The Food That Belonged to All

O NCE upon a time there was a family that went by the name of Badger, because every one, from Grandmother to the smallest child, was as industrious as those diligent little creatures. They lived in a forest in America and belonged to the tribe of the Sioux. There were no cities in America then and the Americans were strong and handsome and sunburnt because they lived out-of-doors and made everything they needed for themselves. Everything they made, whether it was a birch-bark cradle or a buckskin shirt, was decorated with beautiful patterns and colours, just as the birds and flowers were decorated and adorned.

Even the buffalo-skin bags in which they kept the winter stock of provisions were painted in bright patterns, so that the shelves of their caves and their tepees were as gay as flower gardens in summer, and all the children who ran in and out were as pretty as butterflies.

One day a stranger came to beg for a little food; he told a sad tale that his spring-planting had not been successful and his family was starving. Gladly the Badgers gave of their store, for the corn was high and loaded with fat ears; the pumpkins were golden and the beans were hanging in great clusters, every pod well-filled. When the stranger thanked them, the father Badger shook his head smiling and said: "Nay, my brother; thank the Great Spirit who has sent this plentiful supply; food belongs to all His children. Eat what you will."

They were surprised the next day, however, to see their guest return with a small child, his son, who carried a rough bag, unpainted and badly sewn together. The stranger now said his name was Bear and asked somewhat timidly if they could spare a little food for his children at home. His small boy looked so thin and hungry that the Badger children could not bring him enough and soon his frightened face began to smile and he and his father went off, lugging their bag loaded to the brim. The next day the Badger family went out to gather in the bean harvest, but when they returned, singing thankful songs and rejoicing in the thought of the Great Father's kindness, whom should they see but Mr. Bear and five children seated round the entrance to their home. But there was so great a harvest that they were glad enough to share it with the Bears who went away with their arms full.

The Badgers noticed this evening, however, that already the visitors looked plumper and the father Bear no longer spoke in a humble, whining voice, but shouted to this one or that and picked over the food that was offered to be sure he only took the best.

When, next day, the Bear's wife arrived with seven children and a little sled to which a dog was harnessed, the grandmother Badger shook her wise old head, but the father and mother Badger would not say no, and they went out to the corn patch and laid beautiful green ears, tasselled with pale gold, upon the sled, and bade the Bears farewell and a good journey as if they were their kin.

But the next day Mr. Bear turned up again and so it went, each day the Bears appearing more and more impudent and fat and strong as they waxed vigorous on the food the Badgers had provided. Now the grandmother demurred openly and even Mrs. Badger wondered that the Bears did not offer to render some small service in return for all this food, but Father Badger persisted that their part was but to give to their brothers who were in need, even as the Great Spirit gave to them. "Food belongs to all," said he, and that was the end of it.

Presently they noticed what a great interest the Bears took in the preparations for the winter; in fact, Mr. Bear was almost rude in the way he hectored and scolded and blustered, saying that their crops should have been gathered in long before this and the little Badger children should not be allowed to play at all or run in the forest looking for flowers whose juice dyed pretty colours.

"Get all the food together," cried Mr. Bear. "It is senseless to waste time on making things beautiful. A man cannot live on beauty; beauty does not fill his stomach. Let the children seek berries, and dry and store those if you like. I am partial to berries when my dinner is over and I cannot eat another morsel of tallow or pemmican. But all this painting of bags and this trimming with beads and feathers is of no use to any one."

"He talks as if the place were his own," said Mrs. Badger when Bear had gone. "May we not make use of the hands and the eyes we have been given?"

But Father Badger continued his gentle kindness, and said gravely when the women rebelled: "Let us do our part, even as the Great Spirit does His. Our brothers must be fed."

But one day, when the little Badgers ran to their mother for some honey which she had just found in a hollow tree, Mr. Bear actually knocked them to one side, and snatched the honey from their mother's hand, crying that honey was his favourite food, and marched off with the comb.

Even now, though the grandmother warned him that the Bears were becoming ungovernable in their greed, Father Badger persisted that it was more blessed to give than to keep for one's self and that food belonged to all.

Soon after, when the harvest was gathered and stored, the Badgers went out for a great tramp through the woods, even Grandmother coming to enjoy and marvel at the beautiful colours of the leaves reflected in the river. When they returned, what was their surprise to see smoke rising from their home, and, running up, they found all the Bear family cosily settled. They drove the Badgers from the door with shouts of laughter and the Badgers were far too few in number to turn them out.

The Bears had waxed strong on the Badgers' food and now they had taken the Badgers' home with all their supply of provisions for the winter. There was not so much as a pumpkin or a bean left in the fields nor a berry in the forest.

So the poor Badgers were forced to make themselves a shelter from boughs and stuff the twigs with leaves and moss.

In the morning Father Badger rose up and to his family's surprise told them he was going to the Bears to beg for some food for his family.

"What? You would ask them for what is really ours?" cried his wife.

"Food belongs to all," answered Father Badger, "It will be good for us to learn that we have nothing of our own. If kindness and pity move the heart of our brother to give us some of the store he has seized, we may know that the Great Spirit is speaking through him and that some day he will be taught gratitude and justice. I must ask, for there is no longer any food in the forest."

So Father Badger went to the door of his home, where the Bears were quarrelling and shouting and tearing open the beautiful bags of food, spoiling the pretty patterns and scattering everything wastefully upon the floor. But give a morsel to the Badgers, they would not. Instead, they shouted rude words at him, calling him a weak and wretched beggar, and mocking at his plight. One would think the Badgers' home and food had always belonged to them, from the haughty airs they put on when they saw the Badger, standing meekly and patiently, asking for a little food on which he and his children might keep life together. It was plain that the Bears had quite forgotten that the Badgers had ever owned the cave. They seemed to think themselves very splendid people for having accepted the Badgers' kindness until they were strong enough to turn them out. And they had nothing but contempt for the people who had been so generous to them. The father Badger returned home at last, saying to himself: "Food is for all," and feeling sure that the Great Spirit would somehow provide food for them. He had not been home long, (if one might call home the shelter of leaves and boughs that they had put together) when a fat little face peeped in, and lo and behold! who should have followed him but the little Bear who had come with his father the second time? He had not forgotten his little playfellows and had brought them some of his own dinner.

That was not very much, but it was something and though day after day the father Badger went to the Bears and humbly asked for food, and day after day the Bears mocked at him and sent him away with nothing, yet the little Bear always stole off and carried a few fragments to them.

It did seem, however, as if the Badgers had been turned out of their beautiful home forever and the children grew thinner and thinner and huddled round the little fire in the tepee, too weak to play, while the grandmother and the mother whispered together, thinking over the past and wishing they had never been kind to the Bears.

But Father Badger continued to go to the cave and wait at the entrance every day, quietly asking the Bears to share their store with him. And then, one day, something really did happen. As he was turning away, he beheld an ear of corn lying on the ground. Some careless Bear had dropped it, but the father Badger did not despise it because of that. No. He picked it up eagerly, for this was good food, and did he not say that all food came from the Great Father? Therefore it seemed to him this ear of corn had been given to him, to show that the Great Father had heard his cry and had given him something for his needs.

Now many a man might have thought one ear of corn was a very poor gift, after he had worked so hard and had gotten together such a fine store, through his and his family's unflagging labours; but not so Father Badger. Instead of taking home the corn, he went to the Smoke Lodge, or the tepee, which they used as we use a church. Here the Sioux would sit and pray until they were purified of all wrong thoughts and here the father Badger brought his ear of corn, and, placing it before him, sat down on the ground inside the tepee, to give thanks to the Great Spirit and pray that the corn might be blessed.

At last, he rose, looking very happy, and went out, quite sure that there was food for all and that he had only to go on trusting. Any bitter thoughts he had had against the Bears had rolled away in the haze of the Smoke Lodge; he knew now that he loved his enemies and they were all children of the Great Spirit who sent food for all.

But what was his surprise, to see standing by the tepee, as if waiting for him, a splendid young Dakota brave, clad in the most gorgeous garments, fringed, beaded, and feathered. His eyes were stern and true, but full of kindness for the father Badger and he greeted him as if he were a friend.

Then this magnificent stranger said to Father Badger, "I wish to go with you to your home."

"You will be welcome," said Father Badger, and led him to the little shelter. All made the stranger welcome, and the mother Badger hastened to rub the corn from the one small ear, and grind it into flour, and make a little cake which she placed before their guest.

The stranger said nothing, but accepted the food and the Badgers entertained him as best they could with song and story. They did not say a word about their troubles nor apologise for the scanty fare which was all they had to offer. But they tried to make the strange guest feel at home and happy.

Next morning there was nothing to offer him but fresh water from the spring, but Father Badger rose up early to go to the Bears' cave and ask once more for food. To his surprise, however, he found the Dakota brave beside him. They walked together and still the Badger never said a word about his errand. When they reached the cave, the Dakota brave stood waiting, looking very grave and splendid, and the Bear, as usual, came to the entrance.

But directly he saw the strange friend of Father Badger, he started back, and hurrying into the cave returned with his hands full of food which he pressed upon Father Badger.

Then did the stranger step forward and say sternly: "That is not enough. You must give him back his home."

At this, every one of the Bears scuttled out just as quickly as they could and flew into the forest, running on and on, as if they were terribly afraid. And from that day to this, no one ever saw anything more of them. But the Badgers joyfully returned to their home and mended everything the Bears had torn, and soon had their own lovely cave looking as sweet as ever. Then said the stranger, "I go over all the world." And he, too, went away.

Who he was, they never knew, for they never saw him again. But when they heard of good things happening in far-away parts of the country, Father Badger would say: "The Avenger has passed that way."

But one day they heard of another friend.

Who should come through the trees but a little footsore creature, still fat, but not as sleek as he used to be! He ran up to them and cried out, "Little Bear has come to learn how to paint the pretty pictures on the parfleches," (the name they gave to the food bags) and behold, it was the little friend who alone had remembered the Badgers in the time of their affliction.

He had come to live with them and work with them and serve them as a son.

So the Badgers taught Little Bear to make bright patterns and make everything he wore and used as beautiful as he possibly could.

"Beauty," said Father Badger, "is like food. It comes from the Great Father, and it belongs to all."