There once lived on the shores of the beautiful Lake Athabasca an Indian chief whose name was Wyani, and his two daughters, Wiona and Niona.

Wiona helped her father cure the moose and caribou skins, and put the fish to dry on racks in the sun, for food for the dogs during the winter.

Niona, the younger daughter, was very beautiful. She would sit by the lake where she could see her reflection, and arrange her hair, putting in her tresses large eagle feathers and wild flowers. She would make to adorn her feet beautiful moccasins of white deer-skin decorated with beads and many colored silks, and would say to herself: “Niona, you are so, so beautiful.”

Then she would glance at her pretty feet, and her slippers beaded in wild roses and big leaves, and sigh, saying to herself: “How fortunate to be so beautiful.”

When her father would call to her to help him, she would say, “Oh, father! Do it yourself!” or call to Wiona to help her father. Sometimes she would say: “I must make myself beautiful like the sun.”

A young Cree brave would come to visit her. He was a great hunter and feared no man. One day while he was sitting near her when she was adorning herself, she leaned too far over the water to admire her reflection, and fell into the lake. He pulled her out, saying: “If you were not so vain this would not have happened.”

“Do not scold me,” Niona said, as she caught her breath and shook the water from her dress.

“You are very beautiful, but you are also very selfish,” said the young man.

“All who are very beautiful are selfish,” Niona replied.

“That is not so,” said the Indian.

“Old Father Bear and Mother Lynx and Brother Fox tell me I am beautiful; even the birds, more beautiful than I am, say I am beautiful. Are they not proud of their plumage? Why should I not be!” exclaimed the maiden.

“You are very beautiful,” the young Indian repeated, “but you are not kind to your father; and your sister is very tired. Why do you not consider them? They are both very good to you.”

“I have no time. I must make myself like the sun; the beauty of everything comes from the sun, and I must be like her. She paints the clouds and rainbow and flowers and water—everything. I am the child of the sun and gather the beautiful things of color that I may adorn myself. You also think me beautiful. That is pleasing to me. I know myself that I am beautiful.”

“Yes, but beauty is not everything,” he replied.

“Do not scold me. You would not like me if I were like the Old Man in the Moon.”

“I should like you better if you were helpful, and considerate of those who love and serve you; and mind, you better not let the Moon Man hear you speak slightingly of him or he may ‘make medicine.’ ”⁠[1]

“Shoot an arrow at the Moon Man,” said Niona. “Who’s afraid of him!”

Suddenly it became very dark, and the moon seemed to draw nearer to the earth.

“Save me! Save me!” cried Niona, but her companion had disappeared.

Niona thought, “How silly it was to be afraid of the old dead moon,” and cried out in defiance:

The Old Man in the Moon seemed to frown and to come closer and closer. Niona felt herself being drawn up and up; faster and faster she seemed to fly until the light of the camp-fires could no longer be seen. The stars grew larger and brighter and Niona began to feel very cold. Up and up she went until she could see the earth but dimly, and only as a round ball. Suddenly she stopped, and a voice said: “This is the end of your journey. You must live here. You thought only of yourself, of your beauty. Your time you spent in idleness. You did no good for any one. This is your punishment.”

Niona looked around. There were no flowers, or lakes, no trees, no people. There were only mountains of dead rocks, craters of extinct volcanoes, and deep-sea beds, but no water.

“What a terrible place,” thought Niona, without speaking.

“Yes,” said the Old Man of the Moon, “it is so. We once had all, but age came upon us, as it has now come to you.”

“To me?” cried Niona.

“Yes, to you,” he replied. “Look into the Grotto of Shadows yonder.”

Niona walked to a deep cave and looked down. There she saw reflected the face of an old woman, older than any she had ever seen on earth.

“Horrors!” she cried, “How can I escape this awful fate?”

“There is but one way,” said the Moon Man. “Come with me.”

They ascended a high mountain and looked afar to the “City of Good Works.” One end of a rainbow rested in a great square of the city, and people, bejewelled and wearing beautiful costumes, were dancing around it. There was music, such as Niona had never heard in the woods, and great gardens with flowers bursting into bloom, and birds of wondrous plumage, too numerous to imagine.

“This,” said the Moon Man, “is the abode of contentment.”

“Oh! How can I get there?” cried Niona.

“There is but one way,” he answered as she looked in wonderment. “You must go back to earth and there seek out those who need help and comfort; be kind to the aged, and share your blessings with those who most need them. If you promise to do this, you may return.”

“I promise, I promise!” cried Niona, “When may I go?”

“At once,” answered the Moon Man, taking a great bow and an arrow that was so long its head rested on a mountain miles away. On the other end was a little compartment, lighted with many colored lights, and containing chairs and a table which was set with the most dainty fruits and cakes.

“Get in, hold tight, and keep your promise.” As he spoke he touched her lightly on the shoulder, and she began at once to regain her youth and beauty.

She stepped into the fairy car.

“Remember your promise,” said the Moon Man sternly. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” replied Niona.

Before she could say more, she found herself flying toward earth; nearer and nearer she flew. Soon a light appeared, then another and another. Soon she could see the great lake, then her old father who was sitting outside his lodge. He was crying, “Niona, Niona, come back!”

“I’m coming!” she called, as the great arrow plunged into the earth, stopping just in time so Niona could step out and be welcomed by her father.

“I’ve come to help you gather wood, and to fish, and to sew caribou-skins, and make snares, and cure the moose-skins, and to hunt, and to draw water.”

He looked up and smiled, he had grown very old.

“Where are your fine clothes?” he asked.

Niona looked down at her feet, and behold! she was in rags!

“I shall not need them now, good father. I have come to serve you.”

For many moons she had been faithful to her promise made to the Man in the Moon, when, one day, there came from the forest, a handsome brave, with a deer slung over his shoulder—not the Indian she had admired before her strange journey, but one nobler and taller. Walking toward the old man he said: “You have a beautiful daughter. May I wed her when the moon is full?”

“She is a good daughter, and may do as she thinks best,” replied the chief.

Niona grew to love the young Indian, and they were married and devoted their lives to her father as long as he lived. They lived to be very old, beloved by their tribe for their good works. When they died they were mourned by all who knew them. It is said they are now living in the beautiful City of the Rainbow.