which the fairies hearing, they in a great rage ran after the ravisher
of their robes. But she whom he desired outstripped the rest, and when
she approached him he did but tap her lightly on the head with a small
stick, according to a certain ancient prescription followed in Fairy-land,
which makes of a woman a wife; whereupon she, according to the
antique rite, being astonished to find herself so, suddenly married,
fainted dead away, and was carried off in peace. And as for the clothes
of the others, the Marten gave them back without taking fee or rewards.
Then Team, the Moose, who was a good soul, but not wise above all the
world, coming home and finding Marten married, wished also for a wife.
And having heard all the tale, he said, "Well, if it is no harder than
that, 'tis as easy as sucking a honeysuckle, and I am as good as
married." And going to the pond in the mountains, among the rocks and
behind the grapevines, he too beheld the virgins jumping, flapping,
splashing, and mischieving merrily, like mad minxes, in the water;
whereat he, being all of a rage, as it were, caught up the clothes of
these, poor maids and ran; she whom he most admired catching up with
him. And being resolved to do the thing thoroughly, he grappled up a
great club and gave her a bang on her small head, which stunned her
indeed, and that forever, inasmuch as she was slain outright. So the
Moose remained unmarried.
Now Team was one of the kind not uncommon, in this world, who hold that
if any other man has or gets more than they have, then they are deeply
wronged. And it had come to pass that Master Marten, finding that his
wife yearned greatly for the society of her sisters, offered to take
yet another of them in marriage, merely to oblige his wife; for in such
a kind of benevolence he was one of the best souls that ever lived, and
rather than have trouble in the family he would have wedded all the
pretty girls in the country. So going as before to the pond in the
mountains, among the rocks and behind the grapevines, he, by the same
device, captured yet another fairy, whom, taking home, he wedded.
Yet Team took this sadly to heart, and willed that Marten should give
him this last spouse, to which Marten would in nowise agree. Truly,
Team argued earnestly that as he had no wife, and no wisdom wherewith
to win one, of course he must have one of Marten's, or that Marten
should go and get him one. To which Marten replied that Moose might
skin his own skunks, and fish for his own minnows, and also paddle his
own canoe to the devil, if it so pleased him,--all of these being
approved Indian sayings of high and racy antiquity. Whereupon Team
sought to persuade Marten with a club, who gave a soft answer by
shooting a flint-headed arrow through Team's scalp-lock; and this
friendship they continued for many days, passing their evenings in
manufacturing missiles, and the mornings in sending them one at the
other.
Now the fairy water-wives, not being accustomed to this kind of intimacy,
sought to subtract themselves from it. So one morning, when Marten and
Team were most industriously endeavoring to effect mutual murder, the
two wives of the former fled afar to seek fortune, and succeeded therein
to perfection. And it came to pass when the sun had set and the voice of
Bumole, the Spirit of Night, was heard afar on high, and Nibauchset (P.),
the Night-Walker, shone over all, that the two brides lay in an oak
opening of the forest, and looked at P'ses'muk, the Stars, and talked
about them even as children might do. And one said to the other, "If
those Stars be men, which would you have for a husband?" "By my faith,"
replied the other," it should be that little red, twinkling fellow, for
I like the little stars best." "And I," said the other, "will wed the
Wisawaioo P'ses'm (P.), the Great Yellow Star, for I love the large
stars." And, saying this in jest, they fell asleep.
But many a word spoken in jest is recalled in earnest, as these brides
learned when they awoke, and found themselves married again in the
Indian manner, at only a word. For she who had wished for the Great
Yellow Shining Star, as she opened her eyes, heard a man's voice say,
"Take care, or you will upset my war-paint!" [Footnote: Sekroon (red
ochre).] And lo, there lay by her side a great and handsome man, very
noble, with large and lustrous eyes. [Footnote: In the Passamaquoddy
version of this tale, given me by Tomah Josephs, the brides awake in
Star-Land. The husbands are both elderly men, and he who is the Yellow
Star has bright yellow corners to his eyes, while the other has red. In
another the Yellow Star is called Wobeyu, the White. While they are all
distinctly forms of one tale, the three differ so much that I have had
great difficulty in reconstituting what appears to be the Original
legend.] Then the other, as she awoke and stirred, heard a little feeble,
cracked voice crying, "Take care, or you will spill my eye-water!"
[Footnote: _Nebijegwode_ (eye medicine, M.)] And by her was the
smaller star, whom she had chosen; but he was a weak-looking old fellow,
with little red, twinkling eyes. And as they had chosen so it came unto
them.
But yellow or red, young or old, in a few days they both grew a-weary
of the star country to which they were taken, and wished to return to
the earth. And then that came to pass which made them yearn with
tenfold longing; for their husbands, who were absent all day hunting,
had pointed out to them a large flat stone, which they were on no
account to lift; which they obeyed in this wise, that they did not both
lift the stone, but only the younger, who, as soon as the Stars had
gone to the greenwood, rushed to the slab, and, lifting it up, gazed
greedily down into the hole beneath. And what she saw was wonderful,
for it was the sky itself, and directly under them was the world in
which they had lived, and specially in sight was the home of their
childhood, with all its woods and rivers. And then the elder having
looked, both almost broke their hearts with weeping.
Now the Stars were by no means such evil-minded men as you may have
deemed; for having perceived by magic that their wives had looked
through the hole in the sky, and knowing that they were lying when
they denied it, they gave them leave to go back to earth. Yet there
were conditions, and those not easy to such fidgety damsels as these;
for they said, "Ye shall lie together all this night, and in the
morning when ye awake ye shall be in no haste to open your eyes or
to uncover your faces. Wait until ye shall have heard the song of the
_Ktsee-gee-gil-laxsis_ (P.), or chick-a-dee-dee. And even then ye
shall not arise, but be quiet until the song of the red squirrel shall
be heard. And even then ye must wait and keep your faces covered and
your eyes closed until ye hear the striped squirrel sing. And then ye
may leave your bed and look around."
Now the younger wife was ever impatient, and when the chick-a-dee-dee
sang she would have leaped up at once, but the elder restrained her.
"Wait," she said, "my sister, until we hear the _Abalkakmooech_."
[Footnote: Ground squirrel] And she lay still till the _Adoo-doo-dech_
[Footnote: Red squirrel] began his early chatter and his morning's work.
Then, without waiting, she jumped up, as did the elder, when they found
themselves indeed on earth, but in the summit of a tall, spreading
hemlock-tree, and that in such a manner that they could not descend
without assistance. And it had come to pass in this wise: for as each
song was sung by the bird and the squirrels, they had come nearer and
nearer to the earth; even as the light of day drew near, but as they
could not delay they had been deserted. [Footnote: A want of patience
or of dignity, and restlessness, are more scorned by every Indian than
any other fault. This is not the only story in which people are represented
as being punished for being unable to bide their time. Glooskap was
specially severe on all such sinners.]
And as they sat there and day dawned, men of the different Indian
families went by, and unto all of these they cried for help. It is true
that their star husbands had made for them in the tree, a bed of moss,
but they cared not to rest in the hemlock, for all that. [Footnote: In
another very full version of this legend (M.), the water-wives are
called Weasels (_Uskoolsh_), "from their great whiteness." This,
however, indicates supernatural fairness or beauty. In the same story
the tree is a pine, not a hemlock. Insignificant as these differences
may appear, they are of primary importance in the elucidation of a
myth.] And of all the beasts of the forest or men of the clearing, who
should be the first to appear but Team, or Master Moose, himself. And
to him they cried, "_N'sesenen-apkwahlin, n'sesenen_!" "Oh, our
elder brother, let us free; take us down, and we will be your two dear
little wives, and go home with you." But he, looking up scornfully,
said, "I was married this autumn." And so he went his way.
And he who next came was the shaggy Bear, or _mooin_, to whom they
made the same request, offering themselves for no higher price than to
be taken down safely out of their nest. But he growled out that he had
been married in the spring, and that one wife was enough for any man.
So he went his way. [Footnote: N. B.--There is a joke here. The animals
who pass by the tree each mate at the season of the year when they
declare that they were married. The White Ladies, weasels or ermines,
therefore, came at the wrong time. The fickle, variable nature ascribed
to woman, _varium et mutabile semper femina_, is supposed to be
most decidedly expressed by such slender, slippery, active little
animals.]
And then who should come along but Marten himself, even the
Abistanooch, whom they had deserted! And they cried out for joy,
begging him to take them back. But he, behaving as if they were utter
strangers, replied that he had been married in the early spring to one
of his own tribe, and unto a damsel whose name was Marten, and that it
was not seemly for animals to wed out of their own land. So he
scampered off, leaving the little Weasels all alone.
And last of all came Lox, whom hunters call the Indian Devil,
[Footnote: In the Micmac it is the Badger, Keekwajoo, who is the rogue
and teaser of the tale. But in the Passamaquoddy versions it is the
dreaded and mysterious Lox, who appears to be a species of Lynx or
Wolverine. The Lox is said, by trustworthy white travelers as well as
Indians, to follow hunting parties for weeks, inspired apparently only
by an incredible mania for mischief, much like that of a monkey or a
revengeful savage, but guided by remarkable intelligence. He will find
his way into a camp and destroy every object made by the hand of man
with a thoroughness akin to genius, and what he cannot destroy he will
carry to a great distance and carefully conceal. As his ferocity is
equal to his craftiness, he is very appropriately termed the Indian
Devil.] and others the Wolverine, who is exceeding subtle above the
beasts of the forest, and who is gifted with more evil mischief than
all of them in one. And when the Weasels called to him for help he
tarried, for it came into his heart that he might in some way torment
and tease them. But verily he had to deal with those who were not much
more virtuous than himself, and quite as cunning, for what with
traveling from the earth to the heavens and changing husbands, these
fair minevers were learning wisdom rapidly. So the elder sister, who
had not the least idea of keeping her promise unless it suited her
fancy, played a trick, and that quickly anon. For she at once took off
her hair-string [Footnote: The Hair-String, _Saggalobee_ (M),
occurs very often in Indian legends, generally as gifted with magic.
The Indian women allowed their hair to grow long, then doubled it upon
the back of the head, often making additions of something to enlarge
the roll. It was then bound in a bunch with the string.] and tied it
into a few less than a hundred knots among the twigs of the trees,
tangling it so that you would have deemed it a week's work before a man
could loosen it again without injury.
Now Master Lox, having taken down the younger sister with all the
politeness in the world, came for the other, and aided her also to
descend. And when on the ground she indeed said, "_Willcr-oon_" "I
thank you" (P.), but begged him to go up the tree again and bring down
a great treasure which she had left there, her hair-string: beseeching
him for all their lives not to break or injure it in any way, but to
most carefully untie every knot, for thus doing it would bring untold
felicity on them all; and that they, the Weasels, would meantime build
a beautiful bridal bower, or a wigwam, and that so furnished as he had
never seen the like before,--in which verily they kept their word.
For they speedily built the wigwam, but the furniture thereof was of
this rare kind. The Weasels had, it seems, certain sworn friends,--for
birds of a feather flock together,--and these were not far to seek, as
they were the Thorns, Burrs, and Briers of all kinds, Hornets and other
winged and stinged insects, besides the Ants. And they were, moreover,
intimate with all the sharp-edged Flints in the land, which was a
goodly company. So when the bower was built it had therein a hornet's
nest for a bridal bed, thorns for a carpet, flints for a floor, and an
ant's nest for a seat, which for a bare-footed and bare-breeched Indian
is indeed a sore essay. Now it had taken Master Lox the entire day to
untie the hair-string, so when he came down it was dark, and he was
glad when he saw the hut and thought of resting therein.
But, as he entered, he ran among the Thorns, which pierced his nose,
and Flints, which cut his feet, so that he roared aloud. Then he heard
a voice, which seemed to be that of the younger Miss Weasel, crying
"_Names-cole_" (M.), "Go to my sister, yonder!" So he went, and trod
in an ant-hill, and this was worse than the Briers. And then he heard
another voice on that side which cried, laughing, "_N'kwech-kale_!"
(M.), "Go to my sister, who is younger than I." And plunging furiously
through the darkness, he fell on the hornet's nest; and verily the last
state of that Indian was worst of all. Thus, seeing himself mocked, he
became furious; so that he who has by nature the very worst temper of
all beasts or men was never so angry before, and, seeking the tracks of
the Weasels, he pursued them as they fled in the night and through the
thick forest.
Now it came to pass that by daybreak the two girls, even the Misses
Weasel, had come to a broad river which they could not cross. But
In The edge of the water stood a large Crane, motionless, or the
_Tum-gwo-lig-unach_, who was the ferryman. Now truly this is
esteemed to be the least beautiful of all the birds, for which cause
he is greedy of good words and fondest of flattery. And of all beings
there were none who had more bear's oil ready to anoint every one's hair
with--that is to say, more compliments ready for everybody--than the
Weasels. So, seeing the Crane, they sang:--
"Wa wela quis kip pat kasqu',
Wa wela quis kip pat kasqu'." (P.)
The Crane has a very beautiful long neck,
The Crane has a very beautiful long neck.
This charmed the old ferryman very much, and when they said, "Please,
grandfather, hurry along," he came quickly. Seeing this, they began to
chant in chorus, sweetly as the Seven Stars themselves:--
"Wa wela quig nat kasqu',
Wa wela quig nat kasqu'." (P.)
The Crane has very beautiful long legs,
The Crane has very beautiful long legs.
Hearing this, the good Crane wanted more; so when they asked him to
give them a lift across, he answered slowly that to do so he must be
well paid, but that good praise would answer as well. Now they who had
abundance of this and to spare for everybody were these very girls.
"Have I not a beautiful form?" he inquired; and they both cried aloud,
"Oh, uncle, it is indeed beautiful!" "And my feathers?" "Ah,
_pegeakopchu_" (M.), "Beautiful and straight feathers indeed!"
"And have I not a charming long, straight neck?" "Truly our uncle has
it straight and long." "And will ye not acknowledge, oh, maidens, that
my legs are fine?" "Fine! oh, uncle, they are perfection. Never in this
life did we see such legs!" So being well pleased, the Crane put them
across, and then the two little Weasels scampered like mice into the
bush.
And scarcely were they concealed, or the Crane well again in his place,
ere Master Lox appeared. And being in no good temper he called to Uncle
Crane to set him across, and that speedily. Now the Crane had been made
mightily pleased and proud by the winsome words of the Weasels, and was
but little inclined to be rudely addressed. So he said to Lox, "I will
bear thee over the river if thou wilt bear witness to my beauty. Are
not my legs straight?" "Yea" replied the Lox, "and beautifully painted,
too." Now the color thereof was little pleasing to poor Uncle Crane.
"Are not my feathers very smooth and fine?" "Yea, smooth and fine; what
a pity, though, that they are mildewed and dusty!" "And my straight
neck?" "Yes, wonderfully straight,--straight as _this_" said Lox
to himself, taking up a crooked stick. And then he sang:--
"Mecha guiskipat kasqu',
Mecha quig nat kasqu'."
The Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.
"Come, _mooso me_ (grandfather), hurry up!"
Oh, the Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.
"I wish you to be quick, _mooso me_. Hurry up, I say!" [Footnote:
This dialogue, including the songs, is from a very curious
Passamaquoddy version of the tale, sent to me by Louis Mitchell. As in
all such cases, there is far more humor in the Passamaquoddy narratives
than in the Micmac or Eskimo.]
And all of this ill-temper and insincerity was deeply and inwardly
detected by Uncle Crane, but he said not a word, and only meekly bent
him down to take the traveler on his back. But when in the stream, and
where it was deepest and most dangerous, he gave himself a shake, and
in another instant Lox was whirling round and round like a chip in the
rapids. And yet a little time he was dashed against the rocks, and then
anon was thrown high and dry on the shore, but dead as a seven-year-old
cedar cone.
Now the Lox is a great magician at certain times and seasons, albeit
his power fails at others. [Footnote: From this point of the legend
onward there is an inextricable confusion as regards the four different
versions. While the hero is decidedly a Badger in the Micmac, I regard
the great ferocity, craft, and above all the vitality which he displays
as far more characteristic of the Lox or Wolverine of the Passamaquoddy.
What is almost decisively in favor of the latter theory is that in all
the stories, despite his craft and power, he is always getting himself
into trouble through them. This is eminently characteristic of the Lox,
much less so of the Badger.] And he is one of those who rise from the
dead. Now it came to pass that some days after two boys of the Kwedech
or Mohawk race found the Lox lying dead on a rock in the sunshine, and
the worms were crawling from him. But when they touched him he arose as
if from sleep, and stood before them as a proud and fierce warrior. But
he was scarce alive ere he sought to do them who had roused him to life
a mischief; for having noted that they had fine bows, he got them into
his hands, and broke them, yet all as if he meant it not. [Footnote: In
the Passamaquoddy version of this tale, when Lox is thus dismembered,
the ants, pitying him, bring his scattered members together. As soon as
he recovers, the Wolverine, with characteristic ingratitude, amuses
himself by trampling his benefactors to death beneath his feet.] And
then by magic making a sound as of many children at play, afar off
across the next point of land by the river, he bade them run and join
the pleasant games. And when he had got them a space onward, lo, the
sound seemed ever farther on, mingled with the murmur of the stream;
and so they went without him, seeking it, and yet it wandered ever
far away.
Now he had learned from the boys that they were of a _Cullo_
family; and the Culloos are certain monstrous birds, exceeding fierce.
But Master Lox, having seen in the cabin plenty of fine meat, desired
greatly to become one of the family, and having been much about in life
knew something of the ways of every one. So putting on the Culloo
style, he, seeing a babe, began to sing with the most natural air in
the world a Culloo nursery-song:--
"Agoo ge abeol,
Wetkusanabeol."
[Footnote: Micmac.]
A seal-skin strap,
A shoulder-strap.
Now it costs very little to fall into the humor of a man; but this the
woman would not do, and told him plainly that he could not deceive her.
On hearing which Master Lox, in a great rage, seized his tomahawk and
slew her. Then seeing a kettle boiling on the fire, he cut off her head
and put it into the pot, hiding the body. And this was a merry jest
after his own heart, so that it greatly solaced him. But after a time,
the two boys, returning, missed their mother, and looking into the
kettle, found her head. Then they knew well who had done this. And,
being fearless, they pursued him, but having no bows they could do him
no harm; however, they took from him his gloves, and with these they
returned.
And anon there came also an uncle of the boys, or _Kah-kah-goos_
(P.), the Crow. So he gave chase to Lox, yet all that he could do was
to snatch away his cap as he ran. Yet without shame he cried aloud,
"Well, my head was getting warm, and now I am cooler. Thank you!"
[Illustration: LOX CARRIED OFF BY CULLOO]
Then came another relative, _Kitpoo_, the Eagle (M.). And he,
pursuing Lox, took from him his coat. Yet all unabashed he replied,
"Thanks unto you also; for I was just wishing that my younger brother
were here to carry my coat for me." But he who now arrived, hearing of
the deadly deed, was the great Culloo himself, the most terrible of all
created creatures, and he, pursuing Lox, caught him up, and carrying
him in his claws, even to the summit of the sky itself, let him drop,
and he was a whole day in falling; even from the first dawn unto sunset
he went down ere he touched the earth. But before he was let drop, and
when on high, he burst into a mocking song on what he saw, and the
words were as follows:--
"Kumut kenovek,
Telap tumun ek,
Stugach' kesenagasikel,
Yog wa egen'
Yog wa egeno
Telap tumen ek
Kumut ken ooik'
Stuga 'mkudomoos koon."
Our country all lost
Seems clearly to us
As though it were all spread with boughs.
Heigh ho, hay hum!
Heigh ho, hay hum!
Our country now lost
Seems now unto us
To be blue like the clear blue sky.
Hum, hum--tol de rol!
And when let fall, this graceless jackanapes in nowise ceased his
ribaldry; for while pretending to flap with his arms as if they were
wings, he imitated with his mouth, mockingly, the _wish! wish!_ of
the wide wings of the Culloo. Yet ere he touched the earth he uttered
one little magic spell, "Oh, spare my poor backbone!" And with that all
the trouble of all the birds went for nothing. Truly he was mashed to a
batter, and his blood and brains flew in every direction, like
raspberry pudding; but among the remains his backbone lay whole, and
this was his life.
And in a few days after his younger brother came by, who, seeing the
dire mess, exclaimed, "Hey, what is all this?" [Footnote: The dead body
of a sorcerer must lie until addressed by some human being. Then it
revives. This is suggestive of vampirism, which is well known to the
Indians. There is something strangely ghastly in the idea of the Voice
calling separately to each dead limb to come to it. The Culloo is an
emblem of the cloud, and Lox let fall from one probably signified fire,
or the lightning.] Whereupon a Voice came from the bone, crying,
"_Nuloogoon, ba ho_!" "Ho, my leg, come hither!" and a leg came
unto the spine. Then the Voice cried," _N'petunagum, ba ho_!" "Ho, my
arm, come hither!" And when the last fragment had come he arose, the
same indomitable Lox as ever, even the Indian Devil, or Wolverine, who
never says Die, and whom nothing can kill, and who is hard to put away.
Now the two brothers went on till they came to the top of a high
mountain, where there lay a very great round rock, or a mighty boulder.
And being full of fun, they turned it over with great sticks, saying to
it, "Now let us run a race!" Then it rolled downhill till it stopped at
the foot, they rushing along by it all the time. And when it rested
they jeered it, and bade it race with them again, when it so listed.