{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22248/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22248","id":"gutenberg_22248","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22248","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Folklore","Indians of North America -- Folklore","Native America"],"text":"Produced by Janet Blenkinship and The Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.\n\n  FROM THE ORIGINAL LEGENDS.\n\n  BY\n\n  CORNELIUS MATHEWS.\n\n  With Illustrations by John McLenan.\n\n  ENGRAVED BY A. V. S. ANTHONY.\n\n\n  NEW-YORK:\n  PUBLISHED BY ALLEN BROTHERS.\n  1869.\n\n  Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1868, BY CORNELIUS\n  MATHEWS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern\n  District of New-York.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n  [Illustration: THE CELESTIAL SISTERS. Page 11.]\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe following stories have been, time out of mind, in their original\nform, recited around the lodge-fires and under the trees, by the Indian\nstory-tellers, for the entertainment of the red children of the West.\nThey were originally interpreted from the old tales and legends by the\nlate Henry R. Schoolcraft, and are now re-interpreted and developed by\nthe Editor, so as to enable them, as far as worthy, to take a place with\nthe popular versions of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, Cinderella,\nLittle Red Riding Hood, and other world-renowned tales of Europe and the\nEast, to which, in their original conception, they bear a resemblance in\nromantic interest and quaint extravagance of fancy. The Editor hopes\nthat these beautiful and sprightly legends of the West, if not marred in\nthe handling, will repay, in part at least, the glorious debt which we\nhave incurred to the Eastern World for her magical gifts of the same\nkind.\n                                                        October, 1868.\n\n\n\n\n  CONTENTS.\n                                                          PAGE\n\n  I.--THE CELESTIAL SISTERS                                  7\n\n  II.--THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE FOR THE SUN                  16\n\n  III.--STRONG DESIRE AND THE RED SORCERER                  22\n\n  IV.--THE WONDERFUL EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER                34\n\n  V.--THE TWO JEEBI                                         68\n\n  VI.--OSSEO, THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR                   74\n\n  VII.--GRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS                    83\n\n  VIII.--THE TOAD-WOMAN                                     90\n\n  IX.--THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN                              98\n\n  X.--WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS                     102\n\n  XI.--SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY                             115\n\n  XII.--THE MAGIC BUNDLE                                   135\n\n  XIII.--THE RED SWAN                                      138\n\n  XIV.--THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP                       170\n\n  XV.--THE LITTLE SPIRIT OR BOY-MAN                        179\n\n   XVI.--THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS                           190\n\n  XVII.--HE OF THE LITTLE SHELL                            207\n\n  XVIII.--MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER                    215\n\n  XIX.--LEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTER                        252\n\n  XX.--THE WINTER SPIRIT AND HIS VISITOR                   261\n\n  XXI.--THE FIRE-PLUME                                     264\n\n  XXII.--WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF                     288\n\n  XXIII.--THE BIRD LOVER                                   299\n\n  XXIV.--BOKWEWA THE HUMPBACK                              315\n\n  XXV.--THE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER                   324\n\n  XXVI.--WUNZH, THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN                  330\n\n\n\n\n  ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n  FRONTISPIECE.--THE CELESTIAL SISTERS                      11\n\n  THE BEAR SERVANTS                                         59\n\n  THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP                             176\n\n  THE MORNING STAR AND HER BROTHER                         212\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE CELESTIAL SISTERS.\n\n\nWaupee, or the White Hawk, lived in a remote part of the forest, where\nanimals abounded. Every day he returned from the chase with a large\nspoil, for he was one of the most skillful and lucky hunters of his\ntribe. His form was like the cedar; the fire of youth beamed from his\neye; there was no forest too gloomy for him to penetrate, and no track\nmade by bird or beast of any kind which he could not readily follow.\n\nOne day he had gone beyond any point which he had ever before visited.\nHe traveled through an open wood, which enabled him to see a great\ndistance. At length he beheld a light breaking through the foliage of\nthe distant trees, which made him sure that he was on the borders of a\nprairie. It was a wide plain, covered with long blue grass, and enameled\nwith flowers of a thousand lovely tints.\n\nAfter walking for some time without a path, musing upon the open\ncountry, and enjoying the fragrant breeze, he suddenly came to a ring\nworn among the grass and the flowers, as if it had been made by\nfootsteps moving lightly round and round. But it was strange--so strange\nas to cause the White Hawk to pause and gaze long and fixedly upon the\nground--there was no path which led to this flowery circle. There was\nnot even a crushed leaf nor a broken twig, nor the least trace of a\nfootstep, approaching or retiring, to be found. He thought he would hide\nhimself and lie in wait to discover, if he could, what this strange\ncircle meant.\n\nPresently he heard the faint sounds of music in the air. He looked up in\nthe direction they came from, and as the magic notes died away he saw a\nsmall object, like a little summer cloud that approaches the earth,\nfloating down from above. At first it was very small, and seemed as if\nit could have been blown away by the first breeze that came along; but\nit rapidly grew as he gazed upon it, and the music every moment came\nclearer and more sweetly to his ear. As it neared the earth it appeared\nas a basket, and it was filled with twelve sisters, of the most lovely\nforms and enchanting beauty.\n\nAs soon as the basket touched the ground they leaped out, and began\nstraightway to dance, in the most joyous manner, around the magic ring,\nstriking, as they did so, a shining ball, which uttered the most\nravishing melodies, and kept time as they danced.\n\nThe White Hawk, from his concealment, entranced, gazed upon their\ngraceful forms and movements. He admired them all, but he was most\npleased with the youngest. He longed to be at her side, to embrace her,\nto call her his own; and unable to remain longer a silent admirer, he\nrushed out and endeavored to seize this twelfth beauty who so enchanted\nhim. But the sisters, with the quickness of birds, the moment they\ndescried the form of a man, leaped back into the basket, and were drawn\nup into the sky.\n\nLamenting his ill-luck, Waupee gazed longingly upon the fairy basket as\nit ascended and bore the lovely sisters from his view. \"They are gone,\"\nhe said, \"and I shall see them no more.\"\n\nHe returned to his solitary lodge, but he found no relief to his mind.\nHe walked abroad, but to look at the sky, which had withdrawn from his\nsight the only being he had ever loved, was painful to him now.\n\nThe next day, selecting the same hour, the White Hawk went back to the\nprairie, and took his station near the ring; in order to deceive the\nsisters, he assumed the form of an opossum, and sat among the grass as\nif he were there engaged in chewing the cud. He had not waited long when\nhe saw the cloudy basket descend, and heard the same sweet music\nfalling as before. He crept slowly toward the ring; but the instant the\nsisters caught sight of him they were startled, and sprang into their\ncar. It rose a short distance when one of the elder sisters spoke:\n\n\"Perhaps,\" she said, \"it is come to show us how the game is played by\nmortals.\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" the youngest replied; \"quick, let us ascend.\"\n\nAnd all joining in a chant, they rose out of sight.\n\nWaupee, casting off his disguise, walked sorrowfully back to his\nlodge--but ah, the night seemed very long to lonely White Hawk! His\nwhole soul was filled with the thought of the beautiful sister.\n\nBetimes, the next day, he returned to the haunted spot, hoping and\nfearing, and sighing as though his very soul would leave his body in its\nanguish. He reflected upon the plan he should follow to secure success.\nHe had already failed twice; to fail a third time would be fatal. Near\nby he found an old stump, much covered with moss, and just then in use\nas the residence of a number of mice, who had stopped there on a\npilgrimage to some relatives on the other side of the prairie. The White\nHawk was so pleased with their tidy little forms that he thought he,\ntoo, would be a mouse, especially as they were by no means formidable\nto look at, and would not be at all likely to create alarm.\n\nHe accordingly, having first brought the stump and set it near the ring,\nwithout further notice became a mouse, and peeped and sported about, and\nkept his sharp little eyes busy with the others; but he did not forget\nto keep one eye up toward the sky, and one ear wide open in the same\ndirection.\n\nIt was not long before the sisters, at their customary hour, came down\nand resumed their sport.\n\n\"But see,\" cried the younger sister, \"that stump was not there before.\"\n\nShe ran off, frightened, toward the basket. Her sisters only smiled, and\ngathering round the old tree-stump, they struck it, in jest, when out\nran the mice, and among them Waupee. They killed them all but one, which\nwas pursued by the younger sister. Just as she had raised a silver stick\nwhich she held in her hand to put an end to it, too, the form of the\nWhite Hawk arose, and he clasped his prize in his arms. The other eleven\nsprang to their basket, and were drawn up to the skies.\n\nWaupee exerted all his skill to please his bride and win her affections.\nHe wiped the tears from her eyes; he related his adventures in the\nchase; he dwelt upon the charms of life on the earth. He was constant in\nhis attentions, keeping fondly by her side, and picking out the way for\nher to walk as he led her gently toward his lodge. He felt his heart\nglow with joy as he entered it, and from that moment he was one of the\nhappiest of men.\n\nWinter and summer passed rapidly away, and as the spring drew near with\nits balmy gales and its many-colored flowers, their happiness was\nincreased by the presence of a beautiful boy in their lodge. What more\nof earthly blessing was there for them to enjoy?\n\nWaupee's wife was a daughter of one of the stars; and as the scenes of\nearth began to pall upon her sight, she sighed to revisit her father.\nBut she was obliged to hide these feelings from her husband. She\nremembered the charm that would carry her up, and while White Hawk was\nengaged in the chase, she took occasion to construct a wicker basket,\nwhich she kept concealed. In the mean time, she collected such rarities\nfrom the earth as she thought would please her father, as well as the\nmost dainty kinds of food.\n\nOne day when Waupee was absent, and all was in readiness, she went out\nto the charmed ring, taking with her her little son. As they entered the\ncar she commenced her magical song, and the basket rose. The song was\nsad, and of a lowly and mournful cadence, and as it was wafted far away\nby the wind, it caught her husband's ear. It was a voice which he well\nknew, and he instantly ran to the prairie Though he made breathless\nspeed, he could not reach the ring before his wife and child had\nascended beyond his reach. He lifted up his voice in loud appeals, but\nthey were unavailing. The basket still went up. He watched it till it\nbecame a small speck, and finally it vanished in the sky. He then bent\nhis head down to the ground, and was miserable.\n\nThrough a long winter and a long summer Waupee bewailed his loss, but he\nfound no relief. The beautiful spirit had come and gone, and he should\nsee it no more!\n\nHe mourned his wife's loss sorely, but his son's still more; for the boy\nhad both the mother's beauty and the father's strength.\n\nIn the mean time his wife had reached her home in the stars, and in the\nblissful employments of her father's house she had almost forgotten that\nshe had left a husband upon the earth. But her son, as he grew up,\nresembled more and more his father, and every day he was restless and\nanxious to visit the scene of his birth. His grandfather said to his\ndaughter, one day:\n\n\"Go, my child, and take your son down to his father, and ask him to come\nup and live with us. But tell him to bring along a specimen of each kind\nof bird and animal he kills in the chase.\"\n\nShe accordingly took the boy and descended. The White Hawk, who was\never near the enchanted spot, heard her voice as she came down the sky.\nHis heart beat with impatience as he saw her form and that of his son,\nand they were soon clasped in his arms.\n\nHe heard the message of the Star, and he began to hunt with the greatest\nactivity, that he might collect the present with all dispatch. He spent\nwhole nights, as well as days, in searching for every curious and\nbeautiful animal and bird. He only preserved a foot, a wing, or a tail\nof each.\n\nWhen all was ready, Waupee visited once more each favorite spot--the\nhill-top whence he had been used to see the rising sun; the stream where\nhe had sported as a boy; the old lodge, now looking sad and solemn,\nwhich he was to sit in no more; and last of all, coming to the magic\ncircle, he gazed widely around him with tearful eyes, and, taking his\nwife and child by the hand, they entered the car and were drawn up--into\na country far beyond the flight of birds, or the power of mortal eye to\npierce.\n\nGreat joy was manifested upon their arrival at the starry plains. The\nStar Chief invited all his people to a feast; and when they had\nassembled, he proclaimed aloud that each one might continue as he was,\nan inhabitant of his own dominions, or select of the earthly gifts such\nas he liked best. A very strange confusion immediately arose; not one\nbut sprang forward. Some chose a foot, some a wing, some a tail, and\nsome a claw. Those who selected tails or claws were changed into\nanimals, and ran off; the others assumed the form of birds, and flew\naway. Waupee chose a white hawk's feather. His wife and son followed his\nexample, and each one became a white hawk. He spread his wings, and,\nfollowed by his wife and son, descended with the other birds to the\nearth, where he is still to be found, with the brightness of the starry\nplains in his eye, and the freedom of the heavenly breezes in his\nwings.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE BOY WHO SET A SNARE FOR THE SUN.\n\n\nAt the time when the animals reigned in the earth, they had killed all\nthe people but a girl and her little brother, and these two were living\nin fear, in an out-of-the-way place. The boy was a perfect little pigmy,\nand never grew beyond the size of a mere infant; but the girl increased\nwith her years, so that the task of providing food and shelter fell\nwholly upon her. She went out daily to get wood for the lodge-fire, and\nshe took her little brother with her that no mishap might befall him;\nfor he was too little to leave alone. A big bird, of a mischievous\ndisposition, might have flown away with him. She made him a bow and\narrows, and said to him one day, \"My little brother, I will leave you\nbehind where I have been gathering the wood; you must hide yourself, and\nyou will soon see the snow-birds come and pick the worms out of the logs\nwhich I have piled up. Shoot one of them and bring it home.\"\n\nHe obeyed her, and tried his best to kill one, but he came home\nunsuccessful. His sister told him that he must not despair, but try\nagain the next day.\n\nShe accordingly left him at the gathering-place of the wood, and\nreturned to the lodge. Toward night-fall she heard his little footsteps\ncrackling through the snow, and he hurried in and threw down, with an\nair of triumph, one of the birds which he had killed. \"My sister,\" said\nhe, \"I wish you to skin it, and stretch the skin, and when I have killed\nmore, I will have a coat made out of them.\"\n\n\"But what shall we do with the body?\" said she; for they had always up\nto that time lived upon greens and berries.\n\n\"Cut it in two,\" he answered, \"and season our pottage with one half of\nit at a time.\"\n\nIt was their first dish of game, and they relished it greatly.\n\nThe boy kept on in his efforts, and in the course of time he killed ten\nbirds--out of the skins of which his sister made him a little coat:\nbeing very small, he had a very pretty coat, and a bird skin to spare.\n\n\"Sister,\" said he, one day, as he paraded up and down before the lodge,\nenjoying his new coat, and fancifying himself the greatest little fellow\nin the world--as he was, for there was no other beside him--\"My sister,\nare we really alone in the world, or are we playing at it? Is there\nnobody else living? And, tell me, was all this great broad earth and\nthis huge big sky made for a little boy and girl like you and me?\"\n\nShe told him, by no means; there were many folks very unlike a harmless\ngirl and boy, such as they were, who lived in a certain other quarter of\nthe earth, who had killed off all of their kinsfolk; and that if he\nwould live blameless and not endanger his life, he must never go where\nthey were. This only served to inflame the boy's curiosity; and he soon\nafter took his bow and arrows and went in that direction. After walking\na long time and meeting no one, he became tired, and stretched himself\nupon a high green knoll where the day's warmth had melted off the snow.\n\nIt was a charming place to lie upon, and he fell asleep; and, while\nsleeping, the sun beat so hot upon him that it not only singed his\nbird-skin coat, but it so shrivelled and shrunk and tightened it upon\nthe little boy's body, as to wake him up.\n\nWhen he felt how the sun had seared and the mischief its fiery beams had\nplayed with the coat he was so proud of, he flew into a great passion,\nand berated the sun in a terrible way for a little boy no higher than a\nman's knee, and he vowed fearful things against it.\n\n\"Do not think you are too high,\" said he; \"I shall revenge myself. Oh,\nsun! I will have you for a plaything yet.\"\n\nOn coming home he gave an account of his misfortune to his sister, and\nbitterly bewailed the spoiling of his new coat. He would not eat--not so\nmuch as a single berry. He lay down as one that fasts; nor did he move\nnor change his manner of lying for ten full days, though his sister\nstrove to prevail on him to rise. At the end of ten days he turned over,\nand then he lay full ten days on the other side.\n\nWhen he got up he was very pale, but very resolute too. He bade his\nsister make a snare, for, he informed her, that he meant to catch the\nsun. She said she had nothing; but after awhile she brought forward a\ndeer's sinew which the father had left, and which she soon made into a\nstring suitable for a noose. The moment she showed it to him he was\nquite wroth, and told her that would not do, and directed her to find\nsomething else. She said she had nothing--nothing at all. At last she\nthought of the bird-skin that was left over when the coat was made; and\nthis she wrought into a string. With this the little boy was more vexed\nthan before. \"The sun has had enough of my bird-skins,\" he said; \"find\nsomething else.\" She went out of the lodge saying to herself, \"Was there\never so obstinate a boy?\" She did not dare to answer this time that she\nhad nothing. Luckily she thought of her own beautiful hair, and pulling\nsome of it from among her locks, she quickly braided it into a cord,\nand, returning, she handed it to her brother. The moment his eye fell\nupon this jet black braid he was delighted. \"This will do,\" he said; and\nhe immediately began to run it back and forth through his hands as\nswiftly as he could; and as he drew it forth, he tried its strength. He\nsaid again, \"this will do;\" and winding it in a glossy coil about his\nshoulders, he set out a little after midnight. His object was to catch\nthe sun before he rose. He fixed his snare firmly on a spot just where\nthe sun must strike the land as it rose above the earth; and sure\nenough, he caught the sun, so that it was held fast in the cord and did\nnot rise.\n\nThe animals who ruled the earth were immediately put into great\ncommotion. They had no light; and they ran to and fro, calling out to\neach other, and inquiring what had happened. They summoned a council to\ndebate upon the matter, and an old dormouse, suspecting where the\ntrouble lay, proposed that some one should be appointed to go and cut\nthe cord. This was a bold thing to undertake, as the rays of the sun\ncould not fail to burn whoever should venture so near to them.\n\nAt last the venerable dormouse himself undertook it, for the very good\nreason that no one else would. At this time the dormouse was the largest\nanimal in the world. When he stood up he looked like a mountain. It\nmade haste to the place where the sun lay ensnared, and as it came\nnearer and nearer, its back began to smoke and burn with the heat, and\nthe whole top of his huge bulk was turned in a very short time to\nenormous heaps of ashes. It succeeded, however, in cutting the cord with\nits teeth and freeing the sun, which rolled up again, as round and\nbeautiful as ever, into the wide blue sky. But the dormouse--or blind\nwoman as it is called--was shrunk away to a very small size; and that is\nthe reason why it is now one of the tiniest creatures upon the earth.\n\nThe little boy returned home when he discovered that the sun had escaped\nhis snare, and devoted himself entirely to hunting. \"If the beautiful\nhair of my sister would not hold the sun fast, nothing in the world\ncould,\" he said. \"He was not born, a little fellow like himself, to look\nafter the sun. It required one greater and wiser than he was to regulate\nthat.\" And he went out and shot ten more snow-birds; for in this\nbusiness he was very expert; and he had a new bird-skin coat made, which\nwas prettier than the one he had worn before.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nSTRONG DESIRE, AND THE RED SORCERER.\n\n\nThere was a man called Odshedoph, or the Child of Strong Desires, who\nhad a wife and one son. He had withdrawn his family from the village,\nwhere they had spent the winter, to the neighborhood of a distant\nforest, where game abounded. This wood was a day's travel from his\nwinter home, and under its ample shadow the wife fixed the lodge, while\nthe husband went out to hunt. Early in the evening he returned with a\ndeer, and, being weary and athirst, he asked his son, whom he called\nStrong Desire, to go to the river for some water. The son replied that\nit was dark, and he was afraid. His father still urged him, saying that\nhis mother, as well as himself, was tired, and the distance to the water\nvery short. But no persuasion could overcome the young man's reluctance.\nHe refused to go.\n\n\"Ah, my son,\" said the father, at last, \"if you are afraid to go to the\nriver, you will never kill the Red Head.\"\n\nThe stripling was deeply vexed by this observation; it seemed to touch\nhim to the very quick. He mused in silence. He refused to eat, and made\nno reply when spoken to. He sat by the lodge door all the night through,\nlooking up at the stars, and sighing like one sorely distressed.\n\nThe next day he asked his mother to dress the skin of the deer, and to\nmake it into moccasins for him, while he busied himself in preparing a\nbow and arrows.\n\nAs soon as these were in readiness, he left the lodge one morning, at\nsunrise, without saying a word to his father or mother. As he passed\nalong, he fired one of his arrows into the air, which fell westward. He\ntook that course, and coming to the spot where the arrow had fallen, he\nwas rejoiced to find it piercing the heart of a deer. He refreshed\nhimself with a meal of the venison, and the next morning he fired\nanother arrow. Following its course, after traveling all day he found\nthat he had transfixed another deer. In this manner he fired four\narrows, and every evening he discovered that he had killed a deer.\n\nBy a strange oversight, he left the arrows sticking in the carcasses,\nand passed on without withdrawing them. Having in this way no arrow for\nthe fifth day, he was in great distress at night for the want of food.\n\nAt last he threw himself upon the earth in despair, concluding that he\nmight as well perish there as go further. But he had not lain long\nbefore he heard a hollow rumbling noise, in the ground beneath him, like\nthat of an earthquake moving slowly along.\n\nHe sprang up, and discovered at a distance the figure of a human being,\nwalking with a stick. He looked attentively, and saw that the figure was\nwalking in a wide beaten path in a prairie, leading from a dusky lodge\nto a lake, whose waters were black and turbid.\n\nTo his surprise, this lodge, which had not been in view when he cast\nhimself upon the ground, was now near at hand. He approached a little\nnearer, and concealed himself; and in a moment he discovered that the\nfigure was no other than that of the terrible witch, the little old\nwoman who makes war. Her path to the lake was perfectly smooth and\nsolid, and the noise Strong Desire had heard was caused by the striking\nof her walking staff upon the ground. The top of this staff was\ndecorated with a string of the toes and bills of birds of every kind,\nwho, at every stroke of the stick, fluttered and sung their various\nnotes in concert.\n\nShe entered her lodge and laid off her mantle, which was entirely\ncomposed of the scalps of women. Before folding it, she shook it\nseveral times, and at every shake the scalps uttered loud shouts of\nlaughter, in which the old hag joined. The boy, who lingered at the\ndoor, was greatly alarmed, but he uttered no cry.\n\nAfter laying by the cloak, she came directly to him. Looking at him\nsteadily, she informed him that she had known him from the time he had\nleft his father's lodge, and had watched his movements. She told him not\nto fear or despair, for she would be his protector and friend. She\ninvited him into her lodge, and gave him a supper. During the repast,\nshe questioned him as to his motives for visiting her. He related his\nhistory, stated the manner in which he had been disgraced, and the\ndifficulties he labored under.\n\n\"Now tell me truly,\" said the little old woman who makes war, \"you were\nafraid to go to the water in the dark.\"\n\n\"I was,\" Strong Desire answered, promptly.\n\nAs he replied, the hag waved her staff. The birds set up a clamorous\ncry, and the mantle shook violently as all the scalps burst into a\nhideous shout of laughter.\n\n\"And are you afraid now,\" she asked again.\n\n\"I am,\" again answered Strong Desire, without hesitation.\n\n\"But you are not afraid to speak the truth,\" rejoined the little old\nwoman. \"You will be a brave man yet.\"\n\nShe cheered him with the assurance of her friendship, and began at once\nto exercise her power upon him. His hair being very short, she took a\ngreat leaden comb, and after drawing it through his locks several times,\nthey became of a handsome length like those of a beautiful young woman.\nShe then proceeded to dress him as a female, furnishing him with the\nnecessary garments, and tinting his face with colors of the most\ncharming dye. She gave him, too, a bowl of shining metal. She directed\nhim to put in his girdle a blade of scented sword-grass, and to proceed\nthe next morning to the banks of the lake, which was no other than that\nover which the Red Head reigned. Now Hah-Undo-Tah, or the Red Head, was\na most powerful sorcerer, living upon an island in the centre of his\nrealm of water, and he was the terror of all the country. She informed\nhim that there would be many Indians upon the island, who, as soon as\nthey saw him use the shining bowl to drink with, would come and solicit\nhim to be their wife, and to take him over to the island. These offers\nhe was to refuse, and to say that he had come a great distance to be the\nwife of the Red Head, and that if the chief could not seek her for\nhimself, she would return to her village. She said, that as soon as the\nRed Head heard of this he would come for her in his own canoe, in which\nshe must embark.\n\n\"On reaching the shore,\" added the little old woman, \"you must consent\nto be his wife; and in the evening you are to induce him to take a walk\nout of the village, and when you have reached a lonesome spot, use the\nfirst opportunity to cut off his head with the blade of grass.\"\n\nShe also gave Strong Desire general advice how he was to conduct himself\nto sustain his assumed character of a woman. His fear would scarcely\npermit him to consent to engage in an adventure attended with so much\ndanger; but the recollection of his father's looks and reproaches of the\nwant of courage, decided him.\n\nEarly in the morning he left the lodge of the little old woman who makes\nwar, which was clouded in a heavy brackish fog, so thick and heavy to\nbreathe, that he with difficulty made his way forth. When he turned to\nlook back for it, it was gone.\n\nHe took the hard beaten path to the banks of the lake, and made for the\nwater at a point directly opposite the Red Head's lodge.\n\nWhere he now stood it was beautiful day. The heavens were clear, and the\nsun shone out as brightly to Strong Desire as on the first morning when\nhe had put forth his little head from the door of his father's lodge. He\nhad not been long there, sauntering along the beach, when he displayed\nthe glittering bowl by dipping water from the lake. Very soon a number\nof canoes came off from the island. The men admired his dress, and were\ncharmed with his beauty, and almost with one voice they all made\nproposals of marriage. These, Strong Desire promptly declined.\n\nWhen this was reported to Red Head, he ordered his royal bark to be\nlaunched by his chosen men of the oar, and crossed over to see this\nwonderful girl. As they approached the shore, Strong Desire saw that the\nribs of the sorcerer's canoe were formed of living rattlesnakes, whose\nheads pointed outward to guard him from his enemies. Being invited, he\nhad no sooner stepped into the canoe, than they began to hiss and rattle\nfuriously, which put him in a great fright; but the magician spoke to\nthem, when they became pacified and quiet. Shortly after they were at\nthe landing upon the island. The marriage took place immediately; and\nthe bride made presents of various valuables which had been furnished\nher by the old witch who inhabited the cloudy lodge.\n\nAs they were sitting in the lodge, surrounded by the friends and\nrelatives, the mother of the Red Head regarded the face of her new\ndaughter-in-law for a long time with fixed attention. From this scrutiny\nshe was convinced that this singular and hasty marriage boded no good to\nher son. She drew him aside, and disclosed to him her suspicions. This\ncan be no female, said she; she has the figure and manners, the\ncountenance, and more especially the eyes, are beyond a doubt those of a\nman. Her husband rejected her suspicions, and rebuked her severely for\nentertaining such notions of her own daughter-in-law. She still urged\nher doubts, which so vexed the husband that he broke his pipe-stem in\nher face, and called her an owl.\n\nThis act astonished the company, who sought an explanation; and it was\nno sooner given, than the mock bride, rising with an air of offended\ndignity, informed the Red Head that after receiving so gross an affront\nfrom his relatives she could not think of remaining with him as his\nwife, but should forthwith return to her own friends.\n\nWith a toss of the head, like that of an angry female, Strong Desire\nleft the lodge, followed by Red Head, and walked away until he came to\nthe beach of the island, near the spot where they had first landed. Red\nHead entreated him to remain, urging every motive, and making all sorts\nof magnificent promises--none of which seemed to make the least\nimpression. Strong Desire, Red Head thought, was very hard-hearted.\nDuring these appeals they had seated themselves upon the ground, and Red\nHead, in great affliction, reclined his head upon his fancied wife's\nlap. Strong Desire now changed his manner, was very kind and soothing,\nand suggested in the most winning accent that if Red Head would sleep\nsoundly for awhile he might possibly dream himself out of all his\ntroubles. Red Head, delighted at so happy a prospect, said that he would\nfall asleep immediately.\n\n\"You have killed a good many men in your time, Red Head,\" said Strong\nDesire, by way of suggesting an agreeable train of ideas to the\nsorcerer.\n\n\"Hundreds,\" answered Red Head; \"and what is better, now that I am fairly\nsettled in life by this happy marriage, I shall be able to give my whole\nattention to massacre.\"\n\n\"And you will kill hundreds more,\" interposed Strong Desire, in the most\ninsinuating manner imaginable.\n\n\"Just so, my dear,\" Red Head replied, with a great leer; \"thousands.\nThere will be no end to my delicious murders. I love dearly to kill\npeople. I would like to kill you if you were not my wife.\"\n\n\"There, there,\" said Strong Desire, with the coaxing air of a little\ncoquette, \"go to sleep; that's a good Red Head.\"\n\nNo other subject of conversation occurring to the chief, now that he had\nexhausted the delightful topic of wholesale murder, he straightway fell\ninto a deep sleep.\n\nThe chance so anxiously sought for had come; and Strong Desire, with a\nsmiling eye, drawing his blade of grass with lightning swiftness once\nacross the neck of the Red Head, severed the huge and wicked head from\nthe body.\n\nIn a moment, stripping off his woman's dress, underneath which he had\nall along worn his male attire, Strong Desire seized the bleeding\ntrophy, plunged into the lake, and swam safely over to the main shore.\nHe had scarcely reached it, when, looking back, he saw amid the darkness\nthe torches of persons come out in search of the new married couple. He\nlistened until they had found the headless body, and he heard their\npiercing shrieks of rage and sorrow as he took his way to the lodge of\nhis kind adviser.\n\nThe little old woman who makes war was in an excellent humor, and she\nreceived Strong Desire with rejoicing. She admired his prudence, and\nassured him his bravery should never be questioned again. Lifting up the\nhead, which she gazed upon with vast delight, she said he need only have\nbrought the scalp. Cutting off a lock of the hair for herself, she told\nhim he might now return with the head, which would be evidence of an\nachievement that would cause his own people to respect him.\n\n\"In your way home,\" added the little old woman, \"you will meet with but\none difficulty. Maunkahkeesh, the Spirit of the Earth, requires an\noffering or sacrifice from all of her sons who perform extraordinary\ndeeds. As you walk along in a prairie there will be an earthquake; the\nearth will open and divide the prairie in the middle. Take this\npartridge and throw it into the opening, and instantly spring over it.\"\n\nWith many thanks to the little old witch, who had so faithfully\nbefriended him, Strong Desire took leave of her, and having, by the\ncourse pointed out, safely passed the earthquake, he arrived near his\nown village. He secretly hid his precious trophy.\n\nOn entering the village, he found that his parents had returned from the\nplace of their spring encampment by the wood-side, and that they were in\nheavy sorrowing for their son, whom they supposed to be lost. One and\nanother of the young men had presented themselves to the disconsolate\nparents, and said, \"Look up, I am your son;\" but when they looked up,\nthey beheld not the familiar face of Strong Desire.\n\nHaving been often deceived in this manner, when their own son in truth\npresented himself they sat with their heads down, and with their eyes\nnearly blinded with weeping. It was some time before they could be\nprevailed upon to bestow a glance upon him. It was still longer before\nthey could recognize him as their son who had refused to draw water from\nthe river, at night, for fear, for his countenance was no longer that\nof a timid stripling; it was that of a man who has seen and done great\nthings, and who has the heart to do greater still.\n\nWhen he recounted his adventures they believed him mad. The young men\nlaughed at him--him, Strong Desire--who feared to walk to the river at\nnight-time.\n\nHe left the lodge, and ere their laughter had ceased, returned with his\ntrophy. He held aloft the head of the Red Sorcerer, with the great\nghastly leer which lighted it up before his last sleep, at prospect of a\nthousand future murders, fresh upon it. It was easily recognized, and\nthe young men who had scoffed at Strong Desire shrunk into the corners\nout of sight. Strong Desire had conquered the terrible Red Head! All\ndoubts of the truth of his adventures were dispelled.\n\nHe was greeted with joy, and placed among the first warriors of the\nnation. He finally became a chief, and his family were ever after\nrespected and esteemed.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE WONDERFUL EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER.\n\n\nA man, of small stature, found himself standing alone on a prairie. He\nthought to himself, \"How came I here? Are there no beings on this earth\nbut myself? I must travel and see. I must walk till I find the abodes of\nmen.\"\n\nSo soon as his mind was made up, he set out, he knew not whither, in\nsearch of habitations. He was a resolute little fellow, and no\ndifficulties could turn him from his purpose: neither prairies, rivers,\nwoods nor storms, had the effect to daunt his courage or turn him back.\nAfter traveling a long time, he came to a wood, in which he saw decayed\nstumps of trees, as if they had been cut in ancient times, but no other\ntrace of men. Pursuing his journey, he found more recent marks of the\nsame kind; after this, he came upon fresh traces of human beings; first\ntheir footsteps, and then the wood they had felled, lying in heaps.\nPushing on, he emerged toward dusk from the forest, and beheld at a\ndistance a large village of high lodges standing on rising ground.\n\n\"I am tired of this dog-trot,\" he said to himself. \"I will arrive there\non a run.\"\n\nHe started off with all his speed. On coming to the first lodge, without\nany especial exertion, he jumped over it, and found himself standing by\nthe door on the other side. Those within saw something pass over the\nopening in the roof; they thought from the shadow it cast that it must\nhave been some huge bird--and then they heard a thump upon the ground.\n\"What is that?\" they all said and several ran out to see.\n\nThey invited him in, and he found himself in company with an old chief\nand several men who were seated in the lodge. Meat was set before him;\nafter which the old chief asked him whither he was going, and what was\nhis name. He answered that he was in search of adventures, and that his\nname was \"Grasshopper.\"\n\nThey all opened their eyes upon the stranger with a broad stare.\n\n\"Grasshopper!\" whispered one to another; and a general titter went\nround.\n\nThey invited him to stay with them, which he was inclined to do; for it\nwas a pleasant village, but so small as to constantly embarrass\nGrasshopper. He was in perpetual trouble; whenever he shook hands with\na stranger, to whom he might be introduced, such was the abundance of\nhis strength, without meaning it, he wrung his arm off at the shoulder.\nOnce or twice, in mere sport, he cuffed the boys, about the lodge, by\nthe side of the head, and they flew out of sight as though they had been\nshot from a bow; nor could they ever be found again, though they were\nsearched for in all the country round, far and wide. If Grasshopper\nproposed to himself a short stroll in the morning, he was at once miles\nout of town. When he entered a lodge, if he happened for a moment to\nforget himself, he walked straight through the leathern, or wooden, or\nearthen walls, as if he had been merely passing through a bush. At his\nmeals he broke in pieces all the dishes, set them down as lightly as he\nwould; and putting a leg out of bed when he rose, it was a common thing\nfor him to push off the top of the lodge.\n\nHe wanted more elbow-room; and after a short stay, in which, by the\naccidentally letting go of his strength, he had nearly laid waste the\nwhole place, and filled it with demolished lodges and broken pottery,\nand one-armed men, he made up his mind to go further, taking with him a\nyoung man who had formed a strong attachment for him, and who might\nserve him as his pipe-bearer; for Grasshopper was a huge smoker, and\nvast clouds followed him wherever he went; so that people could say,\n\"Grasshopper is coming!\" by the mighty smoke he raised.\n\nThey set out together, and when his companion was fatigued with walking,\nGrasshopper would put him forward on his journey a mile or two by giving\nhim a cast in the air, and lighting him in a soft place among the trees,\nor in a cool spot in a water-pond, among the sedges and water-lilies. At\nother times he would lighten the way by showing off a few tricks, such\nas leaping over trees, and turning round on one leg till he made the\ndust fly; at which the pipe-bearer was mightily pleased, although it\nsometimes happened that the character of these gambols frightened him.\nFor Grasshopper would, without the least hint of such an intention, jump\ninto the air far ahead, and it would cost the little pipe-bearer half a\nday's hard travel to come up with him; and then the dust Grasshopper\nraised was often so thick and heavy as to completely bury the poor\nlittle pipe-bearer, and compel Grasshopper to dig diligently and with\nmight and main to get him out alive.\n\nOne day they came to a very large village, where they were well\nreceived. After staying in it some time (in the course of which\nGrasshopper, in a fit of abstraction, walked straight through the sides\nof three lodges without stopping to look for the door), they were\ninformed of a number of wicked spirits, who lived at a distance, and who\nmade it a practice to kill all who came to their lodge. Attempts had\nbeen made to destroy them, but they had always proved more than a match\nfor such as had come out against them.\n\nGrasshopper determined to pay them a visit, although he was strongly\nadvised not to do so. The chief of the village warned him of the great\ndanger he would incur, but finding Grasshopper resolved, he said:\n\n\"Well, if you will go, being my guest, I will send twenty warriors to\nserve you.\"\n\nGrasshopper thanked him for the offer, although he suggested that he\nthought he could get along without them, at which the little pipe-bearer\ngrinned, for his master had never shown in that village what he could\ndo, and the chief thought that Grasshopper, being little himself, would\nbe likely to need twenty warriors, at the least, to encounter the wicked\nspirits with any chance of success. Twenty young men made their\nappearance. They set forward, and after about a day's journey they\ndescried the lodge of the Manitoes.\n\nGrasshopper placed his friend, the pipe-bearer, and the warriors, near\nenough to see all that passed, while he went alone to the lodge.\n\nAs he entered, Grasshopper saw five horrid-looking Manitoes in the act\nof eating. It was the father and his four sons. They were really\nhideous to look upon. Their eyes were swimming low in their heads, and\nthey glared about as if they were half starved. They offered Grasshopper\nsomething to eat, which he politely refused, for he had a strong\nsuspicion that it was the thigh-bone of a man.\n\n\"What have you come for?\" said the old one.\n\n\"Nothing,\" answered Grasshopper; \"where is your uncle?\"\n\nThey all stared at him, and answered:\n\n\"We ate him, yesterday. What do you want?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Grasshopper; \"where is your grandfather?\"\n\nThey all answered, with another broad stare:\n\n\"We ate him a week ago. Do you not wish to wrestle?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Grasshopper, \"I don't mind if I do take a turn; but you\nmust be easy with me, for you see I am very little.\"\n\nPipe-bearer, who stood near enough to overhear the conversation, grinned\nfrom ear to ear when he caught this remark. The Manitoes answered:\n\n\"Oh yes, we will be easy with you.\"\n\nAnd as they said this they looked at each other, and rolled their eyes\nabout in a dreadful manner. A hideous smile came over their faces as\nthey whispered among themselves:\n\n\"It's a pity he's so thin. You go,\" they said to the eldest brother.\n\nThe two got ready--the Manito and Grasshopper--and they were soon\nclinched in each other's arms for a deadly throw. Grasshopper knew their\nobject--his death; they wanted a taste of his delicate little body, and\nhe was determined they should have it, perhaps in a different sense from\nthat they intended.\n\n\"Haw! haw!\" they cried, and soon the dust and dry leaves flew about as\nif driven by a strong wind. The Manito was strong, but Grasshopper\nthought he could master him; and all at once giving him a sly trip, as\nthe wicked spirit was trying to finish his breakfast with a piece out of\nhis shoulder, he sent the Manito head-foremost against a stone; and,\ncalling aloud to the three others, he bade them come and take the body\naway.\n\nThe brothers now stepped forth in quick succession, but Grasshopper\nhaving got his blood up, and limbered himself by exercise, soon\ndispatched the three--sending one this way, another that, and the third\nstraight up into the air, so high that he never came down again.\n\nIt was time for the old Manito to be frightened, and dreadfully\nfrightened he got, and ran for his life, which was the very worst thing\nhe could have done; for Grasshopper, of all his gifts of strength, was\nmost noted for his speed of foot. The old Manito set off, and for mere\nsport's sake, Grasshopper pursued him. Sometimes he was before the\nwicked old spirit, sometimes he was flying over his head, and then he\nwould keep along at a steady trot just at his heels, till he had blown\nall the breath out of the old knave's body.\n\nMeantime his friend, the pipe-bearer, and the twenty young warriors,\ncried out:\n\n\"Ha, ha, ah! ha, ha, ah! Grasshopper is driving him before him!\"\n\nThe Manito only turned his head now and then to look back. At length,\nwhen he was tired of the sport, to be rid of him, Grasshopper, with a\ngentle application of his foot, sent the wicked old Manito whirling away\nthrough the air, in which he made a great number of the most curious\nturn-overs in the world, till he came to alight, when it so happened\nthat he fell astride of an old bull-buffalo, grazing in a distant\npasture, who straightway set off with him at a long gallop, and the old\nManito has not been heard of to this day.\n\nThe warriors and the pipe-bearer and Grasshopper set to work and burned\ndown the lodge of the wicked spirits, and then when they came to look\nabout, they saw that the ground was strewn on all sides with human bones\nbleaching in the sun; these were the unhappy victims of the Manitoes.\nGrasshopper then took three arrows from his girdle, and after having\nperformed a ceremony to the Great Spirit, he shot one into the air,\ncrying, \"You are lying down; rise up, or you will be hit!\"\n\nThe bones all moved to one place. He shot the second arrow, repeating\nthe same words, when each bone drew toward its fellow-bone; the third\narrow brought forth to life the whole multitude of people who had been\nkilled by the Manitoes. Grasshopper conducted the crowd to the chief of\nthe village, who had proved his friend, and gave them into his hands.\nThe chief was there with his counselors, to whom he spoke apart.\n\n\"Who is more worthy,\" said the chief to Grasshopper, \"to rule than you.\n_You_ alone can defend them.\"\n\nGrasshopper thanked him, and told him that he was in search of more\nadventures. \"I have done some things,\" said little Grasshopper, rather\nboastfully, \"and I think I can do some more.\"\n\nThe chief still urged him, but he was eager to go, and naming\npipe-bearer to tarry and take his place, he set out again on his\ntravels, promising that he would some time or other come back and see\nthem.\n\n\"Ho! ho! ho!\" they all cried. \"Come back again and see us!\" He renewed\nhis promise that he would; and then set out alone.\n\nAfter traveling some time he came to a great lake, and on looking about\nhe discovered a very large otter on an island. He thought to himself,\n\"His skin will make me a fine pouch.\" And he immediately drew up at\nlong shots, and drove an arrow into his side. He waded into the lake,\nand with some difficulty dragged him ashore, and up a hill overlooking\nthe lake.\n\nAs soon as Grasshopper got the otter into the sunshine where it was\nwarm, he skinned him, and threw the carcass some distance off, thinking\nthe war-eagle would come, and that he should have a chance to secure his\nfeathers as ornaments for the head; for Grasshopper began to be proud,\nand was disposed to display himself.\n\nHe soon heard a rushing noise as of a loud wind, but could see nothing.\nPresently a large eagle dropped, as if from the air, upon the otter's\ncarcass. Grasshopper drew his bow, and the arrow passed through under\nboth of his wings. The bird made a convulsive flight upward, with such\nforce that the cumbrous body was borne up several feet from the ground;\nbut with its claws deeply fixed, the heavy otter brought the eagle back\nto the earth. Grasshopper possessed himself of a handful of the prime\nfeathers, crowned his head with the trophy, and set off in high spirits\non the look out for something new.\n\nAfter walking awhile, he came to a body of water which flooded the trees\non its banks--it was a lake made by beavers. Taking his station on the\nraised dam where the stream escaped, he watched to see whether any of\nthe beavers would show themselves. A head presently peeped out of the\nwater to see who it was that disturbed them.\n\n\"My friend,\" said Grasshopper, in his most persuasive manner, \"could you\nnot oblige me by turning me into a beaver like yourself. Nothing would\nplease me so much as to make your acquaintance, I can assure you;\" for\nGrasshopper was curious to know how these watery creatures lived, and\nwhat kind of notions they had.\n\n\"I do not know,\" replied the beaver, who was rather short-nosed and\nsurly. \"I will go and ask the others. Meanwhile stay where you are, if\nyou please.\"\n\n\"To be sure,\" answered Grasshopper, stealing down the bank several paces\nas soon as the beaver's back was turned.\n\nPresently there was a great splashing of the water, and all the beavers\nshowed their heads, and looked warily to where he stood, to see if he\nwas armed; but he had knowingly left his bow and arrows in a hollow tree\nat a short distance.\n\nAfter a long conversation, which they conducted in a whisper so that\nGrasshopper could not catch a word, strain his ears as he would, they\nall advanced in a body toward the spot where he stood; the chief\napproaching the nearest, and lifting his head highest out of the water.\n\n\"Can you not,\" said Grasshopper, noticing that they waited for him to\nspeak first, \"turn me into a beaver? I wish to live among you.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered their chief; \"lie down.\" And Grasshopper in a moment\nfound himself a beaver, and was gliding into the water, when a thought\nseemed to strike him, and he paused at the edge of the lake. \"I am very\nsmall,\" he said, to the beaver, in a sorrowful tone. \"You must make me\nlarge,\" he said; for Grasshopper was terribly ambitious, and wanted\nalways to be the first person in every company. \"Larger than any of you;\nin my present size it's hardly worth my while to go into the water.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" said they. \"By and by, when we get into the lodge it shall\nbe done.\"\n\nThey all dived into the lake, and in passing great heaps of limbs and\nlogs at the bottom, he asked the use of them; they answered, \"It is for\nour winter's provisions.\"\n\nWhen they all got into the lodge their number was about one hundred. The\nlodge was large and warm.\n\n\"Now we will make you large,\" said they. \"Will _that_ do?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered; for he found that he was ten times the size of the\nlargest.\n\n\"You need not go out,\" said the others; \"we will bring you food into\nthe lodge, and you will be our chief.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Grasshopper answered. He thought, \"I will stay here and\ngrow fat at their expense.\" But, soon after, one ran into the lodge, out\nof breath, crying out, \"We are visited by the Indians!\"\n\nAll huddled together in great fear. The water began to lower, for the\nhunters had broken down the dam, and they soon heard them on the roof of\nthe lodge, breaking it up. Out jumped all the beavers into the water,\nand so escaped.\n\nGrasshopper tried to follow them; but, unfortunately, to gratify his\nambition, they had made him so large that he could not creep out at the\nhole. He tried to call them back, but either they did not hear or would\nnot attend to him; he worried himself so much in searching for a door to\nlet him out, that he looked like a great bladder, swollen and blistering\nin the sun, and the sweat stood out upon his forehead in knobs and huge\nbubbles.\n\nAlthough he heard and understood every word that the hunters spoke--and\nsome of their expressions suggested terrible ideas--he could not turn\nhimself back into a man. He had chosen to be a beaver, and a beaver he\nmust be. One of the hunters, a prying little man, with a single lock\ndangling over one eye--this inquisitive little fellow put his head in at\nthe top of the lodge. \"_Ty-au!_\" cried he. \"_Tut ty-au!_\nMe-shau-mik--king of beavers is in.\" Whereupon the whole crowd of\nhunters began upon him with their clubs, and knocked his scull about\nuntil it was no harder than a morass in the middle of summer.\nGrasshopper thought as well as ever he did, although he was a beaver;\nand he felt that he was in a rather foolish scrape, inhabiting the\ncarcass of a beaver.\n\nPresently seven or eight of the hunters hoisted his body upon long\npoles, and marched away home with him. As they went, he reflected in\nthis manner: \"What will become of me? My ghost or shadow will not die\nafter they get me to their lodges.\"\n\nInvitations were immediately sent out for a grand feast; but as soon as\nhis body got cold, his soul being uncomfortable in a house without heat,\nflew off.\n\nHaving reassumed his mortal shape, Grasshopper found himself standing\nnear a prairie. After walking a distance, he saw a herd of elk feeding.\nHe admired their apparent ease and enjoyment of life, and thought there\ncould be nothing more pleasant than the liberty of running about and\nfeeding on the prairies. He had been a water animal and now he wished to\nbecome a land animal, to learn what passed in an elk's head as he roved\nabout. He asked them if they could not turn him into one of themselves.\n\n\"Yes,\" they answered, after a pause. \"Get down on your hands and feet.\"\n\nHe obeyed their directions, and forthwith found himself to be an elk.\n\n\"I want big horns, big feet,\" said he; \"I wish to be very large;\" for\nall the conceit and vain-glory had not been knocked out of Grasshopper,\neven by the sturdy thwacks of the hunters' clubs.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" they answered. \"There,\" exerting their power, \"are you big\nenough?\"\n\n\"That will do,\" he replied; for, looking into a lake hard by,\nGrasshopper saw that he was very large. They spent their time in grazing\nand running to and fro; but what astonished Grasshopper, although he\noften lifted up his head and directed his eyes that way, he could never\nsee the stars, which he had so admired as a human being.\n\nBeing rather cold, one day, Grasshopper went into a thick wood for\nshelter, whither he was followed by most of the herd. They had not been\nlong there when some elks from behind passed the others like a strong\nwind, calling out:\n\n\"The hunters are after us!\"\n\nAll took the alarm, and off they ran, Grasshopper with the rest.\n\n\"Keep out on the plains,\" they said. But it was too late to profit by\nthis advice, for they had already got entangled in the thick woods.\nGrasshopper soon scented the hunters, who were closely following his\ntrail for they had left all the others and were making after him in\nfull cry. He jumped furiously, dashed through the underwood, and broke\ndown whole groves of saplings in his flight. But this only made it the\nharder for him to get on, such a huge and lusty elk was he by his own\nrequest.\n\nPresently, as he dashed past an open space, he felt an arrow in his\nside. They could not well miss it, he presented so wide a mark to the\nshot. He bounded over trees under the smart, but the shafts clattered\nthicker and thicker at his ribs, and at last one entered his heart. He\nfell to the ground, and heard the whoop of triumph sounded by the\nhunters. On coming up, they looked on the carcass with astonishment, and\nwith their hands up to their mouths, exclaimed: \"_Ty-au! ty-au!_\"\n\nThere were about sixty in the party, who had come out on a special hunt,\nas one of their number had, the day before, observed his large tracks on\nthe plains. When they had skinned him his flesh grew cold, and his\nspirit took its flight from the dead body, and Grasshopper found himself\nin human shape, with a bow and arrows.\n\nBut his passion for adventure was not yet cooled; for on coming to a\nlarge lake with a sandy beach, he saw a large flock of brant, and\nspeaking to them in the brant language, he requested them to make a\nbrant of him.\n\n\"Yes,\" they replied, at once; for the brant is a bird of a very obliging\ndisposition.\n\n\"But I want to be very large,\" he said. There was no end to the ambition\nof little Grasshopper.\n\n\"Very well,\" they answered; and he soon found himself a large brant, all\nthe others standing gazing in astonishment at his great size.\n\n\"You must fly as leader,\" they said.\n\n\"No,\" answered Grasshopper; \"I will fly behind.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" rejoined the brant; \"one thing more we have to say to you,\nbrother Grasshopper\" (for he had told them his name). \"You must be\ncareful, in flying, not to look down, for something may happen to you.\"\n\n\"Well, it is so,\" said he; and soon the flock rose up into the air, for\nthey were bound north. They flew very fast--he behind. One day, while\ngoing with a strong wind, and as swift as their wings could flap, as\nthey passed over a large village the Indians raised a great shout on\nseeing them, particularly on Grasshopper's account, for his wings were\nbroader than two large mats. The village people made such a frightful\nnoise that he forgot what had been told him about looking down. They\nwere now scudding along as swift as arrows; and as soon as he brought\nhis neck in and stretched it down to look at the shouters, his huge tail\nwas caught by the wind, and over and over he was blown. He tried to\nright himself, but without success, for he had no sooner got out of one\nheavy air-current than he fell into another, which treated him even more\nrudely than that he had escaped from. Down, down he went, making more\nturns than he wished for, from a height of several miles.\n\nThe first moment he had to look about him, Grasshopper, in the shape of\na big brant, was aware that he was jammed into a large hollow tree. To\nget backward or forward was out of the question, and there, in spite of\nhimself, was Grasshopper forced to tarry till his brant life was ended\nby starvation, when, his spirit being at liberty, he was once more a\nhuman being.\n\nAs he journeyed on in search of further adventures, Grasshopper came to\na lodge in which were two old men, with heads white from extreme age.\nThey were very fine old men to look at. There was such sweetness and\ninnocence in their features that Grasshopper would have enjoyed himself\nvery much at their lodge, if he had had no other entertainment than such\nas the gazing upon the serene and happy faces of the two innocent old\nmen with heads white from extreme age afforded.\n\nThey treated him well, and he made known to them that he was going back\nto his village, his friends and people, whereupon the two white-headed\nold men very heartily wished him a good journey and abundance of\ncomfort in seeing his friends once more. They even arose, old and infirm\nas they were, and tottering with exceeding difficulty to the door, were\nat great pains to point out to him the exact course he should take; and\nthey called his attention to the circumstance that it was much shorter\nand more direct than he would have taken himself. Ah! what merry\ndeceivers were these two old men with very white heads.\n\nGrasshopper, with blessings showered on him until he was fairly out of\nsight, set forth with good heart. He thought he heard loud laughter\nresounding after him in the direction of the lodge of the two old men;\nbut it could not have been the two old men, for they were, certainly,\ntoo old to laugh.\n\nHe walked briskly all day, and at night he had the satisfaction of\nreaching a lodge in all respects like that which he had left in the\nmorning. There were two fine old men, and his treatment was in every\nparticular the same, even down to the parting blessing and the laughter\nthat followed him as he went his way.\n\nAfter walking the third day, and coming to a lodge the same as before,\nhe was satisfied from the bearings of the course he had taken that he\nhad been journeying in a circle, and by a notch which he had cut in the\ndoor-post that these were the same two old men, all along; and that,\ndespite their innocent faces and their very white heads, they had been\nplaying him a sorry trick.\n\n\"Who are you,\" said Grasshopper, \"to treat me so? Come forth, I say.\"\n\nThey were compelled to obey his summons, lest, in his anger, he should\ntake their lives; and they appeared on the outside of the lodge.\n\n\"We must have a little trial of speed, now,\" said Grasshopper.\n\n\"A race?\" they asked. \"We are very old; we can not run.\"\n\n\"We will see,\" said Grasshopper; whereupon he set them out upon the\nroad, and then he gave them a gentle push, which put them in motion.\nThen he pushed them again--harder--harder--until they got under fine\nheadway, when he gave each of them an astounding shock with his foot,\nand off they flew at a great rate, round and round the course; and such\nwas the magic virtue of the foot of Grasshopper, that no object once set\nagoing by it could by any possibility stop; so that, for aught we know\nto the contrary, the two innocent, white-headed, merry old men, are\ntrotting with all their might and main around the circle in which they\nbeguiled Grasshopper, to this day.\n\nContinuing his journey, Grasshopper, although his head was warm and\nbuzzing with all sorts of schemes, did not know exactly what to do until\nhe came to a big lake. He mounted a high hill to try and see to the\nother side, but he could not. He then made a canoe, and sailed forth.\nThe water was very clear--a transparent blue--and he saw that it\nabounded with fish of a rare and delicate complexion. This circumstance\ninspired him with a wish to return to his village, and to bring his\npeople to live near this beautiful lake.\n\nToward evening, coming to a woody island, he encamped and ate the fish\nhe had speared, and they proved to be as comforting to the stomach as\nthey were pleasing to the eye. The next day Grasshopper returned to the\nmain land, and as he wandered along the shore he espied at a distance\nthe celebrated giant, Manabozho, who is a bitter enemy of Grasshopper,\nand loses no opportunity to stop him on his journeyings and to thwart\nhis plans.\n\nAt first it occurred to Grasshopper to have a trial of wits with the\ngiant, but, on second thoughts, he said to himself, \"I am in a hurry\nnow; I will see him another time.\"\n\nWith no further mischief than raising a great whirlwind of dust, which\ncaused Manabozho to rub his eyes severely, Grasshopper quietly slipped\nout of the way; and he made good speed withal, for in much less time\nthan you could count half the stars in the sky of a winter night, he had\nreached home.\n\nHis return was welcomed with a great hubbub of feasting and songs; and\nhe had scarcely set foot in the village before he had invitations to\ntake pot-luck at different lodges, which would have lasted him the rest\nof his natural life. Pipe-bearer, who had some time before given up the\ncares of a ruler, and fallen back upon his native place, fairly danced\nwith joy at the sight of Grasshopper, who, not to be outdone, dandled\nhim affectionately in his arms, by casting him up and down in the air\nhalf a mile or so, till little Pipe-bearer had no breath left in his\nbody to say that he was happy to see Grasshopper home again.\n\nGrasshopper gave the village folks a lively account of his adventures,\nand when he came to the blue lake and the abundant fish, he dwelt upon\ntheir charms with such effect that they agreed, with one voice, that it\nmust be a glorious place to live in, and if he would show them the way\nthey would shift camp and settle there at once.\n\nHe not only showed them the way, but bringing his wonderful strength and\nspeed of foot to bear, in less than half a day he had transported the\nwhole village, with its children, women, tents, and implements of war,\nto the new water-side.\n\nHere, for a time, Grasshopper appeared to be content, until one day a\nmessage came for him in the shape of a bear, who said that their king\nwished to see him immediately at his village. Grasshopper was ready in\nan instant; and mounting upon the messenger's back, off he ran. Toward\nevening they climbed a high mountain, and came to a cave where the\nbear-king lived. He was a very large person; and puffing with fat and a\nsense of his own importance, he made Grasshopper welcome by inviting him\nin to his lodge.\n\nAs soon as it was proper, he spoke, and said that he had sent for him on\nhearing that he was the chief who was moving a large party toward his\nhunting-grounds.\n\n\"You must know,\" said the bear-king with a terrible growl, \"that you\nhave no right there, and I wish you would leave the country with your\nparty, or else the strongest force will take possession. Take notice.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied Grasshopper, going toward the door, for he\nsuspected that the king of the bears was preparing to give him a hug.\n\"So be it.\"\n\nHe wished to gain time, and to consult his people; for he had seen as he\ncame along that the bears were gathering in great force on the side of\nthe mountain. He also made known to the bear-king that he would go back\nthat night that his people might be put in immediate possession of his\nroyal behest.\n\nThe bear-king replied that Grasshopper might do as he pleased, but that\none of his young men was at his command; and, jumping nimbly on his\nback, Grasshopper rode home.\n\nHe assembled the people, and ordered the bear's head off, to be hung\noutside of the village, that the bear-spies, who were lurking in the\nneighborhood, might see it and carry the news to their chief.\n\nThe next morning, by break of day, Grasshopper had all of his young\nwarriors under arms and ready for a fight. About the middle of the\nafternoon the bear war-party came in sight, led on by the pursy king,\nand making a tremendous noise. They advanced on their hind-legs, and\nmade a very imposing display of their teeth and eyeballs.\n\nThe bear-chief himself came forward, and with a majestic wave of his\nright hand, said that he did not wish to shed the blood of the young\nwarriors; but that if Grasshopper, who appeared to be the head of the\nwar-party, consented, they two would have a race, and the winner should\nkill the losing chief, and all his young men should be servants to the\nother.\n\nGrasshopper agreed, of course--how little Pipe-bearer, who stood by,\ngrinned as they came to terms!--and they started to run before the whole\ncompany of warriors who stood in a circle looking on.\n\nAt first there was a prospect that Grasshopper would be badly beaten;\nfor although he kept crowding the great fat bear-king till the sweat\ntrickled from his shaggy ears, he never seemed to be able to push past\nhim. By and by, Grasshopper, going through a number of the most\nextraordinary maneuvers in the world, raised about the great fat\nbear-king such eddies and whirlwinds with the sand, and so danced about,\nbefore and after him, that he at last got fairly bewildered, and cried\nout for them to come and take him off. Out of sight before him in\nreaching the goal, Grasshopper only waited for the bear-king to come up,\nwhen he drove an arrow straight through him, and ordered them to take\nthe body away and make it ready for supper; as he was getting hungry.\n\nHe then directed all of the other bears to fall to and help prepare the\nfeast; for in fulfillment of the agreement they had become servants.\nWith many wry faces the bears, although bound to act becomingly in their\nnew character, according to the forfeit, served up the body of their\nlate royal master; and in doing this they fell, either by accident or\ndesign, into many curious mistakes.\n\n[Illustration: THE BEAR SERVANTS. Page 59.]\n\nWhen the feast came to be served up, and they were summoned to be in\nattendance, one of them, a sprightly young fellow of an inquisitive turn\nof mind, was found upon the roof of the lodge, with his head half way\ndown the smoke-hole, with a view to learn what they were to have for\ndinner. Another, a middle-aged bear with very long arms, who was put in\ncharge of the children in the character of nurse, squeezed three or four\nof the most promising young papooses to death, while the mothers were\noutside to look after the preparations; and another, when he should\nhave been waiting at the back of his master, had climbed a shady tree\nand was indulging in his afternoon nap. And when, at last, the dinner\nwas ready to be served, they came tumbling in with the dishes, heels\nover head, one after the other, so that one half of the feast was spread\nupon the ground, and the other half deposited out of doors, on the other\nside of the lodge.\n\nAfter a while, however, by strict discipline, and threatening to cut off\ntheir provisions, the bear-servants were brought into tolerable control.\n\nYet Grasshopper, with his ever restless disposition, was uneasy; and,\nhaving done so many wonderful things, he resolved upon a strict and\nthorough reform in all the affairs of the village. To prevent future\ndifficulty, he determined to adopt new regulations between the bears and\ntheir masters.\n\nWith this view, he issued an edict that henceforward the bears should\neat at the first table, and that the Indians were to wait upon them;\nthat in all public processions of an honorable character the bears\nshould go first; and that when any fighting was to be done, the Indians\nshould have the privilege reserved of receiving the first shots. A\nspecial exemption was made in behalf of Grasshopper's favorite and\nconfidential adviser, the Pipe-bearer (who had been very busy in\nprivate, recommending the new order of things), who was to be allowed to\nsit at the head of the feast, and to stay at home with the old women in\nthe event of battle.\n\nHaving seen his orders strictly enforced, and the rights of the bears\nover the Indians fairly established, Grasshopper fixed his mind upon\nfurther adventures. He determined to go abroad for a time, and having an\nold score to settle with Manabozho, he set out with a hope of soon\nfalling in with that famous giant. Grasshopper was a blood relation of\nDais Imid, or He of the Little Shell, and had heard of what had passed\nbetween that giant and his kinsman.\n\nAfter wandering a long time he came to the lodge of Manabozho, who was\nabsent. He thought he must play him a trick; and so he turned every\nthing in the lodge upside down, and killed his birds, of which there was\nan extraordinary attendance, for Manabozho is master of the fowls of the\nair, and this was the appointed morning for them to call and pay their\ncourt to him. Among the number was a raven, accounted the meanest of\nbirds, which Grasshopper killed and hung up by the neck, to insult him.\n\nHe then went on till he came to a very high point of rocks running out\ninto the lake, from the top of which he could see the country, back as\nfar as the eye could reach. While sitting there, Manabozho's mountain\nchickens flew around and past him in great numbers. Out of mere spite to\ntheir master, Grasshopper shot them by the score, for his arrows were\nvery sure and the birds very plenty, and he amused himself by throwing\nthe birds down the rocks. At length a wary bird cried out:\n\n\"Grasshopper is killing us; go and tell our father.\"\n\nAway sped a delegation of the birds which were the quickest of wing, and\nManabozho soon made his appearance on the plain below. Grasshopper, who,\nwhen he is in the wrong, is no match for Manabozho, made his escape on\nthe other side. Manabozho, who had in two or three strides reached the\ntop of the mountain, cried out:\n\n\"You are a rogue. The earth is not so large but I can get up to you.\"\n\nOff ran Grasshopper and Manabozho after him. The race was sharp; and\nsuch leaps and strides as they made! Over hills and prairies, with all\nhis speed, went Grasshopper, and Manabozho hard upon him. Grasshopper\nhad some mischievous notions still left in his head which he thought\nmight befriend him. He knew that Manabozho was under a spell to restore\nwhatever he, Grasshopper, destroyed. Forthwith he stopped and climbed a\nlarge pine-tree, stripped off its beautiful green foliage, threw it to\nthe winds, and then went on.\n\nWhen Manabozho reached the spot, the tree addressed him: \"Great chief,\"\nsaid the tree, \"will you give my life again? Grasshopper has killed\nme.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Manabozho, who, as quickly as he could, gathered the\nscattered leaves and branches, renewed its beauty with his breath, and\nset off. Although Grasshopper in the same way compelled Manabozho to\nlose time in repairing the hemlock, the sycamore, cedar, and many other\ntrees, the giant did not falter, but pushing briskly forward, was fast\novertaking him, when Grasshopper happened to see an elk. And asking him,\nfor old acquaintance' sake, to take him on his back, the elk did so, and\nfor some time he made good headway, but still Manabozho was in sight.\n\nHe was fast gaining upon him, when Grasshopper threw himself off the\nelk's back; and striking a great sandstone rock near the path, he broke\nit into pieces, and scattered the grains in a thousand directions; for\nthis was nearly his last hope of escape. Manabozho was so close upon him\nat this place that he had almost caught him; but the foundation of the\nrock cried out,\n\n\"Haye! Ne-me-sho, Grasshopper has spoiled me. Will you not restore me to\nlife?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Manabozho. He re-established the rock in all its\nstrength.\n\nHe then pushed on in pursuit, and had got so near to Grasshopper as to\nput out his arm to seize him; but Grasshopper dodged him, and, as his\nlast chance, he immediately raised such a dust and commotion by\nwhirlwinds, as made the trees break and the sand and leaves dance in the\nair. Again and again Manabozho stretched his arm, but he escaped him at\nevery turn, and kept up such a tumult of dust that he dashed into a\nhollow tree which had been blown down, changed himself into a snake, and\ncrept out at the roots just in time to save his life; for at that moment\nManabozho, who had the power of lightning, struck it, and it was strewn\nabout in little pieces.\n\nAgain Grasshopper was in human shape, and Manabozho was pressing him\nhard. At a distance he saw a very high bluff of rocks jutting out into a\nlake, and he ran for the foot of the precipice which was abrupt and\nelevated. As he came near, to his surprise and great relief, the Manito\nof the rock opened his door and told Grasshopper to come in. The door\nwas no sooner closed than Manabozho knocked.\n\n\"Open it!\" he cried, with a loud voice. The Manito was afraid of him;\nbut he said to Grasshopper, \"Since I have taken you as my guest, I would\nsooner die with you than open the door.\"\n\n\"Open it!\" Manabozho again cried, in a louder voice than before.\n\nThe Manito kept silent. Manabozho, however, made no attempt to open it\nby force. He waited a few moments.\n\n\"Very well,\" he said; \"I give you till morning to live.\"\n\nGrasshopper trembled, for he thought his last hour had come; but the\nManito bade him to be of good cheer.\n\nWhen the night came on the clouds were thick and black, and as they were\ntorn open by the lightning, such discharges of thunder were never heard\nas bellowed forth. The clouds advanced slowly and wrapped the earth\nabout with their vast shadows as in a huge cloak. All night long the\nclouds gathered, and the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, and\nabove all could be heard Manabozho muttering vengeance upon poor little\nGrasshopper.\n\n\"You have led a very foolish kind of life, Grasshopper,\" said his friend\nthe Manito.\n\n\"I know it--I know it!\" Grasshopper answered.\n\n\"You had great gifts of strength awarded to you,\" said the Manito.\n\n\"I am aware of it,\" replied Grasshopper.\n\n\"Instead of employing it for useful purposes, and for the good of your\nfellow-creatures, you have done nothing since you became a man but raise\nwhirlwinds on the highways, leap over trees, break whatever you met in\npieces, and perform a thousand idle pranks.\"\n\nGrasshopper, with great penitence, confessed that his friend the Manito\nspoke but too truly; and at last his entertainer, with a still more\nserious manner, said:\n\n\"Grasshopper, you still have your gift of strength. Dedicate it to the\ngood of mankind. Lay all of these wanton and vain-glorious notions out\nof your head. In a word, be as good as you are strong.\"\n\n\"I will,\" answered Grasshopper. \"My heart is changed; I see the error of\nmy ways.\"\n\nBlack and stormy as it had been all night, when morning came the sun was\nshining, the air was soft and sweet as the summer down and the blown\nrose; and afar off upon the side of a mountain sat Manabozho, his head\nupon his knees, languid and cast down in spirit. His power was gone, for\nnow Grasshopper was in the right, and he could touch him no more.\n\nWith many thanks, Grasshopper left the good Manito, taking the nearest\nway home to his own people.\n\nAs he passed on, he fell in with an old man who was wandering about the\ncountry in search of some place which he could not find. As soon as he\nlearned his difficulty, Grasshopper, placing the old man upon his back,\nhurried away, and in a short hour's dispatch of foot set him down among\nhis own kindred, of whom he had been in quest.\n\nLoosing no time, Grasshopper next came to an open plain, where a small\nnumber of men stood at bay, and on the very point of being borne down\nby great odds, in a force of armed warriors, fierce of aspect and of\nprodigious strength. When Grasshopper saw this unequal struggle, rushing\nforward he seized a long bare pole, and, wielding it with his whole\nforce, he drove the fierce warriors back; and, laying about him on every\nhand, he soon sent them a thousand ways in great haste, and in a very\nsore plight.\n\nWithout tarrying to receive the thanks of those to whom he had brought\nthis timely relief, he made his utmost speed, and by the close of the\nafternoon he had come in sight of his own village. What were his\nsurprise and horror, as he approached nearer, to discover the bears in\nexcellent case and flesh, seated at lazy leisure in the trees, looking\nidly on while his brother Indians, for their pastime, were dancing a\nfantastic and wearisome dance, in the course of which they were\nfrequently compelled to go upon all fours and bow their heads in\nprofound obeisance to their bear-masters in the trees.\n\nAs he drew nearer, his heart sunk within him to see how starved, and\nhollow-eyed, and woe-begone they were; and his horror was at its height\nwhen, as he entered his own lodge, he beheld his favorite and friend,\nthe Pipe-bearer, also on all fours, smoothing the floor with the palms\nof his hands to make it a comfortable sitting-place for the bears on\ntheir return from the dance.\n\nIt did not take Grasshopper a long time to resolve what he should do. He\nimmediately resumed power in the village, bestowed a sound cudgeling\nupon the bears, and sent them off to live in the mountains, among their\nown people, as bears should; restored to the people all their rights;\ngave them plenty to eat and drink; exerting his great strength in\nhunting, in rebuilding their lodges, keeping in check their enemies, and\ndoing all the good he could to every body.\n\nPeace and plenty soon shone and showered upon the spot; and, never once\nthinking of all his wild and wanton frolics, the people blessed\nGrasshopper for all his kindness, and sincerely prayed that his name\nmight be held in honor for a thousand years to come, as no doubt it\nwill.\n\nLittle Pipe-bearer stood by Grasshopper in all his course, and admired\nhis ways as much now that he had taken to being orderly and useful, as\nin the old times, when he was walking a mile a minute, and in mere\nwantonness bringing home whole forests in his arms for fire-wood, in\nmidsummer.\n\nIt was a great old age to which Grasshopper lived, and when at last he\ncame to die, there was not a dry eye in all that part of the world where\nhe spent his latter days.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE TWO JEEBI.\n\n\nThere lived a hunter in the North, who had a wife and one child. His\nlodge stood far off in the forest, several days' journey from any other.\nHe spent his days in hunting, and his evenings in relating to his wife\nthe incidents that had befallen him. As game was very abundant, he found\nno difficulty in killing as much as they wanted. Just in all his acts,\nhe lived a peaceful and happy life.\n\nOne evening during the winter season, it chanced that he remained out\nlonger than usual, and his wife began to fear that some accident had\nbefallen him. It was already dark. She listened attentively, and at last\nheard the sound of approaching footsteps.\n\nNot doubting that it was her husband, she went to the door and beheld\ntwo strange females. She bade them enter, and invited them to remain.\nShe observed that they were total strangers in the country. There was\nsomething so peculiar in their looks, air and manner, that she was\ndisturbed by their presence. They would not come near to the fire. They\nsat in a remote part of the lodge, shy and taciturn, and drew their\ngarments about them in such a manner as nearly to hide their faces. So\nfar as she could judge, they were pale, hollow-eyed, and long-visaged,\nvery thin and emaciated.\n\nThere was but little light in the lodge, as the fire was low, and its\nfitful flashes, by disclosing their white faces and then dropping them\nin sudden darkness, served rather to increase than to dispel her fears.\n\n\"Merciful Spirit!\" cried a voice from the opposite part of the lodge;\n\"there are two corpses clothed with garments!\"\n\nThe hunter's wife turned around, but seeing nobody save her little\nchild, staring across from under his blanket, she said to herself, \"The\nboy can not speak; the sounds were but the gusts of wind.\" She trembled,\nand was ready to sink to the earth.\n\nHer husband at this moment entered, and in some measure relieved her\nalarm. He threw down the carcass of a large fat deer.\n\n\"Behold what a fine and fat animal!\" cried the mysterious females; and\nthey immediately ran and pulled off pieces of the whitest fat, which\nthey greedily devoured.\n\nThe hunter and his wife looked on with astonishment, but remained\nsilent. They supposed that their guests might have been stricken with\nfamine.\n\nThe next day, however, the same unusual conduct was repeated. The\nstrange females again tore off the fat and devoured it with eagerness.\nThe third day, the hunter thought that he would anticipate their wants\nby tying up a share of the hunt, and placing it apart for their express\nuse. They accepted it, but still appeared dissatisfied, and went to the\nwife's portion and tore off more.\n\nThe hunter and his wife were surprised at such rude and unaccountable\nconduct, but they remained silent, for they respected their guests, and\nhad observed that they had been attended with marked good luck during\nthe sojourn of these mysterious visitors in their lodge.\n\nIn other respects, the deportment of the females was strictly\nunexceptionable. They were modest, distant, and silent. They never\nuttered a word during the day. At night they would occupy themselves in\nprocuring wood, which they carried to the lodge, and then, restoring the\nimplements exactly where they had found them, resume their places\nwithout speaking. They were never known to stay out until daylight. They\nnever laughed or jested.\n\nThe winter was nearly passed away, when, one evening, the hunter was\nabroad later than usual. The moment he came in and laid down his day's\nhunt, as was his custom, before his wife, the two females seized upon\nthe deer and began to tear off the fat in so unceremonious a way that\nher anger was excited. She constrained herself, however, in a good\ndegree, but she could not conceal her feelings, though she said but\nlittle.\n\nThe strange guests observed the state of her mind, and they became\nuneasy, and withdrew further still into the remote gloom of the lodge.\nThe good hunter saw the eclipse that was darkening the quiet of his\nlodge, and carefully inquired of its cause; but his wife denied having\nused any words of complaining or reproach.\n\nThey retired to their couches, and the hunter tried to compose himself\nto sleep, but could not, for the sighs and sobs of the two females were\nincessant. He arose on his couch and addressed them as follows:\n\n\"Tell me,\" said he, \"what is it that gives you pain of mind and causes\nyou to bemoan your presence here. Has my wife given you offense, or\ntrespassed upon the rights of hospitality?\"\n\nThey replied in the negative. \"We have been treated by you with kindness\nand affection. It is not for any slight we have received that we weep.\nOur mission is not to you only. We come from the other land to test\nmankind, and to try the sincerity of the living. Often we have heard the\nbereaved by death say that if the lost could be restored, they would\ndevote their lives to make them happy. We have been moved by the bitter\nlamentations which have reached the place of the departed, and have\ncome to make proof of the sincerity of those who have lost friends. We\nare your two dead sisters. Three moons were allotted us by the Master of\nLife to make the trial. More than half the time had been successfully\npassed, when the angry feelings of your wife indicated the irksomeness\nyou felt at our presence, and has made us resolve on our departure.\"\n\nThey continued to talk to the hunter and his wife, gave them\ninstructions as to a future life, and pronounced a blessing upon them.\n\n\"There is one point,\" they added, \"of which we wish to speak. You have\nthought our conduct very strange and rude in possessing ourselves of the\nchoicest parts of your hunt. _That_ was the point of trial selected to\nput you to. It is the wife's peculiar privilege. You love your wife. For\nanother to usurp what belongs to her, we know to be the severest test of\nher goodness of heart, and consequently of your temper and feelings. We\nknew your manners and customs, but we came to prove you, not by\ncomplying with but by violating them. Pardon us. We are the agents of\nhim who sent us. Peace to your dwelling. Farewell!\"\n\nWhen they ceased, total darkness filled the lodge. No object could be\nseen. The inmates heard the lodge-door open and shut, but they never saw\nmore of the Two Spirits.\n\nThe hunter found the success which they had promised. He became\ncelebrated in the chase, and never wanted for any thing. He had many\nchildren, all of whom grew up to manhood; and he who had lain in the\nlodge, a little child, while the Jeebi dwelt there, led them in all good\ndeeds, and health, peace, and long life were the rewards of the hunter's\nhospitality.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nOSSEO, THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR.\n\n\nThere once lived an Indian in the north who had ten daughters, all of\nwhom grew up to womanhood. They were noted for their beauty, especially\nOweenee, the youngest, who was very independent in her way of thinking.\nShe was a great admirer of romantic places, and spent much of her time\nwith the flowers and winds and clouds in the open air. Though the flower\nwere homely, if it was fragrant--though the wind were rough, if it was\nhealthful--and though the cloud were dark, if it embosomed the fruitful\nrain, she knew how, in spite of appearances, to acknowledge the good\nqualities concealed from the eye. She paid very little attention to the\nmany handsome young men who came to her father's lodge for the purpose\nof seeing her.\n\nHer elder sisters were all sought in marriage, and one after the other\nthey went off to dwell in the lodges of their husbands; but Oweenee was\ndeaf to all proposals of the kind. At last she married an old man\ncalled Osseo, who was scarcely able to walk, and who was too poor to\nhave things like others. The only property he owned in the world was the\nwalking-staff which he carried in his hand. Though thus poor and homely,\nOsseo was a devout and good man; faithful in all his duties, and\nobedient in all things to the Good Spirit. Of course they jeered and\nlaughed at Oweenee on all sides, but she seemed to be quite happy, and\nsaid to them, \"It is my choice and you will see in the end who has acted\nthe wisest.\"\n\nThey made a special mock of the walking-staff, and scarcely an hour in\nthe day passed that they had not some disparaging reference to it. Among\nthemselves they spoke of Osseo of the walking-staff, in derision, as the\nowner of the big woods, or the great timber-man.\n\n\"True,\" said Oweenee, \"it is but a simple stick; but as it supports the\nsteps of my husband, it is more precious to me than all the forests of\nthe north.\"\n\nA time came when the sisters, and their husbands, and their parents were\nall invited to a feast. As the distance was considerable, they doubted\nwhether Osseo, so aged and feeble, would be able to undertake the\njourney; but in spite of their friendly doubts, he joined them, and set\nout with a good heart.\n\nAs they walked along the path they could not help pitying their young\nand handsome sister who had such an unsuitable mate. She, however,\nsmiled upon Osseo, and kept with him by the way the same as if he had\nbeen the comeliest bridegroom in all the company. Osseo often stopped\nand gazed upward; but they could perceive nothing in the direction in\nwhich he looked, unless it was the faint glimmering of the evening star.\nThey heard him muttering to himself as they went along, and one of the\nelder sisters caught the words, \"Pity me, my father!\"\n\n\"Poor old man,\" said she; \"he is talking to his father. What a pity it\nis that he would not fall and break his neck, that our sister might have\na young husband.\"\n\nPresently as they came to a great rock where Osseo had been used to\nbreathe his morning and his evening prayer, the star emitted a brighter\nray, which shone directly in his face. Osseo, with a sharp cry, fell\ntrembling to the earth, where the others would have left him, but his\ngood wife raised him up, and he sprang forward on the path, and with\nsteps light as the reindeer he led the party, no longer decrepid and\ninfirm, but a beautiful young man. On turning around to look for his\nwife, behold she had become changed, at the same moment, into an aged\nand feeble woman, bent almost double, and walking with the staff which\nhe had cast aside.\n\nOsseo immediately joined her, and with looks of fondness and the\ntenderest regard, bestowed on her every endearing attention, and\nconstantly addressed her by the term of ne-ne-moosh-a, or my sweetheart.\n\nAs they walked along, whenever they were not gazing fondly in each\nother's face, they bent their looks on heaven, and a light, as if of\nfar-off stars, was in their eyes.\n\nOn arriving at the lodge of the hunter with whom they were to feast,\nthey found the banquet ready, and as soon as their entertainer had\nfinished his harangue--in which he told them his feasting was in honor\nof the Evening or Woman's Star--they began to partake of the portion\ndealt out, according to age and character, to each one of the guests.\nThe food was very delicious, and they were all happy but Osseo, who\nlooked at his wife, and then gazed upward, as if he was looking into the\nsubstance of the sky. Sounds were soon heard, as if from far-off voices\nin the air, and they became plainer and plainer, till he could clearly\ndistinguish some of the words.\n\n\"My son, my son,\" said the voice; \"I have seen your afflictions, and\npity your wants. I come to call you away from a scene that is stained\nwith blood and tears. The earth is full of sorrows. Wicked spirits, the\nenemies of mankind, walk abroad, and lie in wait to ensnare the children\nof the sky. Every night they are lifting their voices to the Power of\nEvil, and every day they make themselves busy in casting mischief in the\nhunter's path. You have long been their victim, but you shall be their\nvictim no more. The spell you were under is broken. Your evil genius is\novercome. I have cast him down by my superior strength, and it is this\nstrength I now exert for your happiness. Ascend, my son; ascend into the\nskies, and partake of the feast I have prepared for you in the stars,\nand bring with you those you love.\n\n\"The food set before you is enchanted and blessed. Fear not to partake\nof it. It is endowed with magic power to give immortality to mortals,\nand to change men to spirits. Your bowls and kettles shall no longer be\nwood and earth. The one shall become silver, and the other pure gold.\nThey shall shine like fire, and glisten like the most beautiful scarlet.\nEvery female shall also change her state and looks, and no longer be\ndoomed to laborious tasks. She shall put on the beauty of the\nstar-light, and become a shining bird of the air. She shall dance, and\nnot work. She shall sing, and not cry.\n\n\"My beams,\" continued the voice, \"shine faintly on your lodge, but they\nhave power to transform it into the lightness of the skies, and decorate\nit with the colors of the clouds. Come, Osseo, my son, and dwell no\nlonger on earth. Think strongly on my words, and look steadfastly at my\nbeams. My power is now at its height. Doubt not, delay not. It is the\nvoice of the Spirit of the Stars that calls you away to happiness and\ncelestial rest.\"\n\nThe words were intelligible to Osseo, but his companions thought them\nsome far-off sounds of music, or birds singing in the woods. Very soon\nthe lodge began to shake and tremble, and they felt it rising into the\nair. It was too late to run out, for they were already as high as the\ntops of the trees. Osseo looked around him as the lodge passed through\nthe topmost boughs, and behold! their wooden dishes were changed into\nshells of a scarlet color, the poles of the lodge to glittering rods of\nsilver, and the bark that covered them into the gorgeous wings of\ninsects.\n\nA moment more and his brothers and sisters, and their parents and\nfriends, were transformed into birds of various plumage. Some were jays,\nsome partridges and pigeons, and others gay singing birds, who hopped\nabout, displaying their many-colored feathers, and singing songs of\ncheerful note.\n\nBut his wife, Oweenee, still kept her earthly garb, and exhibited all\nthe indications of extreme old age. He again cast his eyes in the\ndirection of the clouds, and uttered the peculiar cry which had given\nhim the victory at the rock. In a moment the youth and beauty of his\nwife returned; her dingy garments assumed the shining appearance of\ngreen silk, and her staff was changed into a silver feather.\n\nThe lodge again shook and trembled, for they were now passing through\nthe uppermost clouds, and they immediately after found themselves in the\nEvening Star, the residence of Osseo's father.\n\n\"My son,\" said the old man, \"hang that cage of birds which you have\nbrought along in your hand at the door, and I will inform you why you\nand your wife have been sent for.\"\n\nOsseo obeyed, and then took his seat in the lodge.\n\n\"Pity was shown to you,\" resumed the King of the Star, \"on account of\nthe contempt of your wife's sister, who laughed at her ill fortune, and\nridiculed you while you were under the power of that wicked spirit whom\nyou overcame at the rock. That spirit lives in the next lodge, being the\nsmall star you see on the left of mine, and he has always felt envious\nof my family because we had greater power, and especially that we had\ncommitted to us the care of the female world. He failed in many attempts\nto destroy your brothers and sisters-in-law, but succeeded at last in\ntransforming yourself and your wife into decrepid old persons. You must\nbe careful and not let the light of his beams fall on you, while you are\nhere, for therein lies the power of his enchantment. A ray of light is\nthe bow and arrow he uses.\"\n\nOsseo lived happy and contented in the parental lodge, and in due time\nhis wife presented him with a son, who grew up rapidly, and in the very\nlikeness of Osseo himself. He was very quick and ready in learning\nevery thing that was done in his grandfather's dominions, but he wished\nalso to learn the art of hunting, for he had heard that this was a\nfavorite pursuit below. To gratify him, his father made him a bow and\narrows, and he then let the birds out of the cage that he might practice\nin shooting. In this pastime he soon became expert, and the very first\nday he brought down a bird; but when he went to pick it up, to his\namazement it was a beautiful young woman, with the arrow sticking in her\nbreast. It was one of his younger aunts.\n\nThe moment her blood fell upon the surface of that pure and spotless\nplanet, the charm was dissolved. The boy immediately found himself\nsinking, although he was partly upheld by something like wings until he\npassed through the lower clouds, and he then suddenly dropped upon a\nhigh, breezy island in a large lake. He was pleased, on looking up, to\nsee all his aunts and uncles following him in the form of birds, and he\nsoon discovered the silver lodge, with his father and mother,\ndescending, with its waving tassels fluttering like so many insects'\ngilded wings. It rested on the loftiest cliffs of the island, and there\nthey fixed their residence. They all resumed their natural shapes, but\nthey were diminished to the size of fairies; and as a mark of homage to\nthe King of the Evening Star, they never failed on every pleasant\nevening during the summer season to join hands and dance upon the top of\nthe rocks. These rocks were quickly observed by the Indians to be\ncovered, in moonlight evenings, with a larger sort of Ininees, or little\nmen, and were called Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong, or Little Spirits, and the\nisland is named from them to this day.\n\nTheir shining lodge can be seen in the summer evenings, when the moon\nbeams strongly on the pinnacles of the rocks; and the fishermen who go\nnear those high cliffs at night, have even heard the voices of the happy\nlittle dancers. And Osseo and his wife, as fondly attached to each other\nas ever, always lead the dance.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nGRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS.\n\n\nThere were six falcons living in a nest, five of whom were still too\nyoung to fly, when it so happened that both the parent birds were shot\nin one day. The young brood waited anxiously for their return; but night\ncame, and they were left without parents and without food.\n\nGray Eagle, the eldest, and the only one whose feathers had become stout\nenough to enable him to leave the nest, took his place at the head of\nthe family, and assumed the duty of stifling their cries and providing\nthe little household with food, in which he was very successful. But,\nafter a short time had passed, by an unlucky mischance, while out on a\nforaging excursion, he got one of his wings broken. This was the more to\nbe regretted, as the season had arrived when they were soon to go to a\nsouthern country to pass the winter, and the children were only waiting\nto become a little stronger and more expert on the wing to set out on\nthe journey.\n\nFinding that their elder brother did not return, they resolved to go in\nsearch of him. After beating up and down the country for the better part\nof a whole day, they at last found him, sorely wounded and unable to\nfly, lodged in the upper branches of a sycamore-tree.\n\n\"Brothers,\" said Gray Eagle, as soon as they were gathered around, and\nquestioned him as to the extent of his injuries, \"an accident has\nbefallen me, but let not this prevent your going to a warmer climate.\nWinter is rapidly approaching, and you can not remain here. It is better\nthat I alone should die, than for you all to suffer on my account.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" they replied, with one voice. \"We will not forsake you. We\nwill share your sufferings; we will abandon our journey, and take care\nof you as you did of us before we were able to take care of ourselves.\nIf the chill climate kills you, it shall kill us. Do you think we can so\nsoon forget your brotherly care, which has equaled a father's, and even\na mother's kindness? Whether you live or die, we will live or die with\nyou.\"\n\nThey sought out a hollow tree to winter in, and contrived to carry their\nwounded nest-mate thither; and before the rigor of the season had set\nin, they had, by diligence and economy, stored up food enough to carry\nthem through the winter months.\n\nTo make the provisions they had laid in last the better, it was agreed\namong them that two of their number should go south; leaving the other\nthree to watch over, feed, and protect their wounded brother. The\ntravelers set forth, sorry to leave home, but resolved that the first\npromise of spring should bring them back again. At the close of day, the\nthree brothers who remained, mounting to the very peak of the tree, and\nbearing Gray Eagle in their arms, watched them, as they vanished away\nsouthward, till their forms blended with the air and were wholly lost to\nsight.\n\nTheir next business was to set the household in order, and this, with\nthe judicious direction of Gray Eagle, who was propped up in a snug\nfork, with soft cushions of dry moss, they speedily accomplished. One of\nthe sisters, for there were two of these, took upon herself the charge\nof nursing Gray Eagle, preparing his food, bringing him water, and\nchanging his pillows when he grew tired of one position. She also looked\nto it that the house itself was kept in a tidy condition, and that the\npantry was supplied with food. The second brother was assigned the duty\nof physician, and he was to prescribe such herbs and other medicines as\nthe state of the health of Gray Eagle seemed to require. As the second\nbrother had no other invalid on his visiting-list, he devoted the time\nnot given to the cure of his patient, to the killing of game wherewith\nto stock the house-keeper's larder; so that, whatever he did, he was\nalways busy in the line of professional duty--killing or curing. On his\nhunting excursions, Doctor Falcon carried with him his youngest brother,\nwho, being a foolish young fellow, and inexperienced in the ways of the\nworld, it was not thought safe to trust alone.\n\nIn due time, what with good nursing, and good feeding, and good air,\nGray Eagle recovered from his wound, and he repaid the kindness of his\nbrothers by giving them such advice and instruction in the art of\nhunting as his age and experience qualified him to impart. As spring\nadvanced, they began to look about for the means of replenishing their\nstore-house, whose supplies were running low; and they were all quite\nsuccessful in their quest except the youngest, whose name was Peepi, or\nthe Pigeon-Hawk, and who had of late begun to set up for himself. Being\nsmall and foolish, and feather-headed, flying hither and yonder without\nany set purpose, it so happened that Peepi always came home, so to\nphrase it, with an empty game-bag, and his pinions terribly rumpled.\n\nAt last Gray Eagle spoke to him, and demanded the cause of his ill-luck.\n\n\"It is not my smallness nor weakness of body,\" Peepi answered, \"that\nprevents my bringing home provender as well as my brothers. I am all the\ntime on the wing, hither and thither. I kill ducks and other birds every\ntime I go out; but just as I get to the woods, on my way home, I am met\nby a large ko-ko-ho, who robs me of my prey; and,\" added Peepi, with\ngreat energy, \"it's my settled opinion that the villain lies in wait for\nthe very purpose of doing so.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt you are right, Brother Peepi,\" rejoined Gray Eagle. \"I\nknow this pirate--his name is White Owl; and now that I feel my strength\nfully recovered, I will go out with you to-morrow and help you look\nafter this greedy bush-ranger.\"\n\nThe next day they went forth in company, and arrived at a fine\nfresh-water lake. Gray Eagle seated himself hard by, while Peepi started\nout, and soon pounced upon a duck.\n\n\"Well done!\" thought his brother, who saw his success; but just as\nlittle Peepi was getting to land with his prize, up sailed a large white\nowl from a tree where he, too, had been watching, and laid claim to it.\nHe was on the point of wresting it from Peepi, when Gray Eagle, calling\nout to the intruder to desist, rushed up, and, fixing his talons in both\nsides of the owl, without further introduction or ceremony, flew away\nwith him.\n\nThe little Pigeon-Hawk followed closely, with the duck under his wing,\nrejoiced and happy to think that he had something to carry home at last.\nHe was naturally much vexed with the owl, and had no sooner delivered\nover the duck to his sister, the housekeeper, than he flew in the owl's\nface, and, venting an abundance of reproachful terms, would, in his\npassion, have torn the very eyes out of the White Owl's head.\n\n\"Softly, Peepi,\" said the Gray Eagle, stepping in between them. \"Don't\nbe in such a huff, my little brother, nor exhibit so revengeful a\ntemper. Do you not know that we are to forgive our enemies? White Owl,\nyou may go; but let this be a lesson to you, not to play the tyrant over\nthose who may chance to be weaker than yourself.\"\n\nSo, after adding to this much more good advice, and telling him what\nkind of herbs would cure his wounds, Gray Eagle dismissed White Owl, and\nthe four brothers and sisters sat down to supper.\n\nThe next day, betimes, in the morning, before the household had fairly\nrubbed the cobwebs out of the corners of their eyes, there came a knock\nat the front door--which was a dry branch that lay down before the\nhollow of the tree in which they lodged--and being called to come in,\nwho should make their appearance but the two nest-mates, who had just\nreturned from the South, where they had been wintering. There was great\nrejoicing over their return, and now that they were all happily\nre-united, each one soon chose a mate and began to keep house in the\nwoods for himself.\n\nSpring had now revisited the North. The cold winds had all blown\nthemselves away, the ice had melted, the streams were open, and smiled\nas they looked at the blue sky once more; and the forests, far and wide,\nin their green mantle, echoed every cheerful sound.\n\nBut it is in vain that spring returns, and that the heart of Nature is\nopened in bounty, if we are not thankful to the Master of Life, who has\npreserved us through the winter. Nor does that man answer the end for\nwhich he was made who does not show a kind and charitable feeling to all\nwho are in want or sickness, especially to his blood relations.\n\nThe love and harmony of Gray Eagle and his brothers continued. They\nnever forgot each other. Every week, on the fourth afternoon of the week\n(for that was the time when they had found their wounded elder brother),\nthey had a meeting in the hollow of the old sycamore-tree, when they\ntalked over family matters, and advised with each other, as brothers\nshould, about their affairs.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nTHE TOAD-WOMAN.\n\n\nGreat good luck once happened to a young woman who was living all alone\nin the woods with nobody near her but her little dog; for, to her\nsurprise, she found fresh meat every morning at her door. She was very\ncurious to know who it was that supplied her, and watching one morning,\njust as the sun had risen, she saw a handsome young man gliding away\ninto the forest. Having seen her, he became her husband, and she had a\nson by him.\n\nOne day, not long after this, he did not return at evening, as usual,\nfrom hunting. She waited till late at night, but he came no more.\n\nThe next day, she swung her child to sleep in its cradle, and then said\nto her dog, \"Take care of your brother while I am gone, and when he\ncries, halloo for me.\"\n\nThe cradle was made of the finest wampum, and all its bandages and\nornaments were of the same precious stuff.\n\nAfter a short time, the woman heard the cry of the dog, and running home\nas fast as she could, she found her child gone, and the dog too. On\nlooking around, she saw scattered upon the ground pieces of the wampum\nof her child's cradle, and she knew that the dog had been faithful, and\nhad striven his best to save her child from being carried off, as he had\nbeen, by an old woman, from a distant country, called Mukakee Mindemoea,\nor the Toad-Woman.\n\nThe mother hurried off at full speed in pursuit, and as she flew along,\nshe came, from time to time, to lodges inhabited by old women, who told\nher at what time the child-thief had passed; they also gave her shoes\nthat she might follow on. There was a number of these old women who\nseemed as if they were prophetesses, and knew what was to come long\nbeforehand. Each of them would say to her that when she had arrived at\nthe next lodge, she must set the toes of the moccasins they had given\nher pointing homeward, and that they would return of themselves. The\nyoung woman was very careful to send back in this manner all the shoes\nshe borrowed.\n\nShe thus followed in the pursuit, from valley to valley, and stream to\nstream, for many months and years; when she came at length to the lodge\nof the last of the friendly old grandmothers, as they were called, who\ngave her the last instructions how to proceed. She told her that she\nwas near the place where her son was to be found; and she directed her\nto build a lodge of cedar-boughs, hard by the old Toad-Woman's lodge,\nand to make a little bark dish, and to fill it with the juice of the\nwild grape.\n\n\"Then,\" she said, \"your first child (meaning the dog) will come and find\nyou out.\"\n\nThese directions the young woman followed just as they had been given to\nher, and in a short time she heard her son, now grown up, going out to\nhunt, with his dog, calling out to him, \"Peewaubik--Spirit-Iron--Twee!\nTwee!\"\n\nThe dog soon came into the lodge, and she set before him the dish of\ngrape-juice.\n\n\"See, my child,\" she said, addressing him, \"the pretty drink your mother\ngives you.\"\n\nSpirit-Iron took a long draught, and immediately left the lodge with his\neyes wide open; for it was the drink which teaches one to see the truth\nof things as they are. He rose up when he got into the open air, stood\nupon his hind legs, and looked about. \"I see how it is,\" he said; and\nmarching off, erect like a man, he sought out his young master.\n\nApproaching him in great confidence, he bent down and whispered in his\near (having first looked cautiously around to see that no one was\nlistening), \"This old woman here in the lodge is no mother of yours. I\nhave found your real mother, and she is worth looking at. When we come\nback from our day's sport, I'll prove it to you.\"\n\nThey went out into the woods, and at the close of the afternoon they\nbrought back a great spoil of meat of all kinds. The young man, as soon\nas he had laid aside his weapons, said to the old Toad-Woman, \"Send some\nof the best of this meat to the stranger who has arrived lately.\"\n\nThe Toad-Woman answered, \"No! Why should I send to her, the poor widow!\"\n\nThe young man would not be refused; and at last the old Toad-Woman\nconsented to take something and throw it down at the door. She called\nout, \"My son gives you this.\" But, being bewitched by Mukakee Mindemoea,\nit was so bitter and distasteful, that the young woman immediately cast\nit out of the lodge after her.\n\nIn the evening the young man paid the stranger a visit at her lodge of\ncedar-boughs. She then told him that she was his real mother, and that\nhe had been stolen away from her by the old Toad-Woman, who was a\nchild-thief and a witch. As the young man appeared to doubt, she added,\n\"Feign yourself sick when you go home to her lodge; and when the\nToad-Woman asks what ails you, say that you wish to see your cradle; for\nyour cradle was of wampum, and your faithful brother the dog, in\nstriving to save you, tore off these pieces which I show you.\"\n\nThey were real wampum, white and blue, shining and beautiful; and the\nyoung man, placing them in his bosom, set off; but as he did not seem\nquite steady in his belief of the strange woman's story, the dog\nSpirit-Iron, taking his arm, kept close by his side, and gave him many\nwords of encouragement as they went along. They entered the lodge\ntogether; and the old Toad-Woman saw, from something in the dog's eye,\nthat trouble was coming.\n\n\"Mother,\" said the young man, placing his hand to his head, and leaning\nheavily upon Spirit-Iron, as if a sudden faintness had come upon him,\n\"why am I so different in looks from the rest of your children?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" she answered, \"it was a very bright, clear blue sky when you were\nborn; that is the reason.\"\n\nHe seemed to be so very ill that the Toad-Woman at length asked what she\ncould do for him. He said nothing could do him good but the sight of his\ncradle. She ran immediately and brought a cedar cradle; but he said:\n\n\"That is not my cradle.\"\n\nShe went and got another of her own children's cradles, of which there\nwere four; but he turned his head, and said:\n\n\"That is not mine; I am as sick as ever.\"\n\nWhen she had shown the four, and they had been all rejected, she at last\nproduced the real cradle. The young man saw that it was of the same\nstuff as the wampum which he had in his bosom. He could even see the\nmarks of the teeth of Spirit-Iron left upon the edges, where he had\ntaken hold, striving to hold it back. He had no doubt, now, which was\nhis mother.\n\nTo get free of the old Toad-Woman, it was necessary that the young man\nshould kill a fat bear; and, being directed by Spirit-Iron, who was very\nwise in such a matter, he secured the fattest in all that country; and\nhaving stripped a tall pine of all its bark and branches, he perched the\ncarcass in the top, with its head to the east and its tail due west.\nReturning to the lodge, he informed the old Toad-Woman that the fat bear\nwas ready for her, but that she would have to go very far, even to the\nend of the earth, to get it. She answered:\n\n\"It is not so far but that I can get it;\" for of all things in the\nworld, a fat bear was the delight of the old Toad-Woman.\n\nShe at once set forth; and she was no sooner out of sight than the young\nman and his dog, Spirit-Iron, blowing a strong breath in the face of the\nToad-Woman's four children (who were all bad spirits, or bear-fiends),\nthey put out their life. They then set them up by the side of the door,\nhaving first thrust a piece of the white fat in each of their mouths.\n\nThe Toad-Woman spent a long time in finding the bear which she had been\nsent after, and she made at least five and twenty attempts before she\nwas able to climb to the carcass. She slipped down three times where she\nwent up once. When she returned with the great bear on her back, as she\ndrew near her lodge she was astonished to see the four children standing\nup by the door-posts with the fat in their mouths. She was angry with\nthem, and called out:\n\n\"Why do you thus insult the pomatum of your brother?\"\n\nShe was still more angry when they made no answer to her complaint; but\nwhen she found that they were stark dead, and placed in this way to mock\nher, her fury was very great indeed. She ran after the tracks of the\nyoung man and his mother as fast as she could; so fast, indeed, that she\nwas on the very point of overtaking them, when the dog, Spirit-Iron,\ncoming close up to his master, whispered to him--\"Snakeberry!\"\n\n\"Let the snakeberry spring up to detain her!\" cried out the young man;\nand immediately the berries spread like scarlet all over the path, for a\nlong distance; and the old Toad-Woman, who was almost as fond of these\nberries as she was of fat bears, could not avoid stooping down to pick\nand eat.\n\nThe old Toad-Woman was very anxious to get forward, but the\nsnakeberry-vines kept spreading out on every side; and they still grow\nand grow, and spread and spread; and to this day the wicked old\nToad-Woman is busy picking the berries, and she will never be able to\nget beyond to the other side, to disturb the happiness of the young\nhunter and his mother, who still live, with their faithful dog, in the\nshadow of the beautiful wood-side where they were born.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN.\n\n\nAn old man had an only son, named Iadilla, who had come to that age\nwhich is thought to be most proper to make the long and final fast which\nis to secure through life a guardian genius or spirit. The father was\nambitious that his son should surpass all others in whatever was deemed\nwisest and greatest among his people. To accomplish his wish, he thought\nit necessary that the young Iadilla should fast a much longer time than\nany of those renowned for their power or wisdom, whose fame he coveted.\n\nHe therefore directed his son to prepare with great ceremony for the\nimportant event. After he had been several times in the sweating-lodge\nand bath, which were to prepare and purify him for communion with his\ngood spirit, he ordered him to lie down upon a clean mat in a little\nlodge expressly provided for him. He enjoined upon him at the same time\nto endure his fast like a man, and promised that at the expiration of\ntwelve days he should receive food and the blessing of his father.\n\nThe lad carefully observed the command, and lay with his face covered,\ncalmly awaiting the approach of the spirit which was to decide his good\nor evil fortune for all the days of his life.\n\nEvery morning his father came to the door of the little lodge and\nencouraged him to persevere, dwelling at length on the vast honor and\nrenown that must ever attend him, should he accomplish the full term of\ntrial allotted to him.\n\nTo these glowing words of promise and glory the boy never replied, but\nhe lay without the least sign of discontent or murmuring until the ninth\nday, when he addressed his father as follows:\n\n\"My father, my dreams forbode evil. May I break my fast now, and at a\nmore favorable time make a new fast?\"\n\nThe father answered:\n\n\"My son, you know not what you ask. If you get up now, all your glory\nwill depart. Wait patiently a little longer. You have but three days\nmore, and your term will be completed. You know it is for your own good,\nand I encourage you to persevere. Shall not your aged father live to see\nyou a star among the chieftains and the beloved of battle?\"\n\nThe son assented; and covering himself more closely, that he might shut\nout the light which prompted him to complain, he lay till the eleventh\nday, when he repeated his request.\n\nThe father addressed Iadilla as he had the day before, and promised that\nhe would himself prepare his first meal, and bring it to him by the dawn\nof the morning.\n\nThe son moaned, and the father added:\n\n\"Will you bring shame upon your father when his sun is falling in the\nwest?\"\n\n\"I will not shame you, my father,\" replied Iadilla; and he lay so still\nand motionless that you could only know that he was living by the gentle\nheaving of his breast.\n\nAt the spring of day, the next morning, the father, delighted at having\ngained his end, prepared a repast for his son, and hastened to set it\nbefore him. On coming to the door of the little lodge, he was surprised\nto hear his son talking to himself. He stooped his ear to listen, and,\nlooking through a small opening, he was yet more astonished when he\nbeheld his son painted with vermilion over all his breast, and in the\nact of finishing his work by laying on the paint as far back on his\nshoulders as he could reach with his hands, saying at the same time, to\nhimself:\n\n\"My father has destroyed my fortune as a man. He would not listen to my\nrequests. He has urged me beyond my tender strength. He will be the\nloser. I shall be forever happy in my new state, for I have been\nobedient to my parent. He alone will be the sufferer, for my guardian\nspirit is a just one. Though not propitious to me in the manner I\ndesired, he has shown me pity in another way--he has given me another\nshape; and now I must go.\"\n\nAt this moment the old man broke in, exclaiming:\n\n\"My son! my son! I pray you leave me not!\"\n\nBut the young man, with the quickness of a bird, had flown to the top of\nthe lodge and perched himself on the highest pole, having been changed\ninto a beautiful robin red-breast. He looked down upon his father with\npity beaming in his eyes, and addressed him as follows:\n\n\"Regret not, my father, the change you behold. I shall be happier in my\npresent state than I could have been as a man. I shall always be the\nfriend of men, and keep near their dwellings. I shall ever be happy and\ncontented; and although I could not gratify your wishes as a warrior, it\nwill be my daily aim to make you amends for it as a harbinger of peace\nand joy. I will cheer you by my songs, and strive to inspire in others\nthe joy and lightsomeness of heart I feel in my present state. This will\nbe some compensation to you for the loss of glory you expected. I am now\nfree from the cares and pains of human life. My food is spontaneously\nfurnished by the mountains and fields, and my pathway of life is in the\nbright air.\"\n\nThen stretching himself on his toes, as if delighted with the gift of\nwings, Iadilla caroled one of his sweetest songs, and flew away into a\nneighboring wood.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nWHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS.\n\n\nThere was an old man living in the depth of a forest, with his grandson,\nwhom he had taken in charge when quite an infant. The child had no\nparents, brothers, or sisters; they had all been destroyed by six large\ngiants, and he had been informed that he had no other relative living\nbeside his grandfather. The band to whom he had belonged had put up\ntheir children on a wager in a race against those of the giants, and had\nthus lost them. There was an old tradition in the tribe, that, one day,\nit would produce a great man, who would wear a white feather, and who\nwould astonish every one by his feats of skill and bravery.\n\nThe grandfather, as soon as the child could play about, gave him a bow\nand arrows to amuse himself with. He went into the edge of the woods one\nday, and saw a rabbit; but not knowing what it was, he ran home and\ndescribed it to his grandfather. He told him what it was, that its flesh\nwas good to eat, and that if he would shoot one of his arrows into its\nbody he would kill it. The boy went out again and brought home the\nlittle animal, which he asked his grandfather to boil, that they might\nfeast on it. He humored the boy in this, and he encouraged him to go on\nin acquiring the knowledge of hunting, until he could kill deer and the\nlarger kinds of game; and he became, as he grew up, an expert hunter.\n\nAs they lived alone, and away from other Indians, the curiosity of the\nstripling was excited to know what was passing in the world. One day he\ncame to the edge of a prairie, where he saw ashes like those at his\ngrandfather's lodge, and lodge-poles left standing.\n\nHe returned, and inquired whether his grandfather had put up the poles\nand made the fire. He was answered, No. Nor did he believe that he had\nseen any thing of the kind. He must have lost his senses to be talking\nof such things.\n\nAnother day the young man went out to see what there was, within a day's\nhunt, that was curious; and on entering the woods he heard a voice\ncalling out to him, \"Come here, you destined wearer of the White\nFeather. You do not wear it, yet, but you are worthy of it. Return home\nand take a short nap. You will dream of hearing a voice, which will tell\nyou to rise and smoke. You will see in your dream a pipe, a\nsmoking-sack, and a large white feather. When you awake you will find\nthese articles. Put the feather on your head, and you will become a\ngreat hunter, a great warrior, and a great man, able to do any thing. As\na proof that these things shall come to pass, when you smoke, the smoke\nwill turn into pigeons.\"\n\nThe voice then informed the young man who he was, and made known the\ncharacter of his grandfather, who was imposing upon him to serve his own\nends.\n\nThe voice-spirit then caused a vine to be laid at his side, and told him\nthat he was now of an age to avenge the wrongs of his kindred. \"When you\nmeet your enemy,\" the spirit added, \"you will run a race with him. He\nwill not see the vine, because it is enchanted. While you are running,\nyou will throw it over his head and entangle him, so that you will win\nthe race.\"\n\nLong before this speech was ended the young man had turned to the\nquarter from which the voice proceeded, and he was astonished to behold\na man; for as yet he had never seen any human being beside his\ngrandfather.\n\nAs he looked more keenly, he saw that this man, who had the looks of\ngreat age, was wood from the breast downward, and that he appeared to be\nfixed in the earth. As his eye dwelt upon this strange being, the\ncountenance by degrees faded away, and when he advanced to the spot\nwhence it had addressed him, it was gone.\n\nHe returned home; slept; in the midst of his slumbers, as from the\nhollow of the air, heard the voice; wakened and found the promised\ngifts. His grandfather, when his attention was called to his awakening,\nwas greatly surprised to find the youth with a white feather on his\nforehead, and to see flocks of pigeons flying out of his lodge. He then\nremembered the old tradition, and knowing that now the day when he\nshould lose control of his charge had begun, he bitterly bewailed the\nhour.\n\nPossessed of his three magic gifts, the young man departed the next\nmorning, to seek his enemies, and to demand revenge.\n\nThe six giants lived in a very high lodge in the middle of a wood. He\ntraveled on, in good heart, till he reached this lodge, where he found\nthat his coming had been made known by the little spirits who carry the\nnews. The giants hastened out, and gave a cry of joy as they saw him\ndrawing near. When he approached within hail, they began to make sport\nof him, saying, \"Here comes the little man with the white feather, who\nis to achieve such wonderful wonders.\"\n\nWhen, however, he had arrived among them, they spoke him fair, saying he\nwas a brave man and would do brave things. Their object was to encourage\nhim, so that he would be bold to engage in some fool-hardy trial of\nstrength.\n\nWithout paying much heed to their fine speeches, White Feather went\nfearlessly into their lodge; and without waiting for invitation, he\nchallenged them to a foot-match. They agreed; and, as they said, by way\nof being easy with him, they told him to begin the race with the\nsmallest of their number.\n\nThe point to which they were to run was a peeled tree toward the rising\nsun, and then back to the starting-place, which was a war-club of iron.\nWhoever won this stake, was empowered to use it in dispatching the\ndefeated champion. If White Feather should overcome the first giant, he\nwas to try the second, and so on, until they had all measured speed with\nhim. By a dexterous use of the vine, he gained the first race, struck\ndown his competitor, and cut off his head.\n\nThe next morning he ran with the second giant, whom he also outran,\nkilled and beheaded.\n\nHe went on in this way for the five mornings, always conquering by the\naid of his vine, and lopping off the heads of the vanquished giants.\n\nThe last of the giants who was yet to run with him acknowledged his\npower, but prepared secretly to deceive him. By way of parley, he\nproposed that White Feather should leave the heads with him, and that he\nwould give him a handsome start for odds. This White Feather declined,\nas he preferred to keep the heads as trophies of his victory.\n\nBefore going to the giant's lodge, on the sixth morning, he met his old\ncounselor in the woods, standing rooted in the earth, as before. He told\nWhite Feather that he was about to be deceived; that he had never known\nany other sex but his own, but that as he went on his way to the lodge\nhe would meet the most beautiful woman in the world. He must pay no\nattention to her, but as soon as he caught her eye he must wish himself\nchanged into an elk. The change would take place immediately, and he\nmust go to feeding and not look at her again.\n\nWhite Feather thanked his kind adviser, and when he turned to take his\nleave he was gone as before.\n\nHe proceeded toward the lodge, met the female as had been foretold to\nhim, and became an elk. She reproached him that he had cast aside the\nform of a man that he might avoid her.\n\n\"I have traveled a great distance,\" she added, \"to see you and to become\nyour wife; for I have heard of your great achievements, and admire you\nvery much.\"\n\nNow this woman was the sixth giant, who had assumed this disguise to\nentrap White Feather.\n\nWithout a suspicion of her real character, her reproaches and her beauty\naffected him so deeply that he wished himself a man again, and he at\nonce resumed his natural shape. They sat down together, and he began to\ncaress and to make love to her.\n\nSoothed by her smiles and her gracious manners, he ventured to lay his\nhead on her lap, and in a little while he fell into a deep slumber.\n\nEven then, such was her fear of White Feather, she doubted whether his\nsleep might not be feigned. To assure herself she pushed his head aside,\nand seeing that he remained unconscious, she quickly assumed her own\nform as the sixth giant, took the plume from the brow of White Feather\nand placed it upon his own head, and with a sudden blow of his war-club\nchanged him into a dog, in which degraded form he followed his enemy to\nthe lodge.\n\nWhile these things were passing, there were living in an Indian village\nat some distance, two sisters, the daughters of a chief, who were\nrivals, and they were at that very time fasting to acquire power, for\nthe purpose of enticing the wearer of the white feather to visit their\nlodge. They each secretly hoped to engage his affections, and each had\nbuilt a lodge in the border of the village encampment.\n\nThe giant knowing this, and having become possessed of the magic plume,\nwent immediately to visit them. As he approached, the sisters, who were\non the look-out at their lodge-doors, espied and recognized the feather.\n\nThe eldest sister had prepared her lodge with great show, and all the\nfinery she could command, so as to attract the eye. The youngest\ntouched nothing in her lodge, but left it in its ordinary state.\n\nThe eldest went out to meet the giant, and invited him in. He accepted\nher invitation, and made her his wife. The youngest sister invited the\nenchanted dog into her lodge, prepared him a good supper and a neat bed,\nand treated him with much attention.\n\nThe giant, supposing that whoever possessed the white feather possessed\nalso all its virtues, went out upon the prairie to hunt, hallooing aloud\nto the game to come and be killed; but the great hubbub he kept up\nscared them away, and he returned at night with nothing but himself; for\nhe had shouted so lustily all day long that he had been even obliged to\nleave the mighty halloo, with which he had set out, behind.\n\nThe dog went out the same day hunting upon the banks of a river. He\nstole quietly along to the spot, and stepping into the water he drew out\na stone, which instantly became a beaver.\n\nThe next day the giant followed the dog, and hiding behind a tree, he\nwatched the manner in which the dog hunted in the river when he drew out\na stone, which at once turned into a beaver.\n\n\"Ah, ha!\" said the giant to himself, \"I will catch some beaver for\nmyself.\"\n\nAnd as soon as the dog had left the place, the giant went to the river,\nand, imitating the dog, he drew out a stone, and was delighted to see\nit, as soon as it touched the land, change into a fine fat beaver.\n\nTying it to his belt he hastened home, shouting a good deal, and\nbrandishing the white feather about, as if he were prepared now to show\nthem what he could do when he once tried. When he reached home he threw\nit down, as is the custom, at the door of the lodge before he entered.\n\nAfter being seated a short time, he gave a dry cough, and bade his wife\nbring in his hunting girdle. She made dispatch to obey him, and\npresently returned with the girdle, with nothing tied to it but a stone.\n\nThe next day, the dog finding that his method of catching beavers had\nbeen discovered, went to a wood at some distance, and broke off a\ncharred limb from a burned tree, which instantly became a bear. The\ngiant, who appeared to have lost faith in his hulla-balooing, had again\nwatched him, did exactly as the dog had done, and carried a bear home;\nbut his wife, when she came to go out for it, found nothing but a black\nstick tied to his belt.\n\nAnd so it happened with every thing. Whatever the dog undertook,\nprospered; whatever the giant attempted, failed. Every day the youngest\nsister had reason to be more proud of the poor dog she had asked into\nher lodge, and every day the eldest sister was made more aware, that\nthough she had married the white feather, the virtues of the magic\nplume were not the personal property of the noisy giant.\n\nAt last the giant's wife determined that she would go to her father and\nmake known to him what a valuable husband she had, and how he furnished\nher lodge with a great abundance of sticks and stones, which he would\npass upon her for bear and beaver. So, when her husband, whose brave\nhalloo had now died away to a feeble chirp, had started for the hunt,\nshe set out.\n\nAs soon as these two had gone away from the neighborhood, the dog made\nsigns to his mistress to sweat him after the manner of the Indians. He\nhad always been a good dog, and she was willing to oblige him. She\naccordingly made a lodge just large enough for him to creep in. She then\nput in heated stones, and poured water upon them, which raised a vapor\nthat filled the lodge and searched with its warmth to the very heart's\ncore of the enchanted dog.\n\nWhen this had been kept up for the customary time, the enchanted dog was\ncompletely sweated away, and in his stead, as might have been expected,\nout came a very handsome young man, but, unhappily, without the power of\nspeech. In taking away the dog, it appears that the sweating-lodge had\nalso carried off the voice with it.\n\nMeantime the elder sister had reached her father's, and, with much\ncircumstance and a very long face, had told him how that her sister was\nsupporting an idle dog, and entertaining him as her husband. In her\nanxiety to make known her sister's affairs and the great scandal she was\nbringing upon the family, the eldest forgot to say any thing of the\nsticks and stones which her own husband brought home for bears and\nbeavers. The old man suspecting that there was magic about her house,\nsent a deputation of young men and women to ask his youngest daughter to\ncome to him, and to bring her dog along with her. When the deputation\nreached the lodge, they were surprised to find, in the place of the dog,\na fine young man; and on announcing their message, they all returned to\nthe old chief, who was no less surprised at the change.\n\nHe immediately assembled all the old and wise heads of the nation to\ncome and be witnesses to the exploits which it was reported that the\nyoung man could perform. The sixth giant, although neither very old nor\nvery wise, thrust himself in among the relations of the old chief.\n\nWhen they were all assembled and seated in a circle, the old chief took\nhis pipe and filled it, and passed it to the Indians around, to see if\nany thing would happen when they smoked. They passed it on until it came\naround to the Dog, who made a sign that it should be handed first to the\ngiant, which was done. And the giant puffed with all his might, and\nshook the white feather upon his head, and swelled his chest; but\nnothing came of it, except a great deal of smoke. The Dog then took it\nhimself. He made a sign to them to put the white feather upon his head.\nThis was no sooner done, than he recovered his speech, and, beginning to\ndraw upon the pipe at the same moment, behold, immense flocks of white\nand blue pigeons rushed from the smoke.\n\nFrom that moment the sixth giant was looked upon as an impostor, and as\nsoon as White Feather had, at the request of the company, faithfully\nrecounted his history, the old chief, who was one of the best-hearted\nmagicians that ever lived, ordered that the giant should be transformed\ninto a dog, and turned into the middle of the village, where the boys\nshould pelt him to death with clubs; which being done, the whole six\ngiants were at an end, and never troubled that neighborhood again,\nforever after.\n\nThe chief then gave out a command, at the request of White Feather, that\nall the young men should employ themselves four days in making arrows.\nWhite Feather also asked for a buffalo robe. This he cut into thin\nshreds, and in the night, when no one knew of it, he went and sowed them\nabout the prairie in every direction.\n\nAt the end of the four days, he invited them to gather together all of\ntheir arrows, and to accompany him to a buffalo hunt. When they got out\nupon the prairie, they found it covered with a great herd of buffaloes.\nOf these they killed as many as they pleased, and, afterward, they had a\ngrand festival in honor of White Feather's triumph over the giants.\n\nAll this being pleasantly over, White Feather got his wife to ask her\nfather's permission to go with him on a visit to his grandfather. The\nold chief replied to this application, that a woman must follow her\nhusband into whatever quarter of the world he may choose to go.\n\nBidding farewell to all his friends, White Feather placed the plume in\nhis frontlet, and taking his war-club in his hand, he led the way into\nthe forest, followed by his faithful wife.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nSHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY.\n\n\nOn a certain afternoon the sun was falling in the West, and in the midst\nof the ruddy silence a solitary lodge stood on the banks of a remote\nlake. One sound only broke, in the least degree, the forest\nstillness--the low breathing of the dying inmate, who was the head of a\npoor family. His wife and children surrounded the buffalo robe on which\nhe lay. Of the children, two were almost grown up--a daughter and a son;\nthe other was a boy, and a mere child in years.\n\nAll the skill of the household in their simple medicines was exhausted,\nand they stood looking on or moved about the lodge with whispered steps,\nawaiting the departure of the spirit. As one of the last acts of\nkindness, the skin door of the lodge had been thrown back to admit the\nfresh air of the evening. The poor man felt a momentary return of\nstrength, and raising himself a little, he addressed his family.\n\n\"I leave you,\" he said, \"in a world of care, in which it has required\nall my strength and skill to supply you food, and to protect you from\nthe storms and cold of a harsh climate.\"\n\nHe cast his eyes upon his wife, and continued:\n\n\"For you, my partner in life, I have less sorrow, because I am persuaded\nyou will not remain long behind me; but you, my children! my poor and\nforsaken children, who have just begun the career of life, who will\nshelter you from calamity? Listen to my words. Unkindness, ingratitude,\nand every wickedness, are in the scene before you. It was for this that\nyears ago I withdrew from my kindred and my tribe to spend my days in\nthis lonely spot. I have contented myself with the company of your\nmother and yourselves, during seasons of very frequent scarcity and\nwant, while your kindred, feasting in plenty, have caused the forests to\necho with the shouts of successful war. I gave up these things for the\nenjoyment of peace. I wished to hide you away from the bad examples\nwhich would have spoiled your innocence. I have seen you, thus far, grow\nup in purity of heart. If we have sometimes suffered bodily want, we\nhave escaped pain of mind. We have not been compelled to look on or to\ntake a part with the red hand in scenes of rioting and bloodshed. My\npath now stops. I have arrived at the brink of the world. I will shut my\neyes in peace if you, my children, will promise me to cherish each\nother. Let not your mother suffer during the few days that are left to\nher; and I charge you, on no account, to forsake your younger brother.\nOf him I give you both my dying command to have a tender care.\"\n\nHe spoke no more, and as the sun fell out of view the light had gone\nfrom his face. The family stood still, as if they expected to hear\nsomething further; but when they came to his side and called him by\nname, his spirit did not answer. It was in another world.\n\nThe mother and daughter lamented aloud, but the elder son clothed\nhimself in silence, as though it had been a mantle, and took his course\nas though nothing had occurred. He exerted himself to supply, with his\nbow and net, the wants of the little household, but he never made\nmention of his father.\n\nFive moons had filled and waned, and the sixth was near its full, when\nthe mother also died. In her last moments she pressed the fulfillment of\ntheir father's wish.\n\nThe winter passed, and the spring, sparkling in the clear northern air,\ncheered the spirits of the lonely little people in the lodge.\n\nThe girl, being the eldest, directed her brothers, and she seemed to\nfeel a tender and sisterly affection for the youngest, who was slight in\nframe and of a delicate temper. The other boy soon began to break forth\nwith restless speeches, which showed that his spirit was not at ease.\nOne day he addressed his sister as follows:\n\n\"My sister, are we always to live as if there were no other human beings\nin the world? Must I deprive myself of the pleasure of mingling with my\nown kind? I have determined this question for myself. I shall seek the\nvillages of men, and you can not prevent me.\"\n\nThe sister replied:\n\n\"I do not say no, my brother, to what you desire; we are not forbidden\nthe society of our fellow-mortals, but we are told to cherish each\nother, and to do nothing that shall not be agreeable to all our little\nhousehold. Neither pleasure nor pain ought, therefore, to separate us,\nespecially from our younger brother, who, being but a child, and weakly\nwithal, is entitled to a double share of our affection. If we follow our\nseparate fancies, it will surely make us neglect him, whom we are bound\nby vows, both to our father and mother, to support.\"\n\nThe young man received this address in silence, and still took his\ncourse as though nothing out of the ordinary way had occurred. After\nawhile he seemed to recover his spirits; and as they lived in a large\ncountry, where there were open fields, the two brothers, at his\ninvitation, often amused themselves in playing ball. One afternoon he\nchose the ground near to a beautiful lake, and they played and laughed\nwith great spirit, and the ball was seldom allowed to touch the ground.\n\nNow in this lake there happened to harbor a wicked old Manito, Mishosha\nby name, who looked at the brothers as they played, and he was vastly\npleased with their nimbleness and beauty. He thought to himself, what\nshall I do to get these lads to accompany me? One of them shall hit the\nball sideways, and it shall fall into my canoe.\n\nIt so happened, and it somehow seemed as if Owasso, the elder brother,\nhad purposely given it that direction. When Owasso saw the old man, he\nprofessed to be greatly surprised, as was the other, Sheem by name, in\ntruth, for he had not noticed the old Manito before.\n\n\"Bring the ball to us,\" they both cried out. \"Come to the shore.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the old magician. He, however, came near enough for\neither of them to wade out to him. \"Come, come,\" he said. \"Come and get\nyour ball.\"\n\nThey insisted that he should come ashore, but he sturdily declined to\noblige them.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Owasso, \"I will go and get it.\" And he ran into the\nwater. \"Hand it to me,\" he said, when he had approached near enough to\nreceive it.\n\n\"Ha!\" answered the Manito, \"reach over and get it yourself.\"\n\nOwasso was about to grasp the ball, when the old magician suddenly\nseized him and pushed him into the boat.\n\n\"My grandfather,\" said Owasso, \"pray take my little brother also. Alone\nI can not go with you; he will starve if I leave him.\"\n\nMishosha only laughed at him; then uttering the charmed words, \"Chemaun\nPoll!\" and giving his canoe a slap, it glided through the water, without\nfurther help, with the swiftness of an arrow.\n\nIn a short time they reached the magician's lodge, which stood upon the\nfurther shore, a little distance back from the lake. The two daughters\nof Mishosha were seated within. \"My daughter,\" he said to his eldest, as\nthey entered the lodge, \"I have brought you a husband.\"\n\nThe young woman smiled; for Owasso was a comely youth to look upon. The\nmagician told him to take his seat near her, and by this act the\nmarriage ceremony was completed, and Owasso and the magician's daughter\nwere man and wife, and in the course of time they had born to them a\nson.\n\nBut no sooner was Owasso in the family than the old Manito wished him\nout of the way, and he went about in his own wicked fashion to compass\nit.\n\nOne day he asked his son-in-law to go out a-fishing with him. They\nstarted without delay; for the magician had only to speak, and off went\nthe canoe. They reached a solitary bay in an island, a very dark,\nlonely, and out-of-the-way place. The Manito advised Owasso to spear a\nlarge sturgeon which came alongside, and with its great glassy eye\nturned up, seemed to recognize the magician. Owasso rose in the boat to\ndart his spear, and by speaking that moment to his canoe, Mishosha shot\nforward and hurled his son-in-law headlong into the water; where,\nleaving him to struggle for himself, he was soon out of sight.\n\nOwasso, being himself gifted with limited magical powers, spoke to the\nfish, and bade him swim toward the lodge, while he carried him along,\nwhich he did at great speed. Once he directed the sturgeon to rise near\nthe surface of the water, so that he might, if possible, get a view of\nthe magician. The fish obeyed, and Owasso saw the wicked old Manito busy\nin another direction, fishing, as unconcerned as though he had not just\nlost a member of his family.\n\nOn went the fish, and on went Owasso, till they reached the shore, near\nthe magician's lodge, in advance of him. He then spoke kindly to the\nsturgeon, and told him he should not be angry with him for having\nspeared him, as he was created to be meat for man. The sturgeon made no\nreply, or if he did, it has not been reported; and Owasso, drawing him\non shore, went up and told his wife to dress and cook it immediately. By\nthe time it was prepared the magician had come in sight.\n\n\"Your grandfather has arrived,\" said the woman to her son; \"go and see\nwhat he brings, and eat this as you go\"--handing a piece of the fish.\n\nThe boy went, and the magician no sooner saw him with the fish in his\nhand, than he asked him, \"What are you eating? and who brought it?\"\n\nHe replied, \"My father brought it.\"\n\nThe magician began to feel uneasy, for he found that he had been\noutwitted; he, however, put on a grave face, and entering the lodge,\nacted as if nothing unusual had happened.\n\nSome days after this, Mishosha again requested his son-in-law to\naccompany him; and Owasso, without hesitation, said \"Yes!\"\n\nThey went out, and, in a rapid passage, they arrived at a solitary\nisland, which was no more than a heap of high and craggy rocks.\n\nThe magician said to Owasso, \"Go on shore, my son, and pick up all the\ngulls' eggs you can find.\"\n\nThe rocks were strewn with eggs, and the air resounded with the cry of\nthe birds as they saw them gathered up by Owasso.\n\nThe old magician took the opportunity to speak to the gulls. \"I have\nlong wished,\" he said, \"to offer you something. I now give you this\nyoung man for food.\"\n\nHe then uttered the charm to his canoe, and it shot out of sight,\nleaving Owasso to make his peace the best way he could.\n\nThe gulls flew in immense numbers around him, and were ready to devour\nhim. Owasso did not lose his presence of mind, but he addressed them and\nsaid:\n\n\"Gulls, you know you were not formed to eat human flesh, nor was man\nmade to be the prey of birds. Obey my words. Fly close together, a\nsufficient number of you, and carry me on your backs to the magician's\nlodge.\"\n\nThey listened attentively to what he said, and seeing nothing\nunreasonable in his request, they obeyed him, and Owasso soon found\nhimself sailing through the air swiftly homeward.\n\nMeanwhile, it appears that the old magician had fallen asleep and\nallowed his canoe to come to a stand-still; for Owasso, in his flight\nover the lake, saw him lying on his back in the boat, taking a nap,\nwhich was quite natural, as the day was very soft and balmy.\n\nAs Owasso, with his convoy of birds, passed over, he let fall, directly\nin the face of the old magician, a capful of gulls' eggs, which broke\nand so besmeared his eyes that he could barely see. He jumped up and\nexclaimed:\n\n\"It is always so with these thoughtless birds. They never consider where\nthey drop their eggs.\"\n\nOwasso had flown on and reached the lodge in safety, and, excusing\nhimself for the liberty, he killed two or three of the gulls for the\nsake of their feathers to ornament his son's head.\n\nWhen the magician arrived, soon after, his grandson came out to meet\nhim, tossing his head about as the feathers danced and struggled with\nthe wind.\n\n\"Where did you get these?\" asked the Manito, \"and who brought them?\"\n\n\"My father brought them,\" the boy replied.\n\nThe old magician was quite distressed in his mind that he had not\ndestroyed his son-in-law. He entered his lodge in silence, and set his\nwits busily at work again to contrive some plan for easing his feelings\nin that respect.\n\nHe could not help saying to himself:\n\n\"What manner of boy is this who is ever escaping from my power? But his\nguardian spirit shall not save him. I will entrap him to-morrow. Ha, ha,\nha!\"\n\nHe was painfully aware that he had tried two of his charms without\neffect, and that he had but two more left. He now professed to be more\nfriendly with his son-in-law than ever, and the very next day he said to\nOwasso:\n\n\"Come, my son, you must go with me to procure some young eagles. We\nwill tame them, and have them for pets about the lodge. I have\ndiscovered an island where they are in great abundance.\"\n\nThey started on the trip, and when, after traversing an immense waste of\nwater, they had reached the island, Mishosha led him inland until they\ncame to the foot of a tall pine-tree, upon which the nests were to be\nfound.\n\n\"Now, my son,\" said Mishosha, \"climb up this tree and bring down the\nbirds. I think you will get some fine ones up there.\"\n\nOwasso obeyed. When he had with great difficulty got near the nest,\nMishosha cried out, addressing himself to the tree, and without much\nregard to the wishes of Owasso:\n\n\"Now stretch yourself up and be very tall.\"\n\nThe tree, at this bidding, rose up so far that Owasso would have\nimperiled his neck by any attempt to get to the ground.\n\n\"Listen, ye eagles!\" continued Mishosha. \"You have long expected a gift\nfrom me. I now present you this boy, who has had the presumption to\nclimb up where you are to molest your young. Stretch forth your claws\nand seize him.\"\n\nSo saying, the old magician, according to his custom in such cases,\nturned his back upon Owasso, and going off in his canoe at a word, he\nleft his son-in-law to shift for himself.\n\nBut the birds did not seem to be so badly-minded as the old magician had\nsupposed; for a very old bald eagle, quite corpulent and large of limb,\nalighting on a branch just opposite, opened conversation with him by\nasking what had brought him there.\n\nOwasso replied that he had not mounted the tree of himself, or out of\nany disposition to harm his people; that his father-in-law, the old\nmagician who had just left them, had sent him up; that he was constantly\nsending him on mischievous errands. In a word, the young man was\nenlarging at great length upon the character of the wicked Manito, when\nhe was interrupted by being darted upon by a hungry-eyed bird, with long\nclaws.\n\nOwasso, not in the least disconcerted, boldly seized this fierce eagle\nby the neck and dashed it against the rocks, crying out:\n\n\"Thus will I deal with all who come near me.\"\n\nThe old eagle, who appeared to be the head of the tribe, was so pleased\nwith this show of spirit that he immediately appointed two tall birds,\nuncommonly strong in the wings, to transport Owasso to his lodge. They\nwere to take turns in conducting him through the air.\n\nOwasso expressed many obligations to the old eagle for his kindness, and\nthey forthwith set out. It was a high point from which they started, for\nthe pine-tree had shot far, far up toward the clouds, and they could\neven descry the enchanted island where the old magician lived; though it\nwas miles and miles away. For this point they steered their flight; and\nin a short time they landed Owasso at the door of the lodge.\n\nWith many compliments for their dispatch, Owasso dismissed the birds,\nand stood ready to greet his wicked father-in-law who now arrived; and\nwhen he espied his son-in-law still unharmed, Mishosha grew very black\nin the face. He had but a single charm left.\n\nHe thought he would ponder deeply how he could employ that to the best\nadvantage; and it happened that while he was doing so, one evening, as\nOwasso and his wife were sitting on the banks of the lake, and the soft\nbreeze swept over it, they heard a song, as if sung by some one at a\ngreat distance. The sound continued for some time, and then died away in\nperfect stillness. \"Oh, it is the voice of Sheem,\" cried Owasso. \"It is\nthe voice of my brother! If I could but only see him!\" And he hung down\nhis head in deep anguish.\n\nHis wife witnessed his distress, and to comfort him she proposed that\nthey should attempt to make their escape, and carry him succor on the\nmorrow.\n\nWhen the morning came, and the sun shone warmly into the lodge, the wife\nof Owasso offered to comb her father's hair, with the hope that it\nwould soothe him to sleep. It had that effect; and they no sooner saw\nhim in deep slumber than they seized the magic canoe, Owasso uttered the\ncharmed words, \"Chemaun Poll!\" and they glided away upon the water\nwithout need of oar or sail.\n\nThey had nearly reached the land on the opposite side of the lake, and\ncould distinctly hear the voice of the younger brother singing his\nlament as before, when the old magician wakened. Missing his daughter\nand her husband, he suspected deception of some kind; he looked for his\nmagic boat and found it gone. He spoke the magic words, which were more\npowerful from him than from any other person in the world, and the canoe\nimmediately returned; to the sore disappointment of Owasso and his wife.\n\nWhen they came back to the shore, Mishosha stood upon the beach and drew\nup his canoe. He did not utter a word. The son-in-law and daughter\nentered the lodge in silence.\n\nThe time, walking along in its broad open path, brought the autumn\nmonths to a close, and the winter had set in. Soon after the first fall\nof snow, Owasso said:\n\n\"Father, I wish to try my skill in hunting. It is said there is plenty\nof game not far off, and it can now be easily tracked. Let us go.\"\n\nThe magician consented; they set out, and arriving at a good ground for\ntheir sport, they spent the day in hunting. Night coming on, they built\nthemselves a lodge of pine-branches to sleep in. Although it was\nbitterly cold, the young man took off his leggings and moccasins, and\nhung them up to dry. The old magician did the same, carefully hanging\nhis own in a separate place, and they lay down to sleep.\n\nOwasso, from a glance he had given, suspected that the magician had a\nmind to play him a trick, and to be beforehand with him, he watched an\nopportunity to get up and change the moccasins and leggings, putting his\nown in the place of Mishosha's, and depending on the darkness of the\nlodge to help him through.\n\nNear daylight, the old magician bestirred himself, as if to rekindle the\nfire; but he slyly reached down a pair of moccasins and leggings with a\nstick, and thinking they were no other than those of Owasso's, he\ndropped them into the flames; while he cast himself down, and affected\nto be lost in a heavy sleep. The leather leggings and moccasins soon\ndrew up and were burned.\n\nInstantly jumping up and rubbing his eyes, Mishosha cried out:\n\n\"Son-in-law, your moccasins are burning; I know it by the smell.\"\n\nOwasso rose up, deliberately and unconcerned.\n\n\"No, my friend,\" said he, \"here are mine,\" at the same time taking them\ndown and drawing them on. \"It is your moccasins that are burning.\"\n\nMishosha dropped his head upon his breast. All his tricks were played\nout--there was not so much as half a one left to help him out of the\nsorry plight he was in.\n\n\"I believe, my grandfather,\" added Owasso, \"that this is the moon in\nwhich fire attracts, and I fear you must have set your foot and leg\ngarments too near the fire, and they have been drawn in. Now let us go\nforth to the hunt.\"\n\nThe old magician was compelled to follow him, and they pushed out into a\ngreat storm of snow, and hail, and wind, which had come on over night;\nand neither the wind, the hail, nor the snow, had the slightest respect\nfor the bare limbs of the old magician, for there was not the least\nvirtue of magic in those parts of old Mishosha's body. After a while\nthey quite stiffened under him, his body became hard, and the hair\nbristled in the cold wind, so that he looked to Owasso--who turned away\nfrom him, leaving the wicked old magician alone to ponder upon his past\nlife--to Owasso he looked like a tough old sycamore-tree more than a\nhighly-gifted old magician.\n\nOwasso himself reached home in safety, proof against all kinds of\nweather, and the magic canoe became the exclusive property of the young\nman and his wife.\n\nDuring all this part of Owasso's stay at the lodge of Mishosha, his\nsister, whom he had left on the main land with Sheem, their younger\nbrother, had labored with good-will to supply the lodge. She knew enough\nof the arts of the forest to provide their daily food, and she watched\nher little brother, and tended his wants, with all of a good sister's\ncare. By times she began to be weary of solitude and of her charge. No\none came to be a witness of her constancy, or to let fall a single word\nin her mother-tongue. She could not converse with the birds and beasts\nabout her, and she felt, to the bottom of her heart, that she was alone.\nIn these thoughts she forgot her younger brother; she almost wished him\ndead; for it was he alone that kept her from seeking the companionship\nof others.\n\nOne day, after collecting all the provisions she had been able to\nreserve from their daily use, and bringing a supply of wood to the door,\nshe said to her little brother:\n\n\"My brother, you must not stray from the lodge. I am going to seek our\nelder brother. I shall be back soon.\"\n\nShe then set the lodge in perfect order, and, taking her bundle, she set\noff in search of habitations. These she soon found, and in the enjoyment\nof the pleasures and pastimes of her new acquaintance, she began to\nthink less and less of her little brother, Sheem. She accepted proposals\nof marriage, and from that time she utterly forgot the abandoned boy.\n\nAs for poor little Sheem, he was soon brought to the pinching turn of\nhis fate. As soon as he had eaten all of the food left in the lodge, he\nwas obliged to pick berries, and live off of such roots as he could dig\nwith his slender hands. As he wandered about in search of wherewithal to\nstay his hunger, he often looked up to heaven, and saw the gray clouds\ngoing up and down. And then he looked about upon the wide earth, but he\nnever saw sister nor brother returning from their long delay.\n\nAt last, even the roots and berries gave out. They were blighted by the\nfrost or hidden out of reach by the snow, for the mid-winter had come\non, and poor little Sheem was obliged to leave the lodge and wander away\nin search of food.\n\nSometimes he was enforced to pass the night in the clefts of old trees\nor caverns, and to break his fast with the refuse meals of the savage\nwolves.\n\nThese at last became his only resource, and he grew to be so little\nfearful of these animals that he would sit by them while they devoured\ntheir meat, and patiently await his share.\n\nAfter a while, the wolves took to little Sheem very kindly, and seeming\nto understand his outcast condition, they would always leave something\nfor him to eat. By and by they began to talk with him, and to inquire\ninto his history. When he told them that he had been forsaken by his\nbrother and his sister, the wolves turned about to each other, lifted up\ntheir eyes to heaven, and wondered among themselves, with raised paws,\nthat such a thing should have been.\n\nIn this way, Sheem lived on till the spring, and as soon as the lake was\nfree from ice, he followed his new friends to the shore.\n\nIt happened on the same day, that his elder brother, Owasso, was fishing\nin his magic canoe, a considerable distance out upon the lake; when he\nthought he heard the cries of a child upon the shore. He wondered how\nany human creature could exist on so bleak and barren a coast.\n\nHe listened again with all attention, and he heard the cry distinctly\nrepeated; and this time it was the well-known cry of his younger brother\nthat reached his ear. He knew too well the secret of his song, as he\nheard him chaunting mournfully:\n\n\"My brother! My brother! Since you left me going in the canoe, a-hee-ee,\nI am half changed into a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf,\nE-wee.\"\n\nOwasso made for the shore, and as he approached the lament was repeated.\nThe sounds were very distinct, and the voice of wailing was very\nsorrowful for Owasso to listen to, and it touched him the more that it\ndied away at the close, into a long-drawn howl, like that of the wolf.\n\nIn the sand, as he drew closer to the land, he saw the tracks as of that\nanimal fleeing away; and besides these the prints of human hands. But\nwhat were the pity and astonishment that smote Owasso to the heart when\nhe espied his poor little brother--poor little forsaken Sheem--half boy\nand half wolf, flying along the shore.\n\nOwasso immediately leaped upon the ground and strove to catch him in his\narms, saying soothingly, \"My brother! my brother! Come to me.\"\n\nBut the poor wolf-boy avoided his grasp, crying, as he fled, \"Neesia,\nneesia. Since you left me going in the canoe, a-he-ee, I am half changed\ninto a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee!\" and howling\nbetween these words of lament.\n\nThe elder brother, sore at heart, and feeling all of his brotherly\naffection strongly returning, with renewed anguish, cried out, \"My\nbrother! my brother! my brother!\"\n\nBut the nearer he approached to poor Sheem, the faster he fled, and the\nmore rapidly the change went on; the boy-wolf by turns singing and\nhowling, and calling out the name, first of his brother and then of his\nsister, till the change was complete. He leaped upon a bank, and looking\nback, and casting upon Owasso a glance of deep reproach and grief, he\nexclaimed, \"I am a wolf!\" and disappeared in the woods.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nTHE MAGIC BUNDLE.\n\n\nA poor man, called Iena, or the Wanderer, was in the habit of roaming\nabout from place to place, forlorn, without relations, and almost\nhelpless. He had often wished for a companion to share his solitude; but\nwho would think of joining their fortunes with those of a poor wanderer,\nwho had no shelter but such as his leather hunting-shirt provided, and\nno other household in the world than the bundle which he carried in his\nhand, and in which his hunting-shirt was laid away?\n\nOne day as he went on a hunting excursion, to relieve himself of the\nburden of carrying it, Iena hung up his bundle on the branch of a tree,\nand then set out in quest of game.\n\nOn returning to the spot in the evening, he was surprised to find a\nsmall but neat lodge built in the place where he had left his bundle;\nand on looking in he beheld a beautiful female, sitting on the further\nside of the lodge, with his bundle lying beside her.\n\nDuring the day Iena had so far prospered in his sport as to kill a deer,\nwhich he now cast down at the lodge door.\n\nWithout pausing to take the least notice, or to give a word of welcome\nto the hunter, the woman ran out and began to see whether it was a large\ndeer that he had brought. In her haste she stumbled and fell at the\nthreshold.\n\nIena looked at her with astonishment, and thought to himself, \"I\nsupposed I was blessed, but I find my mistake. Night-Hawk,\" said he,\nspeaking aloud, \"I will leave my game with you that you may feast on\nit.\"\n\nHe then took up his bundle and departed. After walking some time he came\nto another tree, on which he suspended his bundle as before, and went in\nsearch of game.\n\nSuccess again attended him, and he returned, bringing with him a deer,\nand he found that a lodge had sprung up as before, where he had hung his\nbundle. He looked in and saw a beautiful female sitting alone, with his\nbundle by her side.\n\nShe arose and came out toward the deer which he had deposited at the\ndoor, and he immediately went into the lodge and sat by the fire, as he\nwas weary with the day's hunt, which had carried him far away.\n\nThe woman did not return, and wondering at her delay, Iena at last\narose, and peeping through the door of the lodge, beheld her greedily\neating all the fat of the deer. He exclaimed, \"I thought I was blessed,\nbut I find I was mistaken.\" Then addressing the woman: \"Poor Marten,\"\nsaid he, \"feast on the game I have brought.\"\n\nHe again took up his bundle and departed; and, as usual, hung it upon\nthe branch of a tree, and wandered off in quest of game.\n\nIn the evening he returned, with his customary good luck, bringing in a\nfine deer. He again found that a lodge had taken the place of his\nbundle. He gazed through an opening in the side of the lodge, and there\nwas another beautiful woman sitting alone, with a bundle by her side.\n\nAs soon as he entered the lodge, she rose cheerfully, welcomed him home,\nand without delay or complaining, she brought in the deer, cut it up as\nit should be, and hung up the meat to dry. She then prepared a portion\nof it for the supper of the weary hunter. The man thought to himself,\n\"Now I am certainly blessed.\"\n\nHe continued his practice of hunting every day, and the woman, on his\nreturn, always welcomed him, readily took charge of the meat, and\npromptly prepared his evening meal; and he ever after lived a contented\nand happy man.\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\nTHE RED SWAN.\n\n\nThree brothers were left destitute, by the death of their parents, at an\nearly age. The eldest was not yet able to provide fully for their\nsupport, but he did all that he could in hunting; and with this aid, and\nthe stock of provisions already laid by in the lodge, they managed to\nkeep along. They had no neighbors to lend them a helping hand, for the\nfather had withdrawn many years before from the body of the tribe, and\nhad lived ever since in a solitary place. The lads had no idea that\nthere was a human being near them. They did not even know who their\nparents had been; for, at the time of their death, the eldest was too\nyoung to remember it.\n\nForlorn as they were, they however kept a good heart, and making use of\nevery chance, in course of time they all acquired a knowledge of hunting\nand the pursuit of game. The eldest became expert in the craft of the\nforest, and he was very successful in procuring food. He was noted for\nhis skill in killing buffalo, elk, and moose; and he instructed his\nbrothers, so that each should become a master over a particular animal\nwhich was assigned to him.\n\nAfter they had become able to hunt and to take care of themselves, the\nelder proposed to leave them and to go in search of the world, promising\nto return as soon as he could procure them wives. In this intention he\nwas overruled by his brothers, who said that they could not part with\nhim.\n\nJeekewis, the second, was loud in disapproval of the scheme, saying:\n\"What will you do with those you propose to get? We have lived so long\nby ourselves, we can still do without them.\" This counsel prevailed, and\nfor a time the three brothers continued together.\n\nOne day they agreed to kill each a male of that kind of animal, which\neach was most expert in hunting, for the purpose of making quivers from\ntheir skins. When these quivers were prepared, they were straightway\nfilled, with arrows; for they all had a presentiment that something was\nabout to happen which called upon them to be ready.\n\nSoon after they hunted on a wager to see who should come in first with\ngame, and have the privilege of acting as entertainer to the others.\nThey were to shoot no other beast or bird than such as each was in the\nhabit of killing.\n\nThey set out on different paths. Maidwa, the youngest, had not gone far\nbefore he saw a bear, an animal he was not to kill, by the agreement.\nHe, however, followed him closely, and driving an arrow through and\nthrough him, he brought him to the ground.\n\nAlthough contrary to the engagement with his brothers, Maidwa commenced\nskinning him, when suddenly something red tinged the air all around him.\nHe rubbed his eyes, thinking he was perhaps deceived; but rub as hard as\nhe would, the red hue still crimsoned the air, and tinged every object\nthat he looked on--the tree-tops, the river that flowed, and the deer\nthat glided away along the edge of the forest--with its delicate\nsplendor.\n\nAs he stood musing on this fairy spectacle, a strange noise came to his\near from a distance. At first it seemed like a human voice. After\nfollowing the sound he reached the shore of a lake. Floating at a\ndistance upon its waters sat a most beautiful Red Swan, whose plumage\nglittered in the sun, and when it lifted up its neck, it uttered the\npeculiar tone he had heard. He was within long bow-shot, and, drawing\nthe arrow to his ear, he took a careful aim and discharged the shaft. It\ntook no effect. The beautiful bird sat proudly on the water, still\npouring forth its peculiar chant, and still spreading the radiance of\nits plumage far and wide, and lighting up the whole world, beneath the\neye of Maidwa, with its ruby splendors.\n\nHe shot again and again, till his quiver was empty, for he longed to\npossess so glorious a creature. Still the swan did not spread its wings\nto fly, but, circling round and round, stretched its long neck and\ndipped its bill into the water, as if indifferent to mortal shafts.\n\nMaidwa ran home, and bringing all the arrows in the lodge, shot them\naway. He then stood with his bow dropped at his side, lost in wonder,\ngazing at the beautiful bird.\n\nWhile standing thus, with a heart beating more and more eagerly every\nmoment for the possession of this fair swan, Maidwa remembered the\nsaying of his elder brother, that in their deceased father's\nmedicine-sack were three magic arrows; but his brother had not told\nMaidwa that their father, on his death-bed, which he alone had attended,\nhad especially bequeathed the arrows to his youngest son, Maidwa, from\nwhom they had been wrongfully kept. The thought of the magic arrows put\nheart in Maidwa, and he hastened with all speed to secure them.\n\nAt any other time he would have shrunk from opening his father's\nmedicine-sack, but something prompted him to believe that there was no\nwrong now, and snatching them forth he ran back, not staying to restore\nthe other contents to the sack, but leaving them scattered, here and\nthere, about the lodge.\n\nHe feared, as he returned, that the swan must by this time have taken\nwing; but, as he emerged from the wood, to his great delight the air was\nas rosy as ever, and there, in her own serene and beautiful way, still\nsat the glorious Red Swan.\n\nWith trembling hand he shot the first of his magic shafts: it grazed a\nwing. The second came closer, and cut away a few of the bright red\nfeathers, which fluttered and fell like flakes of fire in the water. The\nthird, which he carefully aimed and drew home upon the string with all\nhis force, made the lucky hit, and passed through the neck of the bird a\nlittle above the breast.\n\n\"The bird is mine,\" said Maidwa, to himself; but to his great surprise,\ninstead of seeing it droop its neck and drift to the shore, the Red Swan\nflapped its wings, rose slowly, and flew off with a majestic motion\ntoward the falling sun.\n\nMaidwa, that he might meet his brothers, rescued two of the magic arrows\nfrom the water; and although the third was borne off, he had a hope yet\nto recover that too, and to be master of the swan. He was noted for his\nspeed; for he would shoot an arrow and then run so fast that the arrow\nalways fell behind him; and he now set off at his best speed of foot. \"I\ncan run fast,\" he thought, \"and I can get up with the swan some time or\nother.\"\n\nHe sped on, over hills and prairies, toward the west, and was only\ngoing to take one more run, and then seek a place to sleep for the\nnight, when, suddenly, he heard noises at a distance, like the murmur of\nwaters against the shore; as he went on, he heard voices, and presently\nhe saw people, some of whom were busy felling trees, and the strokes of\ntheir labor echoed through the woods. He passed on, and when he emerged\nfrom the forest, the sun was just falling below the edge of the sky.\n\nHe was bent on success in pursuit of the swan, whose red track he marked\nwell far westward till she was lost to sight. Meanwhile he would tarry\nfor the night and procure something to eat, as he had fasted since he\nhad left home.\n\nAt a distance, on a rising ground, he could see the lodges of a large\nvillage. He went toward it, and soon heard the watchman, who was set on\na height to overlook the place, and give notice of the approach of\nfriends or foes, crying out, \"We are visited;\" and a loud halloo\nindicated that they had all heard it.\n\nWhen Maidwa advanced, the watchman pointed to the lodge of the chief.\n\"It is there you must go in,\" he said, and left him.\n\n\"Come in, come in,\" said the chief; \"take a seat there;\" pointing to the\nside of the lodge where his daughter sat. \"It is there you must sit.\"\n\nThey gave him something to eat, and, being a stranger, very few\nquestions were put to him; it was only when he spoke that the others\nanswered him.\n\n\"Daughter,\" said the chief, as soon as the night had set in, \"take our\nson-in-law's moccasins and see if they be torn; if so, mend them for\nhim, and bring in his bundle.\"\n\nMaidwa thought it strange that he should be so warmly received, and\nmarried instantly against his own wishes, although he could not help\nnoticing that the chief's daughter was pretty.\n\nIt was some time before she would take the moccasins which he had laid\noff. It displeased him to see her loth to do so; and when at last she\ndid reach them, he snatched them from her hand and hung them up himself.\nHe lay down and thought of the swan, and made up his mind to be off with\nthe dawn. He wakened early, and finding the chief's daughter looking\nforth at the door, he spoke to her, but she gave no answer. He touched\nher lightly.\n\n\"What do you want?\" she said, and turned her face away from him.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said Maidwa, \"what time the swan passed. I am following it;\ncome out, and point the way.\"\n\n\"Do you think you can overtake it?\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered.\n\n\"Naubesah--fool!\" retorted the chief's pretty daughter.\n\nShe, however, went out, and pointed in the direction he should go. The\nyoung man paced slowly along till the sun arose, when he commenced\ntraveling at his accustomed speed. He passed the day in running, and\nalthough he could not see anywhere on the horizon the Red Swan, he\nthought that he discerned a faint red light far over in the west.\n\nWhen night came, he was pleased to find himself near another village;\nand when at a distance he heard the watchman crying out, \"We are\nvisited;\" and soon the men of the village stood out to see the stranger.\n\nHe was again told to enter the lodge of the chief, and his reception was\nin every respect the same as on the previous night; except that the\nyoung woman was more beautiful, and that she entertained him very\nkindly. Although urged to stay with them, the mind of Maidwa was fixed\non the object of his journey.\n\nBefore daybreak he asked the young woman at what time the Red Swan\npassed, and to point out the way. She marked against the sky with her\nfinger the course it had taken, and told him that it had passed\nyesterday when the sun was between mid-day and its falling-place.\n\nMaidwa again set out rather slowly, but when the sun had risen, he tried\nhis speed by shooting an arrow ahead, and running after it; but it fell\nbehind him, and he knew that he had lost nothing of his quickness of\nfoot.\n\nNothing remarkable happened through the day, and he went on leisurely.\nSome time after dark, as he was peering around the country for a\nshelter, he saw a light emitted from a small low lodge. He went up to it\nvery slyly, and, peeping through the door, he discovered an old man\nalone, with his head down upon his breast, warming his back before the\nfire.\n\nMaidwa thought that the old man did not know that he was standing near\nthe door; but in this he was mistaken; for, without turning his eyes to\nlook at him, the old man said, \"Walk in, my grandchild; take a seat\nopposite to me, and take off your things and dry them, for you must be\nfatigued; and I will prepare you something to eat; you shall have\nsomething very delicate.\"\n\nMaidwa accepted this kind invitation, and entered the lodge. The old man\nthen remarked, as if in mere course of conversation: \"My kettle with\nwater stands near the fire;\" and immediately a small earthen pot with\nlegs appeared by the fire. He then took one grain of corn, also one of\nwhortleberry, and put them in the pot.\n\nMaidwa was very hungry, and seeing the limited scale of the old man's\nhousekeeping, he thought his chance for a supper was very slight. The\nold man had promised him something very delicate, and he seemed likely\nto keep his word. Maidwa looked on silently, and did not change his face\nany more than if the greatest banquet that was ever spread had been\ngoing forward.\n\nThe pot soon boiled, when the old man said in a very quiet way:\n\n\"The pot will stand at a distance from the fire.\"\n\nIt removed itself, and the old man added to Maidwa:\n\n\"My grandchild, feed yourself;\" handing him at the same time a dish and\nladle of the same ware as the pot itself.\n\nThe young man, whose hunger was very great, helped himself to all that\nwas in the pot. He felt ashamed to think that he had done so, but before\nhe could speak the old man said:\n\n\"Eat, nay grandchild; eat, eat!\" and soon after he again said--\"Help\nyourself from the pot.\"\n\nMaidwa was surprised, on dipping in his ladle, to see that it was full;\nand although he emptied it a second time, it was still again filled and\nrefilled till his hunger was entirely satisfied. The old man then\nobserved, without raising his voice:\n\n\"The pot will return to its corner;\" and the pot took itself off to its\naccustomed place in an out-of-the-way corner of the lodge.\n\nMaidwa observed that the old man was about to address him, and took an\nattitude which showed that he was prepared to listen.\n\n\"Keep on, my grandchild,\" said the old man; \"you will surely gain that\nyou seek. To tell you more I am not permitted; but go on as you have\nbegun and you will not be disappointed. To-morrow you will again reach\none of my fellow old men, but the one you will see after him will tell\nyou all, and the manner in which you must proceed to accomplish your\njourney. Often has this Red Swan passed, and those who have followed it\nhave never returned; but you must be firm in your resolution, and be\nprepared for all that may happen.\"\n\n\"So will it be,\" answered Maidwa; and they both laid down to sleep.\n\nEarly in the morning the old man ordered his magic kettle to prepare\nbreakfast, so that his guest might eat before leaving. As Maidwa passed\nout, the old man gave him a blessing with his parting advice.\n\nMaidwa set forth in better spirits than at any time since he had\nstarted. Night again found him in company with an old man who\nentertained him kindly, with a frisky little kettle which hurried up to\nthe fire before it was spoken to, bustled about and set his supper\nbriskly before Maidwa, and frisked away again, without waiting for\norders. The old man also carefully directed him on his way in the\nmorning.\n\nHe traveled with a light heart, as he now expected to meet the one who\nwas to give him directions how to proceed to get the Red Swan.\n\nToward night-fall Maidwa reached the lodge of the third old man. Before\ncoming to the door he heard him saying:\n\n\"Grandchild, come in;\" and going in promptly he felt quite at home.\n\nThe old man prepared him something to eat, acting as the other magicians\nhad done, and his kettle was of the same size, and looked as if it were\nan own brother of the two others which had feasted him, except that this\nkettle, in coming and going about its household duties, would make a\npassing remark, or sing a little tune for itself.\n\nThe old man waited until Maidwa had fully satisfied his hunger, when he\naddressed him:\n\n\"Young man, the errand you are bound on is beset with trials and\ndifficulties. Numbers have passed with the same purpose as that which\nnow prompts you, but they never returned. Be careful, and if your\nguardian spirits are powerful you may succeed. This Red Swan you are\nfollowing is the daughter of a magician who has abundance of every\nthing, but only this one child, whom he values more than the sacred\narrows. In former times he wore a cap of wampum, which was attached to\nhis scalp; but powerful Indians, warriors of a distant chief, came and\ntold him that their chief's daughter was on the brink of the grave, and\nthat she herself requested his wampum-cap, which she was confident would\nsave her life. 'If I can only see it,' she said, 'I will recover.' It\nwas for this cap they had come, and after long solicitation the magician\nat length consented to part with it, in the hope that it would restore\nto health the dying maiden, although when he took it off to hand it to\nthe messengers it left the crown of his head bare and bloody. Years have\npassed since, and it has not healed. The coming of the warriors to\nprocure it for the sick maiden was a cheat, and they are now constantly\nmaking sport of the unhappy scalp--dancing it about from village to\nvillage--and on every insult it receives the poor old chief to whom it\nbelongs groans with pain. Those who hold it are too powerful for the\nmagician, and many have sacrificed themselves to recover it for him, but\nwithout success. The Red Swan has enticed many a young man, as she has\nyou, to enlist them to procure the scalp, and whoever is so fortunate as\nto succeed, it is understood, will receive the Red Swan as his reward.\nIn the morning you will proceed on your way, and toward evening you will\ncome to this magician's lodge. You will know it by the groans which you\nwill hear far over the prairie as you approach. He will ask you in. You\nwill see no one but himself. He will question you much as to your dreams\nand the strength of your guardian spirits. If he is satisfied with your\nanswers, he will urge you to attempt the recovery of his scalp. He will\nshow you the course to take, and if you feel inclined, as I see that\nyou do, go forward, my son, with a strong heart; persevere, and I have a\npresentiment that you will succeed.\"\n\nMaidwa answered, \"I will try.\"\n\nBetimes in the morning, after having eaten from the magic kettle, which\nsung a sort of farewell chant on its way from the fire-place to its\nstation in the corner, he set off on his journey.\n\nToward evening, Maidwa, as he crossed a prairie, heard, as had been\npredicted, groans from a distant lodge, which were only interrupted by a\nvoice from a person whom he could not see, calling to him aloud:\n\n\"Come in! come in!\"\n\nOn entering the lodge, the magician heaved a great groan from the very\nbottom of his chest, and Maidwa saw that the crown of his head was all\nbare and bloody.\n\n\"Sit down, sit down,\" he said, \"while I prepare you something to eat.\nYou see how poor I am. I have to attend to all my own wants, with no\nother servant than that poor little kettle in the corner. Kettle, we\nwill have something to eat, if you please.\"\n\n\"In a moment,\" the kettle spoke up from the corner.\n\n\"You will oblige me by making all the dispatch you can,\" said the\nmagician, in a very humble tone, still addressing the kettle.\n\n\"Have patience,\" replied the kettle, \"and I will be with you presently.\"\n\nAfter a considerable delay, there came forward out of the corner from\nwhich it had spoken, a great heavy-browed and pot-bodied kettle, which\nadvanced with much stateliness and solemnity of manner till it had come\ndirectly in front of the magician, whom it addressed with the question:\n\n\"What shall we have, sir?\"\n\n\"Corn, if you please,\" the magician answered.\n\n\"No, we will have whortleberries,\" rejoined the kettle, in a firm voice.\n\n\"Very well; just as you choose.\"\n\nWhen he supposed it was time, the magician invited Maidwa to help\nhimself.\n\n\"Hold a minute,\" interposed the kettle, as Maidwa was about to dip in\nhis ladle. He paused, and after a delay, the kettle, shaking itself up\nand simmering very loudly, said, \"Now we are ready.\"\n\nMaidwa fell to and satisfied his hunger.\n\n\"Will the kettle now withdraw?\" asked the magician, with am air of much\ndeference.\n\n\"No,\" said the kettle, \"we will stay and hear what the young man has to\nsay for himself.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the magician. \"You see,\" he added to Maidwa, \"how poor\nI am. I have to take counsel with the kettle, or I should be all alone,\nwithout a day's food, and with no one to advise me.\"\n\nAll this time the Red Swan was carefully concealed in the lodge, behind\na curtain, from which Maidwa heard now and then a rustling noise, that\nfluttered his spirits and set his heart to beating at a wonderful rate.\n\nAs soon as Maidwa had partaken of food and laid aside his leggings and\nmoccasins, the old magician commenced telling him how he had lost his\nscalp, the insults it was receiving, the pain he suffered thereby, his\nwishes to regain it, the many unsuccessful attempts that had already\nbeen made, and the numbers and power of those who retained it. He would\ninterrupt his discourse, at times, with sudden groans, and say:\n\n\"Oh, how shamefully they are treating it.\"\n\nMaidwa listened to all the old magician had to say with solemn\nattention.\n\nThe magician renewed his discourse, and inquired of Maidwa as to his\ndreams, or what he saw in his sleep, at such times as he had fasted and\ndarkened his face to procure guardian spirits.\n\nMaidwa then told him one dream. The magician groaned.\n\n\"No, that is not it,\" he said.\n\nMaidwa told him of two or three others.\n\nThe magician groaned again and again, and said, rather peevishly, \"No,\nthese are not the dreams.\"\n\n\"Keep cool,\" said the kettle, which had left the fire, and was standing\nin the middle of the floor, where a pleasant breeze was blowing through\nthe lodge, and added, \"Have you no more dreams of another kind?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Maidwa; and he told him one.\n\n\"That will do,\" said the kettle. \"We are much pleased with that.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is it--that is it!\" the magician added. \"You will cause me to\nlive. That was what I was wishing you to say. Will you then go and see\nif you can not recover my poor scalp?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Maidwa, \"I will go; and the day after to-morrow, when you\nhear the ka-kak cries of the hawk, you will know that I am successful.\nYou must prepare your head, and lean it out through the door, so that\nthe moment I arrive I may place your scalp on.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said the magician. \"As you say it will be done.\"\n\nEarly the next morning Maidwa set out to fulfill his promise; and in the\nafternoon, when the sun hangs toward home, he heard the shouts of a\ngreat many people. He was in a wood at the time, and saw, as he thought,\nonly a few men, but as he went on they increased in numbers. On emerging\nupon the plain, their heads appeared like the hanging leaves, they were\nso many.\n\nIn the middle of the plain he perceived a post, and something waving at\nits top. It was the wampum scalp; and every now and then the air was\nrent with the war-song, for they were dancing the war-dance in high\nspirit around it.\n\nBefore he could be observed, Maidwa changed himself into a humming-bird,\nand flew toward the scalp. As he passed some of those who were standing\nby, he came close to their ears, and as they heard the rapid whirr or\nmurmur which this bird makes when it flies, they jumped aside, and asked\neach other what it could be. Maidwa had nearly reached the scalp, but\nfearing that he should be perceived while untying it, he again changed\nhimself into the down that floats lightly on the air, and sailed slowly\non to the scalp. He loosened it, and moved off heavily, as the weight\nwas almost too great for him to bear up. The Indians around would have\nsnatched it away had not a lucky current of air just then buoyed him up.\nAs they saw that it was moving away they cried out, \"It is taken from\nus! it is taken from us!\"\n\nMaidwa was borne gently along but a little way above their heads; and as\nthey followed him, the rush and hum of the people was like the dead\nbeating of the surges upon a lake shore after a storm. But the good wind\ngaining strength, soon carried him beyond their pursuit. A little\nfurther on he changed himself into a hawk, and flew swiftly off with\nhis trophy, crying, \"Ka-kak! ka-kak!\" till it resounded with its shrill\ntone through the whole country, far and wide.\n\nMeanwhile the magician had remembered the instructions of Maidwa,\nplacing his head outside of the lodge as soon as he heard the ka-kak cry\nof the hawk.\n\nIn a moment Maidwa came past with rustling wings, and as he flew by,\ngiving the magician a severe blow on the head with the wampum scalp, his\nlimbs extended and quivered in an agony, the scalp adhered, and Maidwa,\nin his own person, walked into the lodge and sat down, feeling perfectly\nat home.\n\nThe magician was so long in recovering from the stunning blow which had\nbeen dealt him, that Maidwa feared that in restoring the crown of his\nhead he had destroyed his life. Presently, however, he was pleased to\nsee him show, by the motion of his hands and limbs, that his strength\nwas returning; and in a little while he rose and stood upon his feet.\nWhat was the delight of Maidwa to behold, instead of a withered old man,\nfar advanced in years and stricken in sorrow, a bright and cheerful\nyouth, who glittered with life as he stood up before him.\n\n\"Thank you, my friend,\" he said. \"Your kindness and bravery of heart\nhave restored me to my former shape. It was so ordained, and you have\nnow accomplished the victory.\"\n\nThey embraced; and the young magician urged the stay of his deliverer\nfor a few days, and they formed a strong attachment to each other. The\nmagician, to the deep regret of Maidwa, never once alluded to the Red\nSwan in all their conferences.\n\nAt last the day arrived when Maidwa prepared to return to his home. The\nyoung magician bestowed on him ample presents of wampum, fur, robes, and\nother costly things. Although Maidwa's heart was burning within him to\nsee the Red Swan, to hear her spoken of, and to learn what his fortune\nwas to be in regard to that fond object of his pursuit, he constrained\nhis feelings, and so checked his countenance as to never look where he\nsupposed she might be. His friend the young magician observed the same\nsilence and caution.\n\nMaidwa's pack for traveling was now ready, and he was taking his\nfarewell smoke, when the young magician thus addressed him: \"My friend\nMaidwa, you know for what cause you came thus far, and why you have\nrisked so much and waited so long. You have proved my friend indeed. You\nhave accomplished your object, and your noble perseverance shall not go\nunrewarded. If you undertake other things with the same spirit, you will\nalways succeed. My destiny compels me to remain where I am, although I\nshould feel happy to be allowed to go with you. I have given you, of\nordinary gifts, all you will need as long as you live; but I see you\nare backward to speak of the Red Swan. I vowed that whoever procured me\nmy lost wampum-scalp should be rewarded by possessing the Red Swan.\"\n\nHe then spoke in a language which Maidwa did not understand, the curtain\nof the lodge parted, and the Red Swan met his gaze. It was a beautiful\nfemale that he beheld, so majestical and airy in her look, that he\nseemed to see a creature whose home should rather be in the free heaven,\nand among the rosy clouds, than in this dusky lodge.\n\n\"Take her,\" the young magician said; \"she is my sister; treat her well.\nShe is worthy of you, and what you have done for me merits more. She is\nready to go with you to your kindred and friends, and has been so ever\nsince your arrival; and my good wishes shall go with you both.\"\n\nThe Red Swan smiled kindly on Maidwa, who advanced and greeted her. Hand\nin hand they took their way forth from the lodge, and, watched by the\nyoung magician, advanced across the prairie on their homeward course.\n\nThey traveled slowly, and looked with double joy on the beautiful\ncountry over which they had both so lately passed with hearts ill at\nease.\n\nAfter two or three days they reached the lodge of the third old man who\nhad entertained him with the singing kettle; but the kettle was not\nthere. The old man, nevertheless, received them very kindly, and said\nto Maidwa, \"You see what your perseverance has secured you; do so\nalways, and you will succeed in whatever you undertake.\"\n\nOn the following morning, when they were about to start, he pulled from\nthe side of the lodge a bag, which he presented to Maidwa, saying,\n\"Grandchild, I give you this; it contains a present for you; and I hope\nyou will live happily till old age.\"\n\nBidding him farewell, they again set forward; and they soon came to the\nsecond old man's lodge; he also gave them a present and bestowed his\nblessing. Nor did Maidwa see any thing here of the frisky little kettle\nwhich had been so lively on his former visit.\n\nAs they went on and came to the lodge of the first old man, their\nreception and farewell were the same; and when Maidwa glanced to the\ncorner, the silent kettle, which had been the first acquaintance he had\nmade in that family on his travels, was not there. The old man smiled\nwhen he discovered the direction of Maidwa's glance, but he said\nnothing.\n\nWhen, on continuing their journey, they at last approached the first\ntown which Maidwa had passed in his pursuit, the watchman gave notice as\nbefore, and he was shown into the chief's lodge.\n\n\"Sit down there, son-in-law,\" said the chief, pointing to a place near\nhis daughter. \"And you also,\" he said to the Red Swan.\n\nThe chief's daughter was engaged in coloring a girdle, and, as if\nindifferent to these visitors, she did not even raise her head.\nPresently the chief said, \"Let some one bring in the bundle of our\nson-in-law.\"\n\nWhen the bundle was laid before him, Maidwa opened one of the bags which\nhad been given to him. It was filled with various costly\narticles--wampum, robes, and trinkets, of much richness and value;\nthese, in token of his kindness, he presented to the chief. The chief's\ndaughter stole a glance at the costly gifts, then at Maidwa and his\nbeautiful wife. She stopped working, and was silent and thoughtful all\nthe evening. The chief himself talked with Maidwa of his adventures,\ncongratulated him on his good fortune, and concluded by telling him that\nhe should take his daughter along with him in the morning.\n\nMaidwa said \"Yes.\"\n\nThe chief then spoke up, saying, \"Daughter, be ready to go with him in\nthe morning.\"\n\nNow it happened when the chief was thus speaking that there was a\nfoolish fellow in the lodge, who had thought to have got this chief's\ndaughter for a wife; and he jumped up, saying:\n\n\"Who is he,\" looking grimly at Maidwa, \"that he should take her for a\nfew presents? I will kill him.\"\n\nAnd he raised a knife which he had in his hand, and gave it a mighty\nflourish in the air. He kept up this terrible flourish till some one\ncame and pulled him back to his seat, which he had been waiting for,\nand then he sat quiet enough.\n\nAmid the greetings of their new friends, Maidwa and the Red Swan, with\nthe chief's daughter, took their leave by peep of day, and toward\nevening they reached the other town. The watchman gave the signal, and\nnumbers of men, women and children stood out to see them. They were\nagain shown into the chief's lodge, who welcomed him, saying:\n\n\"Son-in-law, you are welcome.\"\n\nAnd he requested Maidwa to take a seat by his daughter, and the two\nwomen did the same.\n\nAfter suitable refreshment for all, and while Maidwa smoked a pipe, the\nchief asked him to relate his adventures in the hearing of all the\ninmates of the lodge, and of the strangers who had gathered in at report\nof his singular fortunes.\n\nMaidwa gave them his whole story. When he came to those parts which\nrelated to the Red Swan, they turned and looked upon her in wonder and\nadmiration, for she was very beautiful.\n\nThe chief then informed Maidwa that his brothers had been to their town\nin search of him, but that they had gone back some time before, having\ngiven up all hopes of ever seeing him again. He added, that since he had\nshown himself a man of spirit, whom fortune was pleased to befriend, he\nshould take his daughter with him.\n\n\"For although your brothers,\" he said, \"were here, they were too bashful\nto enter any of our lodges. They merely inquired for you and returned.\nYou will take my daughter, treat her well, and that will bind us more\nclosely together.\"\n\nIt is always the case in an assembly or gathering that some one of the\nnumber is foolish, and disposed to play the clown. It happened to be so\nhere. One of this very sort was in the lodge, and, after Maidwa had\ngiven the old chief presents, as he had to the other, this pretender\njumped up in a passion, and cried out:\n\n\"Who is this stranger, that he should have her? I want her myself.\"\n\nThe chief bade him be quiet, and not to disturb or quarrel with one who\nwas enjoying their hospitality.\n\n\"No, no,\" he exclaimed, rushing forward as in act to strike.\n\nMaidwa sat unmoved, and paid no heed to his threats.\n\nHe cried the louder--\"I will have her, I will have her!\" whereupon the\nold chief, being now vexed past patience, took his great war-club and\ntapped this clownish fellow upon the head, which so far subdued him that\nhe sat for some time quite still; when, after a while, he came to\nhimself, the chief upbraided him for his folly, and told him to go out\nand tell stories to the old women.\n\nWhen at last Maidwa was about to leave, he invited a number of the\nfamilies of the chief to go with him and visit their hunting-grounds,\nwhere he promised them that they would find game in abundance. They\nconsented, and in the morning a large company assembled and joined\nMaidwa; and the chief, with a party of warriors, escorted them a long\ndistance. When ready to return, the chief made a speech and besought the\nblessing of the Good Spirit on Maidwa and his friends.\n\nThey parted, each on its course, making music with their war-drums,\nwhich could be heard from afar as they glittered with waving feathers in\nthe morning sun, in their march over the prairie, which was lost in the\ndistant sky.\n\nAfter several days' travel, Maidwa and his friends came in sight of his\nhome. The others rested within the woods while he went alone in advance\nto see his brothers.\n\nHe entered the lodge. It was all in confusion and covered with ashes. On\none side, sitting among the cinders, with his face blackened, and crying\naloud, was his elder brother. On the other side sat the younger,\nJeekewis, also with blackened face, his head covered with stray feathers\nand tufts of swan-down. This one presented so curious a figure that\nMaidwa could not keep from laughing. He seemed to be so lost and\nfar-gone in grief that he could not notice his brother's arrival. The\neldest, however, after a while, lifting up his head, recognized Maidwa,\njumped up and shook hands, and kissed him, and expressed much joy at his\nreturn.\n\nMaidwa, as soon as he had seen the lodge set in order, made known that\nhe had brought each of them a wife. As soon as Jeekewis heard a wife\nspoken of, he roused from his torpor, sprang to his feet, and said:\n\n\"Why is it just now that you have come?\" and at once made for the door\nand peeped out to see the strangers. He then commenced jumping and\nlaughing, and crying out, \"Women! women!\" and that was all the reception\nhe gave his brother. Maidwa told them to wash themselves and prepare,\nfor he would go and fetch the females in.\n\nJeekewis scampered about, and began to wash himself; but he would every\nnow and then, with one side of his head all feathers, and the other\nclear and shining, peep forth to look at the women again. When they came\nnear, he said, \"I will have this and that one;\" he did not exactly know\nwhich; he would sit down for an instant, and then rise, and peep about\nand laugh; in fact he acted like one beside himself.\n\nAs soon as order was restored, and all the company who had been brought\nin were seated, Maidwa presented one of the chief's daughters to his\neldest brother, saying: \"These women were given to me, to dispose of in\nmarriage. I now give one to each. I intended so from the first.\"\n\nJeekewis spoke up and said, \"I think three wives would have been enough\nfor you.\"\n\nMaidwa led the other daughter to Jeekewis, and said, \"My brother, here\nis one for you, and live happily.\"\n\nJeekewis hung down his head as if he was ashamed, but he would every now\nand then steal a look at his wife and also at the other women.\n\nBy and by he turned toward his wife and acted as if he had been married\nfor years.\n\nMaidwa seeing that no preparation had been made to entertain the\ncompany, said, \"Are we to have no supper?\"\n\nHe had no sooner spoken, than forth from a corner stepped the silent\nkettle, which placed itself by the fire, and began bubbling and boiling\nquite briskly. Presently that was joined by the big talking kettle,\nwhich said, addressing itself to Maidwa, \"Master, we shall be ready\npresently;\" and then, dancing along, came, from still another, the\nfrisky little kettle, which hopped to their side, and took an active\npart in the preparations for the evening meal. When all was nearly\nready, a delicate voice was heard singing in the last corner of the\nlodge, and keeping up its dainty carol all the way to the fire-place,\nthe fourth kettle joined the three cooks, and they all fell to with all\ntheir might, and in the best possible humor, to dispatch their work.\n\nIt was not long before the big kettle advanced toward Maidwa, and said,\nin his own confident way, \"Supper is ready!\"\n\nThe feast was a jovial one; and although they were all hungry, and plied\ntheir ladles with right good will, yet, dip in as often as they would,\nthe four magic kettles held out, and had plenty to the end of the revel.\n\nTo draw to a close, Maidwa and his friends lived in peace for a time;\ntheir town prospered; there was no lack of children; and every thing\nelse was in abundance.\n\nOne day the two brothers began to look dark upon Maidwa, and to reproach\nhim for having taken from the medicine-sack their deceased father's\nmagic arrows; they upbraided him especially that one was lost.\n\nAfter listening to them in silence, he said that he would go in search\nof it, and that it should be restored; and the very next day, true to\nhis word, he left them.\n\nAfter traveling a long way, and looking in every direction, almost\nhopeless of discovering the lost treasure, he came to an opening in the\nearth, and descending, it led him to the abode of departed spirits. The\ncountry appeared beautiful, the pastures were greener than his own, and\nthe sky bluer than that which hung over the lodge, and the extent of it\nwas utterly lost in a dim distance; and he saw animals of every kind\nwandering about in great numbers. The first he came to were buffalos;\nhis surprise was great when they addressed him as human beings.\n\nThey asked him what he came for, how he had descended, and why he was so\nbold as to visit the abode of the dead.\n\nHe answered that he was in quest of a magic arrow, to appease the anger\nof his brothers.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the leader of the buffalos, whose form was nothing but\nbone. \"Yes, we know it,\" and he and his followers moved off a little\nspace from Maidwa, as if they were afraid of him. \"You have come,\"\nresumed the buffalo-spirit, \"to a place where a living man has never\nbefore been. You will return immediately to your tribe, for, under\npretense of recovering one of the magic arrows which belong to you by\nyour father's dying wish, they have sent you off that they might become\npossessed of your beautiful wife, the Red Swan. Speed home! You will\nfind the magic arrow at the lodge-door. You will live to a very old age,\nand die happily. You can go no further in these abodes of ours.\"\n\nMaidwa looked, as he thought, to the west, and saw a bright light as if\nthe sun was shining in its splendor, but he saw no sun.\n\n\"What light is that yonder?\" he asked.\n\nThe all-boned buffalo answered--\"It is the place where those who were\ngood dwell.\"\n\n\"And that dark cloud?\" Maidwa again asked.\n\n\"It is the place of the wicked,\" answered the buffalo.\n\nMaidwa turned away, for it was very dark, and it pained his eyes to look\nupon it; and, moving away by the aid of his guardian spirits, he again\nstood upon the earth, and beheld the sun giving light as usual.\n\nAll else that he learned in the abodes of the dead, and his travels and\nacts previous to his return homeward, are unknown, for he never spoke of\nthem to any human being.\n\nAfter wandering a long time to gather knowledge to make his people happy\nand to add to their comfort, he one evening drew near to his own\nvillage. Passing all the other lodges he came to his own door, where he\nfound the magic arrow, as he had been promised. He heard his brothers\nfrom within at high words with each other. They were quarreling for the\npossession of his wife, who, through all his absence, had remained\nconstant, and sadly awaited his return. Maidwa listened in shame and\nsorrow.\n\nHe entered the lodge, holding his head aloft as one conscious of good\nprinciple and shining with anger. He spoke not a word, but, placing the\nmagic arrow to his bow, he would have laid his brothers dead at his\nfeet; but just then the talking kettle stepped forward and spoke such\nwords of wisdom, and the singing kettle trolled forth such a soothing\nlittle song, and the guilty brothers were so contrite and keenly\nrepentant of their intended wrong, and the Red Swan was so radiant and\nforgiving, the silent kettle straightway served them up so hearty and\nwholesome a meal, and the frisky little kettle was so joyful and danced\nabout so merrily, that when the magic arrows were laid away in the\nmedicine-sack by Maidwa, there was that night in all the Indian country\nno happier family than the three brothers, who ever after dwelt together\nin all kindness, as all good brothers should.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\nTHE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP.\n\n\nAs a punishment for having once upon a time used that foot against a\nvenerable medicine man, Aggo Dah Gauda had one leg looped up to his\nthigh, so that he was obliged to get along by hopping. By dint of\npractice he had become very skillful in this exercise, and he could make\nleaps which seemed almost incredible.\n\nAggo had a beautiful daughter, and his chief care was to secure her from\nbeing carried off by the king of the buffalos, who was the ruler of all\nthe herds of that kind, and had them entirely at his command to make\nthem do as he willed.\n\nDah Gauda, too, was quite an important person in his own way, for he\nlived in great state, having a log house of his own, and a court-yard\nwhich extended from the sill of his front-door as many hundred miles\nwestward as he chose to measure it.\n\nAlthough he might claim this extensive privilege of ground, he advised\nhis daughter to keep within doors, and by no means to go far in the\nneighborhood, as she would otherwise be sure to be stolen away, as he\nwas satisfied that the buffalo-king spent night and day lurking about\nand lying in wait to seize her.\n\nOne sunshiny morning, when there were just two or three promising clouds\nrolling moistly about the sky, Aggo prepared to go out a-fishing; but\nbefore he left the lodge he reminded her of her strange and industrious\nlover, whom she had never seen.\n\n\"My daughter,\" said he, \"I am going out to fish, and as the day will be\na pleasant one, you must recollect that we have an enemy near, who is\nconstantly going about with two eyes that never close, and do not expose\nyourself out of the lodge.\"\n\nWith this excellent advice, Aggo hopped off in high spirits; but he had\nscarcely reached the fishing-ground when he heard a voice singing, at a\ndistance:\n\n    Man with the leg tied up,\n    Man with the leg tied up,\n        Broken hip--hip--\n            Hipped.\n\n    Man with the leg tied up,\n    Man with the leg tied up,\n        Broken leg--leg--\n            Legged.\n\nThere was no one in sight, but Aggo heard the words quite plainly, and\nas he suspected the ditty to be the work of his enemies, the buffalos,\nhe hopped home as fast as his one leg could carry him.\n\nMeantime, the daughter had no sooner been left alone in the lodge than\nshe thought with herself:\n\n\"It is hard to be thus forever kept in doors. But my father says it\nwould be dangerous to venture abroad. I know what I will do. I will get\non the top of the house, and there I can comb and dress my hair, and no\none can harm me.\"\n\nShe accordingly ascended the roof and busied herself in untying and\ncombing her beautiful hair; for it was truly beautiful, not only of a\nfine, glossy quality, but it was so very long that it hung over the\neaves of the house and reached down on the ground, as she sat dressing\nit.\n\nShe was wholly occupied in this employment, without a thought of danger,\nwhen, all of a sudden, the king of the buffalos came dashing on with his\nherd of followers, and making sure of her by means of her drooping\ntresses, he placed her upon the back of one of his favorite buffalos,\nand away he cantered over the plains. Plunging into a river that bounded\nhis land, he bore her safely to his lodge on the other side.\n\nAnd now the buffalo-king having secured the beautiful person of Aggo Dah\nGauda's daughter, he set to work to make her heart his own--a little\nceremony which it would have been, perhaps, wiser for his majesty, the\nking of the buffalos, to have attended to before, for he now worked to\nlittle purpose. Although he labored with great zeal to gain her\naffections, she sat pensive and disconsolate in the lodge, among the\nother females, and scarcely ever spoke, nor did she take the least\ninterest in the affairs of the king's household.\n\nTo the king himself she paid no heed, and although he breathed forth to\nher every soft and gentle word he could think of, she sat still and\nmotionless for all the world like one of the lowly bushes by the door of\nher father's lodge, when the summer wind has died away.\n\nThe king enjoined it upon the others in the lodge as a special edict, on\npain of instant death, to give to Aggo's daughter every thing that she\nwanted, and to be careful not to displease her. They set before her the\nchoicest food. They gave her the seat of honor in the lodge. The king\nhimself went out hunting to obtain the most dainty meats, both of\nanimals and wild fowl, to pleasure her palate; and he treated her every\nmorning to a ride upon one of the royal buffalos, who was so gentle in\nhis motions as not even to disturb a single one of the tresses of the\nbeautiful hair of Aggo's daughter as she paced along.\n\nAnd not content with these proofs of his attachment, the king would\nsometimes fast from all food, and having thus purified his spirit and\ncleared his voice, he would take his Indian flute, and, sitting before\nthe lodge, give vent to his feelings in pensive echoes, something after\nthis fashion:\n\n    My sweetheart,\n    My sweetheart,\n        Ah me!\n    When I think of you,\n    When I think of you,\n        Ah me!\n    What can I do, do, do?\n\n    How I love you,\n    How I love you,\n        Ah me!\n    Do not hate me,\n    Do not hate me,\n        Ah me!\n    Speak--e'en berate me.\n    When I think of you,\n        Ah me!\n    What can I do, do, do?\n\nIn the mean time, Aggo Dah Gauda had reached home, and finding that his\ndaughter had been stolen, his indignation was so thoroughly awakened\nthat he would have forthwith torn every hair from his head, but, being\nentirely bald, this was out of the question, so, as an easy and natural\nvent to his feelings, Aggo hopped off half a mile in every direction.\nFirst he hopped east, then he hopped west, next he hopped north, and\nagain he hopped south, all in search of his daughter; till the one leg\nwas fairly tired out. Then he sat down in his lodge, and resting himself\na little, he reflected, and then he vowed that his single leg should\nnever know rest again until he had found his beautiful daughter and\nbrought her home. For this purpose he immediately set out.\n\nNow that he proceeded more coolly, he could easily track the\nbuffalo-king until he came to the banks of the river, where he saw that\nhe had plunged in and swam over. There having been a frosty night or two\nsince, the water was so covered with thin ice that Aggo could not\nventure upon it, even with one leg. He encamped hard by till it became\nmore solid, and then crossed over and pursued the trail.\n\nAs he went along he saw branches broken off and strewed behind, which\nguided him in his course; for these had been purposely cast along by the\ndaughter. And the manner in which she had accomplished it was this. Her\nhair was all untied when she was caught up, and being very long it took\nhold of the branches as they darted along, and it was these twigs that\nshe broke off as signs to her father.\n\nWhen Aggo came to the king's lodge it was evening. Carefully\napproaching, he peeped through the sides, and saw his daughter sitting\ndisconsolate. She immediately caught his eye, and knowing that it was\nher father come for her, she all at once appeared to relent in her\nheart, and, asking for the royal dipper, said to the king, \"I will go\nand get you a drink of water.\"\n\nThis token of submission delighted his majesty, and, high in hope, he\nwaited with impatience for her return.\n\nAt last he went out, but nothing could be seen or heard of the captive\ndaughter. Calling together his followers, they sallied forth upon the\nplains, and had not gone far when they espied by the light of the moon,\nwhich was shining roundly just over the edge of the prairie, Aggo Dah\nGauda, his daughter in his arms, making all speed with his one leg\ntoward the west.\n\nThe buffalos being set on by their king, raised a great shout, and\nscampered off in pursuit. They thought to overtake Aggo in less than no\ntime; but although he had a single leg only, it was in such fine\ncondition to go, that to every pace of theirs, he hopped the length of a\ncedar-tree.\n\nBut the buffalo-king was well assured that he would be able to overtake\nAggo, hop as briskly as he might. It would be a mortal shame, thought\nthe king, to be outstripped by a man with one leg tied up; so, shouting\nand cheering, and issuing orders on all sides, he set the swiftest of\nhis herd upon the track, with strict commands to take Aggo dead or\nalive. And a curious sight it was to see.\n\n[Illustration: THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. Page 176.]\n\nAt one time a buffalo would gain handsomely upon Aggo, and be just at\nthe point of laying hold of him, when off Aggo would hop, a good\nfurlong, in an oblique line, wide out of his reach; which bringing\nhim nearly in contact with another of the herd, away he would go again,\njust as far off in another direction.\n\nAnd in this way Aggo kept the whole company of the buffalos zig-zagging\nacross the plain, with the poor king at their head, running to and fro,\nshouting among them and hurrying them about in the wildest way. It was\nan extraordinary road that Aggo was taking toward home; and after a time\nit so puzzled and bewildered the buffalos that they were driven half out\nof their wits, and they roared, and brandished their tails, and foamed,\nas if they would put out of countenance and frighten out of sight the\nold man in the moon, who was looking on all the time, just above the\nedge of the prairie.\n\nAs for the king himself, losing at last all patience at the absurd idea\nof chasing a man with one leg all night long, he called his herd\ntogether, and fled, in disgust, toward the west, and never more appeared\nin all that part of the country.\n\nAggo, relieved of his pursuers, hopped off a hundred steps in one, till\nhe reached the stream, crossed it in a twinkling of the eye, and bore\nhis daughter in triumph to his lodge.\n\nIn the course of time Aggo's beautiful daughter married a very worthy\nyoung warrior, who was neither a buffalo-king nor so much as the owner\nof any more of the buffalos than a splendid skin robe which he wore,\nwith great effect, thrown over his shoulders, on his wedding-day. On\nwhich occasion, Aggo Dah Gauda hopped about on his one leg livelier than\never.\n\n\n\n\nXV.\n\nTHE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN.\n\n\nIn a little lodge at a beautiful spot on a lake shore, alone with his\nsister, lived a boy remarkable for the smallness of his stature. Many\nlarge rocks were scattered around their habitation, and it had a very\nwild and out-of-the-way look.\n\nThe boy grew no larger as he advanced in years, and yet, small as he\nwas, he had a big spirit of his own, and loved dearly to play the master\nin the lodge. One day in winter he told his sister to make him a ball to\nplay with, as he meant to have some sport along the shore on the clear\nice. When she handed him the ball, his sister cautioned him not to go\ntoo far.\n\nHe laughed at her, and posted off in high glee, throwing his ball before\nhim and running after it at full speed, and he went as fast as his ball.\nAt last his ball flew to a great distance; he followed as fast as he\ncould. After he had run forward for some time, he saw what seemed four\ndark spots upon the ice, straight before him.\n\nWhen he came up to the shore he was surprised to see four large, tall\nmen, lying on the ice, spearing fish. They were four brothers, who\nlooked exactly alike. As the little boy-man approached them, the nearest\nlooked up, and in his turn he was surprised to see such a tiny being,\nand turning to his brothers, he said:\n\n\"Tia! look! see what a little fellow is here.\"\n\nThe three others thereupon looked up too, and seeing these four faces,\nas if they had been one, the little spirit or boy-man said to himself:\n\n\"Four in one! What a time they must have in choosing their\nhunting-shirts!\"\n\nAfter they had all stared for a moment at the boy, they covered their\nheads, intent in searching for fish. The boy thought to himself:\n\n\"These four-faces fancy that I am to be put off without notice because I\nam so little, and they are so broad and long. They shall find out. I may\nfind a way to teach them that I am not to be treated so lightly.\"\n\nAfter they were covered up, the boy-man, looking sharply about, saw that\namong them they had caught one large trout, which was lying just by\ntheir side. Stealing along, he slyly seized it, and placing his fingers\nin the gills, and tossing his ball before him, he ran off at full speed.\n\nThey heard the pattering of his little steps upon the ice, and when the\nfour looked up all together, they saw their fine trout sliding away, as\nif of itself, at a great rate, the boy being so small that he could not\nbe distinguished from the fish.\n\n\"See!\" they cried out, \"our fish is running away on the dry land!\"\n\nWhen they stood up they could just see, over the fish's head, that it\nwas the boy-man who was carrying it off.\n\nThe little spirit reached the lodge, and having left the trout at the\ndoor, he told his sister to go out and bring in the fish he had brought\nhome.\n\nShe exclaimed, \"Where could you have got it? I hope you have not stolen\nit.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he replied, \"I found it on the ice. It was caught in our lake.\nHave we no right to a little lake of our own? I shall claim all the fish\nthat come out of its waters.\"\n\n\"How,\" the sister asked again, \"could you have got it there?\"\n\n\"No matter,\" said the boy; \"go and cook it.\"\n\nIt was as much as the girl could do to drag the great trout within\ndoors. She cooked it, and its flavor was so delicious that she asked no\nmore questions as to how he had come by it.\n\nThe next morning the little spirit or boy-man set off as he had the day\nbefore.\n\nHe made all sorts of sport with his ball as he frolicked along--high\nover his head he would toss it, straight up into the air; then far\nbefore him, and again, in mere merriment of spirit, he would send it\nbounding back, as if he had plenty of speed and enough to spare in\nrunning back after it. And the ball leaped and bounded about, and glided\nthrough the air as if it were a live thing, and enjoyed the sport as\nmuch as the boy-man himself.\n\nWhen he came within hail of the four large men, who were fishing there\nevery day, he cast his ball with such force that it rolled into the\nice-hole about which they were busy. The boy, standing on the shore of\nthe lake, called out:\n\n\"Four-in-one, pray hand me my ball.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" they answered, setting up a grim laugh which curdled their\nfour dark faces all at once, \"we shall not;\" and with their\nfishing-spears they thrust the ball under the ice.\n\n\"Good!\" said the boy-man, \"we shall see.\"\n\nSaying which he rushed upon the four brothers and thrust them at one\npush into the water. His ball bounded back to the surface, and, picking\nit up, he ran off, tossing it before him in his own sportive way.\nOutstripping it in speed he soon reached home, and remained within till\nthe next morning.\n\nThe four brothers, rising up from the water at the same time, dripping\nand wroth, roared out in one voice a terrible threat of vengeance, which\nthey promised to execute the next day. They knew the boy's speed, and\nthat they could by no means overtake him.\n\nBy times in the morning, the four brothers were stirring in their lodge,\nand getting ready to look after their revenge.\n\nTheir old mother, who lived with them, begged them not to go.\n\n\"Better,\" said she, \"now that your clothes are dry, to think no more of\nthe ducking than to go and all four of you get your heads broken, as you\nsurely will, for that boy is a monedo or he could not perform such feats\nas he does.\"\n\nBut her sons paid no heed to this wise advice, and, raising a great\nwar-cry, which frightened the birds overhead nearly out of their\nfeathers, they started for the boy's lodge among the rocks.\n\nThe little spirit or boy-man heard them roaring forth their threats as\nthey approached, but he did not appear to be disquieted in the least.\nHis sister as yet had heard nothing; after a while she thought she could\ndistinguish the noise of snow-shoes on the snow, at a distance, but\nrapidly advancing. She looked out, and seeing the four large men coming\nstraight to their lodge she was in great fear, and running in,\nexclaimed:\n\n\"He is coming, four times as strong as ever!\" for she supposed that the\none man whom her brother had offended had become so angry as to make\nfour of himself in order to wreak his vengeance.\n\nThe boy-man said, \"Why do you mind them? Give me something to eat.\"\n\n\"How can you think of eating at such a time?\" she replied.\n\n\"Do as I request you, and be quick.\"\n\nShe then gave little spirit his dish, and he commenced eating.\n\nJust then the brothers came to the door.\n\n\"See!\" cried the sister, \"the man with four heads!\"\n\nThe brothers were about to lift the curtain at the door, when the\nboy-man turned his dish upside down, and immediately the door was closed\nwith a stone; upon which the four brothers set to work and hammered with\ntheir clubs with great fury, until at length they succeeded in making a\nslight opening. One of the brothers presented his face at this little\nwindow, and rolled his eye about at the boy-man in a very threatening\nway.\n\nThe little spirit, who, when he had closed the door, had returned to his\nmeal, which he was quietly eating, took up his bow and arrow which lay\nby his side, and let fly the shaft, which, striking the man in the head,\nhe fell back. The boy-man merely called out \"Number one\" as he fell, and\nwent on with his meal.\n\nIn a moment a second face, just like the first, presented itself; and\nas he raised his bow, his sister said to him:\n\n\"What is the use? You have killed that man already.\"\n\nLittle spirit fired his arrow--the man fell--he called out \"Number two,\"\nand continued his meal.\n\nThe two others of the four brothers were dispatched in the same quiet\nway, and counted off as \"Number three\" and \"Number four.\"\n\nAfter they were all well disposed of in this way, the boy-man directed\nhis sister to go out and see them. She presently ran back, saying:\n\n\"There are four of them.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the boy-man answered, \"and there always shall be four of\nthem.\"\n\nGoing out himself, the boy-man raised the brothers to their feet, and\ngiving each a push, one with his face to the East, another to the West,\na third to the South, and the last to the North, he sent them off to\nwander about the earth; and whenever you see four men just alike, they\nare the four brothers whom the little spirit or boy-man dispatched upon\ntheir travels.\n\nBut this was not the last display of the boy-man's power.\n\nWhen spring came on, and the lake began to sparkle in the morning sun,\nthe boy-man said to his sister:\n\n\"Make me a new set of arrows, and a bow.\"\n\nAlthough he provided for their support, the little spirit never\nperformed household or hard work of any kind, and his sister obeyed.\n\nWhen she had made the weapons, which, though they were very small, were\nbeautifully wrought and of the best stuff the field and wood could\nfurnish, she again cautioned him not to shoot into the lake.\n\n\"She thinks,\" said the boy-man to himself, \"I can see no further into\nthe water than she. My sister shall learn better.\"\n\nRegardless of her warnings, he on purpose discharged a shaft into the\nlake, waded out into the water till he got into its depth, and paddled\nabout for his arrow, so as to call the attention of his sister, and as\nif to show that he hardily braved her advice.\n\nShe hurried to the shore, calling on him to return; but instead of\nheeding her, he cried out:\n\n\"You of the red fins, come and swallow me!\"\n\nAlthough his sister did not clearly understand whom her brother was\naddressing, she too called out:\n\n\"Don't mind the foolish boy!\"\n\nThe boy-man's order seemed to be best attended to, for immediately a\nmonstrous fish came and swallowed him. Before disappearing entirely,\ncatching a glimpse of his sister standing in despair upon the shore, the\nboy-man hallooed out to her:\n\n\"Me-zush-ke-zin-ance!\"\n\nShe wondered what he meant. At last it occurred to her that it must be\nan old moccasin. She accordingly ran to the lodge, and bringing one, she\ntied it to a string attached to a tree, and cast it into the water.\n\nThe great fish said to the boy-man under water.\n\n\"What is that floating?\"\n\nTo which the boy-man replied:\n\n\"Go, take hold of it, swallow it as fast as you can; it is a great\ndelicacy.\"\n\nThe fish darted toward the old shoe and swallowed it, making of it a\nmere mouthful.\n\nThe boy-man laughed in himself, but said nothing, till the fish was\nfairly caught, when he took hold of the line and began to pull himself\nin his fish-carriage ashore.\n\nThe sister, who was watching all this time, opened wide her eyes as the\nhuge fish came up and up upon the shore; and she opened them still more\nwhen the fish seemed to speak, and she heard from within a voice,\nsaying, \"Make haste and release me from this nasty place.\"\n\nIt was her brother's voice, which she was accustomed to obey; and she\nmade haste with her knife to open a door in the side of the fish, from\nwhich the boy-man presently leaped forth. He lost no time in ordering\nher to cut it up and dry it; telling her that their spring supply of\nmeat was now provided.\n\nThe sister now began to believe that her brother was an extraordinary\nboy; yet she was not altogether satisfied in her mind that he was\ngreater than the rest of the world.\n\nThey sat, one evening, in the lodge, musing with each other in the dark,\nby the light of each other's eyes--for they had no other of any\nkind--when the sister said, \"My brother, it is strange that you, who can\ndo so much, are no wiser than the Ko-ko, who gets all his light from the\nmoon; which shines or not, as it pleases.\"\n\n\"And is not that light enough?\" asked the little spirit.\n\n\"Quite enough,\" the sister replied. \"If it would but come within the\nlodge and not sojourn out in the tree-tops and among the clouds.\"\n\n\"We will have a light of our own, sister,\" said the boy-man; and,\ncasting himself upon a mat by the door, he commenced singing:\n\n    Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing,\n    Light me to bed and my song I will sing;\n    Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head,\n    That I may merrily go to my bed.\n\n    Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep,\n    That I may joyfully go to my sleep;\n    Come, little fire-fly, come little beast,\n    Come! and I'll make you to-morrow a feast.\n\n    Come, little candle, that flies as I sing,\n    Bright little fairy-bug, night's little king;\n    Come and I'll dream as you guide me along;\n    Come and I'll pay you, my bug, with a song.\n\nAs the boy-man chanted this call, they came in at first one by one, then\nin couples, till at last, swarming in little armies, the fire-flies lit\nup the little lodge with a thousand sparkling lamps, just as the stars\nwere lighting the mighty hollow of the sky without.\n\nThe faces of the sister and brother shone upon each other, from their\nopposite sides of the lodge, with a kindly gleam of mutual trustfulness;\nand never more from that hour did a doubt of each other darken their\nlittle household.\n\n\n\n\nXVI.\n\nTHE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.\n\n\nA long, long time ago, a little boy was living with his sister entirely\nalone in an uninhabited country, far out in the north-west. He was\ncalled the Boy that carries the Ball on his Back, from an idea that he\npossessed supernatural powers. This boy was in the habit of meditating\nalone, and asking within himself, whether there were other beings\nsimilar to themselves on the earth.\n\nWhen he grew up to manhood, he inquired of his sister whether she knew\nof any human beings beside themselves. She replied that she did; and\nthat there was, at a great distance, a large village.\n\nAs soon as he heard this, he said to his sister, \"I am now a young man\nand very much in want of a companion;\" and he asked his sister to make\nhim several pairs of moccasins.\n\nShe complied with his request; and as soon as he received the moccasins,\nhe took up his war-club and set out in quest of the distant village.\n\nHe traveled on till he came to a small wigwam, and on looking into it he\ndiscovered a very old woman sitting alone by the fire. As soon as she\nsaw the stranger, she invited him in, and thus addressed him:\n\n\"My poor grandchild, I suppose you are one of those who seek for the\ndistant village, from which no person has ever yet returned. Unless your\nguardian is more powerful than the guardians of those who have gone\nbefore you, you will share a similar fate to theirs. Be careful to\nprovide yourself with the invisible bones they use in the\nmedicine-dance, for without these you can not succeed.\"\n\nAfter she had thus spoken, she gave him the following directions for his\njourney:\n\n\"When you come near to the village which you seek, you will see in the\ncenter a large lodge, in which the chief of the village, who has two\ndaughters, resides. Before the door there is a great tree, which is\nsmooth and without bark. On this tree, about the height of a man from\nthe ground, is hung a small lodge, in which these two false daughters\ndwell. It is here that so many have been destroyed, and among them your\ntwo elder brothers. Be wise, my grandchild, and abide strictly by my\ndirections.\"\n\nThe old woman then gave to the young man the bones which were to secure\nhis success; and she informed him with great care how he was to\nproceed.\n\nPlacing them in his bosom, Onwee Bahmondang, or the Wearer of the Ball,\ncontinued his journey, and kept eagerly on until he arrived at the\nvillage of which he was in search; and as he was gazing around him, he\nsaw both the tree and the lodge which the old woman had mentioned.\n\nHe at once bent his steps for the tree, and approaching, he endeavored\nto reach the suspended lodge. But all his efforts were in vain; for as\noften as he attempted to reach it, the tree began to tremble, and it\nsoon shot up so that the lodge could hardly be perceived.\n\nHe bethought him of his guardian, and invoking his aid, and changing\nhimself into a squirrel, he mounted nimbly up again, in the hope that\nthe lodge would not now escape him. Away shot the lodge, climb as\nbriskly as he might.\n\nPanting, and out of breath, he remembered the instructions of the old\nwoman, and drawing from his bosom one of the bones, he thrust it into\nthe trunk of the tree, and rested himself to be ready to start again.\n\nAs often as he wearied of climbing, for even a squirrel can not climb\nforever, he repeated the little ceremony of the bones; but whenever he\ncame near the lodge and put forth his hand to touch it, the tree would\nshoot up as before, and carry the lodge up far beyond his reach.\n\nAt length the bones being all gone, and the lodge well-nigh out of\nsight, he began to despair, for the earth, too, had long since vanished\nentirely from his view.\n\nSummoning his whole heart, he resolved to try once more. On and up he\nwent, and, as soon as he put forth his hand to touch it, the tree again\nshook, and away went the lodge.\n\nOne more endeavor, brave Onwee, and in he goes; for having now reached\nthe arch of heaven, the fly-away lodge could go no higher.\n\nOnwee entered the lodge with a fearless step, and he beheld the two\nwicked sisters sitting opposite each other. He asked their names. The\none on his left hand called herself Azhabee, and the one on the right,\nNegahnabee.\n\nAfter talking with them a little while, he discovered that whenever he\naddressed the one on his left hand, the tree would tremble as before and\nsettle down to its former place; but when he addressed the one on his\nright hand, it would again shoot upward.\n\nWhen he thus perceived that by addressing the one on his left hand that\nthe tree would descend, he continued to do so until it had again settled\ndown to its place near the earth. Then seizing his war-club, he said to\nthe sisters:\n\n\"You who have caused the death of so many of my brethren I will now put\nan end to, and thus have revenge for those you have destroyed.\"\n\nAs he spoke this he raised the club, and with one blow laid the two\nwicked women dead at his feet.\n\nOnwee then descended, and learning that these sisters had a brother\nliving with their father, who had shared all together in the spoils of\nall such as the wicked sisters had betrayed, and who would now pursue\nhim for having put an end to their wicked profits, Onwee set off at\nrandom, not knowing whither he went.\n\nThe father coming in the evening to visit the lodge of his daughters,\ndiscovered what had happened. He immediately sent word to his son that\nhis sisters had been slain, and that there were no more spoils to be\nhad, which greatly inflamed the young man's temper, especially the\nwoeful announcement at the close.\n\n\"The person who has done this,\" said the brother, as soon as he had\nreached the spot, chafing and half beside himself at the gloomy prospect\nof having no more travelers to strip, \"must be that boy who carries the\nball on his back. I know his mode of going about his business, and since\nhe would not allow himself to be killed by my sisters, he shall have the\nhonor of dying by my hand. I will pursue him and have revenge.\"\n\n\"It is well, my son,\" replied the father; \"the spirit of your life\ngrant you success. I counsel you to be wary in the pursuit. Bahmondang\nis a cunning youth. It is a strong spirit who has put him on to do this\ninjury to us, and he will try to deceive you in every way. Above all,\navoid tasting food till you succeed; for if you break your fast before\nyou see his blood, your power will be destroyed.\"\n\nThe son took this fatherly advice all in good part, except that portion\nwhich enjoined upon him to abstain from staying his stomach; but over\nthat he made a number of wry faces, for the brother of the two wicked\nsisters had, among numerous noble gifts, a very noble appetite.\nNevertheless, he took up his weapons and departed in pursuit of Onwee\nBahmondang, at the top of his speed.\n\nOnwee finding that he was closely followed, climbed up into one of the\ntallest trees, and shot forth the magic arrows with which he had\nprovided himself.\n\nSeeing that his pursuer was not turned back by his arrows, Onwee renewed\nhis flight; and when he found himself hard pressed, and his enemy close\nbehind him, he transformed himself into the skeleton of a moose that had\nbeen killed, whose flesh had come off from his bones. He then remembered\nthe moccasins which his sister had given him, and which were enchanted.\nTaking a pair of them, he placed them near the skeleton.\n\n\"Go,\" said he to them, \"to the end of the earth.\"\n\nThe moccasins then left him, and their tracks remained.\n\nThe angry brother at length came to the skeleton of the moose, when he\nperceived that the track he had been long pursuing did not stop there,\nso he continued to follow it up till he arrived at the end of the earth,\nwhere, for all his trouble, he found only a pair of moccasins.\n\nVexed that he had been outwitted by following a pair of moccasins\ninstead of their owner, who was the object of his pursuit, he bitterly\ncomplained, resolving not to give up his revenge, and to be more wary in\nscrutinizing signs.\n\nHe then called to mind the skeleton he had met with on his way, and\nconcluded that it must be the object of his search.\n\nHe retraced his steps toward the skeleton, but to his surprise it had\ndisappeared, and the tracks of the wearer of the ball were in another\ndirection. He now became faint with hunger, and lost heart; but when he\nremembered the blood of his sisters, and that he should not be allowed\nto enjoy a meal, nor so much as a mouthful, until he had put an end to\nOnwee Bahmondang, he plucked up his spirits and determined again to\npursue.\n\nOnwee, finding that he was closely followed, and that the hungry brother\nwas approaching very fast, changed himself into a very old man, with\ntwo daughters, and living in a large lodge in the center of a beautiful\ngarden, which was filled with every thing that could delight the eye, or\nwas pleasant to the taste. He made himself appear so very old as to be\nunable to leave his lodge, and to require his daughters to bring him\nfood and wait on him, as though he had been a mere child. The garden\nalso had the appearance of old age, with its ancient bushes and hanging\nbranches and decrepit vines loitering lazily about in the sun.\n\nThe brother kept on until he was nearly starved and ready to sink to the\nearth. He exclaimed, with a long-drawn and most mournful sigh, \"Oh! I\nwill forget the blood of my sisters, for I am starving. Oh! oh!\"\n\nBut again he thought of the blood of his sisters, and what a fine\nappetite he would have if he should ever be allowed to eat any thing\nagain, and once more he resolved to pursue, and to be content with\nnothing short of the amplest revenge.\n\nHe pushed on till he came to the beautiful garden. He advanced toward\nthe lodge.\n\nAs soon as the fairy daughters perceived him they ran and told their\nfather that a stranger approached.\n\nTheir father replied, \"Invite him in, my children, invite him in.\"\n\nThey did so promptly, and, by the command of their father, they boiled\nsome corn, and prepared several other palatable dishes. The savor was\nmost delicious to the nostrils of the hungry brother, who had not the\nleast suspicion of the sport that was going on at his expense.\n\nHe was faint and weary with travel, and he felt that he could endure\nfasting no longer; for his appetite was terribly inflamed by the sight\nof the choice food that was steaming before him.\n\nHe fell to and partook heartily of the meal; and, by so doing, he was\novercome, and lost his right of revenge. All at once he forgot the blood\nof his sisters, and even the village of his nativity, and his father's\nlodge, and his whole past life. He ate so keenly, and came and went to\nthe choice dishes so often, that drowsiness at length overpowered him,\nand he soon fell into a profound sleep.\n\nOnwee Bahmondang watched his opportunity, and as soon as he saw that the\nfalse brother's sleep was sound, he resumed his youthful form, and sent\noff the two fairy daughters and the old garden; and drawing the\nmagic-ball from his back, which turned out to be a great war-club, he\nfetched the slumbering brother a mighty blow, which sent him away too;\nand thus did Onwee Bahmondang vindicate his title as the Wearer of the\nBall.\n\nWhen Onwee swung around, with the great force and weight of the club\nwith which he had dispatched the brother of the two wicked women, he\nfound himself in a large village, surrounded by a great crowd of people.\nAt the door of a beautiful lodge stood his sister, smiling, and ready to\ninvite him in. Onwee entered, and hanging up his war-club and the\nenchanted moccasins, which he had recovered, he rested from his labors,\nand smoked his evening pipe, with the admiration and approval of the\nwhole world.\n\nWith one exception only, Onwee Bahmondang had the hearty praises of all\nthe people.\n\nNow it happened that there lived in this same village an envious and\nboastful fellow, who had been once a chief, but coming home always badly\nwhipped, he was put out of office, and now spent his time about the\nplace mainly, in proclaiming certain great things which he had in his\neye, and which he meant to do--one of these days.\n\nThis man's name was Ko-ko, the Owl; and hearing much of the wonderful\nachievements of the Wearer of the Ball, Ko-ko put on a big look, and\nannounced that he was going to do something extraordinary himself.\n\nOnwee Bahmondang, he said, had not half done his work, and he, Ko-ko,\nmeant to go on the ground and finish it up as it should be.\n\nHe began by procuring an oak ball, which he thrust down his back, and,\nconfident in its magical powers, he, too, called himself the Wearer of\nthe Ball. In fact it was the self-same ball that Onwee had employed,\nexcept that the magic had entirely gone out of it. Coming by night in\nthe shadow of the lodge, he thrust his arm in at the door, and\nstealthily possessed himself of the enchanted moccasins. He would have\ntaken away Onwee's war-club too, if he could have carried it; but\nalthough he was twice the size and girth of Onwee, he had not the\nstrength to lift it; so he borrowed a club from an old chief, who was\npurblind, and mistook Ko-ko for his brother who was a brave man; and\nraising a terrible tumult with his voice, and a great dust with his\nheels, Ko-ko set out.\n\nHe had traveled all day, when he came to a small wigwam, and on looking\ninto it, he discovered a very old woman sitting alone by the fire; just\nas Onwee had before.\n\nThis is the wigwam, said Ko-ko, and this is the old woman.\n\n\"What are you looking for?\" asked the old woman.\n\n\"I want to find the lodge with the wicked young women in it, who slay\ntravellers and steal their trappings,\" answered Ko-ko.\n\n\"You mean the two young women who lived in the flying lodge?\" said the\nold woman.\n\n\"The same,\" answered Ko-ko. \"I am going to kill them.\"\n\nWith this he gave a great flourish with his borrowed club, and looked\ndesperate and murderous as he could.\n\n\"They were slain yesterday by the Wearer of the Ball,\" said the old\nwoman.\n\nKo-ko looked around for the door in a very owlish way, and heaving a\nshort hem from his chest, he acknowledged that he had heard something to\nthat effect down in one of the villages.\n\n\"But there's the brother. I'll have a chance at him,\" said Ko-ko.\n\n\"He is dead too,\" said the old woman.\n\n\"Is there nobody then left for me to kill?\" cried Ko-ko. \"Must I then go\nback without any blood upon my hands?\"\n\nHe made as if he could shed tears over his sad mishap.\n\n\"The father is still living; and you will find him in the lodge, if you\nhave a mind to call on him. He would like to see the Owl,\" the old woman\nadded.\n\n\"He shall,\" replied Ko-ko. \"Have you any bones about the house; for I\nsuppose I shall have to climb that tree.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; plenty,\" answered the old woman. \"You can have as many as you\nwant.\"\n\nAnd she gave him a handful of fish-bones, which Ko-ko, taking them to be\nthe Invisible Tallies which had helped Onwee Bahmondang in climbing the\nmagical tree, thrust into his bosom.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Ko-ko; taking up his club and striding toward the\ndoor.\n\n\"Will you not have a little advice,\" said the old woman. \"This is a\ndangerous business you are going on.\"\n\nKo-ko turned about and laughed to scorn the proposal, and putting forth\nhis right foot from the lodge first, an observance in which he had great\nhopes, he started for the lodge of the wicked father.\n\nKo-ko ran very fast, as if he feared he should lose the chance of\nmassacring any member of the wicked family, until he came in sight of\nthe lodge hanging upon the tree.\n\nHe then slackened his pace, and crept forward with a wary eye lest\nsomebody might chance to be looking out at the door. All was, however,\nstill up there; and Ko-ko clasped the tree and began to climb.\n\nAway went the lodge, and up went Ko-ko, puffing and panting, after it.\nAnd it was not a great while before the Owl had puffed and panted away\nall the wind he had to spare; and yet the lodge kept flying aloft,\nhigher, higher. What was to be done!\n\nKo-ko of course bethought him of the bones, for that was just what, as\nhe knew, had occurred to Onwee Bahmondang under the like circumstances.\n\nHe had the bones in his bosom; and now it was necessary for him to be a\nsquirrel. He immediately called on several guardian spirits whom he knew\nof by name, and requested them to convert him into a squirrel. But not\none of all them seemed to pay the slightest attention to his request;\nfor there he hung, the same heavy-limbed, big-headed, be-clubbed, and\nbe-blanketed Ko-ko as ever.\n\nHe then desired that they would turn him into an opossum; an application\nwhich met with the same luck as the previous one. After this he\npetitioned to be a wolf, a gophir, a dog, or a bear--if they would be so\nobliging. The guardian spirits were either all deaf, or indifferent to\nhis wishes, or absent on some other business.\n\nKo-ko, in spite of all his begging and supplication and beseeching, was\nobliged to be still Ko-ko.\n\n\"The bones, however,\" he said, to himself, \"are good. I shall get a nice\nrest, at any rate, if I am forced to climb as I am.\"\n\nWith this he drew out one of the bones from his bosom, and shouting\naloud, \"Ho! ho! who is there?\" he thrust it into the trunk of the tree,\nand would have indulged himself in a rest; but being no more than a\ncommon fish-bone, without the slightest savor of magic in it, it snapped\nwith Ko-ko, who came tumbling down, with the door of the lodge which he\nhad shaken loose, rattling after him.\n\n\"Ho! ho! who is there?\" cried the wicked father, making his appearance\nat the opening and looking down.\n\n\"It is I, Onwee Bahmondang!\" cried Ko-koor, thinking to frighten the\nwicked father.\n\n\"Ah! it is you, is it? I will be there presently,\" called the old man.\n\"Do not be in haste to go away!\"\n\nKo-ko, observing that the old man was in earnest, scrambled up from the\nground, and set off promptly at his highest rate of speed.\n\nWhen he looked back and saw that the wicked father was gaining upon him,\nKo-koor mounted a tree, as had Onwee Bahmondang before, and fired off a\nnumber of arrows, but as they were no more than common arrows, he got\nnothing by it, but was obliged to descend, and run again for life.\n\nAs he hurried on he encountered the skeleton of a moose, into which he\nwould have transformed himself, but not having the slightest confidence\nin any one of all the guardians who should have helped him, he passed\non.\n\nThe wicked father was hot in pursuit, and Ko-koor was suffering terribly\nfor lack of wind, when luckily he remembered the enchanted moccasins. He\ncould not send them to the end of the earth, as had Onwee Bahmondang.\n\n\"I will improve on that dull fellow,\" said Ko-ko. \"I will put them on\nmyself.\"\n\nAccordingly, Ko-ko had just time to draw on the moccasins when the\nwicked father came in sight.\n\n\"Go now!\" cried Ko-ko, giving orders to the enchanted moccasins; and go\nthey did; but to the astonishment of the Owl, they turned immediately\nabout in the way in which the wicked father, now, very furious, was\napproaching.\n\n\"The other way! the other way!\" cried Ko-ko.\n\nCry as loud as he would, the enchanted moccasins would keep on in their\nown course; and before he could shake himself out of them, they had run\nhim directly into the face of the wicked father.\n\n\"What do you mean, you Owl?\" cried the wicked father, falling upon Ko-ko\nwith a huge club, and counting his ribs at every stroke.\n\n\"I can not help it, good man,\" answered Ko-ko. \"I tried my best--\"\n\nKo-ko would have gone the other way, but the enchanted moccasins kept\nhurrying him forward. \"Stand off, will you?\" cried the old man.\n\nBy this time, allowing the wicked father chance to bestow no more than\nfive-and-twenty more blows upon Ko-ko, the moccasins were taking him\npast.\n\n\"Stop!\" cried the old man again. \"You are running away. Ho! ho! you are\na coward!\"\n\n\"I am not, good man,\" answered Ko-ko, carried away by the magical shoes,\n\"I assure you.\" But ere he could finish his avowal, the moccasins had\nhurried him out of sight.\n\n\"At any rate, I shall soon be home at this speed,\" said Ko-koor to\nhimself.\n\nThe moccasins seemed to know his thoughts; for just then they gave a\nsudden leap, slipped away from his feet, and left the Owl flat upon his\nback! while they glided home by themselves, to the lodge of Onwee\nBahmondang, where they belonged.\n\nA party of hunters passing that way after several days, found Ko-ko\nsitting among the bushes, looking greatly bewildered; and when they\ninquired of him how he had succeeded with the wicked father at the\nlodge, he answered that he had demolished the whole establishment, but\nthat his name was not Ko-ko, but Onwee Bahmondang; saying which, he ran\naway into the woods, and was never seen more.\n\n\n\n\nXVII.\n\nHE OF THE LITTLE SHELL.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, all the people of a certain country had died,\nexcepting two helpless children, a baby boy and a little girl.\n\nWhen their parents died, these children were asleep. The little girl,\nwho was the elder, was the first to awake. She looked around her, but\nseeing nobody beside her little brother, who lay smiling in his dreams,\nshe quietly resumed her bed.\n\nAt the end of ten days her brother moved, without opening his eyes.\n\nAt the end of ten days more he changed his position, lying on the other\nside, and in this way he kept on sleeping for a long time; and pleasant,\ntoo, must have been his dreams, for his little sister never looked at\nhim that he was not quite a little heaven of smiles and flashing lights,\nwhich beamed about his head and filled the lodge with a strange\nsplendor.\n\nThe girl soon grew to be a woman, but the boy increased in stature very\nslowly. It was a long time before he could even creep, and he was well\nadvanced in years before he could stand alone. When he was able to\nwalk, his sister made him a little bow and arrows, and hung around his\nneck a small shell, saying:\n\n\"You shall be called Dais Imid, or He of the Little Shell.\"\n\nEvery day he would go out with his little bow, shooting at the small\nbirds. The first bird he killed was a tom-tit. His sister was highly\npleased when he took it to her. She carefully prepared and stuffed it,\nand put it away for him.\n\nThe next day he killed a red squirrel. His sister preserved this, too.\nThe third day he killed a partridge, and this they had for their evening\nmeal.\n\nAfter this he acquired more courage, and would venture some distance\nfrom home. His skill and success as a hunter daily increased, and he\nkilled the deer, bear, moose, and other large animals inhabiting the\nforest.\n\nAt last, although so very small of stature, he became a great hunter,\nand all that he shot he brought home and shared with his sister; and\nwhenever he entered the lodge, a light beamed about his head and filled\nthe place with a strange splendor.\n\nHe had now arrived at the years of manhood, but he still remained a\nperfect infant in size.\n\nOne day, walking about in quest of game, he came to a small lake.\n\nIt was in the winter season; and upon the ice of the lake he saw a man\nof giant height, employed killing beavers.\n\nComparing himself with this great man, he felt that he was no bigger\nthan an insect. He seated himself on the shore and watched his\nmovements.\n\nWhen the large man had killed many beavers, he put them on a hand-sled\nwhich he had, and pursued his way home. When he saw him retire, the\ndwarf hunter followed, and, wielding his magic shell, he cut off the\ntail of one of the beavers, and ran home with the prize.\n\nThe giant, on reaching his lodge with his sled-load of beavers, was\nsurprised to find one of them shorn of its tail.\n\nThe next day the little hero of the shell went to the same lake. The\ngiant, who had been busy there for some time, had already loaded his\nsled and commenced his return; but running nimbly forward and overtaking\nhim, he succeeded in securing another of the beaver-tails.\n\n\"I wonder,\" said the giant, on reaching his lodge and overlooking his\nbeavers, \"what dog it is that has thus cheated me. Could I meet him, I\nwould make his flesh quiver at the point of my javelin.\"\n\nThe giant forgot that he had taken these very beavers out of a\nbeaver-dam which belonged to the little shell-man and his sister,\nwithout permission.\n\nThe next day he pursued his hunting at the beaver-dam near the lake,\nand he was again followed by the little man with the shell.\n\nThis time the giant was so nimble in his movements that he had nearly\nreached home before the Shell, make the best speed he could, could\novertake him; but he was just in time to clip another beaver's tail\nbefore the sled slipped into the lodge.\n\nThe giant would have been a patient giant, indeed, if his anger had not\nbeen violent at these constant tricks played upon him. What vexed him\nmost, was, that he could not get a sight of his enemy. Sharp eyes he\nwould have needed to do so, inasmuch as he of the little shell had the\ngift of making himself invisible whenever he chose.\n\nThe giant, giving vent to his feelings with many loud rumbling words,\nlooked sharply around to see whether he could discover any tracks. He\ncould find none. The unknown had stepped too lightly to leave the\nslightest mark behind.\n\nThe next day the giant resolved to disappoint his mysterious follower by\ngoing to the beaver-dam very early; and accordingly, when the little\nshell man came to the place he found the fresh traces of his work, but\nthe giant had already gone away. He followed hard upon his tracks, but\nhe failed to overtake him. When he of the little shell came in sight of\nthe lodge, the stranger was in front of it, employed in skinning his\nbeavers.\n\nAs Dais-Imid stood looking at him--for he had been all this time\ninvisible--he thought:\n\n\"I will let him have a view of me.\"\n\nPresently the man, who proved to be no less a personage than the\ncelebrated giant, Manabozho, looked up and saw him.\n\nAfter regarding him with attention, \"Who are you, little man?\" said\nManabozho. \"I have a mind to kill you.\"\n\nThe little hero of the shell replied:\n\n\"If you were to try to kill me you could not do it.\"\n\nWith this speech of the little man, Manabozho grabbed at him; but when\nhe thought to have had him in his hand, he was gone.\n\n\"Where are you now, little man?\" cried Manabozho.\n\n\"Here, under your girdle,\" answered the shell-dwarf; at which giant\nManabozho, thinking to crush him, slapped down his great hand with all\nhis might; but on unloosing his girdle he was disappointed at finding no\ndwarf there.\n\n\"Where are you now, little man?\" he cried again, in a greater rage than\never.\n\n\"In your right nostril!\" the dwarf replied; whereupon the giant\nManabozho seized himself by the finger and thumb at the place, and gave\nit a violent tweak; but as he immediately heard the voice of the dwarf\nat a distance upon the ground, he was satisfied that he had only pulled\nhis own nose to no purpose.\n\n\"Good-by, Manabozho,\" said the voice of the invisible dwarf. \"Count your\nbeaver-tails, and you will find that I have taken another for my\nsister;\" for he of the little shell never, in his wanderings or\npastimes, forgot his sister and her wishes. \"Good-by, beaver-man!\"\n\nAnd as he went away he made himself visible once more, and a light\nbeamed about his head and lit the air around him with a strange\nsplendor; a circumstance which Manabozho, who was at times quite\nthick-headed and dull of apprehension, could no way understand.\n\nWhen Dais-Imid returned home, he told his sister that the time drew nigh\nwhen they must separate.\n\n\"I must go away,\" said Dais-Imid, \"it is my fate. You, too,\" he added,\n\"must go away soon. Tell me where you would wish to dwell.\"\n\nShe said, \"I would like to go to the place of the breaking of daylight.\nI have always loved the East. The earliest glimpses of light are from\nthat quarter, and it is to my mind the most beautiful part of the\nheavens. After I get there, my brother, whenever you see the clouds, in\nthat direction, of various colors, you may think that your sister is\npainting her face.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE MORNING STAR AND HER BROTHER. Page 212.]\n\n\"And I,\" said he, \"I, my sister, shall live on the mountains and rocks.\nThere I can see you at the earliest hour; there are the streams of\nwater clear; the air is pure, and the golden lights will shine ever\naround my head, and I shall ever be called 'Puck-Ininee, or the Little\nWild Man of the Mountains.' But,\" he resumed, \"before we part forever, I\nmust go and try to find what manitoes rule the earth, and see which of\nthem will be friendly to us.\"\n\nHe left his sister and traveled over the surface of the globe, and then\nwent far down into the earth.\n\nHe had been treated well wherever he went. At last he came to a giant\nmanito, who had a large kettle which was forever boiling. The giant, who\nwas a first cousin to Manabozho, and had already heard of the tricks\nwhich Dais-Imid had played upon his kinsman, regarded him with a stern\nlook, and, catching him up in his hand, he threw him unceremoniously\ninto the kettle.\n\nIt was evidently the giant's intention to drown Dais-Imid; in which he\nwas mistaken, for by means of his magic shell, little Dais, in less than\na second's time, bailed the water to the bottom, leaped from the kettle,\nand ran away unharmed.\n\nHe returned to his sister and related his rovings and adventures. He\nfinished his story by addressing her thus:\n\n\"My sister there is a manito at each of the four corners of the earth.\nThere is also one above them, far in the sky, a Great Being who assigns\nto you, and to me, and to all of us, where we must go. And last,\" he\ncontinued, \"there is another and wicked one who lives deep down in the\nearth. It will be our lot to escape out of his reach. We must now\nseparate. When the winds blow from the four corners of the earth, you\nmust then go. They will carry you to the place you wish. I go to the\nrocks and mountains, where my kindred will ever delight to dwell.\"\n\nDais-Imid then took his ball-stick and commenced running up a high\nmountain, and a bright light shone about his head all the way, and he\nkept singing as he went:\n\n    Blow, winds, blow! my sister lingers\n      For her dwelling in the sky,\n    Where the morn, with rosy fingers,\n      Shall her cheeks with vermil dye.\n\n    There my earliest views directed,\n      Shall from her their color take,\n    And her smiles, through clouds reflected,\n      Guide me on by wood or lake.\n\n    While I range the highest mountains,\n      Sport in valleys green and low,\n    Or, beside our Indian fountains,\n      Raise my tiny hip-hallo.\n\nPresently the winds blew, and, as Dais-Imid had predicted, his sister\nwas borne by them to the eastern sky, where she has ever since lived,\nand her name is now the Morning Star.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nMANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER.\n\n\nThere was never in the whole world a more mischievous busy-body than\nthat notorious giant Manabozho. He was every where, in season and out of\nseason, running about, and putting his hand in whatever was going\nforward. To carry on his game, he could take almost any shape he\npleased; he could be very foolish or very wise; very weak or very\nstrong; very poor or very rich--just as happened to suit his humor best.\nWhatever any one else could do, he would attempt without a moment's\nreflection. He was a match for any man he met, and there were few\nmanitoes that could get the better of him. By turns he would be very\nkind, or very cruel; an animal or a bird; a man or a spirit; and yet, in\nspite of all these gifts, Manabozho was always getting himself involved\nin all sorts of troubles; and more than once, in the course of his busy\nadventures, was this great maker of mischief driven to his wits' ends to\ncome off with his life.\n\nTo begin at the beginning, Manabozho, while yet a youngster, was living\nwith his grandmother, near the edge of a wide prairie. It was on this\nprairie that he first saw animals and birds of every kind; he also there\nmade first acquaintance with thunder and lightning; he would sit by the\nhour watching the clouds as they rolled, and musing on the shades of\nlight and darkness as the day rose and fell.\n\nFor a stripling, Manabozho was uncommonly wide-awake. Every new sight\nhe beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark; every new animal or\nbird, an object of deep interest; and every sound that came from the\nbosom of nature, was like a new lesson which he was expected to learn.\nHe often trembled at what he heard and saw.\n\nTo the scene of the wide open prairie his grandmother sent him at an\nearly age to watch. The first sound he heard was that of the owl, at\nwhich he was greatly terrified, and, quickly descending the tree he had\nclimbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. \"Noko! noko! grandmother!\" he\ncried. \"I have heard a monedo.\"\n\nShe laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of noise his reverence\nmade. He answered, \"It makes a noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho.\"\n\nHis grandmother told him he was young and foolish; that what he heard\nwas only a bird which derived its name from the peculiar noise it made.\n\nHe returned to the prairie and continued his watch. As he stood there\nlooking at the clouds, he thought to himself, \"It is singular that I am\nso simple and my grandmother so wise; and that I have neither father nor\nmother. I have never heard a word about them. I must ask and find out.\"\n\nHe went home and sat down, silent and dejected. Finding that this did\nnot attract the notice of his grandmother, he began a loud lamentation,\nwhich he kept increasing, louder and louder, till it shook the lodge,\nand nearly deafened the old grandmother. She at length said, \"Manabozho,\nwhat is the matter with you? You are making a great deal of noise.\"\n\nManabozho started off again with his doleful hubbub; but succeeded in\njerking out between his big sobs, \"I have n't got any father nor mother;\nI have n't;\" and he set out again lamenting more boisterously than ever.\n\nKnowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful temper, his grandmother\ndreaded to tell him the story of his parentage; as she knew he would\nmake trouble of it.\n\nManabozho renewed his cries, and managed to throw out, for a third or\nfourth time, his sorrowful lament that he was a poor unfortunate, who\nhad no parents and no relations.\n\nShe at last said to him, \"Yes, you have a father and three brothers\nliving. Your mother is dead. She was taken for a wife by your father,\nthe West, without the consent of her parents. Your brothers are the\nNorth, East, and South; and being older than yourself, your father has\ngiven them great power with the winds, according to their names. You are\nthe youngest of his children. I have nursed you from your infancy; for\nyour mother, owing to the ill-treatment of your father, died in giving\nyou birth. I have no relations beside you this side of the planet in\nwhich I was born, and from which I was precipitated by female jealousy.\nYour mother was my only child, and you are my only hope.\"\n\n\"I am glad my father is living,\" said Manabozho. \"I shall set out in the\nmorning to visit him.\"\n\nHis grandmother would have discouraged him; saying it was a long\ndistance to the place where his father, Ningabiun, or the West, lived.\n\nThis information seemed rather to please than to disconcert Manabozho;\nfor by this time he had grown to such a size and strength that he had\nbeen compelled to leave the narrow shelter of his grandmother's lodge\nand to live out of doors. He was so tall that, if he had been so\ndisposed, he could have snapped off the heads of the birds roosting in\nthe topmost branches of the highest trees, as he stood up, without being\nat the trouble to climb. And if he had at any time taken a fancy to one\nof the same trees for a walking-stick, he would have had no more to do\nthan to pluck it up with his thumb and finger, and strip down the leaves\nand twigs with the palm of his hand.\n\nBidding good-by to his venerable old grandmother, who pulled a very long\nface over his departure, Manabozho set out at great headway, for he was\nable to stride from one side of a prairie to the other at a single step.\n\nHe found his father on a high mountain-ground, far in the west. His\nfather espied his approach at a great distance, and bounded down the\nmountain-side several miles to give him welcome, and, side-by-side,\napparently delighted with each other, they reached in two or three of\ntheir giant paces the lodge of the West, which stood high up near the\nclouds.\n\nThey spent some days in talking with each other--for these two great\npersons did nothing on a small scale, and a whole day to deliver a\nsingle sentence, such was the immensity of their discourse, was quite an\nordinary affair.\n\nOne evening, Manabozho asked his father what he was most afraid of on\nearth.\n\nHe replied--\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"But is there nothing you dread, here--nothing that would hurt you if\nyou took too much of it? Come, tell me.\"\n\nManabozho was very urgent; at last his father said:\n\n\"Yes, there is a black stone to be found a couple of hundred miles from\nhere, over that way,\" pointing as he spoke. \"It is the only thing\nearthly that I am afraid of, for if it should happen to hit me on any\npart of my body it would hurt me very much.\"\n\nThe West made this important circumstance known to Manabozho in the\nstrictest confidence.\n\n\"Now you will not tell any one, Manabozho, that the black stone is bad\nmedicine for your father, will you?\" he added. \"You are a good son, and\nI know will keep it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling boy, is there\nnot something that you don't like?\"\n\nManabozho answered promptly--\"Nothing.\"\n\nHis father, who was of a very steady and persevering temper, put the\nsame question to him seventeen times, and each time Manabozho made the\nsame answer--\"Nothing.\"\n\nBut the West insisted--\"There must be something you are afraid of.\"\n\n\"Well, I will tell you,\" says Manabozho, \"what it is.\"\n\nHe made an effort to speak, but it seemed to be too much for him.\n\n\"Out with it,\" said Ningabiun, or the West, fetching Manabozho such a\nblow on the back as shook the mountain with its echo.\n\n\"Je-ee, je-ee--it is,\" said Manabozho, apparently in great pain. \"Yeo,\nyeo! I can not name it, I tremble so.\"\n\nThe West told him to banish his fears, and to speak up; no one would\nhurt him.\n\nManabozho began again, and he would have gone over the same make-believe\nof anguish, had not his father, whose strength he knew was more than a\nmatch for his own, threatened to pitch him into a river about five miles\noff. At last he cried out:\n\n\"Father, since you will know, it is the root of the bulrush.\"\n\nHe who could with perfect ease spin a sentence a whole day long, seemed\nto be exhausted by the effort of pronouncing that one word, \"bulrush.\"\n\nSome time after, Manabozho observed:\n\n\"I will get some of the black rock, merely to see how it looks.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the father, \"I will also get a little of the bulrush-root,\nto learn how it tastes.\"\n\nThey were both double-dealing with each other, and in their hearts\ngetting ready for some desperate work.\n\nThey had no sooner separated for the evening than Manabozho was striding\noff the couple of hundred miles necessary to bring him to the place\nwhere black rock was to be procured, while down the other side of the\nmountain hurried Ningabiun.\n\nAt the break of day they each appeared at the great level on the\nmountain-top, Manabozho with twenty loads, at least, of the black stone,\non one side, and on the other the West, with a whole meadow of bulrush\nin his arms.\n\nManabozho was the first to strike--hurling a great piece of the black\nrock, which struck the West directly between the eyes, who returned the\nfavor with a blow of bulrush, that rung over the shoulders of Manabozho,\nfar and wide, like the whip-thong of the lightning among the clouds.\n\nAnd now either rallied, and Manabozho poured in a tempest of black rock,\nwhile Ningabiun discharged a shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, thwack\nupon thwack--they fought hand to hand until black rock and bulrush were\nall gone. Then they betook themselves to hurling crags at each other,\ncudgeling with huge oak-trees, and defying each other from one\nmountain-top to another; while at times they shot enormous boulders of\ngranite across at each other's heads, as though they had been mere\njack-stones. The battle, which had commenced on the mountains, had\nextended far west. The West was forced to give ground. Manabozho\npressing on, drove him across rivers and mountains, ridges and lakes,\ntill at last he got him to the very brink of the world.\n\n\"Hold!\" cried the West. \"My son, you know my power, and although I allow\nthat I am now fairly out of breath, it is impossible to kill me. Stop\nwhere you are, and I will also portion you out with as much power as\nyour brothers. The four quarters of the globe are already occupied, but\nyou can go and do a great deal of good to the people of the earth, which\nis beset with serpents, beasts and monsters, who make great havoc of\nhuman life. Go and do good, and if you put forth half the strength you\nhave to-day, you will acquire a name that will last forever. When you\nhave finished your work I will have a place provided for you. You will\nthen go and sit with your brother, Kabinocca, in the North.\"\n\nManabozho gave his father his hand upon this agreement. And parting from\nhim, he returned to his own grounds, where he lay for some time sore of\nhis wounds.\n\nThese being, however, greatly allayed, and soon after cured by his\ngrandmother's skill in medicines, Manabozho, as big and sturdy as ever,\nwas ripe for new adventures. He set his thoughts immediately upon a war\nexcursion against the Pearl Feather, a wicked old manito, living on the\nother side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. He begun\nhis preparations by making huge bows and arrows without number; but he\nhad no heads for his shafts. At last Noko told him that an old man, who\nlived at some distance, could furnish him with such as he needed. He\nsent her to get some. She soon returned with her wrapper full. Manabozho\ntold her that he had not enough, and sent her again. She came back with\nas many more. He thought to himself, \"I must find out the way of making\nthese heads.\"\n\nInstead of directly asking how it was done, he preferred--just like\nManabozho--to deceive his grandmother to come at the knowledge he\ndesired, by a trick. \"Noko,\" said he, \"while I take my drum and rattle,\nand sing my war-songs, do you go and try to get me some larger heads,\nfor these you have brought me are all of the same size. Go and see\nwhether the old man is not willing to make some a little larger.\"\n\nHe followed her at a distance as she went, having left his drum at the\nlodge, with a great bird tied at the top, whose fluttering should keep\nup the drumbeat, the same as if he were tarrying at home. He saw the old\nworkman busy, and learned how he prepared the heads; he also beheld the\nold man's daughter, who was very beautiful; and Manabozho now discovered\nfor the first time that he had a heart of his own, and the sigh he\nheaved passed through the arrow-maker's lodge like a gale of wind.\n\n\"How it blows!\" said the old man.\n\n\"It must be from the south,\" said the daughter; \"for it is very\nfragrant.\"\n\nManabozho slipped away, and in two strides he was at home, shouting\nforth his songs as though he had never left the lodge. He had just time\nto free the bird which had been beating the drum, when his grandmother\ncame in and delivered to him the big arrow-heads.\n\nIn the evening the grandmother said, \"My son, you ought to fast before\nyou go to war, as your brothers do, to find out whether you will be\nsuccessful or not.\"\n\nHe said he had no objection; and having privately stored away, in a\nshady place in the forest, two or three dozen juicy bears, a moose, and\ntwenty strings of the tenderest birds, he would retire from the lodge so\nfar as to be entirely out of view of his grandmother, fall to and enjoy\nhimself heartily, and at night-fall, having just dispatched a dozen\nbirds and half a bear or so, he would return, tottering and wo-begone,\nas if quite famished, so as to move deeply the sympathies of his wise\nold grand-dame.\n\nThe place of his fast had been chosen by the Noko, and she had told him\nit must be so far as to be beyond the sound of her voice or it would be\nunlucky.\n\nAfter a time Manabozho, who was always spying out mischief, said to\nhimself, \"I must find out why my grandmother is so anxious to have me\nfast at this spot.\"\n\nThe next day he went but a short distance. She cried out, \"A little\nfurther off;\" but he came nearer to the lodge, the rogue that he was,\nand cried out in a low, counterfeited voice, to make it appear that he\nwas going away instead of approaching. He had now got so near that he\ncould see all that passed in the lodge.\n\nHe had not been long in ambush when an old magician crept into the\nlodge. This old magician had very long hair, which hung across his\nshoulders and down his back, like a bush or foot-mat. They commenced\ntalking about him, and in doing so, they put their two old heads so very\nclose together that Manabozho was satisfied they were kissing each\nother. He was indignant that any one should take such a liberty with his\nvenerable grandmother, and to mark his sense of the outrage, he touched\nthe bushy hair of the old magician with a live coal which he had blown\nupon. The old magician had not time to kiss the old grandmother more\nthan once again before he felt the flame; and jumping out into the air,\nit burned only the fiercer, and he ran, blazing like a fire-ball, across\nthe prairie.\n\nManabozho who had, meanwhile, stolen off to his fasting-place, cried\nout, in a heart-broken tone, and as if on the very point of starvation,\n\"Noko! Noko! is it time for me to come home?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she cried. And when he came in she asked him, \"Did you see any\nthing?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" he answered, with an air of childish candor; looking as much\nlike a big simpleton as he could. The grandmother looked at him very\nclosely and said no more.\n\nManabozho finished his term of fasting; in the course of which he slyly\ndispatched twenty fat bears, six dozen birds, and two fine moose; sung\nhis war-song, and embarked in his canoe, fully prepared for war. Beside\nweapons of battle, he had stowed in a large supply of oil.\n\nHe traveled rapidly night and day, for he had only to will or speak, and\nthe canoe went. At length he arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. He\npaused to view them; he observed that they were some distance apart, and\nthat the flames which they constantly belched forth reached across the\npass. He gave them a good morning, and began talking with them in a very\nfriendly way; but they answered, \"We know you, Manabozho; you can not\npass.\"\n\nHe was not, however, to be put off so easily. Turning his canoe as if\nabout to go back, he suddenly cried out with a loud and terrified voice:\n\n\"What is that behind you?\"\n\nThe serpents, thrown off their guard, instantly turned their heads, and\nhe in a moment glided past them.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, quietly, after he had got by, \"how do you like my\nmovement?\"\n\nHe then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim shot every\none of them, easily, for the serpents were fixed to one spot, and could\nnot even turn around. They were of an enormous length, and of a bright\ncolor.\n\nHaving thus escaped the sentinel serpents, Manabozho pushed on in his\ncanoe until he came to a part of the lake called Pitch-water, as\nwhatever touched it was sure to stick fast. But Manabozho was prepared\nwith his oil, and rubbing his canoe freely from end to end, he slipped\nthrough with ease, and he was the first person who had ever succeeded in\npassing through the Pitch-water.\n\n\"There is nothing like a little oil to help one through pitch-water,\"\nsaid Manabozho to himself.\n\nNow in view of land, he could see the lodge of the Shining Manito, high\nupon a distant hill.\n\nPutting his clubs and arrows in order, just at the dawn of day Manabozho\nbegan his attack, yelling and shouting, and beating his drum, and\ncalling out in triple voices:\n\n\"Surround him! surround him! run up! run up!\" making it appear that he\nhad many followers. He advanced, shouting aloud:\n\n\"It was you that killed my grandfather,\" and shot off a whole forest of\narrows.\n\nThe Pearl Feather appeared on the height, blazing like the sun, and paid\nback the discharges of Manabozho with a tempest of bolts, which rattled\nlike the hail.\n\nAll day long the fight was kept up, and Manabozho had fired all of his\narrows but three, without effect; for the Shining Manito was clothed in\npure wampum. It was only by immense leaps to right and left that\nManabozho could save his head from the sturdy blows which fell about him\non every side, like pine-trees, from the hands of the Manito. He was\nbadly bruised, and at his very wit's end, when a large woodpecker flew\npast and lit on a tree. It was a bird he had known on the prairie, near\nhis grandmother's lodge.\n\n\"Manabozho,\" called out the woodpecker, \"your enemy has a weak point;\nshoot at the lock of hair on the crown of his head.\"\n\nHe shot his first arrow and only drew blood in a few drops. The Manito\nmade one or two unsteady steps, but recovered himself. He began to\nparley, but Manabozho, now that he had discovered a way to reach him,\nwas in no humor to trifle, and he let slip another arrow, which brought\nthe Shining Manito to his knees. And now, having the crown of his head\nwithin good range, Manabozho sent in his third arrow, which laid the\nManito out upon the ground, stark dead.\n\nManabozho lifted up a huge war-cry, beat his drum, took the scalp of the\nManito as his trophy, and calling the woodpecker to come and receive a\nreward for the timely hint he had given him, he rubbed the blood of the\nShining Manito on the woodpecker's head, the feathers of which are red\nto this day. Full of his victory, Manabozho returned home, beating his\nwar-drum furiously, and shouting aloud his songs of triumph. His\ngrandmother was on the shore ready to welcome him with the war-dance,\nwhich she performed with wonderful skill for one so far advanced in\nyears.\n\nThe heart of Manabozho swelled within him. He was fairly on fire, and an\nunconquerable desire for further adventures seized upon him. He had\ndestroyed the powerful Pearl Feather, killed his serpents, and escaped\nall his wiles and charms. He had prevailed in a great land fight, his\nnext trophy should be from the water.\n\nHe tried his prowess as a fisherman, and with such success that he\ncaptured a fish so monstrous in size and so rich in fat that with the\noil Manabozho was able to form a small lake. To this, being generously\ndisposed, and having a cunning purpose of his own to answer, he invited\nall the birds and beasts of his acquaintance; and he made the order in\nwhich they partook of the banquet the measure of their fatness for all\ntime to come. As fast as they arrived he told them to plunge in and help\nthemselves.\n\nThe first to make his appearance was the bear, who took a long and\nsteady draught; then came the deer, the opossum, and such others of the\nfamily as are noted for their comfortable case. The moose and bison\nwere slack in their cups, and the partridge, always lean in flesh,\nlooked on till the supply was nearly gone. There was not a drop left by\nthe time the hare and the martin appeared on the shore of the lake, and\nthey are, in consequence, the slenderest of all creatures.\n\nWhen this ceremony was over, Manabozho suggested to his friends, the\nassembled birds and animals, that the occasion was proper for a little\nmerrymaking; and taking up his drum, he cried out:\n\n\"New songs from the South, come, brothers, dance!\"\n\nHe directed them, to make the sport more mirthful, that they should shut\ntheir eyes and pass around him in a circle. Again he beat his drum and\ncried out:\n\n\"New songs from the South, come, brothers, dance!\"\n\nThey all fell in and commenced their rounds. Whenever Manabozho, as he\nstood in the circle, saw a fat fowl which he fancied, pass by him, he\nadroitly wrung its neck and slipped it in his girdle, at the same time\nbeating his drum and singing at the top of his lungs, to drown the noise\nof the fluttering, and crying out in a tone of admiration:\n\n\"That's the way, my brothers; that's the way!\"\n\nAt last a small duck, of the diver family, thinking there was something\nwrong, opened one eye and saw what Manabozho was doing. Giving a spring,\nand crying:\n\n\"Ha-ha-a! Manabozho is killing us!\" he made for the water.\n\nManabozho, quite vexed that the creature should have played the spy upon\nhis housekeeping, followed him, and just as the diver-duck was getting\ninto the water, gave him a kick, which is the reason that the diver's\ntail-feathers are few, his back flattened, and his legs straightened\nout, so that when he gets on land he makes a poor figure in walking.\n\nMeantime, the other birds, having no ambition to be thrust in\nManabozho's girdle, flew off, and the animals scampered into the woods.\n\nManabozho stretching himself at ease in the shade along the side of the\nprairie, thought what he should do next. He concluded that he would\ntravel and see new countries; and having once made up his mind, in less\nthan three days, such was his length of limb and the immensity of his\nstride, he had walked over the entire continent, looked into every lodge\nby the way, and with such nicety of observation, that he was able to\ninform his good old grandmother what each family had for a dinner at a\ngiven hour.\n\nBy way of relief to these grand doings, Manabozho was disposed to vary\nhis experiences by bestowing a little time upon the sports of the woods.\nHe had heard reported great feats in hunting, and he had a desire to\ntry his power in that way. Besides that, it was a slight consideration\nthat he had devoured all the game within reach of the lodge; and so, one\nevening, as he was walking along the shore of the great lake, weary and\nhungry, he encountered a great magician in the form of an old wolf, with\nsix young ones, coming toward him.\n\nThe wolf no sooner caught sight of him than he told his whelps, who were\nclose about his side, to keep out of the way of Manabozho; \"For I know,\"\nhe said, \"that it is that mischievous fellow whom we see yonder.\"\n\nThe young wolves were in the act of running off, when Manabozho cried\nout, \"My grandchildren, where are you going? Stop and I will go with\nyou. I wish to have a little chat with your excellent father.\"\n\nSaying which he advanced and greeted the old wolf, expressing himself as\ndelighted at seeing him looking so well. \"Whither do you journey?\" he\nasked.\n\n\"We are looking for a good hunting-ground to pass the winter,\" the old\nwolf answered. \"What brings you here?\"\n\n\"I was looking for you,\" said Manabozho. \"For I have a passion for the\nchase, brother. I always admired your family; are you willing to change\nme into a wolf?\"\n\nThe wolf gave him a favorable answer, and he was forthwith changed into\na wolf.\n\n\"Well, that will do,\" said Manabozho; then looking at his tail, he\nadded, \"Oh! could you oblige me by making my tail a little longer and\nmore bushy.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the old wolf; and he gave Manabozho such a length and\nspread of tail, that it was constantly getting between his legs, and it\nwas so heavy that it was as much as he could do to find strength to\ncarry it. But having asked for it, he was ashamed to say a word; and\nthey all started off in company, dashing up a ravine.\n\nAfter getting into the woods for some distance, they fell in with the\ntracks of moose. The young ones scampered off in pursuit, the old wolf\nand Manabozho following at their leisure.\n\n\"Well,\" said the old wolf, by way of opening discourse, \"who do you\nthink is the fastest of the boys? Can you tell by the jumps they take?\"\n\n\"Why,\" he replied, \"that one that takes such long jumps, he is the\nfastest to be sure.\"\n\n\"Ha! ha! you are mistaken,\" said the old wolf. \"He makes a good start,\nbut he will be the first to tire out; this one, who appears to be\nbehind, will be the one to kill the game.\"\n\nBy this time they had come to the spot where the boys had started in\nchase. One had dropped what seemed to be a small medicine-sack, which\nhe carried for the use of the hunting-party.\n\n\"Take that, Manabozho,\" said the old wolf.\n\n\"Esa,\" he replied, \"what will I do with a dirty dog-skin?\"\n\nThe old wolf took it up; it was a beautiful robe.\n\n\"Oh, I will carry it now,\" cried Manabozho.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" said the old wolf, who had exerted his magical powers, \"it is\na robe of pearls. Come along!\" And away sped the old wolf at a great\nrate of speed.\n\n\"Not so fast,\" called Manabozho after him; and then he added to himself\nas he panted after, \"Oh, this tail!\"\n\nComing to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the young\nwolves had made a fresh start after their prey.\n\n\"Why,\" said the old wolf, \"this moose is poor. I know by the traces; for\nI can always tell whether they are fat or not.\"\n\nA little further on, one of the young wolves, in dashing at the moose,\nhad broken a tooth on a tree.\n\n\"Manabozho,\" said the old wolf, \"one of your grandchildren has shot at\nthe game. Take his arrow; there it is.\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Manabozho; \"what will I do with a dirty dog's tooth?\"\n\nThe old wolf took it up, and behold it was a beautiful silver arrow.\n\nWhen they at last overtook them, they found that the youngsters had\nkilled a very fat moose. Manabozho was very hungry; but the old wolf\njust then again exerted his magical powers, and Manabozho saw nothing\nbut the bones picked quite clean. He thought to himself, \"Just as I\nexpected; dirty, greedy fellows. If it had not been for this log at my\nback, I should have been in time to have got a mouthful:\" and he cursed\nthe bushy tail which he carried, to the bottom of his heart. He,\nhowever, sat down without saying a word.\n\nAt length the old wolf spoke to one of the young ones, saying:\n\n\"Give some meat to your grandfather.\"\n\nOne of them obeyed, and coming near to Manabozho, he presented him the\nother end of his own bushy tail, which was nicely seasoned with burs,\ngathered in the course of the hunt.\n\nManabozho jumped up and called out:\n\n\"You dog, now that your stomach is full, do you think I am going to eat\nyou to get at my dinner? Get you gone into some other place.\"\n\nSaying which Manabozho, in his anger, walked off by himself.\n\n\"Come back, brother,\" cried the wolf. \"You are losing your eyes.\"\n\nManabozho turned back.\n\n\"You do the child injustice. Look there!\" and behold, a heap of fresh,\nruddy meat, was lying on the spot, already prepared.\n\nManabozho, at the view of so much good provision, put on a smiling face.\n\n\"Amazement!\" he said; \"how fine the meat is!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the old wolf, \"it is always so with us; we know our work,\nand always get the best. It is not a long tail that makes the hunter.\"\n\nManabozho bit his lip.\n\nThey now fixed their winter quarters. The youngsters went out in search\nof game, and they soon brought in a large supply. One day, during the\nabsence of the young hunters, the old wolf amused himself in cracking\nthe large bones of a moose.\n\n\"Manabozho,\" said he, \"cover your head with the robe, and do not look at\nme while I am busy with these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye.\"\n\nHe did as he was bid; but looking through a rent that was in the robe,\nhe saw what the other was about. Just at that moment a piece flew off\nand hit him on the eye. He cried out:\n\n\"Tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?\"\n\nThe wolf answered--\"You must have been looking at me.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" retorted Manabozho, \"why should I want to look at you?\"\n\n\"Manabozho,\" said the old wolf, \"you must have been looking or you would\nnot have got hurt.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" he replied again, \"I was not. I will repay the saucy wolf this\nmischief,\" he thought to himself.\n\nSo the next day, taking up a bone to obtain the marrow, he said to the\nwolf:\n\n\"Brother, cover your head and do not look at me, for I very much fear a\npiece may fly in your eye.\"\n\nThe wolf did so; and Manabozho, taking the large leg-bone of the moose,\nfirst looking to see if the wolf was well covered, hit him a blow with\nall his might. The wolf jumped up, cried out, and fell prostrate from\nthe effects of the blow.\n\n\"Why,\" said he, when he came to a little and was able to sit up, \"why do\nyou strike me so?\"\n\n\"Strike you?\" said Manabozho, with well-feigned surprise, \"no; you must\nhave been looking at me.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the wolf, \"I say I have not.\"\n\nBut Manabozho insisted, and as the old wolf was no great master of\ntricky argument, he was obliged to give it up.\n\nShortly after this the old wolf suggested to Manabozho that he should go\nout and try his luck in hunting by himself.\n\nWhen he chose to put his mind upon it he was quite expert, and this time\nhe succeeded in killing a fine fat moose, which he thought he would take\naside slyly, and devour alone, having prepared to tell the old wolf a\npretty story on his return, to account for his failure to bring any\nthing with him.\n\nHe was very hungry, and he sat down to eat; but as he never could go to\nwork in a straight-forward way, he immediately fell into great doubts as\nto the proper point at which to begin.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"I do not know where to commence. At the head? No.\nPeople will laugh, and say--'He ate him backward.'\"\n\nHe went to the side. \"No,\" said he, \"they will say I ate him sideways.\"\n\nHe then went to the hind-quarter. \"No, that will not do, either; they\nwill say I ate him forward. I will begin here, say what they will.\"\n\nHe took a delicate piece from the small of the back, and was just on the\npoint of putting it to his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking\nnoise. He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the morsel to his mouth\nthe second time, when the tree creaked again.\n\n\"Why,\" he exclaimed, \"I can not eat when I hear such a noise. Stop,\nstop!\" he said to the tree. He put it down, exclaiming--\"I can not eat\nwith such a noise;\" and starting away he climbed the tree, and was\npulling at the limb which had offended him, when his fore-paw was caught\nbetween the branches so that he could not free himself.\n\nWhile thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves advancing through the\nwood in the direction of his meat. He suspected them to be the old wolf\nand his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not make them out.\n\n\"Go the other way, go the other way!\" he cried out; \"what would you come\nto get here?\"\n\nThe wolves stopped for a while and talked among themselves, and said:\n\n\"Manabozho must have something there, or he would not tell us to go\nanother way.\"\n\n\"I begin to know him,\" said an old wolf, \"and all his tricks. Let us go\nforward and see.\"\n\nThey came on; and finding the moose, they soon made away with it.\nManabozho looked wistfully on to see them eat till they were fully\nsatisfied, when they scampered off in high spirits.\n\nA heavy blast of wind opened the branches and released Manabozho, who\nfound that the wolves had left nothing but the bare bones. He made for\nhome, where, when he related his mishap, the old wolf, taking him by the\nfore-paw, condoled with him deeply on his ill-luck. A tear even started\nto his eye as he added:\n\n\"My brother, this should teach us not to meddle with points of ceremony\nwhen we have good meat to eat.\"\n\nThe winter having by this time drawn fairly to a close, on a bright\nmorning in the early spring, the old wolf addressed Manabozho: \"My\nbrother, I am obliged to leave you; and although I have sometimes been\nmerry at your expense, I will show that I care for your comfort. I shall\nleave one of the boys behind me to be your hunter, and to keep you\ncompany through the long summer afternoons.\"\n\nThe old wolf galloped off with his five young ones; and as they\ndisappeared from view, Manabozho was disenchanted in a moment, and\nreturned to his mortal shape.\n\nAlthough he had been sometimes vexed and imposed upon, he had,\naltogether, passed a pleasant winter with the cunning old wolf, and now\nthat he was gone, Manabozho was downcast and low in spirit. But as the\ndays grew brighter he recovered by degrees his air of cheerful\nconfidence, and was ready to try his hand upon any new adventure that\nmight occur to him. The old spirit of mischief was still alive within\nhim.\n\nThe young wolf who had been left with him was a good hunter, and never\nfailed to keep the lodge well supplied with meat. One day Manabozho\naddressed him as follows:\n\n\"My grandson, I had a dream last night, and it does not portend good. It\nis of the large lake which lies in that direction. You must be careful\nto always go across it, whether the ice seem strong or not. Never go\naround it, for there are enemies on the further shore who lie in wait\nfor you. The ice is always safe.\"\n\nNow Manabozho knew well that the ice was thinning every day under the\nwarm sun, but he could not stay himself from playing a trick upon the\nyoung wolf.\n\nIn the evening when he came to the lake, after a long day's travel in\nquest of game, the young wolf, confiding in his grandfather, said,\n\"Hwooh! the ice does look thin, but Nesho says it is sound;\" and he\ntrotted upon the glassy plain.\n\nHe had not got half way across when the ice snapped, and with a mournful\ncry, the young wolf fell in and was immediately seized by the\nwater-serpents, who knew that it was Manabozho's grandson, and were\nthirsting for revenge upon him for the death of their relations in the\nwar upon Pearl Feather.\n\nManabozho heard the young wolf's cry as he sat in his lodge; he knew\nwhat had happened; and, from that moment, he was deprived of the greater\npart of his magical power.\n\nHe returned, scarcely more than an ordinary mortal, to his former place\nof dwelling, whence his grandmother had departed no one knew whither. He\nmarried the arrow-maker's daughter, and became the father of several\nchildren, and very poor. He was scarcely able to procure the means of\nliving. His lodge was pitched in a remote part of the country, where he\ncould get no game. It was winter, and he had not the common comforts of\nlife. He said to his wife one day, \"I will go out a walking and see if I\ncan not find some lodges.\"\n\nAfter walking some time he saw a lodge at a distance. The children were\nplaying at the door. When they saw him approaching they ran in and told\ntheir parents that Manabozho was coming.\n\nIt was the residence of the large red-headed woodpecker. He came to the\ndoor and asked Manabozho to enter. This invitation was promptly\naccepted.\n\nAfter some time, the woodpecker, who was a magician, said to his wife:\n\n\"Have you nothing to give Manabozho? he must be hungry.\"\n\nShe answered, \"No.\"\n\n\"He ought not to go without his supper,\" said the woodpecker. \"I will\nsee what I can do.\"\n\nIn the center of the lodge stood a large tamarack-tree. Upon this the\nwoodpecker flew, and commenced going up, turning his head on each side\nof the tree, and every now and then driving in his bill. At last he\npulled something out of the tree and threw it down; when, behold, a fine\nfat raccoon lay on the ground. He drew out six or seven more. He then\ndescended, and told his wife to prepare them.\n\n\"Manabozho,\" he said, \"this is the only thing we eat; what else can we\ngive you?\"\n\n\"It is very good,\" replied Manabozho.\n\nThey smoked their pipes and conversed with each other.\n\nAfter eating, Manabozho got ready to go home; when the woodpecker said\nto his wife, \"Give him the other raccoons to take home for his\nchildren.\"\n\nIn the act of leaving the lodge, Manabozho, on purpose, dropped one of\nhis mittens, which was soon after observed upon the ground.\n\n\"Run,\" said the woodpecker to his eldest son, \"and give it to him; but\nmind that you do not give it into his hand; throw it at him, for there\nis no knowing him, he acts so curiously.\"\n\nThe boy did as he was directed.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" said he to Manabozho, as he came up to him, \"you have\nleft one of your mittens; here it is.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, affecting to be ignorant of the circumstance, \"it is so;\nbut don't throw it, you will soil it on the snow.\"\n\nThe lad, however, threw it, and was about to return, when Manabozho\ncried out, \"Bakah! Bakah! stop--stop; is that all you eat? Do you eat\nnothing else with your raccoon? tell me!\"\n\n\"Yes, that is all,\" answered the young Woodpecker; \"we have nothing\nelse.\"\n\n\"Tell your father,\" continued Manabozho, \"to come and visit me, and let\nhim bring a sack. I will give him what he shall eat with his\nraccoon-meat.\"\n\nWhen the young one returned and reported this message to his father, the\nold woodpecker turned up his nose at the invitation. \"I wonder,\" he\nsaid, \"what he thinks he has got, poor fellow!\"\n\nHe was bound, however, to answer the proffer of hospitality, and he went\naccordingly, taking along a cedar-sack, to pay a visit to Manabozho.\n\nManabozho received the old red-headed woodpecker with great ceremony. He\nhad stood at the door awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he came in\nsight Manabozho commenced, while he was yet far off, bowing and opening\nwide his arms, in token of welcome; all of which the woodpecker returned\nin due form, by ducking his bill, and hopping to right and left, upon\nthe ground, extending his wings to their full length and fluttering them\nback to his breast.\n\nWhen the woodpecker at last reached the lodge, Manabozho made various\nremarks upon the weather, the appearance of the country, and especially\non the scarcity of game.\n\n\"But we,\" he added, \"we always have enough. Come in, and you shall not\ngo away hungry, my noble bird!\"\n\nManabozho had always prided himself on being able to give as good as he\nhad received; and to be up with the woodpecker, he had shifted his\nlodge so as to inclose a large dry tamarack-tree.\n\n\"What can I give you,\" said he to the woodpecker; \"but as we eat so\nshall you eat.\"\n\nWith this he hopped forward, and, jumping on the tamarack-tree, he\nattempted to climb it just as he had seen the woodpecker do in his own\nlodge. He turned his head first on one side, then on the other, in the\nmanner of the bird, meanwhile striving to go up, and as often slipping\ndown. Ever and anon he would strike the tree with his nose, as if it had\nbeen a bill, and draw back, but he pulled out no raccoons; and he dashed\nhis nose so often against the trunk that at last the blood began to\nflow, and he tumbled down senseless upon the ground.\n\nThe woodpecker started up with his drum and rattle to restore him, and\nby beating them violently he succeeded in bringing him to.\n\nAs soon as he came to his senses, Manabozho began to lay the blame of\nhis failure upon his wife, saying to his guest:\n\n\"Nemesho, it is this woman-relation of yours--she is the cause of my not\nsucceeding. She has made me a worthless fellow. Before I took her I also\ncould get raccoons.\"\n\nThe woodpecker said nothing, but flying on the tree he drew out several\nfine raccoons.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, \"this is the way we do!\" and left him in disdain,\ncarrying his bill high in the air, and stepping over the door-sill as if\nit were not worthy to be touched by his toes.\n\nAfter this visit, Manabozho was sitting in the lodge one day with his\nhead down. He heard the wind whistling around it, and thought that by\nattentively listening he could hear the voice of some one speaking to\nhim. It seemed to say to him:\n\n\"Great chief, why are you sorrowful? Am not I your friend--your guardian\nspirit?\"\n\nManabozho immediately took up his rattle, and without rising from the\nground where he was sitting, began to sing the chant which has at every\nclose the refrain of, \"Wha lay le aw.\"\n\nWhen he had dwelt for a long time on this peculiar chant, which he had\nbeen used to sing in all his times of trouble, he laid his rattle aside\nand determined to fast. For this purpose he went to a cave which faced\nthe setting sun, and built a very small fire, near which he lay down,\nfirst telling his wife that neither she nor the children must come near\nhim till he had finished his fast.\n\nAt the end of seven days he came back to the lodge, pale and thin,\nlooking like a spirit himself, and as if he had seen spirits. His wife\nhad in the meantime dug through the snow and got a few of the root\ncalled truffles. These she boiled and set before him, and this was all\nthe food they had or seemed likely to obtain.\n\nWhen he had finished his light repast, Manabozho took up his station in\nthe door to see what would happen. As he stood thus, holding in his hand\nhis large bow, with a quiver well filled with arrows, a deer glided past\nalong the far edge of the prairie, but it was miles away, and no shaft\nthat Manabozho could shoot would be able to touch it.\n\nPresently a cry came down the air, and looking up he beheld a great\nflight of birds, but they were so far up in the sky that he would have\nlost his arrows in a vain attempt among the clouds.\n\nStill he stood watchful, and confident that some turn of luck was about\nto occur, when there came near to the lodge two hunters, who bore\nbetween them on poles upon their shoulders, a bear, and it was so fine\nand fat a bear that it was as much as the two hunters could do with all\ntheir strength to carry it.\n\nAs they came to the lodge-door, one of the hunters asked if Manabozho\nlived thereabout.\n\n\"He is here,\" answered Manabozho.\n\n\"I have often heard of you,\" said the first hunter, \"and I was curious\nto see you. But you have lost your magical power. Do you know whether\nany of it is left?\"\n\nManabozho answered that he was himself in the dark on the subject.\n\n\"Suppose you make a trial,\" said the hunter.\n\n\"What shall I do?\" asked Manabozho.\n\n\"There is my friend,\" said the hunter, pointing to his companion, \"who\nwith me owns this bear which we are carrying home. Suppose you see if\nyou can change him into a piece of rock.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Manabozho; and he had scarcely spoken before the other\nhunter became a rock.\n\n\"Now change him back again,\" said the first hunter.\n\n\"That I can't do,\" Manabozho answered; \"there my power ends.\"\n\nThe hunter looked at the rock with a bewildered face.\n\n\"What shall I do?\" he asked. \"This bear I can never carry alone, and it\nwas agreed between my friend there and myself, that we should not divide\nit till we reached home. Can't you change my friend back, Manabozho?\"\n\n\"I would like to oblige you,\" answered Manabozho, \"but it is utterly out\nof my power.\"\n\nWith this, looking again at the rock with a sad and bewildered face, and\nthen casting a sorrowful glance at the bear, which lay by the door of\nthe lodge, the hunter took his leave, bewailing bitterly at heart the\nloss of his friend and his bear.\n\nHe was scarcely out of sight when Manabozho sent the children to get red\nwillow sticks. Of these he cut off as many pieces, of equal length, as\nwould serve to invite his friends among the beasts and birds to a feast.\nA red stick was sent to each one, not forgetting the woodpecker and his\nfamily.\n\nWhen they arrived they were astonished to see such an abundance of meat\nprepared for them at such a time of scarcity. Manabozho understood their\nglance, and was proud of a chance to make such a display.\n\n\"Akewazi,\" he said to the oldest of the party, \"the weather is very\ncold, and the snow lasts a long time; we can kill nothing now but small\nsquirrels, and they are all black; and I have sent for you to help me\neat some of them.\"\n\nThe woodpecker was the first to try a mouthful of the bear's meat, but\nhe had no sooner began to taste it than it changed into a dry powder,\nand set him coughing. It appeared as bitter as ashes.\n\nThe moose was affected in the same way, and it brought on such a dry\ncough as to shake every bone in his body.\n\nOne by one, each in turn joined the company of coughers, except\nManabozho and his family, to whom the bear's meat proved very savory.\n\nBut the visitors had too high a sense of what was due to decorum and\ngood manners to say any thing. The meat looked very fine, and being\nkeenly set and strongly tempted by its promising look, they thought\nthey would try more of it. The more they ate the faster they coughed,\nand the louder became the uproar, until Manabozho, exerting the magical\ngift which he found he retained, changed them all into squirrels; and to\nthis day the squirrel suffers from the same dry cough which was brought\non by attempting to sup off of Manabozho's ashen bear's meat.\n\nAnd ever after this transformation, when Manabozho lacked provisions for\nhis family he would hunt the squirrel, a supply of which never failed\nhim, so that he was always sure to have a number of his friends present,\nin this shape, at the banquet.\n\nThe rock into which he changed the hunter, and so became possessed of\nthe bear, and thus laid the foundations of his good fortune, ever after\nremained by his lodge-door, and it was called the Game-Bag of Manabozho,\nthe Mischief-Maker.\n\n\n\n\nXIX.\n\nLEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTER.\n\n\nLeelinau was the favorite daughter of a hunter, who lived on the lake\nshore near the base of the lofty highlands, called Kaug Wudjoo.\n\nFrom her earliest youth she was observed to be thoughtful and retiring.\nShe passed much of her time in solitude, and seemed ever to prefer the\ncompanionship of her own shadow to the society of the lodge-circle.\n\nWhenever she could leave her father's lodge she would fly to remote\nhaunts and recesses in the woods, or sit in lonely reverie upon some\nhigh promontory of rock overlooking the lake. In such places she would\noften, with her face turned upward, linger long in contemplation of the\nair, as if she were invoking her guardian spirit, and beseeching him to\nlighten her sadness.\n\nBut amid all the leafy haunts, none drew her steps toward it so often as\na forest of pines, on the open shore, called Manitowok, or the Sacred\nWood. It was one of those hallowed places which is the resort of the\nlittle wild men of the woods, and of the turtle spirits or fairies which\ndelight in romantic scenes. Owing to this circumstance, its green\nretirement was seldom visited by Indians, who feared to fall under the\ninfluence of its mischievous inhabitants.\n\nAnd whenever they were compelled by stress of weather to make a landing\non this part of the coast, they never failed to leave an offering of\ntobacco, or some other token, to show that they desired to stand well\nwith the proprietors of the fairy ground.\n\nTo this sacred spot Leelinau had made her way at an early age, gathering\nstrange flowers and plants, which she would bring home to her parents,\nand relate to them all the haps and mishaps that had occurred in her\nrambles.\n\nAlthough they discountenanced her frequent visits to the place, they\nwere not able to restrain them, for she was of so gentle and delicate a\ntemper that they feared to thwart her.\n\nHer attachment to the fairy wood, therefore, grew with her years. If she\nwished to solicit her spirits to procure pleasant dreams, or any other\nmaiden favor, Leelinau repaired to the Manitowok. If her father remained\nabroad in the hunt later than usual, and it was feared that he had been\noverwhelmed by the tempest, or had met with some other mischance,\nLeelinau offered up her prayers for safety at the Manitowok. It was\nthere that she fasted, mused, and strolled.\n\nShe at length became so engrossed by the fairy pines that her parents\nbegan to suspect that some evil spirit had enticed her to its haunts,\nand had cast upon her a charm which she had not the power to resist.\n\nThis belief was confirmed when, one day, her mother, who had secretly\nfollowed her, overheard her murmuring to some unknown and invisible\ncompanion, appeals like these:\n\n\"Spirit of the dancing leaves!\" whispered Leelinau, \"hear a throbbing\nheart in its sadness. Spirit of the foaming stream! visit thou my\nnightly pillow, shedding over it silver dreams of mountain brook and\npebbly rivulet. Spirit of the starry night! lead my foot-prints to the\nblushing mis-kodeed, or where the burning passion-flower shines with\ncarmine hue. Spirit of the greenwood plume!\" she concluded, turning with\npassionate gaze to the beautiful young pines which stood waving their\ngreen beauty over her head, \"shed on me, on Leelinau the sad, thy leafy\nfragrance, such as spring unfolds from sweetest flowers, or hearts that\nto each other show their inmost grief. Spirits! hear, O hear a maiden's\nprayer!\"\n\nDay by day, these strange communings with unseen beings drew away the\nheart of Leelinau more and more from the simple duties of the lodge,\nand she walked among her people, melancholy and silent, like a spirit\nwho had visited them from another land.\n\nThe pastimes which engaged the frolic moments of her young companions,\npassed by her as little trivial pageants in which she had no concern.\n\nWhen the girls of the neighboring lodges assembled to play at the\nfavorite female game of pappus-e-ko-waun, or the block and string,\nbefore the lodge-door, Leelinau would sit vacantly by, or enter so\nfeebly into the spirit of the play as to show that it was irksome to\nher.\n\nAgain, in the evening, when the young people formed a ring around the\nlodge, and the piepeend-jigun, or leather and bone, passed rapidly from\none to the other, she either handed it along without attempting to play,\nor if she took a part, it was with no effort to succeed.\n\nThe time of the corn-gathering had come, and the young people of the\ntribe were assembled in the field, busy in plucking the ripened maize.\nOne of the girls, noted for her beauty, had found a red ear, and every\none congratulated her that a brave admirer was on his way to her\nfather's lodge. She blushed, and hiding the trophy in her bosom, she\nthanked the Good Spirit that it was a red ear, and not a crooked, that\nshe had found.\n\nPresently it chanced that one who was there among the young men, espied\nin the hands of Leelinau, who had plucked it indifferently, one of the\ncrooked kind, and at once the word \"Wa-ge-min!\" was shouted aloud\nthrough the field, and the whole circle was set in a roar.\n\n\"The thief is in the corn-field!\" exclaimed the young man, Iagoo by\nname, and famous in the tribe for his mirthful powers of story-telling;\n\"see you not the old man stooping as he enters the field? See you not\nsigns that he crouched as he crept in the dark? Is it not plain by this\nmark on the stalk that he was heavily bent in his back? Old man! be\nnimble, or some one will take thee while thou art taking the ear.\"\n\nThese questions Iagoo accompanied with the action of one bowed with age\nstealthily entering the corn-field. He went on:\n\n\"See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear. Nushka! He seems for a\nmoment to tremble. Walker, be nimble! Hooh! It is plain the old man is\nthe thief.\"\n\nHe turned suddenly where she sat in the circle, pensively regarding the\ncrooked ear which she held in her hand, and exclaimed:\n\n\"Leelinau, the old man is thine!\"\n\nLaughter rung merrily through the corn-field, but Leelinau, casting down\nupon the ground the crooked ear of maize, walked pensively away.\n\nThe next morning the eldest son of a neighboring chief called at her\nfather's lodge. He was quite advanced in years; but he enjoyed such\nrenown in battle, and his name was so famous in the hunt, that the\nparents accepted him as a suitor for their daughter. They hoped that his\nshining qualities would draw back the thoughts of Leelinau from that\nspirit-land whither she seemed to have wholly directed her affections.\n\nIt was this chief's son whom Iagoo had pictured as the corn-taker, but,\nwithout objecting to his age, or giving any other reason, Leelinau\nfirmly declined his proposals. The parents ascribed the young daughter's\nhesitancy to maiden fear, and paying no further heed to her refusal, a\nday was fixed for the marriage-visit to the lodge.\n\nThe young warrior came to the lodge-door, and Leelinau refused to see\nhim; informing her parents, at the same time, that she would never\nconsent to the match.\n\nIt had been her custom to pass many of her hours in her favorite place\nof retirement, under a broad-topped young pine, whose leaves whispered\nin every wind that blew; but most of all in that gentle murmur of the\nair at the evening hour, dear to lovers, when the twilight steals on.\n\nThither she now repaired, and, while reclining pensively against the\nyoung pine-tree, she fancied that she heard a voice addressing her. At\nfirst it was scarcely more than a sigh; presently it grew more clear,\nand she heard it distinctly whisper--\n\n\"Maiden! think me not a tree; but thine own dear lover; fond to be with\nthee in my tall and blooming strength, with the bright green nodding\nplume that waves above thee. Thou art leaning on my breast, Leelinau;\nlean forever there and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and\ncruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife, for this quiet, lonely\nshade. Over thee I my arms will fling, fairer than the lodge's roof. I\nwill breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest.\nIn my bark canoe I'll waft thee o'er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I\nwill deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun's last rays. Come, and on\nthe mountain free rove a fairy bright with me!\"\n\nLeelinau drunk in with eager ear these magical words. Her heart was\nfixed. No warrior's son should clasp her hand. She listened in the hope\nto hear the airy voice speak more; but it only repeated, \"Again! again!\"\nand entirely ceased.\n\nOn the eve of the day fixed for her marriage, Leelinau decked herself in\nher best garments. She arranged her hair according to the fashion of her\ntribe, and put on all of her maiden ornaments in beautiful array. With a\nsmile, she presented herself before her parents.\n\n\"I am going,\" she said, \"to meet my little lover, the chieftain of the\nGreen Plume, who is waiting for me at the Spirit Grove.\"\n\nHer face was radiant with joy, and the parents, taking what she had said\nas her own fanciful way of expressing acquiescence in their plans,\nwished her good fortune in the happy meeting.\n\n\"I am going,\" she continued, addressing her mother as they left the\nlodge, \"I am going from one who has watched my infancy and guarded my\nyouth; who has given me medicine when I was sick, and prepared my food\nwhen I was well. I am going from a father who has ranged the forest to\nprocure the choicest skins for my dress, and kept his lodge supplied\nwith the best spoil of the chase. I am going from a lodge which has been\nmy shelter from the storms of winter, and my shield from the heats of\nsummer. Farewell, my parents, farewell!\"\n\nSo saying, she sped faster than any could follow her to the margin of\nthe fairy wood, and in a moment was lost to sight.\n\nAs she had often thus withdrawn herself from the lodge, the parents were\nnot in fear, but confidently awaited her return. Hour chased hour, as\nthe clouds of evening rolled up in the west; darkness came on, but no\ndaughter returned. With torches they hastened to the wood, and although\nthey lit up every dark recess and leafy gloom, their search was in vain.\nLeelinau was nowhere to be seen. They called aloud, in lament, upon her\nname, but she answered not.\n\nSuns rose and set, but nevermore in their light did the bereaved parents\neyes behold the lost form of their beloved child. Their daughter was\nlost indeed. Whither she had vanished no mortal tongue could tell;\nalthough it chanced that a company of fishermen, who were spearing fish\nnear the Spirit Grove, descried something that seemed to resemble a\nfemale figure standing on the shore. As the evening was mild and the\nwaters calm, they cautiously pulled their canoe toward land, but the\nslight ripple of their oars excited alarm. The figure fled in haste, but\nthey could recognize in the shape and dress as she ascended the bank,\nthe lost daughter, and they saw the green plumes of her fairy-lover\nwaving over his forehead as he glided lightly through the forest of\nyoung pines.\n\n\n\n\nXX.\n\nTHE WINTER-SPIRIT AND HIS VISITOR.\n\n\nAn old man was sitting alone in his lodge by the side of a frozen\nstream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost out. He\nappeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white with age, and\nhe trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude, and he\nheard nothing but the sounds of the tempest, sweeping before it the\nnew-fallen snow.\n\nOne day as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approached and\nentered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth; his\neyes sparkled with life, and a smile played upon his lips. He walked\nwith a light and quick step. His forehead was bound with a wreath of\nsweet grass, in place of the warrior's frontlet, and he carried a bunch\nof flowers in his hand.\n\n\"Ah! my son,\" said the old man, \"I am happy to see you. Come in. Come,\ntell me of your adventures, and what strange lands you have been to\nsee. Let us pass the night together. I will tell you of my prowess and\nexploits, and what I can perform. You shall do the same, and we will\namuse ourselves.\"\n\nHe then drew from his sack a curiously-wrought antique pipe, and having\nfilled it with tobacco, rendered mild by an admixture of certain dried\nleaves, he handed it to his guest. When this ceremony was attended to,\nthey began to speak.\n\n\"I blow my breath,\" said the old man, \"and the streams stand still. The\nwater becomes stiff and hard as clear stone.\"\n\n\"I breathe,\" said the young man, \"and flowers spring up all over the\nplains.\"\n\n\"I shake my locks,\" retorted the old man, \"and snow covers the land. The\nleaves fall from the trees at my command, and my breath blows them away.\nThe birds rise from the water and fly to a distant land. The animals\nhide themselves from the glance of my eye, and the very ground where I\nwalk becomes as hard as flint.\"\n\n\"I shake my ringlets,\" rejoined the young man, \"and warm showers of soft\nrain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of the\nground like the eyes of children glistening with delight. My voice\nrecalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the streams. Music\nfills the groves wherever I walk, and all nature welcomes my approach.\"\n\nAt length the sun begun to rise. A gentle warmth came over the place.\nThe tongue of the old man became silent. The robin and the blue-bird\nbegan to sing on the top of the lodge. The stream began to murmur by the\ndoor, and the fragrance of growing herbs and flowers came softly on the\nvernal breeze.\n\nDaylight fully revealed to the young man the character of his\nentertainer. When he looked upon him he had the visage of Peboan, the\nicy old Winter-Spirit. Streams began to flow from his eyes. As the sun\nincreased he grew less and less in stature, and presently he had melted\ncompletely away. Nothing remained on the place of his lodge-fire but the\nmis-kodeed, a small white flower with a pink border, which the young\nvisitor, Seegwun, the Spirit of Spring, placed in the wreath upon his\nbrow, as his first trophy in the North.\n\n\n\n\nXXI.\n\nTHE FIRE-PLUME.\n\n\nWassamo was living with his parents on the shore of a large bay, far out\nin the north-east.\n\nOne day, when the season had commenced for fish to be plenty, the mother\nof Wassamo said to him, \"My son, I wish you would go to yonder point and\nsee if you can not procure me some fish; and ask your cousin to\naccompany you.\"\n\nHe did so. They set out, and in the course of the afternoon they arrived\nat the fishing-ground.\n\nThe cousin, being the elder, attended to the nets, and they encamped\nnear by, using the bark of the birch for a lodge to shelter them through\nthe night.\n\nThey lit a fire, and while they sat conversing with each other, the moon\narose. Not a breath of wind disturbed the smooth surface of the lake.\nNot a cloud was seen. Wassamo looked out on the water toward their nets,\nand he saw that the little black spots, which were no other than the\nfloats, dotting the lake, had disappeared.\n\n\"Cousin,\" he said, \"let us visit our nets; perhaps we are fortunate.\"\n\nWhen they drew up the nets they were rejoiced to see the meshes shining\nwhite, all over, with the glittering prey. They landed in fine spirits,\nand put away their canoe in safety from the winds.\n\n\"Wassamo,\" said the cousin, \"you cook that we may eat.\"\n\nWassamo set about the work at once, and soon had his great kettle swung\nupon its branch, while the cousin lay at his ease upon the other side of\nthe fire.\n\n\"Cousin,\" said Wassamo, \"tell me stories or sing me some love-songs.\"\n\nThe cousin obeyed, and sung his plaintive songs; or he would frequently\nbreak off in the midst of a mournful chant, and begin to recite a\nmirthful story, and then in the midst of Wassamo's laughter he would\nreturn to the plaintive ditty--just as it suited his fancy; for the\ncousin was gay of spirit, and shifted his humor faster than the fleecy\nclouds that appeared and disappeared in the night-sky over their heads.\nIn this changeful pastime the cousin ran his length, and then he fell\naway, murmuring parts of his song or story, into a silvery sleep; with\nthe moon gliding through the branches and gilding his face.\n\nWassamo in the mean while had lost the sound of his cousin's voice in\nthe rich simmer of the kettle; and when its music pleased his ear the\nmost, as announcing that the fish were handsomely cooked, he lifted the\nkettle from the fire. He spoke to his cousin, but he received no answer.\n\nHe went on with his housekeeping alone, and took the wooden ladle and\nskimmed the kettle neatly, for the fish were very plump and fat. Wassamo\nhad a torch of twisted bark in one hand to give light, and when he came\nto take out the fish, there was no one to have charge of the torch.\n\nThe cousin was so happy in his sleep, with the silver moon kissing his\ncheeks, as though she were enamored of his fair looks, that Wassamo had\nnot the heart to call him up.\n\nBinding his girdle upon his brow, in this he thrust the torch, and went\nforward, with the light dancing through the green leaves at every turn\nof his head, to prepare the evening meal.\n\nHe again spoke to his cousin, but gently, to learn whether he was in\ntruth asleep. The cousin murmured, but made no reply; and Wassamo\nstepped softly about with the dancing fire-plume lighting up the gloom\nof the forest at every turn he made.\n\nSuddenly he heard a laugh It was double, or the one must be the perfect\necho of the other. To Wassamo there appeared to be two persons at no\ngreat distance.\n\n\"Cousin,\" said Wassamo, \"some person is near us. I hear a laugh; awake\nand let us look out!\"\n\nThe cousin made no answer.\n\nAgain Wassamo heard the laughter in mirthful repetition, like the ripple\nof the water-brook upon the shining pebbles of the stream. Peering out\nas far as the line of the torchlight pierced into the darkness, he\nbeheld two beautiful young females smiling on him. Their countenances\nappeared to be perfectly white, like the fresh snow.\n\nHe crouched down and pushed his cousin, saying, in a low voice, \"Awake!\nawake! here are two young women.\"\n\nBut he received no answer. His cousin seemed lost to all earthly sense\nand sound; for he lay unmoved, smiling, in the calm light of the moon.\nWassamo started up alone, and glided toward the strange females.\n\nAs he approached them he was more and more enraptured with their beauty;\nbut just as he was about to speak to them, he suddenly fell to the\nearth, and they all three vanished together. The moon shone where they\nhad just stood, but she saw them not. A gentle sound of music and soft\nvoices accompanied their vanishing, and this wakened the cousin.\n\nAs he opened his eyes, in a dreamy way, he saw the kettle near him. Some\nof the fish he observed were in the bowl. The fire flickered, and made\nlight and shadow; but nowhere was Wassamo to be seen. He waited, and\nwaited again, in the expectation that Wassamo would appear.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" thought the cousin, \"he is gone out again to visit the nets.\"\n\nHe looked off that way, but the canoe still lay close by the rock at the\nshore. He searched and found his footsteps in the ashes, and out upon\nthe green ground a little distance, and then they were utterly lost.\n\nHe was now greatly troubled in spirit, and he called aloud, \"Netawis!\ncousin! cousin!\" but there was no answer to his call. He called again in\nhis sorrow, louder and louder, \"Netawis! Netawis! cousin! cousin!\nwhither are you gone?\" But no answer came to his voice of wailing. He\nstarted for the edge of the woods, crying as he ran, \"My cousin!\" and\n\"Oh, my cousin!\"\n\nHither and thither through the forest he sped with all his fleetness of\nfoot and quickness of spirit; and when at last he found that no voice\nwould answer him, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud.\n\nHe returned to the fire, and sat down. He mused upon the absence of\nWassamo with a sorely-troubled heart. \"He may have been playing me a\ntrick,\" he thought; but it was full time that the trick should be at an\nend, and Wassamo returned not. The cousin cherished other hopes, but\nthey all died away in the morning light, when he found himself alone by\nthe hunting-fire.\n\n\"How shall I answer to his friends for Wassamo?\" thought the cousin.\n\"Although,\" he said to himself, \"his parents are my kindred, and they\nare well assured that their son is my bosom-friend, will they receive\nthat belief in the place of him who is lost. No, no; they will say that\nI have slain him, and they will require blood for blood. Oh! my cousin,\nwhither are you gone?\"\n\nHe would have rested to restore his mind to its peace, but he could not\nsleep; and, without further regard to net or canoe, he set off for the\nvillage, running all the way.\n\nAs they saw him approaching at such speed and alone, they said, \"Some\naccident has happened.\"\n\nWhen he had come into the village, he told them how Wassamo had\ndisappeared. He stated all the circumstances. He kept nothing to\nhimself. He declared all that he knew.\n\nSome said, \"He has killed him in the dark.\" Others said, \"It is\nimpossible; they were like brothers; they would have fallen for each\nother. It can not be.\"\n\nAt the cousin's request, many of the men visited the fish-fire. There\nwere no marks of blood. No hasty steps were there to show that any\nconflict or struggle had occurred. Every leaf on every tree was in its\nplace; and they saw, as the cousin had before, that the foot-prints of\nWassamo stopped in the wood, as if he had gone no further upon the\nearth, but had ascended into the air.\n\nThey returned to the village, and no man was the wiser as to the strange\nand sudden vanishing of Wassamo. None ever looked to see him more; only\nthe parents, who still hoped and awaited his return.\n\nThe spring, with all its blossoms and its delicate newness of life, came\namong them; the Indians assembled to celebrate their vernal feast from\nall the country round.\n\nAmong them came the sad cousin of Wassamo. He was pale and thin as the\nshadow of the shaft that flies. The pain of his mind had changed his\nfeatures, and wherever he turned his eyes, they were dazzled with the\nsight of the red blood of his friend.\n\nThe parents of Wassamo, far gone in despair, and weary with watching for\nhis return, now demanded the life of Netawis. The village was stirred to\nits very heart by their loud lamentings; and, after a struggle of pity,\nthey decided to give the young man's life to the parents. They said that\nthey had waited long enough. A day was appointed on which the cousin was\nto yield his life for his friend's.\n\nHe was a brave youth, and they bound him only by his word to be ready at\nthe appointed hour. He said that he was not afraid to die; for he was\ninnocent of the great wrong they laid to his charge.\n\nA day or two before the time set to take his life, he wandered sadly\nalong the shore of the lake. He looked at the glassy water, and more\nthan once the thought to end his griefs by casting himself in its\ndepths, came upon him with such sudden force that it was only by severe\nself-control that he was able to turn his steps in another direction. He\nreflected--\"They will say that I was guilty if I take my own life. No. I\nwill give them my blood for that of my cousin.\"\n\nHe walked on, with slow steps, but he found no comfort, turn where he\nwould; the sweet songs of the grove jarred upon his ear; the beauty of\nthe blue sky pained his sight; and the soft green earth, as he trode\nupon it, seemed harsh to his foot, and sent a pang through every nerve.\n\"Oh, where is my cousin?\" he kept saying to himself.\n\nMeanwhile, when Wassamo fell senseless before the two young women in the\nwood, he lost all knowledge of himself until he wakened in a distant\nscene. He heard persons conversing. One spoke in a tone of command,\nsaying, \"You foolish girls, is this the way that you rove about at\nnights without our knowledge? Put that person you have brought on that\ncouch of yours, and do not let him lie upon the ground.\"\n\nWassamo felt himself moved, he knew not how, and placed upon a couch.\nSome time after, the spell seemed to be a little lightened, and on\nopening his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was lying in a\nspacious and shining lodge, extending as far as the eye could reach.\n\nOne spoke to him and said: \"Stranger, awake, and take something\nwherewith to refresh yourself.\"\n\nHe obeyed the command and sat up. On either side of the lodge he beheld\nrows of people seated in orderly array. At a distance he could see two\nstately persons, who looked rather more in years than the others, and\nwho appeared to exact obedience from all around them. One of them, whom\nhe heard addressed as the Old Spirit-man, spoke to Wassamo. \"My son,\"\nsaid he, \"know it was those foolish girls who brought you hither. They\nsaw you at the fishing-ground. When you attempted to approach them you\nfell senseless, and at the same moment they transported you to this\nplace. We are under the earth. But be at ease. We will make your stay\nwith us pleasant. I am the guardian Spirit of the Sand Mountains. They\nare my charge. I pile them up, and blow them about, and do whatever I\nwill with them. It keeps me very busy, but I am hale for my age, and I\nlove to be employed. I have often wished to get one of your race to\nmarry among us. If you can make up your mind to remain, I will give you\none of my daughters--the one who smiled on you first, the night you\nwere brought away from your parents and friends.\"\n\nWassamo dropped his head and made no answer. The thought that he should\nbehold his kindred no more, made him sad.\n\nHe was silent, and the Old Spirit continued: \"Your wants will all be\nsupplied; but you must be careful not to stray far from the lodge. I am\nafraid of that Spirit who rules all islands lying in the lakes. He is my\nbitter enemy, for I have refused him my daughter in marriage; and when\nhe learns that you are a member of my family, he will seek to harm you.\nThere is my daughter,\" added the Old Spirit, pointing toward her. \"Take\nher. She shall be your wife.\"\n\nForthwith Wassamo and the Old Spirit's daughter sat near each other in\nthe lodge, and they were man and wife.\n\nOne evening the Old Spirit came in after a busy day's work out among the\nsand-hills, in the course of which he had blown them all out of shape\nwith great gusts of wind, and strewn them about in a thousand\ndirections, and brought them back and piled them up in all sorts of\nmisshapen heaps.\n\nAt the close of this busy day, when the Old Spirit came in very much out\nof breath, he said to Wassamo, \"Son-in-law, I am in want of tobacco.\nNone grows about this dry place of mine. You shall return to your\npeople and procure me a supply. It is seldom that the few who pass these\nsand-hills offer me a piece of tobacco,--it is a rare plant in these\nparts,--but when they do, it immediately comes to me. Just so,\" he\nadded, putting his hand out of the side of the lodge and drawing in\nseveral pieces of tobacco which some one passing at that moment offered\nas a fee to the Old Spirit, to keep the sand-hills from blowing about\ntill they had got by.\n\nOther gifts beside tobacco came in the same way to the side of the\nlodge--sometimes a whole bear, then a wampum-robe, then a string of\nbirds--and the Sand-Spirits altogether led an easy life; for they were\nnot at the trouble to hunt or clothe themselves; and whenever the\nhousekeeping began to fall short, nothing would happen but a wonderful\nstorm of dust, all the sand-hills being straightway put in an uproar,\nand the contributions would at once begin to pour in at the side windows\nof the lodge, till all their wants were supplied.\n\nAfter Wassamo had been among these curious people several months, the\nold Sand-Spirit said to him, \"Son-in-law, you must not be surprised at\nwhat you will see next; for since you have been with us you have never\nknown us to go to sleep. It has been summer when the sun never sets here\nwhere we live. But now, what you call winter, is coming on. You will\nsoon see us lie down, and we shall not rise again till the spring. Take\nmy advice. Do not leave the lodge. I have sure knowledge that that\nknavish Island Spirit is on the prowl, and as he has command of a\nparticular kind of storm, which comes from the south-west, he only waits\nhis opportunity to catch you abroad and do you a mischief. Try and amuse\nyourself. That cupboard,\" pointing to a corner of the lodge, \"is never\nempty; for it is there that all the offerings are handed in while we are\nasleep. It is never empty, and--\" But ere the old Sand-Spirit could\nutter another word, a loud rattling of thunder was heard, and instantly,\nnot only the Old Spirit but every one of his family, vanished out of\nsight.\n\nWhen the storm had passed by, they all reappeared in the lodge. This\nsudden vanishing and reappearance occurred at every tempest.\n\n\"You are surprised,\" said the Old Spirit, \"to see us disappear when it\nthunders. The reason is this: that noise which you fancy is thunder, is\nour enemy the Island Spirit hallooing on his way home from the hunt. We\nget out of sight that we may escape the necessity of asking him to come\nin and share our evening meal. We are not afraid of him, not in the\nleast.\"\n\nJust then it chanced to thunder again, and Wassamo observed that his\nfather-in-law made extraordinary dispatch to conceal himself, although\nno stranger, at all resembling in any way the Island Spirit, was in\nview.\n\nShortly after this the season of sleep began, and one by one they laid\nthemselves down to the long slumber.\n\nThe Old Spirit was the last to drop away; and, before he yielded, he\nwent forth and had his last sport with the sand-hills, and he so tossed\nand vexed the poor hills, and scattered them to and fro, and whirled\nthem up in the air, and far over the land, that it was days and days\nbefore they got back to any thing like their natural shape.\n\nWhile his relations were enjoying this long sleep, Wassamo amused\nhimself as best he could. The cupboard never failed him once: for visit\nit when he would, he always found a fresh supply of game, and every\nother dainty which his heart desired.\n\nBut his chief pastime was to listen to the voices of the travelers who\npassed by the window at the side of the lodge where they made their\nrequests for comfortable weather and an easy journey.\n\nThese were often mingled with loud complainings, such as \"Ho! how the\nsand jumps about!\" \"Take away that hill!\" \"I am lost!\" \"Old Sand-Spirit,\nwhere are you? help this way!\" and the like, which indicated that such\nas were journeying through the hills had their own troubles to\nencounter.\n\nAs the spring-light of the first day of spring shone into the lodge, the\nwhole family arose and went about the affairs of the day as though they\nhad been slumbering only for a single night. The rest of the Old Spirit\nseemed to have done him much good, for he was very cheerful; and, first\nputting his head forth from the window for a puff at a sand-hill, which\nwas his prime luxury in a morning, he said to Wassamo, \"Son-in-law, you\nhave been very patient with our long absence from your company, and you\nshall be rewarded. In a few days you may start with your wife to visit\nyour relations. You can be absent one year, but at the end of that time\nyou must return. When you get to your home-village, you must first go in\nalone. Leave your wife at a short distance from the lodge, and when you\nare welcome, then send for her. When there, do not be surprised that she\ndisappears whenever you hear it thunder.\" He added, with a sly look,\n\"That old Island Spirit has a brother down in that part of the country.\nYou will prosper in all things, for my daughter is very diligent. All\nthe time that you pass in sleep, she will be at work. The distance is\nshort to your village. A path leads directly to it, and when you get\nthere, do not forget my wants as I stated to you before.\"\n\nWassamo promised obedience to these directions, and, at the appointed\ntime, set out in company with his wife. They traveled on a pleasant\ncourse, his wife leading the way, until they reached a rising ground.\n\nAt the highest point of this ground, she said, \"We will soon get to your\ncountry.\"\n\nIt suddenly became broad day, as they came upon a high bank; they\npassed, unwet, for a short distance under the lake, and presently\nemerged from the water at the sand-banks, just off the shore where\nWassamo had set his nets on the night when he had been borne away by the\ntwo strange females.\n\nHe now left his wife sheltered in a neighboring wood, while he advanced\ntoward the village alone.\n\nMusing sadly, and from time to time breaking forth in mournful cries, as\nhe walked the shore, it was his cousin that Wassamo beheld as he turned\nthe first point of land by the lake.\n\nWith the speed of lightning the cousin rushed forward. \"Netawis!\nNetawis!\" he cried, \"is it indeed you? Whence have you come, oh, my\ncousin?\"\n\nThey fell upon each other's necks, and wept aloud. And then, without\nfurther delay or question, the cousin ran off with breathless dispatch\nto the village. He seemed like a shadow upon the open ground, he sped so\nfast.\n\nHe entered the lodge where sat the mother of Wassamo in mourning for her\nson. \"Hear me,\" said the cousin. \"I have seen him whom you accuse me of\nhaving killed. He will be here even while we speak.\"\n\nHe had scarcely uttered these words when the whole village was astir in\nan instant. All ran out and strained their eyes to catch the first view\nof him whom they had thought dead. And when Wassamo came forward, they\nat first fell from him as though he had been in truth one returned from\nthe Spirit-land. He entered the lodge of his parents. They saw that it\nwas Wassamo, living, breathing and as they had ever known him. And joy\nlit up the lodge-circle as though a new fire had been kindled in the\neyes of his friends and kinsfolk.\n\nHe related all that had happened to him from the moment of his leaving\nthe temporary night-lodge with the flame on his head. He told them of\nthe strange land in which he had sojourned during his absence. He added\nto his mother, apart from the company, that he was married, and that he\nhad left his wife at a short distance from the village.\n\nShe went out immediately in search of her; they soon found her in the\nwood, and all the women in the village conducted her in honor to the\nlodge of her new relations. The Indian people were astonished at her\nbeauty, at the whiteness of her skin, and still more, that she was able\nto talk with them in their own language.\n\nThe village was happy, and the feast went on as long as the supply held\nout. All were delighted to make the acquaintance of the old\nSand-Spirit's daughter; and as they had heard that he was a magician and\nguardian of great power, the tobacco which he had sent for by his\nson-in-law, came in, in great abundance, with every visitor.\n\nThe summer and fall which Wassamo thus passed with his parents and the\npeople of his tribe were prosperous with all the country.\n\nThe cousin of Wassamo recovered heart, and sang once more his sad or\nmirthful chants, just as the humor was upon him; but he kept close by\nWassamo, and watched him in all his movements. He made it a point to ask\nmany questions of the country he came from; some of which his cousin\nreplied to, but others were left entirely in the dark.\n\nAt every thunder-storm, as the old Sand-Spirit had foreboded, the wife\nof Wassamo disappeared, much to the astonishment of her Indian company,\nand, to their greater wonder, she was never idle, night nor day.\n\nWhen the winter came on, Wassamo prepared for her a comfortable lodge,\nto which she withdrew for her long sleep; and he gave notice to his\nfriends that they must not disturb her, as she would not be with them\nagain until the spring returned.\n\nBefore lying down, she said to her husband, \"No one but yourself must\npass on this side of the lodge.\"\n\nThe winter passed away with snows, and sports and stones in the lodge;\nand when the sap of the maple began to flow, the wife of Wassamo\nwakened, and she immediately set about work as before. She helped at\nthe maple-trees with the others; and, as if luck were in her presence,\nthe sugar-harvest was greater than had been ever known in all that\nregion.\n\nThe gifts of tobacco, after this, came in even more freely than they had\nat first; and as each brought his bundle to the lodge of Wassamo, he\nasked for the usual length of life, for success as a hunter, and for a\nplentiful supply of food. They particularly desired that the sand-hills\nmight be kept quiet, so that their lands might be moist, and their eyes\nclear of dust to sight the game.\n\nWassamo replied that he would mention each of their requests to his\nfather-in-law.\n\nThe tobacco was stored in sacks, and on the outside of the skins, that\nthere might be no mistake as to their wants, each one who had given\ntobacco had painted and marked in distinct characters the totem or\nfamily emblem of his family and tribe. These the old Sand-Spirit could\nread at his leisure, and do what he thought best for each of his various\npetitioners.\n\nWhen the time for his return arrived, Wassamo warned his people that\nthey should not follow him nor attempt to take note how he disappeared.\nHe then took the moose-skin sacks filled with tobacco, and bade farewell\nto all but Netawis. He insisted on the privilege of attending Wassamo\nand his wife for a distance, and when they reached the sand-banks he\nexpressed the strongest wish to proceed with them on their journey.\nWassamo told him that it could not be; that only spirits could exert the\nnecessary power, and that there were no such spirits at hand.\n\nThey then took an affectionate leave of each other, Wassamo enjoining it\nupon his cousin, at risk of his life, to not look back when he had once\nstarted to return.\n\nThe cousin, sore at heart, but constrained to obey, parted from them,\nand as he walked sadly away, he heard a gliding noise as of the sound of\nwaters that were cleaved.\n\nHe returned home, and told his friends that Wassamo and his wife had\ndisappeared, but that he knew not how. No one doubted his word in any\nthing now.\n\nWassamo with his wife soon reached their home at the hills. The old\nSand-Spirit was in excellent health, and delighted to see them. He\nhailed their return with open arms; and he opened his arms so very wide,\nthat when he closed them he not only embraced Wassamo and his wife, but\nall of the tobacco-sacks which they had brought with them.\n\nThe requests of the Indian people were made known to him; he replied\nthat he would attend to all, but that he must first invite his friends\nto smoke with him. Accordingly he at once dispatched his pipe-bearer and\nconfidential aid to summon various Spirits of his acquaintance, and set\nthe time for them to come.\n\nMeanwhile he had a word of advice for his son-in-law Wassamo. \"My son,\"\nsaid he, \"some of these Manitoes that I have asked to come here are of a\nvery wicked temper, and I warn you especially of that Island Spirit who\nwished to marry my daughter. He is a very bad-hearted Monedo, and would\nlike to do you harm. Some of the company you will, however, find to be\nvery friendly. A caution for you. When they come in, do you sit close by\nyour wife; if you do not, you will be lost. She only can save you; for\nthose who are expected to come are so powerful that they will otherwise\ndraw you from your seat, and toss you out of the lodge as though you\nwere a feather. You have only to observe my words and all will be well.\"\n\nWassamo took heed to what the Old Spirit said, and answered that he\nwould obey.\n\nAbout mid-day the company began to assemble; and such a company Wassamo\nhad never looked on before. There were Spirits from all parts of the\ncountry; such strange-looking persons, and in dresses so wild and\noutlandish! One entered who smiled on him. This, Wassamo was informed,\nwas a Spirit who had charge of the affairs of a tribe in the North, and\nhe was as pleasant and cheery a Spirit as one would wish to see. Soon\nafter, Wassamo heard a great rumbling and roaring, as of waters tumbling\nover rocks; and presently, with a vast bluster, and fairly shaking the\nlodge with his deep-throated hail of welcome to the old Sand-Spirit, in\nrolled another, who was the Guardian Spirit and special director of a\ngreat cataract or water-fall not far off.\n\nThen came with crashing steps the owner of several whirlwinds, which\nwere in the habit of raging about in the neighboring country. And\nfollowing this one, glided in a sweet-spoken, gentle-faced little\nSpirit, who was understood to represent a summer-gale that was\naccustomed to blow, toward evening, in at the lodge-doors, and to be\nparticularly well disposed toward young lovers.\n\nThe last to appear was a great rocky-headed fellow; and he was twice as\nstony in his manners; and swaggered and strided in, and raised such a\ncommotion with his great green blanket when he shook it, that Wassamo\nwas nearly taken off his feet; and it was only by main force that he was\nable to cling by his wife. This, which was the last to enter, was that\nwicked Island Spirit, who looked grim enough at Wassamo's wife, who had\nrejected him, as he passed in.\n\nSoon after, the old Sand-Spirit, who was a great speech-maker, arose and\naddressed the assembly.\n\n\"Brothers,\" he said, \"I have invited you to partake with me of the\nofferings made by the mortals on earth, which have been brought by our\nrelation,\" pointing to Wassamo. \"Brothers, you see their wishes and\ndesires plainly set forth here,\" laying his hand upon the figured\nmoose-skins. \"The offering is worthy of our consideration. Brothers, I\nsee nothing on my part to hinder our granting their requests; they do\nnot appear to be unreasonable. Brothers, the offer is gratifying. It is\ntobacco--an article which we have lacked until we scarcely knew how to\nuse our pipes. Shall we grant their requests? One thing more I would\nsay. Brothers, it is this: There is my son-in law; he is mortal. I wish\nto detain him with me, and it is with us jointly to make him one of us.\"\n\n\"Hoke! hoke!\" ran through the whole company of Spirits, and \"Hoke!\nhoke!\" they cried again. And it was understood that the petitioners were\nto have all they asked, and that Wassamo was thenceforward fairly\naccepted as a member of the great family of Spirits.\n\nAs a wedding-gift, the Old Spirit asked his son-in-law to make one\nrequest, which should be promptly granted.\n\n\"Let there be no sand-squalls among my father's people for three months\nto come,\" said Wassamo.\n\n\"So shall it be,\" answered the old Sand-Spirit.\n\nThe tobacco was now divided in equal shares among the company. They\nfilled their pipes--and huge pipes they were--and such clouds they blew,\nthat they rushed forth out of the lodge and brought on night, in all\nthe country round about, several hours before its time.\n\nAfter a while passed in silence, the Spirits rose up, and bearing off\ntheir tobacco-sacks, they went smoking through the country, and losing\nthemselves in their own fog, till a late hour in the morning, when all\nof their pipes being burned out, each departed on his own business.\n\nThe very next day the old Sand-Spirit, who was very much pleased with\nthe turn affairs had taken at his entertainment, addressed Wassamo:\n\"Son-in-law, I have made up my mind to allow you another holiday as an\nacknowledgment of the handsome manner in which you acquitted yourself of\nyour embassy. You may visit your parents and relatives once more, to\ntell them that their wishes are granted, and to take your leave of them\nforever. You can never, after, visit them again.\"\n\nWassamo at once set out, reached his people, and was heartily welcomed.\n\nThey asked for his wife, and Wassamo informed them that she had tarried\nat home to look after a son, a fine little Sand-Spirit, who had been\nborn to them since his return.\n\nHaving delivered all of his messages and passed a happy time, Wassamo\nsaid, \"I must now bid you all farewell forever.\"\n\nHis parents and friends raised their voices in loud lamentation; they\nclung to him, and as a special favor, which he could now grant, being\nhimself a spirit, he allowed them to accompany him to the sand-banks.\n\nThey all seated themselves to watch his last farewell. The day was mild;\nthe sky clear, not a cloud appearing to dim the heavens, nor a breath of\nwind to ruffle the tranquil waters. A perfect silence fell upon the\ncompany. They gazed with eager eyes fastened on Wassamo, as he waded out\ninto the water, waving his hands. They saw him descend, more and more,\ninto the depths. They beheld the waves close over his head, and a loud\nand piercing wail went up which rent the sky.\n\nThey looked again; a red flame, as if the sun had glanced on a billow,\nlighted the spot for an instant; but the Feather of Flames, Wassamo of\nthe Fire-Plume, had disappeared from home and kindred, and the familiar\npaths of his youth, forever.\n\n\n\n\nXXII.\n\nWEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF.\n\n\nIn a lonely forest, there once lived a man and his wife, who had a son.\nThe father went forth every day, according to the custom of the Indians,\nto hunt for food to supply his family.\n\nOne day, while he was absent, his wife, on going out of the lodge,\nlooked toward the lake that was near, and she saw a very large man\nwalking on the water, and coming fast toward the lodge. He was already\nso near that she could not, if she had wished to, escape by flight. She\nthought to herself, \"What shall I say to the monster?\"\n\nAs he advanced rapidly, she ran in, and taking the hand of her son, a\nboy of three or four years old, she led him out. Speaking very loud,\n\"See, my son,\" she said, \"your grandfather;\" and then added, in a tone\nof appeal and supplication, \"he will have pity on us.\"\n\nThe giant approached and said, with a loud ha! ha! \"Yes, my son;\" and\nadded, addressing the woman, \"Have you any thing to eat?\"\n\nBy good luck the lodge was well supplied with meats of various kinds;\nthe woman thought to please him by handing him these, which were savory\nand carefully prepared. But he pushed them away in disgust, saying, \"I\nsmell fire;\" and, not waiting to be invited, he seized upon the carcass\nof a deer which lay by the door, and dispatched it almost without\nstopping to take breath.\n\nWhen the hunter came home he was surprised to see the monster, he was so\nvery frightful. He had again brought a deer, which he had no sooner put\ndown than the cannibal seized it, tore it in pieces, and devoured it as\nthough he had been fasting for a week. The hunter looked on in fear and\nastonishment, and in a whisper he told his wife that he was afraid for\ntheir lives, as this monster was one whom Indians call Weendigoes. He\ndid not even dare to speak to him, nor did the cannibal say a word, but\nas soon as he had finished his meal, he stretched himself down and fell\nasleep.\n\nIn the evening the Weendigo told the people that he should go out a\nhunting; and he strided away toward the North. Toward morning he\nreturned, all besmeared with blood, but he did not make known where he\nhad been nor of what kind of game he had been in quest; although the\nhunter and his wife had dreadful suspicions of the sport in which he had\nbeen engaged. Withal his hunger did not seem to be staid, for he took\nup the deer which the hunter had brought in, and devoured it eagerly,\nleaving the family to make their meal of the dried meats which had been\nreserved in the lodge.\n\nIn this manner the Weendigo and the hunter's family lived for some time,\nand it surprised them that the monster never attempted their lives;\nalthough he never slept at night, but always went out and returned, by\nthe break of day, stained with blood, and looking very wild and\nfamished. When there was no deer to be had wherewith to finish his\nrepast, he said nothing. In truth he was always still and gloomy, and he\nseldom spoke to any of them; when he did, his discourse was chiefly\naddressed to the boy.\n\nOne evening, after he had thus sojourned with them for many weeks, he\ninformed the hunter that the time had now arrived for him to take his\nleave, but that before doing so, he would give him a charm that would\nbring good luck to his lodge. He presented to him two arrows, and\nthanking the hunter and his wife for their kindness, the Weendigo\ndeparted, saying, as he left them, that he had all the world to travel\nover.\n\nThe hunter and his wife were happy when he was gone, for they had looked\nevery moment to have been devoured by him. He tried the arrows, and they\nnever failed to bring down whatever they were aimed at.\n\nThey had lived on, prosperous and contented, for a year, when, one day,\nthe hunter being absent, his wife on going out of the lodge, saw\nsomething like a black cloud approaching.\n\nShe looked until it came near, when she perceived that it was another\nWeendigo or Giant Cannibal. Remembering the good conduct of the other,\nshe had no fear of this one, and asked him to look into the lodge.\n\nHe did so; and finding after he had glared around, that there was no\nfood at hand, he grew very wroth, and, being sorely disappointed, he\ntook the lodge and threw it to the winds. He seemed hardly at first to\nnotice the woman in his anger; but presently he cast a fierce glance\nupon her, and seizing her by the waist, in spite of her cries and\nentreaties, he bore her off. To the little son, who ran to and fro\nlamenting, he paid no heed.\n\nAt night-fall, when the hunter returned from the forest, he was amazed.\nHis lodge was gone, and he saw his son sitting near the spot where it\nhad stood, shedding tears. The son pointed in the direction the Weendigo\nhad taken, and as the father hurried along he found the remains of his\nwife strewn upon the ground.\n\nThe hunter blackened his face, and vowed in his heart that he would have\nrevenge. He built another lodge, and gathering together the bones of\nhis wife, he placed them in the hollow part of a dry tree.\n\nHe left his boy to take care of the lodge while he was absent, hunting\nand roaming about from place to place, striving to forget his\nmisfortune, and searching for the wicked Weendigo.\n\nHe had been gone but a little while one morning, when his son shot his\narrows out through the top of the lodge, and running out to look for\nthem, he could find them nowhere. The boy had been trying his luck, and\nhe was puzzled that he had shot his shafts entirely out of sight.\n\nHis father made him more arrows, and when he was again left alone, he\nshot one of them out; but although he looked as sharply as he could\ntoward the spot where it fell, and ran thither at once, he could not\nfind it.\n\nHe shot another, which was lost in the same way; and returning to the\nlodge to replenish his quiver, he happened to espy one of the lucky\narrows, which the first Weendigo had given to his father, hanging upon\nthe side of the lodge. He reached up, and having secured it, he shot it\nout at the opening, and immediately running out to find where it fell,\nhe was surprised to see a beautiful boy just in the act of taking it up,\nand hurrying away with it to a large tree, where he disappeared.\n\nThe hunter's son followed, and having come to the tree, he beheld the\nface of the boy looking out through an opening in the hollow part.\n\n\"Ha! ha!\" he said, \"my friend, come out and play with me;\" and he urged\nthe boy till he consented. They played and shot their arrows by turns.\n\nSuddenly the young boy said, \"Your father is coming. We must stop.\nPromise me that you will not tell him.\"\n\nThe hunter's son promised, and the other disappeared in the tree.\n\nWhen the hunter returned from the chase, his son sat demurely by the\nfire. In the course of the evening he asked his father to make him a new\nbow; and when he was questioned as to the use he could find for two\nbows, he answered that one might break or get lost.\n\nThe father pleased at his son's diligence in the practice of the bow,\nmade him the two weapons; and the next day, as soon as his father had\ngone away, the boy ran to the hollow tree, and invited his little friend\nto come out and play; at the same time presenting to him the new bow.\nThey went and played in the lodge together, and in their sport they\nraised the ashes all over it.\n\nSuddenly again the youngest said, \"Your father is coming, I must leave.\"\n\nHe again exacted a promise of secresy, and went back to his tree. The\neldest took his seat near the fire.\n\nWhen the hunter came in he was surprised to see the ashes scattered\nabout. \"Why, my son,\" he said, \"you must have played very hard to day to\nraise such a dust all alone.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the boy answered, \"I was very lonesome, and I ran round and\nround--that is the cause of it.\"\n\nThe next day the hunter made ready for the chase as usual. The boy said,\n\"Father, try and hunt all day, and see what you can kill.\"\n\nHe had no sooner set out than the boy called his friend, and they played\nand chased each other round the lodge. They had great delight in each\nother's company, and made merry by the hour. The hunter was again\nreturning, and came to a rising ground, which caught the winds as they\npassed, and he heard his son laughing and making a noise, but the sounds\nas they reached him on the hill-top, seemed as if they arose from two\npersons playing.\n\nAt the same time the younger boy stopped, and after saying \"Your father\nis coming,\" he stole away, under cover of the high grass, to his hollow\ntree, which was not far off.\n\nThe hunter, on entering, found his son sitting by the fire, very quiet\nand unconcerned, although he saw that all the articles of the lodge were\nlying thrown about in all directions.\n\n\"Why, my son,\" he said \"you must play very hard every day; and what is\nit that you do, all alone, to throw the lodge in such confusion?\"\n\nThe boy again had his excuse. \"Father,\" he answered, \"I play in this\nmanner: I chase and drag my blanket around the lodge, and that is the\nreason you see the ashes spread about.\"\n\nThe hunter was not satisfied until his son had shown him how he played\nwith the blanket, which he did so adroitly as to set his father\nlaughing, and at last drive him out of the lodge with the great clouds\nof ashes that he raised.\n\nThe next morning the boy renewed his request that his father should be\nabsent all day, and see if he could not kill two deer. The hunter\nthought this a strange desire on the part of his son, but as he had\nalways humored the boy, he went into the forest as usual, bent on\naccomplishing his wish, if he could.\n\nAs soon as he was out of sight, his son hastened to his young companion\nat the tree, and they continued their sports.\n\nThe father on nearing his home in the evening, as he reached the rising\nground, again heard the sounds of play and laughter; and as the wind\nbrought them straight to his ear, he was now certain that there were two\nvoices.\n\nThe boy from the tree had no more than time to escape, when the hunter\nentered, and found his son, sitting as usual, near the fire. When he\ncast his eyes around, he saw that the lodge was in greater confusion\nthan before. \"My son,\" he said, \"you must be very foolish when alone to\nplay so. But, tell me, my son; I heard two voices, I am sure;\" and he\nlooked closely on the prints of the footsteps in the ashes. \"True,\" he\ncontinued, \"here is the print of a foot which is smaller than my son's;\"\nand he was now satisfied that his suspicions were well founded, and that\nsome very young person had been the companion of his son.\n\nThe boy could not now refuse to tell his father what had happened.\n\n\"Father,\" he said, \"I found a boy in the hollow of that tree, near the\nlodge, where you placed my mother's bones.\"\n\nStrange thoughts came over the mind of the hunter; did his wife live\nagain in this beautiful child?\n\nFearful of disturbing the dead, he did not dare to visit the place where\nhe had deposited her remains.\n\nHe, however, engaged his son to entice the boy to a dead tree, by the\nedge of a wood, where they could kill many flying-squirrels by setting\nit on fire. He said that he would conceal himself near by, and take the\nboy.\n\nThe next day the hunter accordingly went into the woods, and his son,\ncalling the boy from the tree, urged him to go with him to kill the\nsquirrels. The boy objected that his father was near, but he was at\nlength prevailed on to go, and after they had fired the tree, and while\nthey were busy killing or taking the squirrels, the hunter suddenly made\nhis appearance, and clasped the strange boy in his arms. He cried out,\n\"Kago, kago, don't, don't. You will tear my clothes!\" for he was clad in\na fine apparel, which shone as if it had been made of a beautiful\ntransparent skin. The father reassured him by every means in his power.\n\nBy constant kindness and gentle words the boy was reconciled to remain\nwith them; but chiefly by the presence of his young friend, the hunter's\nson, to whom he was fondly attached. The children were never parted from\neach other; and when the hunter looked upon the strange boy, he seemed\nto see living in him the better spirit of his lost wife. He was thankful\nto the Great Spirit for this act of goodness, and in his heart he felt\nassured that in time the boy would show great virtue, and in some way\navenge him on the wicked Weendigo who had destroyed the companion of his\nlodge.\n\nThe hunter grew at ease in his spirit, and gave all of the time he could\nspare from the chase to the society of the two children; but, what\naffected him the most, both of his sons, although they were well-formed\nand beautiful, grew no more in stature, but remained children still.\nEvery day they resembled each other more and more, and they never ceased\nto sport and divert themselves in the innocent ways of childhood.\n\nOne day the hunter had gone abroad with his bow and arrows, leaving, at\nthe request of the strange boy, one of the two shafts which the friendly\nWeendigo had given to him, behind in the lodge.\n\nWhen he returned, what were his surprise and joy to see stretched dead\nby his lodge-door, the black giant who had slain his wife. He had been\nstricken down by the magic shaft in the hands of the little stranger\nfrom the tree; and ever after the boy, or the Bone-Dwarf as he was\ncalled, was the guardian and good genius of the lodge, and no evil\nspirit, giant, or Weendigo, dared approach it to mar their peace.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nTHE BIRD LOVER.\n\n\nIn a region of country where the forest and the prairie strived which\nshould be the most beautiful--the open plain, with its free sunshine and\nwinds and flowers, or the close wood, with its delicious twilight-walks\nand enamored haunts--there lived a wicked manito in the disguise of an\nold Indian.\n\nAlthough the country furnished an abundance of game, and whatever else a\ngood heart could wish for, it was the study of this wicked genius to\ndestroy such as fell into his hands. He made use of all his arts to\ndecoy men into his power, for the purpose of killing them. The country\nhad been once thickly peopled, but this Mudjee Monedo had so thinned it\nby his cruel practices, that he now lived almost solitary in the\nwilderness.\n\nThe secret of his success lay in his great speed. He had the power to\nassume the shape of any four-footed creature, and it was his custom to\nchallenge such as he sought to destroy, to run with him. He had a\nbeaten path on which he ran, leading around a large lake, and he always\nran around this circle so that the starting and the winning-post was the\nsame. Whoever failed as every one had, yielded up his life at this post;\nand although he ran every day, no man was ever known to beat this evil\ngenius; for whenever he was pressed hard, he changed himself into a fox,\nwolf, deer, or other swift-footed animal, and was thus able to leave his\ncompetitor behind.\n\nThe whole country was in dread of this same Mudjee Monedo, and yet the\nyoung men were constantly running with him; for if they refused, he\ncalled them cowards, which was a reproach they could not bear. They\nwould rather die than be called cowards.\n\nTo keep up his sport, the manito made light of these deadly\nfoot-matches, and instead of assuming a braggart air, and going about in\na boastful way, with the blood of such as he had overcome, upon his\nhands, he adopted very pleasing manners, and visited the lodges around\nthe country as any other sweet-tempered and harmless old Indian might.\n\nHis secret object in these friendly visits was to learn whether the\nyoung boys were getting old enough to run with him; he kept a very sharp\neye upon their growth, and the day he thought them ready, he did not\nfail to challenge them to a trial on his racing-ground.\n\nThere was not a family in all that beautiful region which had not in\nthis way been visited and thinned out; and the manito had quite\nnaturally come to be held in abhorrence by all the Indian mothers in the\ncountry.\n\nIt happened that there lived near him a poor widow woman, whose husband\nand seven sons he had made way with; and she was now living with an only\ndaughter, and a son of ten or twelve years old.\n\nThis widow was very poor and feeble, and she suffered so much for lack\nof food and other comforts of the lodge, that she would have been glad\nto die, but for her daughter and her little son. The Mudjee Monedo had\nalready visited her lodge to observe whether the boy was sufficiently\ngrown to be challenged to the race; and so crafty in his approaches and\nso soft in his manners was the monedo, that the mother feared that he\nwould yet decoy the son and make way with him as he had done with his\nfather and his seven brothers, in spite of all her struggles to save\nhim.\n\nAnd yet she strove with all her might to strengthen her son in every\ngood course. She taught him, as best she could, what was becoming for\nthe wise hunter and the brave warrior. She remembered and set before him\nall that she could recall of the skill and the craft of his father and\nhis brothers who were lost.\n\nThe widow woman also instructed her daughter in whatever could make her\nuseful as a wife; and in the leisure-time of the lodge, she gave her\nlessons in the art of working with the quills of porcupine, and\nbestowed on her such other accomplishments as should make her an\nornament and a blessing to her husband's household. The daughter, Minda\nby name, was kind and obedient to her mother, and never failed in her\nduty. Their lodge stood high up on the banks of a lake, which gave them\na wide prospect of country, embellished with groves and open fields,\nwhich waved with the blue light of their long grass, and made, at all\nhours of sun and moon, a cheerful scene to look upon.\n\nAcross this beautiful prairie, Minda had one morning made her way to\ngather dry limbs for their fire; for she disdained no labor of the\nlodge. And while enjoying the sweetness of the air and the green beauty\nof the woods, she strolled far away.\n\nShe had come to a bank, painted with flowers of every hue, and was\nreclining on its fragrant couch, when a bird, of red and deep-blue\nplumage softly blended, alighted on a branch near by, and began to pour\nforth its carol. It was a bird of strange character, such as she had\nnever before seen. Its first note was so delicious to the ear of Minda,\nand it so pierced to her young heart, that she listened as she had never\nbefore to any mortal or heavenly sound. It seemed like the human voice,\nforbidden to speak, and uttering its language through this wild\nwood-chant with a mournful melody, as if it bewailed the lack of the\npower or the right to make itself more plainly intelligible.\n\nThe voice of the bird rose and fell, and circled round and round, but\nwhithersoever floated or spread out its notes, they seemed ever to have\ntheir center where Minda sat; and she looked with sad eyes into the sad\neyes of the mournful bird, that sat in his red and deep-blue plumage\njust opposite to the flowery bank.\n\nThe poor bird strove more and more with his voice, and seemed ever more\nand more anxiously to address his notes of lament to Minda's ear, till\nat last she could not refrain from saying, \"What aileth thee, sad bird?\"\n\nAs if he had but waited to be spoken to, the bird left his branch, and\nalighting upon the bank, smiled on Minda, and, shaking his shining\nplumage, answered:\n\n\"I am bound in this condition until a maiden shall accept me in\nmarriage. I have wandered these groves and sung to many and many of the\nIndian girls, but none ever heeded my voice till you. Will you be mine?\"\nhe added, and poured forth a flood of melody which sparkled and spread\nitself with its sweet murmurs over all the scene, and fairly entranced\nthe young Minda, who sat silent, as if she feared to break the charm by\nspeech.\n\nThe bird, approaching nearer, asked her, if she loved him, to get her\nmother's consent to their marriage. \"I shall be free then,\" said the\nbird, \"and you shall know me as I am.\"\n\nMinda lingered, and listened to the sweet voice of the bird in its own\nforest notes, or filling each pause with gentle human discourse;\nquestioning her as to her home, her family, and the little incidents of\nher daily life.\n\nShe returned to the lodge later than usual, but she was too timid to\nspeak to her mother of that which the bird had charged her. She returned\nagain and again to the fragrant haunt in the wood; and everyday she\nlistened to the song and the discourse of her bird admirer with more\npleasure, and he every day besought her to speak to her mother of the\nmarriage. This she could not, however, muster heart and courage to do.\n\nAt last the widow began herself to have a suspicion that her daughter's\nheart was in the wood, from her long delays in returning, and the little\nsuccess she had in gathering the fire-branches for which she went in\nsearch.\n\nIn answer to her mother's questions, Minda revealed the truth, and made\nknown her lover's request. The mother, considering the lonely and\ndestitute condition of her little household, gave her consent.\n\nThe daughter, with light steps, hastened with the news to the wood. The\nbird lover of course heard it with delight, and fluttered through the\nair in happy circles, and poured forth a song of joy which thrilled\nMinda to the heart.\n\nHe said that he would come to the lodge at sunset, and immediately took\nwing, while Minda hung fondly upon his flight, till he was lost far away\nin the blue sky.\n\nWith the twilight the bird lover, whose name was Monedowa, appeared at\nthe door of the lodge, as a hunter, with a red plume and a mantle of\nblue upon his shoulders.\n\nHe addressed the widow as his friend, and she directed him to sit down\nbeside her daughter, and they were regarded as man and wife.\n\nEarly on the following morning, he asked for the bow and arrows of those\nwho had been slain by the wicked manito, and went out a-hunting. As soon\nas he had got out of sight of the lodge, he changed himself into the\nwood-bird, as he had been before his marriage, and took his flight\nthrough the air.\n\nAlthough game was scarce in the neighborhood of the widow's lodge,\nMonedowa returned at evening, in his character of a hunter, with two\ndeer. This was his daily practice, and the widow's family never more\nlacked for food.\n\nIt was noticed, however, that Monedowa himself ate but little, and that\nof a peculiar kind of meat, flavored with berries, which, with other\ncircumstances, convinced them that he was not as the Indian people\naround him.\n\nIn a few days his mother-in-law told him that the manito would come to\npay them a visit, to see how the young man, her son, prospered.\n\nMonedowa answered that he should on that day be absent. When the time\narrived, he flew upon a tall tree, overlooking the lodge, and took his\nstation there as the wicked manito passed in.\n\nThe mudjee monedo cast sharp glances at the scaffolds so well laden with\nmeat, and as soon as he had entered, he said, \"Why, who is it that is\nfurnishing you with meat so plentifully?\"\n\n\"No one,\" she answered, \"but my son; he is just beginning to kill deer.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" he retorted; \"some one is living with you.\"\n\n\"Kaween, no indeed,\" replied the widow; \"you are only making sport of my\nhapless condition. Who do you think would come and trouble themselves\nabout me?\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the manito, \"I will go; but on such a day I will\nagain visit you, and see who it is that furnishes the meat, and whether\nit is your son or not.\"\n\nHe had no sooner left the lodge and got out of sight, than the\nson-in-law made his appearance with two more deer. On being made\nacquainted with the conduct of the manito, \"Very well,\" he said, \"I\nwill be at home the next time, to see him.\"\n\nBoth the mother and the wife urged Monedowa to be aware of the manito.\nThey made known to him all of his cruel courses, and assured him that no\nman could escape from his power.\n\n\"No matter,\" said Monedowa; \"if he invites me to the race-ground, I will\nnot be backward. What follows, may teach him, my mother, to show pity on\nthe vanquished, and not to trample on the widow and those who are\nwithout fathers.\"\n\nWhen the day of the visit of the manito arrived, Monedowa told his wife\nto prepare certain pieces of meat, which he pointed out to her, together\nwith two or three buds of the birch-tree, which he requested her to put\nin the pot. He directed also that the manito should be hospitably\nreceived, as if he had been just the kind-hearted old Indian he\nprofessed to be. Monedowa then dressed himself as a warrior,\nembellishing his visage with tints of red, to show that he was prepared\nfor either war or peace.\n\nAs soon as the mudjee monedo arrived, he eyed this strange warrior whom\nhe had never seen before; but he dissembled, as usual, and, with a\ngentle laugh, said to the widow, \"Did I not tell you that some one was\nstaying with you, for I knew your son was too young to hunt.\"\n\nThe widow excused herself by saying that she did not think it necessary\nto tell him, inasmuch as he was a manito, and must have known before he\nasked.\n\nThe manito was very pleasant with Monedowa, and after much other\ndiscourse, in a gentle-spoken voice, he invited him to the\nracing-ground, saying it was a manly amusement, that he would have an\nexcellent chance to meet there with other warriors, and that he should\nhimself be pleased to run with him.\n\nMonedowa would have excused himself, saying that he knew nothing of\nrunning.\n\n\"Why,\" replied the mudjee monedo, trembling in every limb as he spoke,\n\"don't you see how old I look, while you are young and full of life. We\nmust at least run a little to amuse others.\"\n\n\"Be it so, then,\" replied Monedowa. \"I will oblige you. I will go in the\nmorning.\"\n\nPleased with his crafty success, the manito would have now taken his\nleave, but he was pressed to remain and partake of their hospitality.\nThe meal was immediately prepared. But one dish was used.\n\nMonedowa partook of it first, to show his guest that he need not fear,\nsaying at the same time, \"It is a feast, and as we seldom meet, we must\neat all that is placed on the dish, as a mark of gratitude to the Great\nSpirit for permitting me to kill animals, and for the pleasure of seeing\nyou, and partaking of it with you.\"\n\nThey ate and talked, on this and that, until they had nearly dispatched\nthe meal, when the manito took up the dish and drank off the broth at a\nbreath. On setting it down he immediately turned his head and commenced\ncoughing with great violence. The old body in which he had disguised\nhimself was well-nigh shaken in pieces, for he had, as Monedowa\nexpected, swallowed a grain of the birch-bud, and this, which relished\nto himself as being of the bird nature, greatly distressed the old\nmanito, who partook of the character of an animal, or four-footed thing.\n\nHe was at last put to such confusion of face by his constant coughing,\nthat he was enforced to leave, saying, or rather hiccoughing as he left\nthe lodge, that he should look for the young man at the racing-ground in\nthe morning.\n\nWhen the morning came, Monedowa was early astir, oiling his limbs and\nenameling his breast and arms with red and blue, resembling the plumage\nin which he had first appeared to Minda. Upon his brow he placed a tuft\nof feathers of the same shining tints.\n\nBy his invitation his wife, Minda, the mother and her young son,\nattended Monedowa to the manito's racing-ground.\n\nThe lodge of the manito stood upon a high ground, and near it stretched\nout a long row of other lodges, said to be possessed by wicked kindred\nof his, who shared in the spoils of his cruelty.\n\nAs soon as the young hunter and his party approached, the inmates\nappeared at their lodge-doors and cried out:\n\n\"We are visited.\"\n\nAt this cry, the mudjee monedo came forth and descended with his\ncompanions to the starting-post on the plain. From this the course could\nbe seen, winding in a long girdle about the lake; and as they were now\nall assembled, the old manito began to speak of the race, belted himself\nup and pointed to the post, which was an upright pillar of stone.\n\n\"But before we start,\" said the manito, \"I wish it to be understood that\nwhen men run with me I make a wager, and I expect them to abide by\nit--life against life.\"\n\n\"Very well--be it so,\" answered Monedowa. \"We shall see whose head is to\nbe dashed against the stone.\"\n\n\"We shall,\" rejoined the mudjee monedo. \"I am very old, but I shall try\nand make a run.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" again rejoined Monedowa; \"I hope we shall both stand to our\nbargain.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the old manito; and he at the same time cast a sly glance\nat the young hunter, and rolled his eyes toward where stood the pillar\nof stone.\n\n\"I am ready,\" said Monedowa.\n\nThe starting shout was given, and they set off at high speed, the manito\nleading, and Monedowa pressing closely after. As he closed upon him,\nthe old manito began to show his power, and changing himself into a fox\nhe passed the young hunter with ease, and went leisurely along.\n\nMonedowa now, with a glance upward, took the shape of the strange bird\nof red and deep-blue plumage, and with one flight, lighting at some\ndistance ahead of the manito, resumed his mortal shape.\n\nWhen the mudjee monedo espied his competitor before him, \"Whoa! whoa!\"\nhe exclaimed; \"this is strange;\" and he immediately changed himself into\na wolf, and sped past Monedowa.\n\nAs he galloped by, Monedowa heard a noise from his throat, and he knew\nthat he was still in distress from the birch-bud which he had swallowed\nat his mother-in-law's lodge.\n\nMonedowa again took wing, and, shooting into the air, he descended\nsuddenly with great swiftness, and took the path far ahead of the old\nmanito.\n\nAs he passed the wolf he whispered in his ear:\n\n\"My friend, is this the extent of your speed?\"\n\nThe manito began to be troubled with bad forebodings, for, on looking\nahead, he saw the young hunter in his own manly form, running along at\nleisure. The mudjee monedo, seeing the necessity of more speed, now\npassed Monedowa in the shape of a deer.\n\nThey were now far around the circle of the lake, and fast closing in\nupon the starting-post, when Monedowa, putting on his red and blue\nplumage, glided along the air and alighted upon the track far in\nadvance.\n\nTo overtake him, the old manito assumed the shape of the buffalo; and he\npushed on with such long gallops that he was again the foremost on the\ncourse. The buffalo was the last change he could make, and it was in\nthis form that he had most frequently conquered.\n\nThe young hunter, once more a bird, in the act of passing the manito,\nsaw his tongue lolling from his mouth with fatigue.\n\n\"My friend,\" said Monedowa, \"is this all your speed?\"\n\nThe manito made no answer. Monedowa had resumed his character of a\nhunter, and was within a run of the winning-post, when the wicked manito\nhad nearly overtaken him.\n\n\"Bakah! bakah! nejee!\" he called out to Monedowa; \"stop, my friend, I\nwish to talk to you.\"\n\nMonedowa laughed aloud as he replied:\n\n\"I will speak to you at the starting-post. When men run with me I make a\nwager, and I expect them to abide by it--life against life.\"\n\nOne more flight as the blue bird with red wings, and Monedowa was so\nnear to the goal that he could easily reach it in his mortal shape.\nShining in beauty, his face lighted up like the sky, with tinted arms\nand bosom gleaming in the sun, and the parti-colored plume on his brow\nwaving in the wind. Monedowa, cheered by a joyful shout from his own\npeople, leaped to the post.\n\nThe manito came on with fear in his face.\n\n\"My friend,\" he said, \"spare my life;\" and then added, in a low voice,\nas if he would not that the others should hear it, \"Give me to live.\"\nAnd he began to move off as if the request had been granted.\n\n\"As you have done to others,\" replied Monedowa, \"so shall it be done to\nyou.\"\n\nAnd seizing the wicked manito, he dashed him against the pillar of\nstone. His kindred, who were looking on in horror, raised a cry of fear\nand fled away in a body to some distant land, whence they have never\nreturned.\n\nThe widow's family left the scene, and when they had all come out into\nthe open fields, they walked on together until they had reached the\nfragrant bank and the evergreen wood, where the daughter had first\nencountered her bird lover.\n\nMonedowa turning to her, said:\n\n\"My mother, here we must part. Your daughter and myself must now leave\nyou. The Good Spirit, moved with pity, has allowed me to be your friend.\nI have done that for which I was sent. I am permitted to take with me\nthe one whom I love. I have found your daughter ever kind, gentle and\njust. She shall be my companion. The blessing of the Good Spirit be\never with you. Farewell, my mother--my brother, farewell.\"\n\nWhile the widow woman was still lost in wonder at these words, Monedowa,\nand Minda his wife, changed at the same moment, rose into the air, as\nbeautiful birds, clothed in shining colors of red and blue.\n\nThey caroled together as they flew, and their songs were happy, and\nfalling, falling, like clear drops, as they rose, and rose, and winged\ntheir way far upward, a delicious peace came into the mind of the poor\nwidow woman, and she returned to her lodge deeply thankful at heart for\nall the goodness that had been shown to her by the Master of Life.\n\nFrom that day forth she never knew want, and her young son proved a\ncomfort to her lodge, and the tuneful carol of Monedowa and Minda, as it\nfell from heaven, was a music always, go whither she would, sounding\npeace and joy in her ear.\n\n\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nBOKWEWA, THE HUMPBACK.\n\n\nBokwewa and his brother lived in a far-off part of the country. By such\nas had knowledge of them, Bokwewa, the elder, although deformed and\nfeeble of person, was considered a manito, who had assumed the mortal\nshape; while his younger brother, Kwasynd, manly in appearance, active,\nand strong, partook of the nature of the present race of beings.\n\nThey lived off the path, in a wild, lonesome place, far retired from\nneighbors, and, undisturbed by cares, they passed their time, content\nand happy. The days glided by serenely as the river that flowed by their\nlodge.\n\nOwing to his lack of strength, Bokwewa never engaged in the chase, but\ngave his attention entirely to the affairs of the lodge. In the long\nwinter evenings he passed the time in telling his brother stories of the\ngiants, spirits, weendigoes, and fairies of the elder age, when they had\nthe exclusive charge of the world. He also at times taught his brother\nthe manner in which game should be pursued, pointed out to him the ways\nof the different beasts and birds of the chase, and assigned the seasons\nat which they could be hunted with most success.\n\nFor a while the brother was eager to learn, and keenly attended to his\nduties as the provider of the lodge; but at length he grew weary of\ntheir tranquil life, and began to have a desire to show himself among\nmen. He became restive in their retirement, and was seized with a\nlonging to visit remote places.\n\nOne day, Kwasynd told his brother that he should leave him; that he\nwished to visit the habitations of men, and to procure a wife.\n\nBokwewa objected; but his brother overruled all that he said, and in\nspite of every remonstrance, he departed on his travels.\n\nHe traveled for a long time. At length he fell in with the footsteps of\nmen. They were moving by encampments, for he saw, at several spots, the\npoles where they had passed. It was winter; and coming to a place where\none of their company had died, he found upon a scaffold, lying at length\nin the cold blue air, the body of a beautiful young woman. \"She shall be\nmy wife!\" exclaimed Kwasynd.\n\nHe lifted her up, and bearing her in his arms, he returned to his\nbrother. \"Brother,\" he said, \"can not you restore her to life? Oh, do me\nthat favor!\"\n\nHe looked upon the beautiful female with a longing gaze; but she lay as\ncold and silent as when he had found her upon the scaffold.\n\n\"I will try,\" said Bokwewa.\n\nThese words had been scarcely breathed, when the young woman rose up,\nopened her eyes, and looked upon Bokwewa with a smile, as if she had\nknown him before.\n\nTo Kwasynd she paid no heed whatever; but presently Bokwewa, seeing how\nshe lingered in her gaze upon himself, said to her, \"Sister, that is\nyour husband,\" pointing to Kwasynd.\n\nShe listened to his voice, and crossing the lodge, she sat by Kwasynd,\nand they were man and wife.\n\nFor a long time they all lived contentedly together. Bokwewa was very\nkind to his brother, and sought to render his days happy. He was ever\nwithin the lodge, seeking to have it in readiness against the return of\nKwasynd from the hunt. And by following his directions, which were those\nof one deeply skilled in the chase, Kwasynd always succeeded in\nreturning with a good store of meat.\n\nBut the charge of the two brothers was greatly lightened by the presence\nof the spirit-wife; for without labor of the hand, she ordered the\nlodge, and as she willed, every thing took its place, and was at once in\nproper array. The wish of her heart seemed to control whatever she\nlooked upon, and it obeyed her desire.\n\nBut it was still more to the surprise of her husband Kwasynd that she\nnever partook of food, nor shared in any way the longings and appetites\nof a mortal creature. She had never been seen arranging her hair, like\nother females, or at work upon her garments, and yet they were ever\nseemly, and without blemish or disorder.\n\nBehold her at any hour, she was ever beautiful, and she seemed to need\nno ornament, nor nourishment, nor other aid, to give grace or strength\nto her looks.\n\nKwasynd, when the first wonder of her ways had passed, payed little heed\nto her discourse; he was engrossed with the hunt, and chose rather to be\nabroad, pursuing the wild game, or in the lodge, enjoying its savory\nspoil, than the society of his spirit-wife.\n\nBut Bokwewa watched closely every word that fell from her lips, and\noften forgot, like her, all mortal appetite and care of the body, in\nconferring with her, and noting what she had to say of spirits and\nfairies, of stars, and streams that never ceased to flow, and the\ndelight of the happy hunting-grounds, and the groves of the blessed.\n\nOne day Kwasynd had gone out as usual, and Bokwewa was sitting in the\nlodge, on the opposite side to his brother's wife, when she suddenly\nexclaimed:\n\n\"I must leave you,\" as a tall young man, whose face was like the sun in\nits brightness, entered, and taking her by the hand he led her to the\ndoor.\n\nShe made no resistance, but turning as she left the lodge, she cast upon\nBokwewa a smile of kind regard, and was at once, with her companion,\ngone from his view.\n\nHe ran to the door and glanced about. He saw nothing; but looking far\noff in the sky, he thought that he could discover, at a great distance,\na shining track, and the dim figures of two who were vanishing in\nheaven.\n\nWhen his brother returned, Bokwewa related all to him exactly as it had\nhappened.\n\nThe face of Kwasynd changed, and was dark as the night. For several days\nhe would not taste food. Sometimes he would fall to weeping for a long\ntime, and now only it seemed that he remembered how gentle and beautiful\nhad been the ways of her who was lost. At last he said that he would go\nin search of her.\n\nBokwewa tried to dissuade him from it; but he would not be turned aside\nfrom his purpose.\n\n\"Since you are resolved,\" said Bokwewa, \"listen to my advice. You will\nhave to go South. It is a long distance to the present abiding-place of\nyour wife, and there are so many charms and temptations by the way that\nI fear you will be led astray and forget your errand. For the people\nwhom you will see in the country through which you have to pass, do\nnothing but amuse themselves. They are very idle, gay and effeminate,\nand I fear that they will lead you astray. Your path is beset with\ndangers. I will mention one or two things which you must be on your\nguard against.\n\n\"In the course of your journey you will come to a large grape-vine lying\nacross your path. You must not even taste its fruit, for it is\npoisonous. Step over it. It is a snake. You will next come to something\nthat looks like bear's fat, of which you are so fond. Touch it not, or\nyou will be overcome by the soft habits of the idle people. It is frog's\neggs. These are snares laid by the way for you.\"\n\nKwasynd promised that he would observe the advice and bidding his\nbrother farewell, he set out. After traveling a long time he came to the\nenchanted grape-vine. It looked so tempting, with its swelling purple\nclusters, that he forgot his brother's warning, and tasted the fruit. He\nwent on till he came to the frog's eggs. They so much resembled\ndelicious bear's fat that Kwasynd tasted them. He still went on.\n\nAt length he came to a wide plain. As he emerged from the forest the sun\nwas falling in the west, and it cast its scarlet and golden shades far\nover the country. The air was perfectly calm, and the whole prospect had\nthe air of an enchanted land. Fruits and flowers, and delicate\nblossoms, lured the eye and delighted the senses.\n\nAt a distance he beheld a large village, swarming with people, and as he\ndrew near he discovered women beating corn in silver mortars.\n\nWhen they saw Kwasynd approaching, they cried out:\n\n\"Bokwewa's brother has come to see us.\"\n\nThrongs of men and women, in bright apparel, hurried out to meet him.\n\nHe was soon, having already yielded to temptation by the way, overcome\nby their fair looks and soft speeches, and he was not long afterward\nseen beating corn with the women, having entirely abandoned all further\nquest for his lost wife.\n\nMeantime, Bokwewa, alone in the lodge, often musing upon the discourse\nof the spirit-wife, who was gone, waited patiently his brother's return.\nAfter the lapse of several years, when no tidings could be had, he set\nout in search of him, and he arrived in safety among the soft and idle\npeople of the South. He met the same allurements by the way, and they\ngathered around him on his coming as they had around his brother\nKwasynd; but Bokwewa was proof against their flattery. He only grieved\nin his heart that any should yield.\n\nHe shed tears of pity to see that his brother had laid aside the arms of\na hunter, and that he was beating corn with the women, indifferent to\nthe fate and the fortune of his lost wife.\n\nBokwewa ascertained that his brother's wife had passed on to a country\nbeyond.\n\nAfter deliberating for a time, and spending several days in a severe\nfast, he set out in the direction where he saw that a light shone from\nthe sky.\n\nIt was far off, but Bokwewa had a stout heart; and strong in the faith\nthat he was now on the broad path toward the happy land, he pressed\nforward. For many days he traveled without encountering any thing\nunusual. And now plains of vast extent, and rich in waving grass, began\nto pass before his eyes. He saw many beautiful groves, and heard the\nsongs of countless birds.\n\nAt length he began to fail in strength for lack of food; when he\nsuddenly reached a high ground. From this he caught the first glimpse of\nthe other land. But it appeared to be still far off, and all the country\nbetween, partly vailed in silvery mists, glittered with lakes and\nstreams of water. As he pressed on, Bokwewa came in sight of innumerable\nherds of stately deer, moose, and other animals which walked near his\npath, and they appeared to have no fear of man.\n\nAnd now again as he wound about in his course, and faced the north once\nmore, he beheld, coming toward him, an immense number of men, women,\nand children, pressing forward in the direction of the shining land.\n\nIn this vast throng Bokwewa beheld persons of every age, from the little\ninfant, the sweet and lovely penaisee, or younger son, to the feeble,\ngray old man, stooping under the burden of his years.\n\nAll whom Bokwewa met, of every name and degree, were heavily laden with\npipes, weapons, bows, arrows, kettles and other wares and implements.\n\nOne man stopped him, and complained of the weary load he was carrying.\nAnother offered him a kettle; another his bow and arrows; but he\ndeclined all, and, free of foot, hastened on.\n\nAnd now he met women who were carrying their basket-work, and painted\npaddles, and little boys, with their embellished war-clubs and bows and\narrows, the gift of their friends.\n\nWith this mighty throng, Bokwewa was borne along for two days and\nnights, when he arrived at a country so still and shining, and so\nbeautiful in its woods and groves and plains, that he knew it was here\nthat he should find the lost spirit-wife.\n\nHe had scarcely entered this fair country, with a sense of home and the\nreturn to things familiar strong upon him, when there appeared before\nhim the lost spirit-wife herself, who, taking him by the hand, gave him\nwelcome, saying, \"My brother, I am glad to see you. Welcome! welcome!\nYou are now in your native land!\"\n\n\n\n\nXXV.\n\nTHE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER.\n\n\nA famous hunter who lived in a remote part of the North had a fair wife\nand two sons, who were left in the lodge every day while he went out in\nquest of the animals whose flesh was their principal support.\n\nGame was very abundant in those days, and his labors in the chase were\nwell rewarded. They lived a long distance from any other lodge, and it\nwas seldom that they saw any other faces than those of their own\nhousehold.\n\nThe two sons were still too young to follow their father in the hunt,\nand they were in the habit of diverting themselves within reach of the\nlodge.\n\nWhile thus engaged, they began to take note that a young man visited the\nlodge during their father's absence, and that these visits were\nconstantly renewed.\n\nAt length the elder of the two said to his mother:\n\n\"My mother, who is this tall young man that comes here so often during\nour father's absence? Does he wish to see him? Shall I tell him when he\ncomes back this evening?\"\n\n\"Naubesah, you little fool,\" said the mother, \"mind your bow and arrows,\nand do not be afraid to enter the forest in search of birds and\nsquirrels, with your little brother. It is not manly to be ever about\nthe lodge. Nor will you become a warrior if you tell all the little\nthings that you see and hear to your father. Say not a word to him.\"\n\nThe boys obeyed, but as they grew older and still noticed the visits of\nthe stranger, they resolved to speak again to their mother.\n\nThey now told her that they meant to make known to their father all that\nthey had witnessed, for they frequently saw this young man passing\nthrough the woods, and he did not walk in the path, nor did he carry any\nthing to eat. If he had any message to deliver at their lodge, why did\nhe not give it to their father? for they had observed that messages were\nalways addressed to men, and not to women.\n\nWhen her sons spoke thus to her, the mother was greatly vexed.\n\n\"I will kill you,\" she said, \"if you speak of it.\"\n\nIn fear they for a time held their peace, but still taking note that the\nstranger came so often and by stealth to the lodge, they resolved at\nlast to speak with their father.\n\nAccordingly one day, when they were out in the woods, learning to follow\nthe chase, they told him all that they had seen.\n\nThe face of the father grew dark. He was still for a while, and when at\nlength he looked up--\n\n\"It is done!\" he said. \"Do you, my children, tarry here until the hour\nof the falling of the sun, then come to the lodge and you will find me.\"\n\nThe father left them at a slow pace, and they remained sporting away\ntheir time till the hour for their return had come.\n\nWhen they reached the lodge the mother was not there. They dared not to\nask their father whither she had gone, and from that day forth her name\nwas never spoken again in the lodge.\n\nIn course of time the two boys had grown to be men, and although the\nmother was never more seen in the lodge, in charge of her household\ntasks, nor on the path in the forest, nor by the river side, she still\nlingered, ever and ever, near the lodge.\n\nChanged, but the same, with ghastly looks and arms that were withered,\nshe appeared to her sons as they returned from the hunt, in the\ntwilight, in the close of the day.\n\nAt night she darkly unlatched the lodge-door and glided in, and bent\nover them as they sought to sleep. Oftenest it was her bare brow, white,\nand bony, and bodyless, that they saw floating in the air, and making a\nmock of them in the wild paths of the forest, or in the midnight\ndarkness of the lodge.\n\nShe was a terror to all their lives, and she made every spot where they\nhad seen her, hideous to the living eye; so that after being long\nbuffeted and beset, they at last resolved, together with their father,\nnow stricken in years, to leave the country.\n\nThey began a journey toward the South. After traveling many days along\nthe shore of a great lake, they passed around a craggy bluff, and came\nupon a scene where there was a rough fall of waters, and a river issuing\nforth from the lake.\n\nThey had no sooner come in sight of this fall of water, than they heard\na rolling sound behind them, and looking back, they beheld the skull of\na woman rolling along the beach. It seemed to be pursuing them, and it\ncame on with great speed; when, behold, from out of the woods hard by,\nappeared a headless body, which made for the beach with the utmost\ndispatch.\n\nThe skull too advanced toward it, and when they looked again, lo! they\nhad united, and were making all haste to come up with the hunter and his\ntwo sons. They now might well be in extreme fear, for they knew not how\nto escape her.\n\nAt this moment, one of them looked out and saw a stately crane sitting\non a rock in the middle of the rapids. They called out to the bird,\n\"See, grandfather, we are persecuted. Come and take us across the falls\nthat we may escape her.\"\n\nThe crane so addressed was of extraordinary size, and had arrived at a\ngreat old age, and, as might be expected, he sat, when first descried by\nthe two sons, in a state of profound thought, revolving his long\nexperience of life there in the midst of the most violent eddies.\n\nWhen he heard himself appealed to, the crane stretched forth his neck\nwith great deliberation, and lifting himself slowly by his wings, he\nflew across to their assistance.\n\n\"Be careful,\" said the old crane, \"that you do not touch the crown of my\nhead. I am bald from age and long service, and very tender at that spot.\nShould you be so unlucky as to lay a hand upon it, I shall not be able\nto avoid throwing you both in the rapids.\"\n\nThey paid strict heed to his directions, and were soon safely landed on\nthe other shore of the river. He returned and carried the father in the\nsame way; and then took his place once more where he had been first seen\nin the very midst of the eddies of the stream.\n\nBut the woman, who had by this time reached the shore, cried out, \"Come,\nmy grandfather, and carry me over, for I have lost my children, and I am\nsorely distressed.\"\n\nThe aged bird obeyed her summons, and flew to her side. He carefully\nrepeated the warning that she was not to touch the crown of his head;\nand he was so anxious that she should take it to heart, that he went\nover it a second and a third time, word by word. He begged her to bear\nin mind that she should respect his old age, if there was any sense of\nvirtue left in her.\n\nShe promised to obey; but they were no sooner fairly embarked in the\nstream, than she stealthily sought to disregard the warning she had\nreceived. Instantly the crane cast her into the rapids, and shook his\nwings as if to free himself of all acquaintance with her.\n\n\"There,\" said he, as she sunk in the stream, \"you would ever do what was\nforbidden. In life, as you sought those you should have avoided, so now\nyou shall be avoided by those who should seek you. Go, and be henceforth\nAddum Kum Maig!\"\n\nThe woman disappeared, was straightway carried by the rapid currents far\nout into the waters, and in the wide wilderness of shoreless depths,\nwithout companion or solace, was lost forever.\n\nThe family of the hunter, grateful for his generous help, adopted the\nbird as their family emblem or mark, and under the guardianship of the\nCrane that Crossed the River, they prospered, with days of plenty and\nnights of peace.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nWUNZH. THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN.\n\n\nIn time past--we can not tell exactly how many, many years ago--a poor\nIndian was living, with his wife and children, in a beautiful part of\nthe country. He was not only poor, but he had the misfortune to be\ninexpert in procuring food for his family, and his children were all too\nyoung to give him assistance.\n\nAlthough of a lowly condition and straitened in his circumstances, he\nwas a man of kind and contented disposition. He was always thankful to\nthe Great Spirit for every thing he received. He even stood in the door\nof his lodge to bless the birds that flew past in the summer evenings;\nalthough, if he had been of a complaining temper, he might have repined\nthat they were not rather spread upon the table for his evening meal.\n\nThe same gracious and sweet disposition was inherited by his eldest son,\nwho had now arrived at the proper age to undertake the ceremony of the\nfast, to learn what kind of a spirit would be his guide and guardian\nthrough life.\n\nWunzh, for this was his name, had been an obedient boy from his\ninfancy--pensive, thoughtful, and gentle--so that he was beloved by the\nwhole family.\n\nAs soon as the first buds of spring appeared, and the delicious\nfragrance of the young year began to sweeten the air, his father, with\nthe help of his younger brothers, built for Wunzh the customary little\nlodge, at a retired spot at some distance from their own, where he would\nnot be disturbed during the solemn rite.\n\nTo prepare himself, Wunzh sought to clear his heart of every evil\nthought, and to think of nothing that was not good, and beautiful, and\nkindly.\n\nThat he might store his mind with pleasant ideas for his dreams, for the\nfirst few days he amused himself by walking in the woods and over the\nmountains, examining the early plants and flowers.\n\nAs he rambled far and wide, through the wild country, he felt a strong\ndesire to know how the plants and herbs and berries grew, without any\naid from man, and why it was that some kinds were good to eat, and that\nothers were possessed of medicinal or poisonous power.\n\nAfter he had become too languid to walk about, and confined himself\nstrictly to the lodge, he recalled these thoughts, and turning them in\nhis mind, he wished he could dream of something that would prove a\nbenefit to his father and family, and to all others of his\nfellow-creatures.\n\n\"True,\" thought Wunzh, \"the Great Spirit made all things, and it is to\nhim that we owe our lives. Could he not make it easier for us to get our\nfood, than by hunting animals and taking fish? I must try to find this\nout in my visions.\"\n\nOn the third day Wunzh became weak and faint, and kept his bed. Suddenly\nhe fancied, as he lay thus, that a bright light came in at the lodge\ndoor, and ere he was aware, he saw a handsome young man, with a\ncomplexion of the softest and purest white, coming down from the sky,\nand advancing toward him.\n\nThe beautiful stranger was richly and gayly dressed, having on a great\nmany garments of green and yellow colors, but differing in their deeper\nor lighter shades. He had a plume of waving feathers on his head, and\nall his motions were graceful, and reminded Wunzh of the deep green of\nthe summer grass, and the clear amber of the summer sky, and the gentle\nblowing of the summer wind. Beautiful as the stranger was, he paused on\na little mound of earth, just before the door of the lodge.\n\n\"I am sent to you, my friend,\" said this celestial visitor, in a voice\nmost soft and musical to listen to, \"I am sent to you by that Great\nSpirit who made all things in the sky, and on the earth. He has seen and\nknows your motives in fasting. He sees that it is from a kind and\nbenevolent wish to do good to your people, and to procure a benefit for\nthem; that you do not seek for strength in war, or the praise of the men\nof the bloody hand. I am sent to instruct you and to show you how you\ncan do your kindred good.\"\n\nHe then told the young man to arise, and to prepare to wrestle with him,\nas it was only by this means that he could hope to succeed in his\nwishes.\n\nWunzh knew how weak he was from fasting, but the voice of the stranger\nwas cheery, and put such a courage in his heart, that he promptly sprang\nup, determined to die rather than fail. Brave Wunzh! if you ever\naccomplish any thing, it will be through the power of the resolve that\nspake within you at that moment.\n\nHe began the trial, and after a long-sustained struggle he was almost\noverpowered, when the beautiful stranger said:\n\n\"My friend, it is enough for once, I will come again to try you;\" and\nsmiling on him, he returned through the air in the same direction in\nwhich he had come.\n\nThe next day, although he saw how sweetly the wild-flowers bloomed upon\nthe slopes, and the birds warbled from the woodland, he longed to see\nthe celestial visitor, and to hear his voice.\n\nTo his great joy he reappeared at the same hour, toward the going down\nof the sun, and re-challenged Wunzh to a trial of strength.\n\nThe brave Wunzh felt that his strength of body was even less than on the\nday before, but the courage of his mind seemed to grow. Observing this,\nand how Wunzh put his whole heart in the struggle, the stranger again\nspoke to him in the words he used before, adding:\n\n\"To-morrow will be your last trial. Be strong, my friend, for this is\nthe only way in which you can overcome me and obtain the boon you seek.\"\n\nThe light which shone after him as he left Wunzh was brighter than\nbefore.\n\nOn the third day he came again and renewed the struggle. Very faint in\nbody was poor Wunzh, but he was stronger at heart than ever, and\ndetermined to prevail now or perish. He put forth his utmost powers, and\nafter a contest more severe than either of the others, the stranger\nceased his efforts, and declared himself conquered.\n\nFor the first time he entered Wunzh's little fasting-lodge, and sitting\ndown beside the youth, he began to deliver his instructions to him and\nto inform him in what manner he should proceed to take advantage of his\nvictory.\n\n\"You have won your desire of the Great Spirit,\" said the beautiful\nstranger. \"You have wrestled manfully. To-morrow will be the seventh day\nof your fasting. Your father will give you food to strengthen you, and\nas it is the last day of trial you will prevail. I know this, and now\ntell you what you must do to benefit your family and your people.\nTo-morrow,\" he repeated, \"I shall meet you and wrestle with you for the\nlast time. As soon as you have prevailed against me, you will strip off\nmy garments and throw me down, clean the earth of roots and weeds, make\nit soft, and bury me in the spot. When you have done this, leave my body\nin the earth, and do not disturb it, but come at times to visit the\nplace, to see whether I have come to life, and above all be careful to\nnever let the grass or weeds grow upon my grave. Once a month cover me\nwith fresh earth. If you follow these my instructions you will\naccomplish your object of doing good to your fellow-creatures by\nteaching them the knowledge I now teach you.\"\n\nHe then shook Wunzh by the hand and disappeared, but he was gone so soon\nthat Wunzh could not tell what direction he took.\n\nIn the morning, Wunzh's father came to his lodge with some slight\nrefreshments, saying:\n\n\"My son, you have fasted long enough. If the Great Spirit will favor\nyou, he will do it now. It is seven days since you have tasted food, and\nyou must not sacrifice your life. The Master of Life does not require\nthat.\"\n\n\"My father,\" replied Wunzh, \"wait till the sun goes down. I have a\nparticular reason for extending my fast to that hour.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the old man, \"I shall wait till the hour arrives, and\nyou shall be inclined to eat.\"\n\nAt his usual hour of appearing, the beautiful sky-visitor returned, and\nthe trial of strength was renewed. Although he had not availed himself\nof his father's offer of food, Wunzh felt that new strength had been\ngiven him. His heart was mighty within him to achieve some great\npurpose. Courage was like the eagle that spreads his wings within the\ntree-top for a great flight, within the bosom of the brave Wunzh.\n\nHe grasped his angel challenger with supernatural strength, threw him\ndown, and, mindful of his own instructions, tore from him his beautiful\ngarments and plume, and finding him dead, he immediately buried him on\nthe spot, using all the precautions he had been told of, and very\nconfident was Wunzh, all the time, that his friend would again come to\nlife.\n\nWunzh now returned to his father's lodge, where he was warmly welcomed,\nfor as it had been appointed to him during the days of his fasting to\nwalk apart with Heaven, he was not permitted to see any human face save\nthat of his father, the representative to the little household upon\nearth of the Good Father who is in Heaven.\n\nWunzh partook sparingly of the meal that had been prepared for him, and\nonce more mingled in the cares and sports of the family. But he never\nfor a moment forgot the grave of his friend. He carefully visited it\nthroughout the spring, and weeded out the grass, and kept the ground in\na soft and pliant state; and sometimes, when the brave Wunzh thought of\nhis friend that was gone from his sight, he dropped a tear upon the\nearth where he lay.\n\nWatching and tending, and moistening the earth with his tears, it was\nnot long before Wunzh saw the tops of green plumes coming through the\nground; and the more faithful he was in obeying his instructions in\nkeeping the ground in order, and in cherishing the memory of his\ndeparted friend, the faster they grew. He was, however, careful to\nconceal the charge of the earth which he had from his father.\n\nDays and weeks had passed in this way; the summer was drawing toward a\nclose, when one day, after a long absence in hunting, Wunzh invited his\nfather to follow him to the quiet and lonesome spot of his former fast.\n\nThe little fasting-lodge had been removed, and the weeds kept from\ngrowing on the circle where it had stood; but in its place rose a tall\nand graceful plant, surmounted with nodding plumes and stately leaves,\nand golden clusters. There was in its aspect and bearing the deep green\nof the summer grass, the clear amber of the summer sky, and the gentle\nblowing of the summer wind.\n\n\"It is my friend!\" shouted Wunzh, \"it is the friend of all mankind. It\nis Mondawmin: it is our Indian Corn! We need no longer rely on hunting\nalone, for as long as this gift is cherished and taken care of, the\nground itself will give us a living.\"\n\nHe then pulled an ear.\n\n\"See, my father,\" said he, \"this is what I fasted for. The Great Spirit\nhas listened to my voice, and sent us something new, and henceforth our\npeople will not alone depend upon the chase or upon the waters.\"\n\nWunzh then communicated to his father the instructions given to him by\nthe stranger. He told him that the broad husks must be torn away, as he\nhad pulled off the garments in his wrestling, and having done this, he\ndirected him how the ear must be held before the fire till the outer\nskin became brown--as he complexion of his angel friend had been tinted\nby the sun--while all the milk was retained in the grain.\n\nThe whole family, in high spirits, and deeply grateful to the Merciful\nMaster who gave it, assisted in a feast on the newly-grown ears of corn.\n\nSo came that mighty blessing into the world, and we owe all of those\nbeautiful fields of healthful grain to the dream of the brave boy Wunzh.\n\n\nTHE END.","title":"The Indian Fairy Book: From the Original Legends","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":76543}