PEBOAN AND SEEGWAN
Reading edition
Ojibwa
LONG ago an old man sat alone in his lodge beside a frozen stream. The fire was dying out, and it was near the end of winter. Outside the lodge, the cold wind swept before it the drifting snow. So the old man sat alone, day after day, until at last a young warrior entered his lodge. He was fresh and joyous and youthful.
The old man welcomed him. He drew out his long pipe and filled it with tobacco. He lighted it from the dying embers of the fire. Then they smoked together.
The old man said, “I blow my breath and the streams stand still. The water becomes stiff and hard like the stones.”
“I breathe,” said the warrior, “and flowers spring up over the plain.”
“I shake my locks,” said the old man, “and snow covers the land. Leaves fall from the trees. The birds fly away. The animals hide. The earth becomes hard.”
“I shake my locks,” said the young man, “and the warm rain falls. Plants blossom; the birds return; the streams flow.”
Then the sun came up over the edge of the Earth-plain, and began to climb the trail through the Sky-land. The old man slept. Behold! The frozen stream near by began to flow. The fire in the lodge died out. Robins sat upon the lodge poles and sang.
Then the warrior looked upon the sleeping old man. Behold! It was Peboan, the Winter-maker.[15]