Long ago the Great Spirit created the world. He made creatures of the land, creatures of the water, and creatures of the air. There was close kinship among his creatures and all was good in the world.

The Great Spirit decreed that a race would be held. This race would determine which of His creatures was fleetest over the land, swiftest through the water, and keenest in mind. The winner would be blessed with a wondrous gift. As news of the race spread among His creatures, they became excited about and desirous of The Wondrous Gift.

Fish was by far the swiftest through the water. However, when Fish tested his unique endowment upon the land, he would flip forward only to flop backward and lose any gain. He returned to the water knowing that The Wondrous Gift would never be his. Mountain Cat was by far the fleetest over the land but wanted no part of the water, save an occasional cool sip to quench his thirst. Mountain Cat returned to the forest knowing that The Wondrous Gift would never be his. One by one most of His creatures found that they were either fleet on land or swift in water, but not both. Humbly, they returned to their forested or watery haunts knowing that The Wondrous Gift would never be theirs. Finally there remained only Frog, Salamander, Turtle, and Man to contend for the coveted prize.

Man began to think about the race and to take measure of the others: Frog . . . now he can jump far but must soon rest for such effort takes much of his strength. But I fear that when he reaches the river, those powerful legs . . . . And turtle . . . his legs are short and he moves slowly over the land, but once he eventually makes it to the river, those webbed feet . . . . And salamander . . . he will be slow when the dead leaves of the forest floor begin to stick to his feet, but once in the river, that strong tail . . . .

Man realized that he must somehow become faster through the water because the other creatures in the race would eventually catch and pass him there. He thought, I will pray to the Great Spirit for help in my endeavor to become faster through the water. He climbed to the top of the highest peak in the forested mountains--for this was a place of power--and prayed, "Oh, Great Spirit, grant me the speed of Fish through the water so that I might not see the strong tail of Salamander, nor the webbed feet of Turtle, nor the powerful legs of Frog as they go swimming past during the race." Suddenly a great wind arose and began to whip and bend the branches of the trees. Dark clouds rolled in and then parted to announce the arrival of a great force. White lances of blinding light arrowed through the parted clouds and struck the face of Man. His mind was instantly filled with the voice of the Great Spirit: "Your prayer cannot be answered because you were granted all that you will ever need at the first spark of your life." At this, the wind died, the light faded, and the clouds closed in. The tree branches hung as if exhausted. Puzzled by such an answer, Man slowly made his way down the mountainside. He thought, It seems that I am left to my own devices; perhaps I will think of something to make myself faster across the water. The next day as he sat by the river and pondered the race, he noticed a large log floating by at the speed of the river’s current. He reasoned: If I could sit upon that log so as to keep my body from slowly dragging through the water, I would be much faster. Just then he heard the raspy call of Crow overhead and watched as Crow flew by. He reasoned: If I could extend my arms to become wings like those of Crow, I would be faster still. He retrieved the log from the river and hid it among the weeds growing along the shore. For days he secretly hollowed the log by use of his stone ax, carefully keeping the outside of the log intact so that it would float high upon the water. He enlarged the hole that he was using to reach the inside of the log so that he could place his body there in a sitting position. With his stone ax he also fashioned a smaller portion of the log into a long arm that flared wing-like at both ends. Through observing the log floating along with the speed of the river’s current and understanding the workings of the wonderful wings of Crow, Man had devised a craft that would make him faster through the water. As he hid both among the riverside weeds, he thought, I needed not the help of the Great Spirit after all.

Finally the day of the race arrived. The contenders nervously traipsed about awaiting a sign that would mark the start. The race would commence at the border of a vast flatland known as The Great Valley. This flatland lay at the edge of the seemingly endless series of high forested waves known as The Green Eminence. Its course would ascend the first pinnacle of The Green Eminence, descend its far side to the river and continue downstream to where a beautiful waterfall leapt into the river from a high cliff.

A great bolt of lightning flashed out of a dark cloud and split asunder the large boulder that marked the boundary between The Green Eminence and The Great Valley. Startled, Frog took one great leap then another, leaving the others where they stood. Realizing that this was the sign that announced the beginning of the race, the others began in earnest their ascent up the first pinnacle of The Green Eminence. Salamander crawled and slithered up and over the forested floor of the mountainside but soon his toes and body were coated with dead leaves and soil. He slowed. Turtle was very slow in going up the mountainside but once he reached the top he went inside his shell and rolled short distances down the other side. Frog had tired and often rested after the strong bursts of energy required for each jump, but he continued his leaps over the mountainside and down to the river. Man kept a steady pace up and over the mountainside and soon ran along slightly ahead of the others. He was followed closely by Frog and Salamander. Turtle was by far the slowest and followed them all. As Man neared the river, Frog and Salamander shouted in unison from a ridge above, "you have reached the river first but we are not that far behind you. We will catch then pass you on the river and The Wondrous Gift will belong to the better of us!" After this, Frog and Salamander began to shove one another and as they did, Turtle slipped past and continued to the river behind Man. Turtle was confident in knowing that once he reached the water his webbed feet would power him past Man. However, when Man reached the river’s edge he suddenly pulled his shaped log and wings of wood from the tall weeds. Turtle, Frog, and Salamander watched in puzzled amazement as Man sat upright inside the log, pushed out into the river, and began to dip the wooden wings into the water. He skimmed through the water with the speed of Fish and soon disappeared downstream into the mist that blanketed the river. Defeated and shamed before the race had been completed, Turtle buried himself deeply into the mud, Frog retreated into the tall rushes to hide, and Salamander crawled underneath a rock. To this day their embarrassment can be seen in the form of small red spots on the skins of their descendants.

As Man passed the place on the river where the waterfall leapt from a high cliff, he knew that the race was won since the other competitors were nowhere in sight. A feeling of great contentment came over him as well as a feeling of anticipation, for the winner was to be blessed with The Wondrous Gift. As he sat there within his fashioned log, balanced by use of the wooden wing, he looked for some sign from the Great Spirit. He expected the clouds to part and to hear a majestic voice compliment him on his cleverness. He also expected to have The Wondrous Gift placed before him. But there was nothing to be heard, seen, nor felt, except the rushing of the waters, the colors of the rainbow dancing in the sun, and the strange and newfound sensation that pulsed from the river as he sat within his fashioned log. After some time passed, he returned to his village and resumed a normal life. He often told stories of his adventures to his fellow villagers, for stories were both a source of great entertainment and a way of keeping important thoughts and dreams alive and passing them along to the generations. But he never ceased looking for The Wondrous Gift. During those times when the storm clouds gathered and lightning flashed about, he would go to the highest mountain peak and peer deeply into the sky; but he never asked of nor questioned the Great Spirit. In his village he was respected as a gifted man, able to solve most problems that arose and puzzled the others. He was also considered an unusual man for he spent considerable time traveling in his strangely shaped log up and down the river. There were times when he would not be seen in the village for many days, but everyone knew that he was simply somewhere between those mystical places he called Where the Waters Dance and Where the Rainbow Dwells.

As time passed and he grew older, he didn’t return to the river as often as he had in previous times and, as with all things, the day came when he didn’t return at all. He spent his remaining days shuffling about the village and at rare times would walk alone to its outermost edge and peer into the sky. It was said that he did this only when storm clouds gathered. At the special occasion known as Spirit Fire, the young people of the village would gather at his feet and listen intently as the flickering fire danced shadows across his wrinkled face while he told the stories of his youth: stories of when the Great Spirit parted the clouds, the creatures spoke a common tongue, and when he journeyed down the river to those places he called Where the Waters Dance and Where the Rainbow Dwells.

The inevitable day came when he rose no more to shuffle about his village, solve everyday problems with his keen mind, or tell his amazing stories to the young ones. There was great sadness among the older villagers and for many days the young ones did not run about laughing and playing among the huts. The people brought out his hewn log, now cracked and faded with age, and placed him inside. They tied his wooden wings lengthwise to the craft and carried it to the river’s edge where, with gentleness, they shoved it into the swift waters. "Where is he going?" a small child asked. "To Where the Waters Dance and Where the Rainbow Dwells," answered a tearful elder.

Many years passed and life in the village continued as it always had. Then one day a new generation of young ones--more adventurous than previous generations--heard marvelous tales at a special Spirit Fire where the oldest stories known were told. They heard stories of when The Great Spirit parted the clouds. They heard of a carved log and of wooden wings. They also heard of a time when the creatures spoke and of a great race. But it was of those magical places called Where the Waters Dance and Where the Rainbow Dwells that they wanted to know of most of all. The next day they searched for and found a huge log. It had freshly fallen from the winds of a strange storm. The log was of a most light wood and they each set about carving their own craft from different sections. They dug brilliant pigments from the earth and mixed them to create more colors than they had ever seen in the rainbow that sometimes graced their sky. These they smeared in whimsical patterns for adornment along the sides of their newly fashioned craft. From the remnants of the log they carved the wings that would power them along in their search for those magical places they so wanted to find.

They carried their craft to a place on the river known as Where He Departed. It was a sacred place to the older members of the tribe, but these young ones had no knowledge of it. They launched their craft and began to descend with the speed of the river’s current. They quickly learned how to dip their wooden wings into the water and travel to places other than where the current led. Soon they came to a place where the river’s waters began to leap and celebrate as only the waters of a river can. "This must be the place described in the old story as Where the Waters Dance," said one. "Are you certain?" questioned another. "It is so near the village and it has obviously been here all the while. How could we have not known about it?" They continued downstream and rounded a bend where a most magnificent sight greeted their eyes: a majestic waterfall spilled from the cliffside high above and entered the river softly in a myriad of colors. "Where the Rainbow Dwells," they said together. As they sat spellbound in this magical place, dark clouds began to gather and the wind began to build. They grew quiet as they sensed the presence of a great power. Suddenly the dark clouds parted and . . . the sun shown through and sent its warming rays onto each of their faces. Then said one, "This is such a beautiful and soothing place and we have found it only by means of our newfound craft. It's as if we have been given . . . a wondrous gift!"

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