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It was said that long ago, two white trappers were along the banks of the Saco River and happened upon a young Indian child. One of the men said to the other, "I heard that Indian children are born knowing how to swim." The other was not so sure.
The child had not seen the men, but was playing happily in the shallows of the river.
The one trapper was insistent. "I'll wager you a bet then." he challenged his partner. "And what might that be?" asked the other. A price was named and the bet made and they quietly crept up toward the child and grabbed her. She began to scream, but the trapper held his big rough hand over her mouth, so as not to alert any Indians nearby, who would have rushed to the child and murdered the men who had taken her so roughly.
The trapper who had made the bet then took the child to a deeper section of the river and threw her in. She began to struggle and the one who made the bet put his hand out - to stop his partner from going to the child's aid. "Wait!" he insisted.
But the child could not swim and drowned in the river, her tiny body sinking below the waters, out of sight.
There was a dead silence that surrounded the two men. The birds did not sing, the wind did not rustle the trees - it was as if all things had stopped in that moment of time, when the innocent child was murdered by the thoughtlessness of ignorant men.
Suddenly they were surrounded. The child's people were there, and her Father was there. He was the Chief and he held the child's mother as she wailed in sorrow at what the men had done to her only child. The Chief in his sorrow and rage ordered the men to be killed for their crime and then he stood upon the bank and said, "from this day forth, each and every year 3 whites will die for taking the life of my only child."
Folks around here will tell you, and it's true, each and every year, three whites die in the mighty Saco, to avenge the terrible murder of an innocent child.