moved to one place. He shot the second arrow, repeating the same words,
when each bone drew towards its fellow-bone; the third arrow brought
forth to life the whole multitude of people who had been killed by the
manitoes. Paup-Puk-Keewiss then led them to the chief of the village who
had proved his friend, and gave them up to him. Soon after the chief
came with his counsellors.
"Who is more worthy," said he, "to rule than you? _You_ alone can defend
them."
Paup-Puk-Keewiss thanked him, and told him he was in search of more
adventures. The chief insisted. Paup-Puk-Keewiss told him to confer the
chieftainship on his friend, who, he said, would remain while he went on
his travels. He told them that he would, some time or other, come back
and see them.
"Ho! ho! ho!" they all cried, "come back again and see us," insisting on
it. He promised them he would, and then set out alone.
After travelling some time he came to a large lake; on looking about, he
discovered a very large otter on an island. He thought to himself, "His
skin will make me a fine pouch," and immediately drew up, at long shots,
and drove an arrow into his side. He waded into the lake, and with some
difficulty dragged him ashore. He took out the entrails, and even then
the carcass was so heavy that it was as much as he could do to drag it
up a hill overlooking the lake. As soon as he got him up into the
sunshine, where it was warm, he skinned him, and threw the carcass some
distance, thinking the war-eagle would come, and he should have a
chance to get his skin and feathers as head ornaments. He soon heard a
rushing noise in the air, but could see nothing; by-and-by, a large
eagle dropped, as if from the air, on the otter's carcass. He drew his
bow, and the arrow passed through under both his wings. The bird made a
convulsive flight upward with such force, that the heavy carcass (which
was nearly as big as a moose) was borne up several feet. Fortunately,
both claws were fastened deeply into the meat, the weight of which soon
brought the bird down. He skinned him, crowned his head with the trophy,
and next day was on his way, on the lookout for something new.
After walking a while he came to a lake, which flooded the trees on its
banks; he found it was only a lake made by beavers. He took his station
on the elevated dam, where the stream escaped, to see whether any of the
beavers would show themselves. He soon saw the head of one peeping out
of the water to see who disturbed them.
"My friend," said Paup-Puk-Keewiss, "could you not turn me into a beaver
like yourself?" for he thought, if he could become a beaver, he would
see and know how these animals lived.
"I do not know," replied the beaver; "I will go and ask the others."
Soon all the beavers showed their heads above the water, and looked to
see if he was armed; but he had left his bow and arrows in a hollow tree
at a short distance. When they were satisfied, they all came near.
"Can you not, with all your united power," said he, "turn me into a
beaver? I wish to live among you."
"Yes," answered their chief; "lay down;" and he soon found himself
changed into one of them.
"You must make me _large_," said he; "_larger_ than any of you."
"Yes, yes!" said they. "By-and-by, when we get into the lodge, it shall
be done."
In they all dove into the lake; and, in passing large heaps of limbs and
logs at the bottom, he asked the use of them; they answered, "It is for
our winter's provisions."[62] When they all got into the lodge, their
number was about one hundred. The lodge was large and warm.
"Now we will make you large," said they. "Will _that_ do?" exerting
their power.
"Yes," he answered, for he found he was ten times the size of the
largest.
"You need not go out," said they. "We will bring your food into the
lodge, and you will be our chief."
"Very well," Paup-Puk-Keewiss answered. He thought, "I will stay here
and grow fat at their expense." But, soon after, one ran into the lodge
out of breath, saying, "We are visited by Indians." All huddled together
in great fear. The water began to _lower_, for the hunters had broken
down the dam, and they soon heard them on the roof of the lodge,
breaking it up. Out jumped all the beavers into the water, and so
escaped. Paup-Puk-Keewiss tried to follow them; but, alas! they had made
him so large that he could not creep out of the hole. He tried to call
them back, but to no effect; he worried himself so much in trying to
escape, that he looked like a bladder. He could not turn himself back
into a man, although he heard and understood all the hunters said. One
of them put his head in at the top of the lodge.
"_Ty-au!_" cried he; "_Tut Ty-au!_ Me-shau-mik--king of the beavers is
in." They all got at him, and knocked his scull till it was as soft as
his brains. He thought, as well as ever he did, although he was a
beaver. Seven or eight of them then placed his body on poles and carried
him home. As they went, he reflected in this manner: "What will become
of me? my ghost or shadow will not die after they get me to their
lodges." Invitations were immediately sent out for a grand feast. The
women took him out into the snow to skin him; but, as soon as his flesh
got cold, his _Jee-bi_ went off.
Paup-Puk-Keewiss found himself standing near a prairie, having reassumed
his mortal shape. After walking a distance, he saw a herd of elk
feeding. He admired the apparent ease and enjoyment of their life, and
thought there could be nothing pleasanter than the liberty of running
about and feeding on the prairies. He asked them if they could not turn
him into their shape.
"Yes," they answered, after a pause. "Get down on your hands and feet."
And he soon found himself an elk.
"I want big horns, big feet," said he; "I wish to be very large."
"Yes! yes!" they said.
"There!" exerting their power; "are you big enough?"
"Yes!" he answered, for he saw that he was very large. They spent a good
time in grazing and running. Being rather cold one day, he went into a
thick wood for shelter, and was followed by most of the herd. They had
not been long there before some elks from behind passed the others like
a strong wind. All took the alarm, and off they ran, he with the rest.
"Keep out on the plains," they said.
But he found it was too late, as they had already got entangled in the
thick woods. Paup-Puk-Keewiss soon smelt the hunters, who were closely
following his trail, for they had left all the others and followed him.
He jumped furiously, and broke down saplings in his flight, but it only
served to retard his progress. He soon felt an arrow in his side; he
jumped over trees in his agony, but the arrows clattered thicker and
thicker upon his sides, and at last one entered his heart. He fell to
the ground, and heard the whoop of triumph sounded by the hunters. On
coming up, they looked on the carcass with astonishment, and with their
hands up to their mouths exclaimed Ty-au! Ty-au! There were about sixty
in the party, who had come out on a special hunt, as one of their number
had, the day before, observed his _large tracks_ on the plains. After
skinning him and his flesh getting cold, his _Jee-bi_ took its flight
from the carcass, and he again found himself in human shape, with a bow
and arrows.
But his passion for adventure was not yet cooled; for, on coming to a
large lake with a sandy beach, he saw a large flock of brant, and,
speaking to them, asked them to turn him into a brant.
"Yes," they replied.
"But I want to be very large," he said.
"Very well," they answered; and he soon found himself a large brant, all
the others standing gazing in astonishment at his large size.
"You must fly as leader," they said.
"No," answered Paup-Puk-Keewiss, "I will fly behind."
"Very well," they said. "One thing more we have to say to you. You must
be careful, in flying, not to look _down_, for something may happen to
you."
"Well! it is so," said he; and soon the flock rose up into the air, for
they were bound north. They flew very fast, he behind. One day, while
going with a strong wind, and as swift as their wings could flap, while
passing over a large village, the Indians raised a great shout on seeing
them, particularly on Paup-Puk-Keewiss's account, for his wings were
broader than two large aupukwa.[63] They made such a noise, that he
forgot what had been told him, about looking down. They were now going
as swift as arrows; and, as soon as he brought his neck in and stretched
it down to look at the shouters, his tail was caught by the wind, and
over and over he was blown. He tried to right himself, but without
success. Down, down he went, making more turns than he wished for, from
a height of several miles. The first thing he knew was, that he was
jammed into a large hollow tree. To get back or forward was out of the
question, and there he remained till his brant life was ended by
starvation. His _Jee-bi_ again left the carcass, and he once more found
himself in the shape of a human being.
Travelling was still his passion; and, while travelling, he came to a
lodge in which were two old men with heads white from age. They treated
him well, and he told them that he was going back to his village to see
his friends and people. They said they would aid him, and pointed out
the direction he should go; but they were deceivers. After walking all
day, he came to a lodge looking very much like the first, with two old
men in it with white heads. It was, in fact, the very same lodge, and he
had been walking in a circle; but they did not undeceive him, pretending
to be strangers, and saying, in a kind voice, "We will show you the
way." After walking the third day, and coming back to the same place, he
found them out in their tricks, for he had cut a notch on the doorpost.
"Who are you," said he to them, "to treat me so?" and he gave one a kick
and the other a slap, which killed them. Their blood flew against the
rocks near the lodge, and this is the reason there are red streaks in
them to this day. He then burned their lodge down, and freed the earth
of two pretended good men, who were manitoes.
He then continued his journey, not knowing exactly which way to go. At
last he came to a big lake. He got on the highest hill to try and see
the opposite side, but he could not. He then made a canoe, and took a
sail into the lake. On looking into the water, which was very clear,
before he got to the abrupt depth, he saw the bottom covered with dark
fishes, numbers of which he caught. This inspired him with a wish to
return to his village and bring his people to live near this lake. He
went on, and towards evening came to a large island, where he encamped
and ate the fish he had speared.
Next day he returned to the main land, and, in wandering along the
shore, he encountered a more powerful manito than himself, called
Manabozho. He thought best, after playing him a trick, to keep out of
his way. He again thought of returning to his village; and, transforming
himself into a partridge, took his flight towards it. In a short time
he reached it, and his return was welcomed with feasting and songs. He
told them of the lake and the fish, and persuaded them all to remove to
it, as it would be easier for them to live there. He immediately began
to remove them by short encampments, and all things turned out as he had
said. They caught abundance of fish. After this, a messenger came for
him in the shape of a bear, who said that their king wished to see him
immediately at his village. Paup-Puk-Keewiss was ready in an instant;
and, getting on to the messenger's back, off he ran. Towards evening
they went up a high mountain, and came to a cave where the bear-king
lived. He was a very large person, and made him welcome by inviting him
into his lodge. As soon as propriety allowed, he spoke, and said that he
had sent for him on hearing that he was the chief who was moving a large
party towards his hunting-grounds.
"You must know," said he, "that you have no right there. And I wish you
would leave the country with your party, or else the strongest force
will take possession."
"Very well," replied Paup-Puk-Keewiss. "So be it." He did not wish to do
anything without consulting his people; and besides, he saw that the
bear-king was raising a war-party. He then told him he would go back
that night. The bear-king left him to do as he wished, but told him that
one of his young men was ready at his command; and, immediately jumping
on his back, Paup-Puk-Keewiss rode home. He assembled the village, and
told the young men to kill the bear, make a feast of it, and hang the
head outside the village, for he knew the bear spies would soon see it,
and carry the news to their chief.
Next morning Paup-Puk-Keewiss got all his young warriors ready for a
fight. After waiting one day the bear war-party came in sight, making a
tremendous noise. The bear-chief advanced, and said that he did not wish
to shed the blood of the young warriors; but that if he,
Paup-Puk-Keewiss, consented, they two would have a race, and the winner
should kill the losing chief, and all his young men should be slaves to
the other. Paup-Puk-Keewiss agreed, and they ran before all the
warriors. He was victor, and came in first; but, not to terminate the
race too soon, he gave the bear-chief some specimens of his skill and
swiftness by forming eddies and whirlwinds with the sand, as he leaped
and turned about him. As the bear-chief came up, he drove an arrow
through him, and a great chief fell. Having done this, he told his young
men to take all those blackfish (meaning the bears), and tie them at
the door of each lodge, that they might remain in future to serve as
servants.
After seeing that all was quiet and prosperous in the village,
Paup-Puk-Keewiss felt his desire for adventure returning. He took a kind
leave of his friends and people, and started off again. After wandering
a long time, he came to the lodge of Manabozho, who was absent. He
thought he would play him a trick, and so turned everything in the lodge
upside down, and killed his chickens. Now Manabozho calls all the fowls
of the air his chickens; and among the number was a raven, the meanest
of birds, which Paup-Puk-Keewiss killed and hung up by the neck to
insult him. He then went on till he came to a very high point of rocks
running out into the lake, from the top of which he could see the
country back as far as the eye could reach. While sitting there,
Manabozho's mountain chickens flew round and past him in great numbers.
So, out of spite, he shot them in great numbers, for his arrows were
sure and the birds very plenty, and he amused himself by throwing the
birds down the rocky precipice. At length a wary bird cried out,
"Paup-Puk-Keewiss is killing us. Go and tell our father." Away flew a
delegation of them, and Manabozho soon made his appearance on the plain
below. Paup-Puk-Keewiss made his escape on the opposite side. Manabozho
cried out from the mountain,
"The earth is not so large but I can get up to you." Off
Paup-Puk-Keewiss ran, and Manabozho after him. He ran over hills and
prairies with all his speed, but still saw his pursuer hard after him.
He thought of this expedient. He stopped and climbed a large pine-tree,
stripped it of all its green foliage, and threw it to the winds, and
then went on. When Manabozho reached the spot, the tree addressed him.
"Great chief," said the tree, "will you give me my life again?
Paup-Puk-Keewiss has killed me."
"Yes," replied Manabozho; and it took him some time to gather the
scattered foliage, and then renewed the pursuit. Paup-Puk-Keewiss
repeated the same thing with the hemlock, and with various other trees,
for Manabozho would always stop to restore what he had destroyed. By
this means he got in advance; but Manabozho persevered, and was fast
overtaking him, when Paup-Puk-Keewiss happened to see an elk. He asked
him to take him on his back, which the elk did, and for some time he
made great progress, but still Manabozho was in sight. Paup-Puk-Keewiss
dismounted, and, coming to a large sandstone rock, he broke it in pieces
and scattered the grains. Manabozho was so close upon him at this place
that he had almost caught him; but the foundation of the rock cried out,
"Haye! Ne-me-sho, Paup-Puk-Keewiss has spoiled me. Will you not restore
me to life?"
"Yes," replied Manabozho; and he restored the rock to its previous
shape. He then pushed on in the pursuit of Paup-Puk-Keewiss, and had got
so near as to put out his arm to seize him; but Paup-Puk-Keewiss dodged
him, and immediately raised such a dust and commotion by whirlwinds as
made the trees break, and the sand and leaves dance in the air. Again
and again Manabozho's hand was put out to catch him; but he dodged him
at every turn, and kept up such a tumult of dust, that in the thickest
of it, he dashed into a hollow tree which had been blown down, and
changed himself into a snake, and crept out at the roots. Well that he
did; for at the moment he had got out, Manabozho, who is
Ogee-bau-ge-mon,[64] struck it with his power, and it was in fragments.
Paup-Puk-Keewiss was again in human shape; again Manabozho pressed him
hard. At a distance he saw a very high bluff of rock jutting out into
the lake, and ran for the foot of the precipice, which was abrupt and
elevated. As he came near, the local manito of the rock opened his door
and told him to come in. The door was no sooner closed than Manabozho
knocked.
"Open it!" he cried, with a loud voice.
The manito was afraid of him, but he said to his guest,
"Since I have sheltered you, I would sooner die with you than open the
door."
"Open it!" Manabozho again cried.
The manito kept silent. Manabozho, however, made no attempt to open it
by force. He waited a few moments. "Very well," he said; "I give you
only till night to live." The manito trembled, for he knew he would be
shut up under the earth.
Night came. The clouds hung low and black, and every moment the forked
lightning would flash from them. The black clouds advanced slowly, and
threw their dark shadows afar, and behind there was heard the rumbling
noise of the coming thunder. As they came near to the precipice, the
thunders broke, the lightning flashed, the ground shook, and the solid
rocks split, tottered, and fell. And under their ruins were crushed the
mortal bodies of Paup-Puk-Keewiss and the manito.
It was only then that Paup-Puk-Keewiss found he was really dead. He had
been killed in different animal shapes; but now his body, in human
shape, was crushed. Manabozho came and took their Jee-bi-ug or spirits.
"You," said he to Paup-Puk-Keewiss, "shall not be again permitted to
live on the earth. I will give you the shape of the war-eagle, and you
will be the chief of all fowls, and your duty shall be to watch over
their destinies."
FOOTNOTES:
[59] This word appears to be derived from the same root as
_Paup-puk-ke-nay_, a grasshopper, the inflection _iss_ making it
personal. The Indian idea is that of harum scarum. He is regarded as a
foil to Manabozho, with whom he is frequently brought in contact in
aboriginal story craft.
[60] This is an official who bears the pipe for the ruling chief, and as
an inferior dignity in councils.
[61] This is a studied perversion of the interjection Ho. In another
instance [vide Waasamo] it is rendered _Hoke_.
[62] We may mention, for the youth who may read these tales, that
beavers live by gnawing the bark of trees.
[63] Mats.
[64] A species of lightning
IADILLA;
OR,
THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN.
FROM THE ODJIBWA.
An old man had an only son named _Iadilla_, who had come to that age
which is thought to be most proper to make the long and final fast, that
is to secure through life a guardian genius or spirit. In the influence
of this choice, it is well known, our people have relied for their
prosperity in after life; it was, therefore, an event of deep
importance.
The old man was ambitious that his son should surpass all others in
whatever was deemed most wise and great among his tribe; and, to fulfil
his wishes, he thought it necessary that he should fast a much longer
time than any of those persons, renowned for their prowess or wisdom,
whose fame he coveted. He therefore directed his son to prepare, with
great ceremony, for the important event. After he had been in the
sweating lodge and bath several times, he ordered him to lie down upon
a clean mat, in a little lodge expressly prepared for him; telling him,
at the same time, to endure his fast like a man, and that, at the
expiration of _twelve_ days, he should receive food and the blessing of
his father.
The lad carefully observed this injunction, lying with perfect
composure, with his face covered, awaiting those mystic visitations
which were to seal his good or evil fortune. His father visited him
regularly every morning, to encourage him to perseverance, expatiating
at length on the honour and renown that would attend him through life if
he accomplished the full term prescribed. To these admonitions and
encouragements the boy never replied, but lay, without the least sign of
discontent or murmuring, until the ninth day, when he addressed his
father as follows:
"My father, my dreams forebode evil. May I break my fast now, and at a
more propitious time make a new fast?" The father answered,
"My son, you know not what you ask. If you get up now, all your glory
will depart. Wait patiently a little longer. You have but three days yet
to accomplish your desire. You know it is for your own good, and I
encourage you to persevere."
The son assented; and, covering himself closer, he lay till the eleventh
day, when he repeated his request. Very nearly the same answer was
given him by his father, who added that the next day he would himself
prepare his first meal, and bring it to him. The boy remained silent,
but lay as motionless as a corpse. No one would have known he was living
but by the gentle heaving of his breast.
The next morning, the father, elated at having gained his end, prepared
a repast for his son, and hastened to set it before him. On coming to
the door, he was surprised to hear his son talking to himself. He
stooped to listen; and, looking through a small aperture, was more
astonished when he beheld his son painted with vermilion over all his
breast, and in the act of finishing his work by laying on the paint as
far back on his shoulders as he could reach with his hands, saying, at
the same time, to himself, "My father has destroyed my fortune as a man.
He would not listen to my requests. He will be the loser. I shall be for
ever happy in my new state, for I have been obedient to my parent; he
alone will be the sufferer, for my guardian spirit is a just one; though
not propitious to me in the manner I desired, he has shown me pity in
another way; he has given me another shape; and now I must go."
At this moment the old man broke in, exclaiming, "My son! my son! I pray
you leave me not." But the young man, with the quickness of a bird, had
flown to the top of the lodge, and perched himself on the highest pole,
having been changed into a beautiful robin redbreast.
He looked down upon his father with pity beaming in his eyes, and
addressed him as follows: "Regret not, my father, the change you behold.
I shall be happier in my present state than I could have been as a man.
I shall always be the friend of men, and keep near their dwellings. I
shall ever be happy and contented; and although I could not gratify your
wishes as a warrior, it will be my daily aim to make you amends for it
as a harbinger of peace and joy. I will cheer you by my songs, and
strive to inspire in others the joy and lightsomeness I feel in my
present state. This will be some compensation to you for the loss of the
glory you expected. I am now free from the cares and pains of human
life. My food is spontaneously furnished by the mountains and fields,
and my pathway of life is in the bright air." Then stretching himself on
his toes, as if delighted with the gift of wings, he carolled one of his
sweetest songs, and flew away into a neighbouring grove.
IADILLA'S SONG.
In the boundless woods there are berries of red,
And fruits of a beautiful blue,
Where, by nature's own hand, the sweet singers are fed,
And to nature they ever are true.
We go not with arrow and bow to the field,
Like men of the fierce ruddy race,
To take away lives which they never can give,
And revel the lords of the chase.
If danger approaches, with instant alarm
We fly to our own leafy woods,
And there, with an innocent carol and charm,
We sing to our dear little broods.