he American
Indians possess hereditary legends, accounting for all the phenomena
of nature, or any occurrence which is beyond their comprehension. The
Shos-shones had the following story to account for the presence of these
wonderful springs in the midst of their favourite hunting-ground. The
two fountains, one pouring forth the sweetest water imaginable, the
other a stream as bitter as gall, are intimately connected with the
cause of the separation of the two tribes. Their legend thus runs: Many
hundreds of winters ago, when the cottonwoods on the big river were no
higher than arrows, and the prairies were crowded with game, the red
men who hunted the deer in the forests and the buffalo on the plains
all spoke the same language, and the pipe of peace breathed its soothing
cloud whenever two parties of hunters met on the boundless prairie.

It happened one day that two hunters of different nations met on the
bank of a small rivulet, to which both had resorted to quench their
thirst. A small stream of water, rising from a spring on a rock within
a few feet of the bank, trickled over it and fell splashing into the
river. One hunter sought the spring itself; the other, tired by his
exertions in the chase, threw himself at once to the ground, and plunged
his face into the running stream.

The latter had been unsuccessful in the hunt, and perhaps his bad
fortune, and the sight of the fat deer which the other threw from his
back before he drank at the crystal spring, caused a feeling of jealousy
and ill-humour to take possession of his mind. The other, on the
contrary, before he satisfied his thirst, raised in the hollow of his
hand a portion of the water, and, lifting it toward the sun, reversed
his hand, and allowed it to fall upon the ground, as a libation to the
Great Spirit, who had vouch-safed him a successful hunt and the blessing
of the refreshing water with which he was about to quench his thirst.

This reminder that he had neglected the usual offering only increased
the feeling of envy and annoyance which filled the unsuccessful hunter's
heart. The Evil Spirit at that moment entering his body, his temper
fairly flew away, and he sought some pretence to provoke a quarrel with
the other Indian.

"Why does a stranger," he asked, rising from the stream, "drink at the
spring-head, when one to whom the fountain belongs contents himself with
the water that runs from it?"

"The Great Spirit places the cool water at the