one virtue he had, that he never gave up. [Footnote: It will be seen in
the end that this great Indian virtue of never giving in eventually
raised Rabbit to power and prosperity. _Il y a de morale ici_.]
And wandering one day in the wilderness, he found a wigwam well filled
with young women, all wearing red head-dresses; and no wonder, for they
were Woodpeckers. Now, Master Rabbit was a well-bred Indian, who made
himself as a melody to all voices, and so he was cheerfully bidden to
bide to dinner, which he did. Then one of the red-polled pretty girls,
taking a _woltes_, or wooden dish, lightly climbed a tree, so that
she seemed to run; and while ascending, stopping here and there and
tapping now and then, took from this place and that many of those
insects called by the Indians _apchel-moal-timpkawal_, or rice,
because they so much resemble it. And note that this rice is a dainty
dish for those who like it. And when it was boiled, and they had dined,
Master Rabbit again reflected, "La! how easily some folks live! What is
to hinder me from doing the same? Ho, you girls! come over and dine
with me the day after to-morrow!"
And having accepted this invitation, all the guests came on the day
set, when Master Rabbit undertook to play woodpecker. So having taken
the head of an eel-spear and fastened it to his nose to make a bill, he
climbed as well as he could--and bad was the best--up a tree, and tried
to get his harvest of rice. Truly he got none; only in this did he
succeed in resembling a Woodpecker, that he had a red poll; for his
pate was all torn and bleeding, bruised by the fishing-point. And the
pretty birds all looked and laughed, and wondered what the Rabbit was
about.
"Ah!" said his grandmother, "I suppose he is trying again to do
something which he has seen some one do. 'T is just like him."
"Oh, come down there!" cried Miss Woodpecker, as well as she could for
laughing. "Give me your dish!" And having got it she scampered up the
trunk, and soon brought down a dinner. But it was long ere Master
Rabbit heard the last of it from these gay tree-tappers.
_III. Of the Adventure with Mooin, the Bear; it being the Third and
Last Time that Master Rabbit made a Fool of himself._
Now, truly, one would think that after all that had befallen Master
_Mahtigwess_, the Rabbit, that he would have had enough of trying
other people's trades; but his nature was such that, having once set
his mighty mind to a thing, little short of sudden death would cure
him. And being one day with the Bear in his cave, he beheld with great
wonder how _Mooin_ fed his folk. For, having put a great pot on
the fire, he did but cut a little slice from his own foot and drop it
into the boiling water, when it spread and grew into a mess of meat
which served for all. [Footnote: Mr. Rand observes that this is
evidently an allusion to the bear's being supposed to live during the
winter by sucking his own paws.] Nay, there was a great piece given to
Rabbit to take home to feed his family.
"Now, truly," he said, "this is a thing which I can indeed do. Is it
not recorded in the family wampum that whatever a Bear can do well a
Rabbit can do better? "So, in fine, he invited his friend to come and
dine with him, _Ketkewopk'_, the day after to-morrow.
And the Bear being there, Rabbit did but say, "_Noogume' kuesawal'
wohu_!" "Grandmother, set your pot to boiling!" And, whetting his
knife on a stone, he tried to do as the Bear had done; but little did
he get from his small, thin soles, though he cut himself madly and
sadly.
"What can he be trying to do?" growled the guest.
"Ah!" sighed the grandmother, "something which he has seen some one
else do."
"Ho! I say there! Give me the knife," quoth Bruin. And, getting it, he
took a slice from his sole, which did him no harm, and then, what with
magic and fire, gave them a good dinner. But Master Rabbit was in sad
case, and it was many a day ere he got well.
_IV. Relating how the Rabbit became Wise by being Original, and of
the Terrible Tricks which he by Magic played Loup-Cervier, the Wicked
Wild Cat._
There are men who are bad at copying, yet are good originals, and of
this kind was Master Rabbit, who, when he gave up trying to do as
others did, succeeded very well. And, having found out his foible, he
applied himself to become able in good earnest, and studied
_m'teoulin_, or magic, so severely that in time he grew to be an
awful conjurer, so that he could raise ghosts, crops, storms, or devils
whenever he wanted them. [Footnote: The three previous chapters of the
Rabbit legend are from the Micmac. The rest is Passamaquoddy, as told
by Tomah Josephs, who in his narration not only often interpolated
jocose remarks, but was wont to ejaculate "By Jolly!" especially in the
most striking scenes. I think that with him the interjection had become
refined and dignified.] For he had perseverance, and out of this may
come anything, if it be only brought into the right road.
Now it came to pass that Master Rabbit got into great trouble. The
records of the Micmacs say that it was from his stealing a string of
fish from the Otter, who pursued him; but the Passamaquoddies declare
that he was innocent of this evil deed, probably because they make
great account of him as their ancestor and as the father of the
Wabanaki. Howbeit, this is the way in which they tell the tale.
Now the Rabbit is the natural prey of the Loup-Cervier, or Lusifee, who
is a kind of wild cat, none being more obstinate. And this Wild Cat
once went hunting with a gang of wolves, and they got nothing. Then
Wild Cat, who had made them great promises and acted as chief, became
angry, and, thinking of the Rabbit, promised them that this time they
should indeed get their dinner. So he took them to Rabbit's wigwam; but
he was out, and the Wolves, being vexed and starved, reviled Wild Cat,
and then rushed off howling through the woods.
Now I think that the Rabbit is _m'teoulin_. Yes, he must be, for
when Wild Cat started to hunt him alone, he determined with all his
soul not to be caught, and made himself as magical as he could. So he
picked up a handful of chips, and threw one as far as possible, then
jumped to it,--for he had a charm for a long jump; and then threw
another, and so on, for a great distance. This was to make no tracks,
and when he thought he had got out of scent and sight and sound he
scampered away like the wind.
[Illustration: THE RABBIT MAGICIAN.]
Now, as I said, when the wolves got to Master Rabbit's house and found
nothing, they smelt about and left Wild Cat, who swore by his tail that
he would catch Rabbit, if he had to hunt forever and run himself to
death. So, taking the house for a centre, he kept going round and round
it, all the time a little further, and so more around and still further.
[Footnote: While telling this, Tomah described a spiral line. It is
evident that if the volute were only continued long enough it must
inevitably end in finding any trail, if the point of departure be only
known. This device is familiar to all Indians, and it is mentioned in
other stories.] Then at last having found the track, he went in hot haste
after Mr. Rabbit. And both ran hard, till, night coming on, Rabbit, to
protect himself, had only just time _to trample down the snow a little,
and stick up a spruce twig on end and sit on it_. But when Wild Cat
came up he found there a fine wigwam, and put his head in. All that he
saw was an old man of very grave and dignified appearance, whose hair
was gray, and whose majestic (_sogmoye_) appearance was heightened
by a pair of long and venerable ears. And of him Wild Cat asked in a
gasping hurry if he had seen a Rabbit running that way.
"Rabbits!" replied the old man. "Why, of course I have seen many. They
abound in the woods about here. I see dozens of them every day." With
this he said kindly to Wild Cat that he had better tarry with him for a
time. "I am an old man," he remarked with solemnity,--"an old man,
living alone, and a respectable guest, like you, sir, comes to me like
a blessing." And the Cat, greatly impressed, remained. After a good
supper he lay down by the fire, and, having run all day, was at once
asleep, and made but one nap of it till morning. But how astonished,
and oh, how miserable he was, when he awoke, to find himself on the
open heath in the snow and almost starved! The wind blew as if it had a
keen will to kill him; it seemed to go all through his body. Then he
saw that he had been a fool and cheated by magic, and in a rage swore
again by his teeth, as well as his tail, that the Rabbit should die.
There was no hut now, only the trampled snow and a spruce twig, and yet
out of this little, Rabbit had conjured up so great a delusion.
Then he ran again all day. And when night came, Master Rabbit, having a
little more time than before, again trampled down the snow, but for a
greater space, and strewed many branches all about, for now a huge
effort was to be made. And when Wild Cat got there he found a great
Indian village, with crowds of people going to and fro. The first
building he saw was a church, in which service was being held. And he,
entering, said hastily to the first person he saw, "Ha! ho! have you
seen a Rabbit running by here?"
"Hush--sh, sh!" replied the man. "You must wait till meeting is over
before asking such questions." [Footnote: Though this story is very
old, the incident of the church (_sogmoye wigwam_, or chief house)
is manifestly modern.] Then a young man beckoned to him to come in, and
he listened till the end to a long sermon on the wickedness of being
vindictive and rapacious; and the preacher was a gray ancient, and his
ears stood up over his little cap like the two handles of a pitcher,
yet for all that the Wild Cat's heart was not moved one whit. And when
it was all at an end he said to the obliging young man, "But
_have_ you seen a Rabbit running by?"
"Rabbits! Rabbits!" replied the young man. "Why, there are hundreds
racing about in the cedar swamps near this place, and you can have as
many as you want." "Ah!" replied Wild Cat, "but they are not what I
seek. Mine is an entirely different kind." The other said that he knew
of no sort save the wild wood-rabbits, but that perhaps their Governor,
or Chief, who was very wise, could tell him all about them. Then the
Governor, or Sagamore, came up. Like the preacher, he was very
remarkable and gray, with the long locks standing up one on either side
of his head. And he invited the stranger to his house, where his two
very beautiful daughters cooked him a fine supper. And when he wished
to retire they brought out blankets and a beautiful _white bear's
skin_, and made up a bed for him by the fire. Truly, his eyes were
closed as soon as he lay down, but when he awoke there had been a great
change. For now he was in a wet cedar swamp, the wind blowing ten times
worse than ever, and his supper and sleep had done him little good, for
they were all a delusion. All around him were rabbits' tracks and
broken twigs, but nothing more.
Yet he sprang up, more enraged than ever, and swearing more terribly by
his tail, teeth, and claws that he would be revenged. So he ran on all
day, and at night, when he came to another large village, he was so
weary that he could just gasp, "Have--you--seen a Rab--bit run this
way?" With much concern and kindness they all asked him what was the
matter. So he told them all this story, and they pitied him very much;
yea, one gray old man,--and this was the Chief,--with two beautiful
daughters, shed tears and comforted him, and advised him to stay with
them. So they took him to a large hall, where there was a great fire
burning in the middle thereof. And over it hung two pots with soup and
meat, and two Indians stood by and gave food to all the people. And he
had his share with the rest, and all feasted gayly.
Now, when they had done eating, the old Governor, who was very gray,
and from either side of whose head rose two very venerable, long white
feathers, rose to welcome the stranger, and in a long speech said it
was, indeed, the custom of their village to entertain guests, but that
they expected from them a song. Then Wild Cat, who was vain of his
voice, uplifted it in vengeance against the Rabbits:--
"Oh, how I hate them!
How I despise them!
How I laugh at them!
May I scalp them all!"
Then he said that he thought the Governor should sing. And to this the
Chief consented, but declared that all who were present should bow
their heads while seated, and shut their eyes, which they did. Then
Chief Rabbit, at one bound, cleared the heads of his guests, and
drawing his _timheyen_, or tomahawk, as he jumped, gave Wild Cat a
wound which cut deeply into his head, and only fell short of killing
him by entirely stunning him. When he recovered, he was again in snow,
slush, and filth, more starved than ever, his head bleeding from a
dreadful blow, and he himself almost dead. Yet, with all that, the
Indian devil was stronger in him than ever, for every new disgrace did
but bring more resolve to be revenged, and he swore it by his tail,
claws, teeth, and eyes.
So he tottered along, though he could hardly walk; nor could he,
indeed, go very far that day. And when, almost broken down with pain
and weariness, he came about noon to two good wigwams. Looking into
one, he saw a gray-haired old man, and in the other a young girl,
apparently his daughter. And they received him kindly, and listened to
his story, saying it was very sad, the old man declaring that he must
really remain there, and that he would get him a doctor, since, unless
he were well cared for at once, he would die. Then he went forth as if
in great concern, leaving his daughter to nurse the weary, wounded
stranger.
Now, when the Doctor came, he, too, was an old gray man, with a
scalp-lock strangely divided like two horns. But the Wild Cat had
become a little suspicious, having been so often deceived, for much
abuse will cease to amuse even the most innocent; and truly he was
none of these. And, looking grimly at the Doctor, [Footnote: This
cross-examination of the Doctor is taken from an Abenaki version,
narrated by a St. Francis Indian to Miss Alger. This Indian is the
well-known Josep Cappino.] he said: "I was asking if any Rabbits are
here, and truly you look very much like one yourself. How did you get
that split nose?" "Oh, that is very simple," replied the old man. "Once
I was hammering wampum beads, and the stone on which I beat them broke
in halves, and one piece flew up, and, as you see, split my nose."
"But," persisted the Wild Cat, "why are the soles of your feet so yellow,
even like a Rabbit's?" "Ah, that is because I have been preparing some
tobacco, and I had to hold it down with my feet, for, truly, I needed
both my hands to work with. So the tobacco stained them yellow." Then
the Wild Cat suspected no more, and the Doctor put salve on his wound,
so that he felt much better, and, ere he departed, put by him a platter
of very delicate little round biscuits, or rolls, and a beautiful pitcher
full of nice wine, and bade him refresh himself from these during the
night, and so, stealing away softly, he departed.
But oh, the wretchedness of the awaking in the morning! For then Wild
Cat found himself indeed in the extreme of misery. His head was swollen
and aching to an incredible degree, and the horrible wound, which was
gaping wide, had been stuffed with hemlock needles and pine splinters,
and this was the cool salve which the Doctor had applied. And as a last
touch to his rage and shame, thinking in his deadly thirst of the wine,
he beheld on the ground, still left in the snow, a last summer's
pitcher-plant, half full of what might indeed pass for wine by the mere
sight thereof, though hardly to the taste. While seeking for the
biscuits on a platter, he found only certain small pellets, such as
abound about a rabbit warren. And then he swore by all his body and
soul that he would slay the next being he met, Rabbit or Indian. Verily
this time he would be utterly revenged.
Now Mahtigwess, the Rabbit, had almost come to an end of his
_m'teoulin_, or wizard power, for that time, yet he had still
enough left for one more great effort. And, coming to a lake, he picked
up a very large chip, and having seamed it with sorcery and magnified
it by magic threw it into the water, where it at once seemed to be a
great ship, such as white men build. And when the Wild Cat came up he
saw it, with sails spread and flags flying, and the captain stood so
stately on the deck, with folded arms, and he was a fine, gray-haired,
dignified man, with a cocked hat, the two points of which were like
grand and stately horns. But the Wild Cat had sworn, and he was mindful
of his great oath; so he cried, "You cannot escape me this time,
Rabbit! I have you now!" Saying this he plunged in, and tried to swim
to the ship. And the captain, seeing a Wild Cat in the water, being
engaged in musket drill, ordered his men to fire at it, which they did
with a bang! Now this was caused by a party of night-hawks overhead,
who swooped down with a sudden cry like a shot; at least it seemed so
to Wild Cat, who, deceived and appalled by this volley, deeming that he
had verily made a mistake this time, turned, tail and swam ashore into
the dark old forest, where, if he is not dead, he is running still.
[Footnote: This expression, very common among the Indians, appears to
have been taken from the Canadians, _Il court encore_ ends many of
their stories. This was related to me by Tomah Josephs, September 2,
1882. I have four versions of it. In one, the Chippewa, given by
Schoolcraft, the wretched efforts to rival the woodpeckers and bear are
attributed to a no less personage than Hiawatha, or Manobozho, himself,
when under a cloud. But Hiawatha as a poem deals only with the better
part of the hero's character. In the Rand manuscript, the most amusing
portion of the adventures of the Rabbit, or those with the Wild Cat,
are much abbreviated. Tomah's tale supplies this missing portion, but
consists of nothing else. The Abenaki tale is slightly different in its
beginning: "Rabbit was making maple-sugar in the woods, but he was very
pious, and rested on the Sabbath. While praying on this day by his
hearth, there came a great black fierce man, who glared at him, but
Mahtigwess kept saying 'Peace! peace! peace!' for that is the way the
Rabbit prays. Then the stranger was angry because he would not cease
praying and talk to him, but the Rabbit said, 'Would you have me break
the Sabbath?' Then he went and brought the stranger, who was a Wild
Cat, refreshments." These refreshments were the same as those given by
the Doctor. Here the chase begins.
There is probably much more of this story.]
_V. How Master Rabbit went to a Wedding and won the Bride._
(Passamaquoddy.)
Chee mahtigwess, or the Great Rabbit, was once very stout or large of
body, having a very long tail. And one day in the old times, as he sat
on the rock, with his fine long tail trailing afar into the bushes, an
old man came by who asked the way. And Master Rabbit, being as usual
obliging, offered to show it to him. So they talked together and grew
intimate, but as the old man went very slowly, while Rabbit was always
running, he said, "Go on before, and I will follow." So the guide was
soon out of sight, and then the old man, hurrying without heeding, fell
down into a deep pit or chasm, where he cried out aloud for help, but
was not heard. After a time, Rabbit, missing his follower, turned back
and tracked him till he found the pit. Yet they could not between them
manage to bring the traveler up again, until Rabbit said, "Catch hold
of my tail;" and when this was done he gave a jump, but alas! the fine
tail broke off short within an inch of the root.
One would think that by this time Master Rabbit must have had enough of
helping, but all the stories of him show that he never gave up anything
which he had once begun. So he simply said to the old man, "Catch hold
of me round the waist;" and when this was done he gave another leap,
and brought the prisoner out. But the man, being heavy, had slipped
down, and almost broken Rabbit's back. So it came to pass that since
that day Master Rabbit has had a very short tail and a slender waist.
The old man was on his way to marry a young girl. But she was in love
with Mikumwess, the forest fairy. However, the old man married her, and
invited Master Rabbit to the dance, which in old times made the
ceremony. And the guest dressed for the occasion by putting ear-rings
on his heels--for Rabbits or Hares dance on their tip-toes--and a
beautiful bangle round his neck, and he danced opposite the bride. Now
the bride had on only a very short skirt, and in crossing a brook it
had got wet. So that as she danced, it began to shrink and shrink,
until Master Rabbit, pitying the poor girl, ran out and got a deer-skin,
and hastily twisted a cord to tie it with. But it seemed as if Master
Rabbit's efforts to oblige people always got him into trouble, for he
twisted this string so rapidly and earnestly, holding one end of it in
his teeth as he did so, that he cut his upper lip through to the nose,
for which reason his descendants all have hare-lips to this day.
Now having dressed the bride, she was so grateful to Rabbit that she
danced with him all the night. The old man, seeing this, was so angry
at her fickleness that, without saying a word, he walked away, and left
her to Mahtigwess, with whom she lived very happily until she ran away
with Mikumwess; with whom, if she has not run away again, she is living
yet. This story is at an end.
_VI. How Master Rabbit gave himself Airs._
(Micmac.)
It happened once that Lox was living in great luxury. He had a wigwam
full of hundreds of dried sea-ducks, moose meat, maple sugar, and corn.
He gave a dinner, and among the guests invited Marten and Mahtigwess,
the Rabbit.
Now it is a great weakness of Master Rabbit that he is much given to
hinting at one minute, and saying pretty plainly the next, that he has
been in better society than that around him, and has lived among great
people, and no one was quicker than the Marten to find out that wherein
any one was foolish or feeble. So when Master Rabbit, smoothing down
his white fur, said it was the only kind of a coat worn by the
aristocracy, Marten humbly inquired, "if that were so, how he came by
it."
"It shows," replied Master Rabbit, "that I have habitually kept company
with gentlemen."
"How did you get that slit in your lip?" inquired Marten, who knew very
well what this Indian really was.
"Ah!" replied the Rabbit, "where _I_ live they use knives and
forks. And one day, while eating with some great sagamores, my knife
slipped, and I cut my lip."
"And why are your mouth and whiskers always going when you are still?
Is that high style?"
"Yes; I am meditating, planning, combining great affairs; talking to
myself, you see. That's the way _we_ do."
"But why do you always hop? Why don't you sometimes walk, like other
people?"
"Ah, that's _our_ style. We gentlemen don't run, like the vulgar.
_We_ have a gait of our own, don't you know?"
"Indeed! Well, if you don't mind a question, I would like to know why
you always scamper away so suddenly, and jump so far and so rapidly
when you run."
"Aw! don't you know? I used to be employed in very genteel business;
public service,--in fact, diplomatic. I carried dispatches
(_weegadigunn_, Micmac; _wighiggin_, Pass.)--books, letters,
papers, and so I got in the way of moving nimbly. Now it comes
naturally to me. One of my old aristocratic habits." [Footnote: This
droll dialogue occurs in the middle of the Micmac story of Lox, or
Badger, and the Ducks and Bear, where it evidently does not belong, or
has been interpolated to make length. In the original, Marten carries
his inquiries much further into certain physiological details, all of
which Master Rabbit naively explains as the result of the delicate diet
and the wine to which he as a gentleman had been accustomed.]
Upon this Marten gave it up. He had seen something of good society
himself, as he lived habitually with Glooskap, but Master Rabbit was
too much for him.
_VII. The Young Man who was Saved by a Rabbit and a Fox._
(Passamaquoddy.)
There dwelt a couple in the woods, far away from other people,--a man
and his wife. They had one boy, who grew up strong and clever. One day
he said, "Father and mother, let me go and see other men and women."
They grieved, but let him go.
He went afar. All night he lay on the ground. In the morning he heard
something coming. He rose and saw it was a Rabbit, who said, "Ha,
friend, where go you?" The boy answered, "To find people." "That is
what I want," replied the Rabbit. "Let us go together."
So they went on for a long time, till they heard voices far off, and
walking quietly came to a village. "Now," said the Rabbit, "steal up
unseen, and listen to them!" The boy did so, and heard the people
saying that a _kewahqu'_, a cannibal monster, was to come the next
day to devour the daughter of their sagamore. And having returned and
reported this to the Rabbit, the latter said to the boy, "Have no fear;
go to the people and tell them that you can save her." He did so, but
it was long before they would listen to him. Yet at last it came to the
ears of the old chief that a strange young man insisted that he could
save the girl; so the chief sent for him, and said, "They tell me that
you think you can deliver my daughter from death. Do so, and she shall
be yours."