of the other woman. First she dreamed that she was walking on hot sand
and roasting rocks in summer-time, and then that the Mohawks were
cooking her at the death-fire; and then she woke up, and, seeing where
she was, began to blame Mrs. Bear for it all, just as if she were a
Mohawk.
Ah, yes. Well, Master Lox, seeing them fighting in a great rage, burst
out laughing, so that he actually burst himself, and fell down dead
with delight. It was a regular side-splitter. When my grandfather said
_that_ we _always_ laughed.
In the morning, when the women came out, there lay a dead devil at the
door. He must indeed have looked like a Raccoon this time; but whatever
he was, they took him, skinned him, and dressed him for breakfast. Then
the kettle was hung and the water boiled, and they popped him in. But
as soon as it began to scald he began to come to life. In a minute he
was all together again, alive and well, and with one good leap went
clear of the kettle. Rushing out of the lodge, he grabbed his skin,
which hung on a bush outside, put it on, and in ten seconds was safe in
the greenwood. He just saved himself with a whole skin.
Now Master Lox had precious little time, you will say, to do any more
mischief between his coming to life and running away; yet, short as the
allowance was, he made a great deal of it. For even while jumping out
his wits for wickedness came to him, and he just kicked the edge of the
pot, so that it spilled all the scalding hot water into the fire, and
threw up the ashes with a great splutter. They flew into the eyes of
Dame Bear and blinded her.
Now this was hard on the old lady. She could not go out hunting, or set
traps, or fish any more; and her partner, being mean, kept all the nice
morsels for herself. Mrs. Bear only got the leanest and poorest of the
meat, though there was plenty of the best. As my grandfather used to
say, Mrs. Bear might have fared better if she had used her eyes earlier.
One day, when she was sitting alone in the wigwam, Mrs. Bear began to
remember all she had ever heard about eyes, and it came into her head
that sometimes they were closed up in such a way that clever folk could
cut them open again. So she got her knife and sharpened it, and,
carefully cutting a little, saw the light of day. Then she was glad
indeed, and with a little more cutting found that she could see as
well as ever. And as good luck does nut come single, the very first
thing she beheld was an abundance of beautiful fat venison, fish, and
maple-sugar hung up overhead.
Dame Bear said nothing about her having recovered her eyesight. She
watched all the cooking going on, and saw the daintiest dinner, which
all went into one platter, and a very poor lot of bones and scraps
placed in another. Then, when she was called to eat, she simply said to
the other woman, who kept the best, "Well, you have done well for
yourself!"
The other saw that Mrs. Bear had recovered her sight. She was
frightened, for Dame Bear was by far the better man of the two. So she
cried out, "Bless me! what a mistake I've made! Why, I gave you the
wrong dish. You know, my dear sister, that I always give you the best
because you are blind."
My grandfather said that after this Mrs. Bear kept her eyes open on
people in two ways. And it always made us laugh, _that_ did.
The Spirit of Mischief in these stories is sometimes Lox, the
Wolverine; at others the Raccoon, or the Badger. Their adventures are
interchangeable. But the character is always the same, and it is much
like that of Loki. Now Loki is Fire; and it may be observed in this
legend that the wolverine or raccoon comes to life when thrown into
scalding water, and that in another narrative Lox dies for want of
fire; in another he is pricked by thorns and stung by ants. "We must,"
says C. F. Keary, in his Mythology of the Eddas, "admit that the
constant appearance of thorn-hedges, pricking with a sleep-thorn (Lox's
thorns are his bed), in German and Norse legends, is a mythical way of
expressing the idea of the funeral _fire_."
The first thing that the Lox-Raccoon does in this tale, on coming to
life, is to upset a pot into the ashes for mischief's sake. And the
very first exploit of the magic deer, made by the evil spirits and
sorcerers in the Kalevala (Runes XIII.), is thus set forth:--
"Then the Husi stag went bounding,
Bounding to the land of Pohja,
Till he reached the fields of Lapland.
Passing there before a cabin (_goatte_),
With a single kick while running
He upset the boiling kettle,
So that all the meat went rolling,
Rolling ruined in the ashes,
And the soup upon the hearth-stone."
This is, in both cases, the very first act of an animal, created and
living only for mischief, on coming to a magic or artificial life.
The legends of Finland and Lapland are as important as the Norse to
explain the origin of our Indian mythology.
_How Lox came to Grief by trying to catch a Salmon._
(Passamaquoddy.)
Kusk, the Crane, had two brothers. One of these was Lox, the Wolverine,
or Indian Devil. And his other brother was Koskomines, the Blue Jay.
Kusk was very lazy, and one day, being hungry, thought he would go and
get a dinner from Lox. Lox served him a kind of pudding-soup in a
broad, flat platter. Poor Kusk could hardly get a mouthful, while Lox
hipped it all up with ease.
Soon after, Kusk made a fine soup, and invited Lox to dinner. This he
served up in a jug, a long cylinder. None of it had Lox. Kusk ate it
all.
The next day the pair went to dine with Blue Jay. Blue Jay said, "Wait
till I get our food." Then he ran out on a bough of a tree which spread
over a river, and in a minute fished out a large salmon. "Truly,"
thought Lox, "that is easy to do, and I can do it."
So the next day he invited the Blue Jay and Crane to feed with him.
Then he, too, ran down to the river and out on a tree, and, seeing a
fine salmon, caught at it with his claws. But he had not learned the
art, and so fell into the river, and was swept away by the rushing
current.
This is one of AEsop's fables Indianized and oddly eked out with a
fragment from a myth attributed to both Manobozho and the Wabanaki
Rabbit. As the Wolverine has a great resemblance to Loki, it may be
here observed that, while he dies in trying to catch a salmon, "Loki,
in the likeness of a salmon, cast himself into the waterfall of
Franangr." which was effectively his last act in life before being
captured by the gods, as told in the Edda. Otter, in the Edda, caught a
salmon, and was then caught by Loki. There is, of course, great
confusion here, but the Indian tale is a mere fragment, carelessly
pieced and indifferently told. Lox is, like Loki, _fire_ and
perishes by water.
_How Master Lox as a Raccoon killed the Bear and the Black Cats and
performed other Notable Feats of Skill, all to his Great Discredit._
(Passamaquoddy.)
Now of old time there is a tale of Hespuns, the Raccoon, according to
the Passamaquoddy Indians, but by another record it is Master Lox, to
whom all Indian deviltry truly belongs. And this is the story. One fine
morning Master Lox started off as a Raccoon; [Footnote: The same
stories are attributed to the Wolverine, Badger, and Raccoon.] for he
walked the earth in divers disguises, to take his usual roundabouts,
and as he went he saw a huge bear, as the manuscript reads, "right
straight ahead of him."
Now the old Bear was very glad, to see the Raccoon, for he had made up
his mind to kill him at once if he could: firstly, to punish him for
his sins; and secondly, to eat him for breakfast. Then the Raccoon ran
into a hollow tree, the Bear following, and beginning to root it up.
Now the Coon saw that in a few minutes the tree would go and he be
gone. But he began to sing as if he did not care a bean, and said, "All
the digging and pushing this tree will never catch me. Push your way in
backwards, and then I must yield and die. But that you cannot do, since
the hole is too small for you." Then Mooin, the Bruin, hearing this,
believed it, but saw that he could easily enlarge the hole, which he
did, and so put himself in arrear; upon which the Raccoon seized him,
and held on till he was slain. [Footnote: As Reynard, the Fox, won the
victory in the famous tale versified by Goethe. Vide _Reinecke
Fuchs_.]
Then he crawled out of the tree, and, having made himself a fine pair
Of mittens out of the Bear's skin, started off again, and soon saw a
wigwam from which rose a smoke, and, walking in, he found a family of
_Begemkessisek_, or Black Cats. So, greeting them, he said,
"Young folks, comb me down and make me nice, and I will give you these
beautiful bear-skin mittens." So the little Black Cats combed him down,
and parted his hair, and brushed his tail, and while they were doing this
he fell asleep; and they, being very hungry, took the fresh bear-skin
mitts, and scraped them all up, and cooked and ate them. Then the Coon,
waking up, looked very angry at them, and said in an awful voice,
"Where are my bear-skin mitts?" And they, in great fear, replied,
"Please, sir, we cooked and ate them." Then the Coon flew at them and
strangled them every one, all except the youngest, who, since he could
not speak as yet, the Raccoon, or Lox, thought could not tell of him.
Then, for a great joke, he took all the little dead creatures and set
them up by the road-side in a row; as it was a cold day they all froze
stiff, and then he put a stick across their jaws, so that the little
Black Cats looked as if they were laughing for joy. Then he made off at
full speed.
Soon the father, the old Black Cat, came home, and, seeing his children
all grinning at him, he said, "How glad the dear little things are to
see me." But as none moved he saw that something was wrong, and his joy
soon changed to sorrow. [Footnote: This trick is so precisely in the
style of Lox that it seems a gross mistake to attribute it to the
Raccoon. Those who have seen a wild cat grin will appreciate the humor
of Lox on this occasion.]
Then the youngest Black Cat, the baby, came out of some hole where he
had hid himself. Now the baby was too young to speak, but he was very
clever, and, picking up a piece of charcoal, he made a mark from the
end of his mouth around his cheek. [Footnote: The reader cannot fail to
recall the peculiar mustache of the Raccoon so well indicated by the
infant artist.] Then the father cried, "Ah, _now_ I know who it
was,--the Raccoon, as sure as I live!" And he started after him in hot
pursuit.
Soon the Raccoon saw the fierce Black Cat, as an Indian, coming after
him with a club. And, looking at him, he said, "No club can kill me;
nothing but a bulrush or cat-tail can take my life." Then the Black
Cat, who knew where to get one, galloped off to a swamp, and, having
got a large cat-tail, came to the Coon and hit him hard with it. It
burst and spread all over the Raccoon's head, and, being wet, the fuzz
stuck to him. And the Black Cat, thinking it was the Coon's brains and
all out, went his way.
The Raccoon lay quite still till his foe was gone, and then went on his
travels. Now he was a great magician, though little to other folks'
good. And he came to a place where there were many women nursing their
babes, and said, "This is but a slow way you have of raising children."
To which the good women replied, "How else should we raise them?" Then
he answered, "I will show you how we do in our country. When we want
them to grow fast, we dip them into cold water over night. Just lend me
one, and I will show you how to raise them in a hurry." They gave him
one: he took it to the river, and, cutting a hole in the ice, put the
child into it. The next morning he went to the place, and took out a
full-grown man, alive and well. The women were indeed astonished at
this. All hastened to put their babes that night under the ice, and
then the Raccoon rushed away. So they all died.
Then he came to another camp, where many women with fine stuff and furs
were making bags. "That is a very slow way you have of working," he
said to the goodwives. "In our country we cook them under the ashes.
Let me see the stuff and show you how!" They gave him a piece: he put
it under the hot coals and ashes, and in a few minutes drew out from
them a beautiful bag. Then they all hurried to put their cloth under
the fire. Just then he left in haste. And when they drew the stuff out
it was scorched or burned, and all spoiled.
Then he came to a great river, and did not know how to get across. He
saw on the bank an old _Wiwillmekq'_, a strange worm which is like
a horned, alligator; but he was blind. "Grandfather," said the Raccoon,
"carry me over the lake." "Yes, my grandson," said the Wiwillmekq', and
away he swam; the Ravens and Crows above began to ridicule them. "What
are those birds saying?" inquired the Old One. "Oh, they are crying to
you to hurry, hurry, for your life, with that Raccoon!" So the
Wiwillmekq', not seeing land ahead, hurried with such speed that the
Raccoon made him run his head and half his body into the bank, and then
jumped off and left him. But whether the Wiwillmekq' ever got out again
is more than he ever troubled himself to know.
So he went on till he came to some Black Berries, and said, "Berries,
how would you agree with me if I should eat you?" "Badly indeed, Master
Coon," they replied, "for we are Choke-berries." "Choke-berries,
indeed! Then I will have none of you." And then further he found on
some bushes, Rice-berries. "Berries," he cried, "how would you agree
with me if I should eat you?" "We should make you itch, for we are
Itch-berries." "Ah, that is what I like," he replied, and so ate his
fill. Then as he went on he felt very uneasy: he seemed to be tormented
with prickles, he scratched and scratched, but it did not help or cure.
So he rubbed himself on a ragged rock; he slid up and down it till the
hair came off.
Now the Raccoon is bare or has little fur where he scratched himself,
to this very day. This story is at an end.
This story is from the Passamaquoddy Indian-English collection made for
me by Louis Mitchell. In the original, the same incident of boiling the
hero in a kettle and of his springing out of it occurs as in the tale
of Mrs. Bear and the Raccoon. This I have here omitted. The
Mephistophelian and mocking character of Lox is strongly shown when he
says, "Nothing but a cat-tail or bulrush can kill me," this being
evidently an allusion to Glooskap. This is to an Indian much like
blasphemy. Lox, or Raccoon, or Badger,--for they are all the same,--in
his journeyings after mere mischief reminds us of an Indian Tyl
Eulenspiegel. But the atrocious nature of his jokes is like nothing
else, unless it be indeed the homicide Punch. It is the indomitable
nature of both which commends them respectively to the Englishman and
to the Red Indian. In this tale Lox appears as the spirit of fire by
drawing a bag from it. The itching or pricking from which he suffers is
also significant of that element, as appears, according to Keary, in
many Norse, etc., legends.
In the Seneca tale of the Mischief Maker, the Berries are distinctly
declared to have souls.
_How Lox deceived the Ducks, cheated the Chief, and beguiled the
Bear._
(Micmac and Passamaquoddy.)
Somewhere in the forest lived Lox, with a small boy, his brother. When
winter came they went far into the woods to hunt. And going on, they
reached at last a very large and beautiful lake. It was covered with
water-fowl. There were wild geese and brant, black ducks and wood-ducks,
and all the smaller kinds down to teal and whistlers.
The small boy was delighted to see so much game. He eagerly asked his
brother how he meant to catch them. He answered, "We must first go to
work and build a large wigwam. It must be very strong, with a heavy,
solid door." This was done; and Lox, being a great magician, thus
arranged his plans for taking the wild-fowl. He sent the boy out to a
point of land, where he was to cry to the birds and tell them that his
brother wished to give them a kingly reception. (_Nakamit_, to act
the king.) He told them their king had come. Then Lox, arraying himself
grandly, sat with dignity next the door, with his eyes closed, as if in
great state. Then the little boy shouted that they might enter and hear
what the great sagamore had to say. They flocked in, and took their
seats in the order of their size. The Wild Geese came nearest and sat
down, then the Ducks, and so on to the smallest, who sat nearest the
door. Last of all came the boy, who entering also sat down by the door,
closed it, and held it fast. So the little birds, _altumabedajik_
(M.), sat next to him.
Then they were all told "_Spegwedajik_!" "Shut your eyes!" and
were directed to keep them closed for their very lives, until directed
to open them again. Unless they did this first, their eyes would be
blinded forever when they beheld their king in all his magnificence. So
they sat in silence. Then the sorcerer, stepping softly, took them one
by one, grasping each tightly by the wings, and ere the bird knew what
he was about it had its head crushed between his teeth. And so without
noise or fluttering he killed all the Wild Geese and Brant and Black
Ducks. Then the little boy began to pity the poor small wild-fowl. He
thought it was a shame to kill so many, having already more than they
needed. So stooping down, he whispered to a very little bird to open
its eyes. It did so, but very cautiously indeed, for fear of being
blinded.
Great was his horror to see what Lox was doing! He screamed,
"_Kedumeds'lk_!" "We are all being killed!" Then they opened their
eyes, and flew about in the utmost confusion, screaming loudly in
terror. The little boy dropped down as if he had been knocked over in
the confusion, so that the door flew wide open, and the birds, rushing
over him, began to, escape, while Lox in a rage continued to seize them
and kill them with his teeth. Then the little boy, to avoid suspicion,
grasped the last fugitive by the legs and held him fast. But he was
suspected all the same by the wily sorcerer, who caught him up roughly,
and would have beaten him cruelly but that he earnestly protested that
the birds knocked him down and forced the door open, and that he could
by no means help it: which being somewhat slowly believed, he was
forgiven, and they began to pluck and dress the game. The giblets were
preserved, the fowls sliced and dried and laid by for the winter's
store.
Then having plenty of provisions, Lox gave a feast. Among the guests
were Marten and Mahtigwess, the Rabbit, who talked together for a long
time in the most confidential manner, the Rabbit confiding and the
Marten attending to him.
Now while this conversation had been going on, Lox, who was deeply
addicted to all kinds of roguery and mischief, had listened to it with
interest. And when the two little guests had ceased he asked them where
their village was, and who lived in it. Then he was told that all the
largest animals had their homes there: the bear, caribou or reindeer,
deer, wolf, wild cat, to say nothing of squirrels and mice. And having
got them to show him the way, he some time after turned himself into a
young woman of great beauty, or at least disguised himself like one,
and going to the village married the young chief. And having left
little Marten alone in a hollow tree outside the village, the boy,
getting hungry, began to howl for food; which the villagers hearing
were in a great fright. But the young chiefs wife, or the magician
Lox, soon explained to them what it meant. "It is," she-he said,
"_Owoolakumooejit_, the Spirit of Famine. He is grim and gaunt;
hear how he howls for food! Woe be unto you, should he reach this
village! Ah, I remember only too well what happened when he once
came among us. Horror! starvation!"
"Can you drive him back?" cried all the villagers.
"Yes, 'tis in my power. Do but give me the well-tanned hide of a
yearling moose and a good supply of moose-tallow, [Footnote: A great
delicacy among these semi-Arctic Indians.] then the noise will cease."
And seizing it, and howling furiously the name of his brother after a
fashion which no one could understand,--_Aa-chowwa'n_!--and
bidding him begone, he rushed out into the night, until he came to
Marten, to whom he gave the food, and, wrapping him up well in the
moose-skin, bade him wait a while. And the villagers thought the
chief's wife was indeed a very great conjurer.
And then she-he announced that a child would soon be born. And when the
day came Badger handed out a bundle, and said that the babe was in it.
"_Noolmusugakelaimadijul_," "They kiss it outside the blanket."
But when the chief opened it what he found therein was the dried,
withered embryo of a moose-calf. In a great rage he flung it into the
fire, and all rushed headlong in a furious pack to catch Badger. They
saw him and Marten rushing to the lake. They pursued him, but when he
reached the bank the wily sorcerer cast in a stick; it turned into a
canoe, and long ere the infuriated villagers could reach them they were
on the opposite shore and in the woods.
Now it came to pass one day that as Lox sat on a log a bear came by,
who, being a sociable fellow, sat down by him and smoked a pipe. While
they were talking a gull flew over, and inadvertently offered to Lox
what he considered, or affected to consider, as a great insult. And
wiping the insult off, Lox cried to the Gull, "Oh, ungrateful and
insolent creature, is this the way you reward me for having made you
white!"
Now the Bear would always be white if he could, for the White Bear
(_wabeyu mooin_) is the aristocrat of Beardom. So he eagerly
cried, "Ha! did you make the Gull white?"
"Indeed I did," replied Lox. "And this is what I get for it."
"Could you, my dear friend,--could you make _me_ white?"
Then Lox saw his way, and replied that he could indeed, but that it
would be a long and agonizing process; Mooin might die of it. To be
sure the Gull stood it, but could a Bear?
Now the Bear, who had a frame as hard as a rock, felt sure that he
could endure anything that a gull could, especially to become a white
bear. So, with much ceremony, the Great Enchanter went to work. He
built a strong wigwam, three feet high, of stones, and having put the
Bear into it he cast in red-hot stones, and poured water on them
through a small hole in the roof. Erelong the Bear was in a terrible
steam.
"Ah, Doctor Lox," he cried, "this is awfully hot! I fear I am dying!"
"Courage," said Lox; "this is nothing. The Gull had it twice as hot."
"Can't stand it any more, doctor. _O-o-o-oh_!"
Doctor Lox threw in more hot stones and poured more water on them. The
Bear yelled.
"Let me out! _O-o-h_! let me out! _O-o-o-oh_!"
So he came bursting through the door. The doctor examined him
critically.
Now there is on an old bear a small white or light spot on his upper
breast, which he cannot see. [Footnote: This is very white on the
Japanese bears.] And Doctor Lox, looking at this, said,--
"What a pity! You came out just as you were beginning to turn white.
Here is the first spot. Five minutes more and you'd have been a white
bear. Ah, you haven't the pluck of a gull; that I can see."
Now the Bear was mortified and disappointed. He had not seen the spot,
so he asked Lox if it was really there.
"Wait a minute," said the doctor. He led the Bear to a pool and made
him look in. Sure enough, the spot was there. Then he asked if they
could not begin again.
"Certainly we can," replied the doctor. "But it will be much hotter and
harder and longer this time. Don't try it if you feel afraid, and don't
blame _me_ if you die of it."
The Bear went in again, but he never came out alive. The doctor had
roast bear meat all that winter, and much bear's oil. He gave some of
the oil to his younger brother. The boy took it in a measure. Going
along the creek, he saw a Muskrat (_Keuchus_, Pass.). He said to
the Muskrat, "If you can harden this oil for me, I will give you half."
The Muskrat made it as hard as ice. The boy said, "If my brother comes
and asks you to do this for him, do you keep it all." And, returning,
he showed the oil thus hardened to his brother, who, taking a large
measure of it, went to the Muskrat and asked him to harden it. The
Muskrat indeed took the dish and swam away with it, and never returned.
Then the elder, vexed with the younger, and remembering the ducks in
the wigwam, and believing now that he had indeed been cheated, slew
him.
[Illustration: THE INDIAN BOY AND THE MUSK-RAT. SEEPS, THE DUCK.]