back the horse. The following night, I took it away
again. This went on for some time, with the horse
being stolen every night. Finally, I got a good idea. I
stole the horse in the afternoon, and got an early start
on the trail, so those four Indians were never able to
catch up with me.
I rode for many days until at last I came here, to the
land of the Nootka. No one here had ever seen a
horse, either. They must have thought, seeing me on
its back, that I was one of those half-horse men
among the Shining Ones, so they let me stay. Here I
That was my grandfather’s story.”
Like many fabulous, fantastic tales told by Native
Americans, this Nootka legend appears to contain
some historical truth. The part about the horses, for
instance, sounds factual enough …
Thus, the tale may explain the mysterious dis-
appearance of the Fair People from this continent.
Threatened once again by the coming of Man (with
his doubts about Beauty and his faith in Ugliness), the
“Shining Ones” fled-into the sea, the hills, the wind,
into the wilderness, underground, into diaspora.
Imagine the Leprechauns of Erin (whose earliest
roots in the New World were doubtless in Massachu-
setts) as from their hiding places they watched the
Mayflower drop anchor and saw upon its deck a
grim-faced throng of Celt-murdering Puritans. . . . .
Consider a group of those frugal Lowland Dwarves,
the Alven, hovering, invisible, and observing in eco-
nomic agony while their old friends the Canarsie tribe
traded Manhattan Island for a handful of trinkets!

*What remained of the shattered Huron nation seems to have later followed the path of these
“Shining Ones,” wandering through Michigan, Ohio, and Wisconsin. A small band survives in
Oklahoma. where they call themselves “Wyandot



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