He was very holy, and spent much time fasting. As they gathered around the youngest, footsteps could be heard as someone approached the lodge. It was Turtle. Turtle said, “I heard that there was to be a game. How are they going to compete?” The old man replied, “It will be a race, and I will judge who among us will run the best against them.” The eldest said that he had his speed from long-legged bears, but the old man replied, “They are not runners.” And each brother said that he got his speed from the animal he always hunted, but each time the grandfather replied that such an animal was not a good runner. However, the ninth brother said, “Grandfather, the Red Star blessed me with speed.” The old man replied, “This is very good, yet it is not the best possible.” Then the youngest one of all said, “Grandfather, I have been blessed with speed by Morning Star.” The old man replied, “This is the best of all. This is what I was looking for.” Turtle said, “Grandfather and I were always the fastest. I could beat him in short distance runs, but he usually won over a long course. So Grandfather and I shall race against them, since we are the fastest.”

Then they heard the gourd rattle as the challenger approached. He was carrying a screed pipe. He offered it to the eldest brother first, but he refused, and the same offer was refused by each brother in turn. Turtle said, “I know exactly what you came for: you want us to go on a retaliation raid with you as reinforcements.” “No, that’s not it at all,” replied the visitor in an agitated tone of voice. “Well,” said Turtle, “it’s plain to see that you came to play a gambling game, so we will clear a place here in the lodge for the action.” “No, that’s not right either,” said the visitor. “Turtle, you confuse everything!” Turtle persuaded the challenger to put up lives as a wager on the outcome of the race, and this was accepted. Then they smoked on it. When the visitor returned to his people, he told them that there used to be just ten, but with Turtle and an old fat man among them, they now numbered twelve. These people were Giants, and they coveted the fat man, for they planned to eat the people that they won in the wager. The Giants showed up at the race field and gave a war hoop, but the brothers were silent. The Giants said, “Pick your fastest runners,” and Turtle replied, “That would be me and grandpa.” The Giants scoffed, and told Turtle that he was confusing everything. The Giants struck a baldheaded warclub into the ground to mark the start and finish line, since they were going to race to a distant point and back again. However, as the race was to begin, Turtle ducked out, saying, “No, I think it would be better if grandfather ran this race alone, since he is just a little faster than me.” Two of the Giants with the longest legs were chosen to run for their side. They took off running, and before long, the Giants had crossed four hills before grandfather had made it up just one of them. The brothers felt that all was lost. After grandfather struggled to the top of the first hill with the aid of his cane, he took off his pack and a necklace from which was suspended a large leather disc. He detached this disc and as it rolled down the hill it made a great whirring noise. Soon the old man had passed the Giants and was headed back. He returned to where he left his pack, then very leisurely walked to the finish line, just barely beating his competitors. The Giants thought that perhaps grandfather had simply doubled back before reaching the midway point, but before they could ask their own runners whether the old man had actually beaten them, Turtle jumped up and killed them. The old man sprinkled the dead Giants with cattails, and burned them up. The Giants challenged them a second and a third time, but things went exactly as they had before, with Turtle killing the Giants before they could get a word out. The fourth contest went as the others had, and by now almost all the Giants had been bet and lost. However, this time the Giants’ runners were able to speak, and confessed that they had been beaten by the fat old man. The Giants who had been wagered were killed by Turtle, and grandfather burned their bodies until nothing was left but bones.

The Giants left, but Turtle realized that they were going to try to escape, so he spoke to grandfather and said, “The Giants have taken flight, so let’s chase after them.” Nevertheless, it was the youngest brother who joined Turtle in chasing the Giants. They found the Giants’ village abandoned, but they could clearly see the four different paths by which its inhabitants had fled. Turtle and the youngest brother went down each path and killed everyone on it. However, on the fourth path they found only an old man carrying on his back a little boy and a little girl. Turtle decided to spare them: “The Creator saw fit to create you, therefore your race shall not be completely extinguished. You did wrong in eating humans, but now you will eat something else and live beyond the ocean.” Then he forced them to eat grass, and afterwards grabbed them and pitched them across the sea. The younger brother and Turtle parted ways after that, each going back to his own home.

Grandfather assembled everyone and told them, “Now I will go off to another place where I shall live ever after. I ate all the food of my first family, and they became disgusted with me. The Creator did not make me for that purpose.” Then grandfather went back to his old village carrying a sack of Giants’ bones with him. He took the bones and pounded them into powder, and spread it over the whole village. Much noise was heard as far away as the village of the brothers, so that they became fearful that the Giants had returned in force. In fact, the inhabitants of the old village had come back to life, the old man’s wife and his ten sons as well. The old man, Grandfather, was in fact Sun, and his wife was Moon. The ten young men whom he raised in his first family, were not brothers at all. They were ten children who were the only survivors of a village that was massacred by the Giants. Sun had taken pity on them, and had come to earth to raise them to adulthood. The eight eldest brothers of the second village, however, each turned into the kind of animal that he always hunted. The two youngest turned into stars: the ninth brother became Red Star (the Evening Star), and the youngest and most holy, became Morning Star (Wiragocge Xetera, “The Great Star”).

Paul Radin, “Morning Star (Wiragocge Xetera),” [unpublished] Winnebago Notebooks (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society Library) #8, pp. 1-93.