Fireside Stories for Girls in Their Teens

by Margaret W. Eggleston

  THE FIR TREE AND THE WILLOW WAND[B]

  All this happened years ago when the red men lived along the lake shoresand hunted in the woods. The Indians still tell the tale and shake theirheads sadly, whether because of the sadness of the story or because theysigh for the old days, I do not know.

  Willow Wand was the daughter of old Chief Seafog. She was not like theother girls of the tribe. She was straight and lithe like a willow, andshe looked more like a beautiful boy than she did like an Indian maiden.This is not strange when you think that she wore the leather leggins andthe short jacket of the Indian boy and carried a bow and quiver of arrowsthrown over her shoulder. And in spite of the fact that she shot astraighter arrow than most of the lads about her, they all loved her, forshe would run with them and hunt with them, and at night, by the fire, shewould tell them strange and beautiful stories. In her face they saw alight that they did not see in the faces of the other girls and squaws ofthe village, for Willow Wand had a secret which made her full ofmysteries.

  As Willow Wand grew taller, the time came when she thought of wedding.Young Fir Tree, the most daring of the young braves, loved her, and WillowWand knew that she loved him. And when Fir Tree went to old Chief Seafog,Willow Wand went with him, which made it not difficult for them to receivethe old man's blessing.

  So on one brilliant day in Indian summer, Fir Tree and Willow Wand weremarried. The fallen leaves danced at their wedding feast and the bluemists of autumn were the bridal veil. Every one was as happy as an Indiancould be. And in the starlight, Fir Tree took Willow Wand to his tepee. Hebrought a great buffalo robe from the tent and spread it on the hillside,and they sat down close together and looked up at the stars.

  "I love you, my brave Fir Tree," said Willow Wand.

  Fir Tree put his arm about her. "And I love you, my little Willow Wand,"he said. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world. I would not haveyou like the rest. They are good; they grind the corn; they do the work,but their faces are like stones. Yours is full of secrets and lovelymemories. What makes you so different, my love?"

  "My secret, Fir Tree. My father says that a woman's secret is herbeauty."

  "But a woman must tell her secret to her love," and Fir Tree looked offinto the distance.

  "Willow Wand must not tell her secret even to her love," she said very,very softly.

  "You cannot trust me nor love me then, Willow Wand," said Fir Tree,growing stiff and cold.

  "I love you, Fir Tree. I will tell you my secret."

  Fir Tree continued to look off in the darkness, but he bent his head alittle so that he might not miss anything she said.

  "One night, long ago, I sat out in the evening like this with my father.'Father, I want to shoot your bow, your smallest bow,' I said. 'Youhaven't the strength to draw it, even my smallest bow, little WillowWand,' he said. 'Oh, but I have. I have tried it,' and I ran into the tentand brought the little bow with the red bear painted on it. 'See, I shallshoot that star, the red one there.' I pulled the string and the arrowwas off. We waited to hear it fall. 'It takes a long time to reach thestars,' I said. Just then there was a splash in the jar by the tepee door.'There it is,' said my father, 'your star has fallen into the rain jar.'

  "I looked, and, sure enough, there was the little red star, lying on thebottom of the crock, and shining so brightly that we could see it throughthe water. 'My star!' I said. 'We shall always keep it here, my father. Ibrought it down with my arrow.'

  "The next day my father took me hunting, and he gave orders that that jarwas never to be moved from beside his door until I should leave him, andthen it was to go with me. And always he has kept fresh water from thespring in the jar. See, he has brought it up here beside your tepee thatit would be waiting for me. Yes, my Fir Tree, see, here is my own starstill shining brightly--more brightly to-night because of my greathappiness with you."

  "Dear little Willow Wand, what a beautiful child you are," said Fir Tree,and he brushed back her black hair and looked into her eyes. "Don't youknow that the star in the crock is only a reflection of a real star aboveyour dear head in the sky? No one can really shoot a star, Willow Wand."

  "But of course it is a real star, Fir Tree; we heard it splash as it fellinto the jar, my father and I. And I see it now; it has always been heresince that night. You are mistaken, Fir Tree."

  Fir Tree rose and lifted up the jar, and, tipping the water out, said,"See, I shall show you that Fir Tree is never mistaken. I shall empty thecrock. See, there is no star left in the jar, nor has any red star tumbledout with the water onto the grass. Ah, your secret was very beautiful,little Willow Wand, but now you know the truth. The truth, too, isbeautiful."

  There was a little moan of anguish, and Willow Wand disappeared into thedarkness.

  The next morning a tall squaw came out of Fir Tree's tepee. She picked upthe empty rain jar and with tired footsteps walked down to the spring forwater. She was dressed in the conventional clothing of her tribe, and herface was dull and expressionless like the stones on the path over whichshe walked. Down the long trail to the spring she walked. It was very,very early, so the moon still shone and the little stars twinkled in thesky. Often she looked at them, longing for her little red star.

  Slowly she stooped, filled the jar, and lifted it to place it on her headwhen suddenly she stopped, looked--then gave a cry of surprise anddelight, for there, shining clear as crystal in the water of the pail, wasthe little red star.

  Willow Wand set the jar carefully on the ground and then knelt long besideit. How she loved the little red star! How happy she was to have it oncemore beside her! And as she looked, the tired look left her face and asmile of joy and peace took its place.

  Picking up the jar, she looked once more into the clear cold water. Thenshe said,

  "Come, little star. Come with me to the wigwam of brave, strong Fir Tree.Together we will make it the happiest wigwam in the encampment. You shallstill help me to be my best, for I shall still have a star."

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  [B] Reprinted from the _Camp Fire Girls' Magazine_ by permission. Revised by permission of the author.