|THREE brothers were left destitute at an early age by the death of
their parents. The eldest was not yet able to provide fully for their
support, but he did all that he could in hunting; and with this aid, and
the stock of provisions already laid by in the lodge, they managed to
keep along. They had no neighbors to lend them a helping hand, for the
father had withdrawn many years before from the body of the tribe and
had lived ever since in a solitary place. The lads had no idea that
there was a human being near them. They did not even know who their
parents had been; for at the time of their death, the eldest was too
young to remember it.
Forlorn as they were, they nevertheless kept a good heart, made use of
every chance and in course of time acquired a knowledge of hunting
and the pursuit of game. The eldest became expert in the craft of the
forest, and he was very successful in procuring food. He was noted for
his skill in killing buffalo, elk, and moose; and he instructed his
brothers, so that each should become a master over a particular animal
which was assigned to him.
After they had become able to hunt and to take care of themselves, the
elder proposed to leave them and to go in search of the world, promising
to return and bring them wives as soon as he could procure them. In this
intention he was over-ruled by his brothers, who said that they could
not part with him.
Jeekewis, the second, was loud in disapproval of the scheme, saying:
"What will you do with those you propose to get? We have lived so long
by ourselves, we can still do without them." This counsel prevailed, and
for a time the three brothers continued together.
One day they each agreed to kill a male of that kind of animal which
each was most expert in hunting, for the purpose of making quivers
from the skins. When these quivers were prepared, they were straightway
filled with arrows; for the brothers all had a presentiment that
something was about to happen which called upon them to be ready.
Soon after they hunted on a wager to see who should come in first with
game. This one was to have the privilege of acting as entertainer to the
others, but they were to shoot no other beast or bird than such as each
was in the habit of killing.
They set out on different paths. Maidwa, the youngest, had not gone far
before he saw a bear, an animal he was not to kill, according to the
agreement. He, however, followed him closely, and driving an arrow
through and through him, brought him to the ground.
Then Maidwa commenced skinning him, when suddenly something red tinged
the air all around him. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was perhaps
deceived; but rub as hard as he would, the red hue still crimsoned the
air, and tinged with its delicate splendor every object that he looked
on--the tree-tops, the river that flowed, and the deer that glided away
along the edge of the forest.
As he stood musing on this fairy spectacle, a strange noise came to his
ear from a distance. At first it seemed like a human voice. Following
the sound, he reached the shore of a lake. Floating at a distance upon
its waters sat a most beautiful Red Swan, whose plumage glittered in
the sun. When it lifted up its neck, it uttered the peculiar tone he had
heard. He was within long bow-shot, and, drawing the arrow to his ear,
he took careful aim and discharged the shaft. It had no effect. The
beautiful bird sat proudly on the water still pouring forth its peculiar
chant, still spreading the radiance of its plumage far and wide, and
lighting up the whole world with its ruby splendors.
Maidwa shot again and again, till his quiver was empty, for he longed
to possess so glorious a creature. But the swan, untouched, did not even
spread its wings to fly. Circling round and round, it stretched its long
neck and dipped its bill into the water, as if indifferent to mortal
shafts.
Maidwa ran home, and bringing all the arrows in the lodge, shot them
away. He then stood with his bow dropped at his side, lost in wonder,
gazing at the beautiful bird.
While standing thus, with a heart beating more and more eagerly every
moment for the possession of this fair swan, Maidwa remembered the
saying of his elder brother, that in their dead father's medicine-sack
were three magic arrows; but his brother had not told Maidwa that their
father, on his death-bed, had especially bequeathed the arrows to his
youngest son, Maidwa, from whom they had been wrongfully kept. The
thought of the magic arrows put heart in Maidwa, and he hastened with
all speed to procure them.
At any other time he would have shrunk from opening his father's
medicine-sack, but something prompted him to believe that there was
no wrong in it now, and snatching the arrows forth, he ran back, not
staying to restore the other contents to the sack but leaving them
scattered, here and there, about the lodge.
He feared that the swan must by this time have taken wing; but as he
emerged from the wood, he found to his great delight the air as rosy
as ever, and there sat the glorious Red Swan in her own serene and
beautiful way.
With trembling hand he shot the first of his magic shafts; it grazed
a wing. The second came closer, and cut away a few of the bright red
feathers, which fluttered and fell like flakes of fire in the water. The
third, which he carefully aimed and drew home upon the string with all
his force, made the lucky hit, and passed through the neck of the bird a
little above the breast.
[Illustration: 0065]
"She is mine," cried Maidwa, but to his great surprise, instead of
drooping its neck and drifting to the shore, the Red Swan flapped its
wings, rose slowly, and flew off with a majestic motion toward the
falling sun.
Maidwa, that he might meet his brothers with a good face, rescued two of
the magic arrows from the water. And although the third was borne off,
he had a hope yet to recover that one, too, and to be master of the
swan. He was noted for his speed; for he would shoot an arrow and then
run so fast that the arrow always fell behind him. He now set off at his
best speed of foot.
"I can run fast," he thought, "and I can get up with the swan sometime
or other."
He sped on over hills and prairies toward the west, and was only going
to take one more run and then seek a place to sleep for the night,
when, suddenly, he heard noises at a distance, like the murmur of waters
against the shore. As he went on, he heard voices, and presently he saw
people, some of whom were busy felling trees, the strokes of their labor
echoing through the woods. He passed on, and when he emerged from the
forest, the sun was just falling below the edge of the sky.
He was bent on success in pursuit of the swan, whose red track he marked
well far westward till she was lost to sight. Meanwhile he would tarry
for the night and procure something to eat, as he had fasted since he
had left home.
At a distance, on rising ground, he could see the lodges of a large
village. He went toward it and soon heard the voice of the watchman,
who was set on a height to overlook the place and give notice of the
approach of friends or foes. "We are visited," he cried, and a loud
halloo indicated that all had heard it.
When Maidwa advanced, the watchman pointed to the lodge of the chief.
"It is there you must go in," he said, and left him.
"Come in, come in," said the chief; "take a seat there," pointing to the
side of the lodge where his daughter sat. "It is there you must sit."
They gave him something to eat, and very few questions were put to him,
because he was a stranger; it was only when he spoke that the others
answered.
"Daughter," said the chief, as soon as the night had set in, "take out
son-in-law's moccasins and see if they be torn; if so, mend them for him
and bring in his bundle."
Maidwa thought it strange that he should be so warmly received, and
instantly married against his own wishes, although he could not help
noticing that the chief's daughter was pretty.
It was some time before she would take the moccasins which he had laid
off. It displeased him to see her loth to do so; and when at last she
did reach them, he snatched them from her hand and hung them up himself.
He lay down and thought of the swan, and made up his mind to be off with
the dawn. He wakened early, and finding the chief's daughter looking
forth at the door, he spoke to her, but she gave no answer. He touched
her lightly.
"What do you want?" she said, and turned her face away from him.
"Tell me," said Maidwa, "what time the swan passed. I am following it;
come out, and point the way."
"Do you think you can overtake it?" she said.
"Yes," he answered.
"Naubesah--fool!" retorted the chief's pretty daughter.
She went out, however, and pointed in the direction he should go. The
young man paced slowly along till the sun arose, when he commenced
traveling at his accustomed speed. He passed the day in running, and
although he could not see the Red Swan anywhere on the horizon, he
thought that he discerned a faint red light far over in the west.
When night came, he was pleased to find himself near another village.
When still at a distance he heard the watchman crying out, "We are
visited," and soon the men of the village stood out to see the stranger.
He was again told to enter the lodge of the chief, and his reception
was in every respect the same as on the previous night; except that this
young woman was more beautiful than the first, and that she entertained
him very kindly. Although urged to stay with them, the mind of Maidwa
was fixed on the object of his journey.
Before daybreak he asked the young woman at what time the Red Swan
passed, and to point out the way. She marked against the sky with
her finger the course it had taken, and told him that it had passed
yesterday when the sun was between midday and its falling-place.
Maidwa again set out rather slowly, but when the sun had risen, he
tried his speed by shooting an arrow ahead and running after it; it fell
behind him, and he knew that he had lost nothing of his quickness of
foot.
Nothing remarkable happened through the day, and he went on leisurely.
Some time after dark, as he was peering around the country for shelter,
he saw a light emitted from a small low lodge. He went up to it very
slyly, and, peeping through the door, he discovered an old man alone,
with his head down upon his breast, warming his back before the fire.
Maidwa thought that the old man did not know that he was standing near
the door; but in this he was mistaken, for, without turning his eyes to
look at him, the old man said:
"Walk in, my grandchild; take a seat opposite to me, and take off
your things and dry them, for you must be fatigued. I will prepare you
something to eat; you shall have something very delicate."
Maidwa accepted this kind invitation and entered the lodge. The old man
then remarked, as if in mere course of conversation:
"My kettle with water stands near the fire." Immediately a small earthen
pot with legs appeared by the fire. He then took one grain of corn, also
one of whortleberry, and put them in the pot.
Maidwa was very hungry, and seeing the limited scale of the old man's
housekeeping, he thought his chance for a supper was slight. The old man
had promised him something very delicate, and he seemed likely to keep
his word. But Maidwa looked on silently, and did not change his face any
more than if the greatest banquet that was ever spread had been going
forward.
The pot soon boiled, whereupon the old man said in a very quiet way:
"The pot will stand at a distance from the fire."
The pot removed itself, and the old man added to Maidwa:
"My grandchild, feed yourself," handing him at the same time a dish and
ladle of the same ware as the pot itself.
The young man, whose hunger was very great, helped himself to all that
was in the pot. He felt ashamed to think that he had done so, but before
he could speak the old man said:
"Eat, my grandchild; eat, eat!" and soon after he again said--"Help
yourself from the pot."
Maidwa was surprised, on dipping in his ladle, to see that the pot
was full; and although he emptied it a second time, it was still again
filled and refilled till his hunger was entirely satisfied. The old man
then observed, without raising his voice:
"The pot will return to its corner," and the pot took itself off to its
accustomed place in an out-of-the-way corner of the lodge.
Maidwa observed that the old man was about to address him, and took an
attitude which showed that he was prepared to listen.
"Keep on, my grandchild," said the old man; "you will surely gain that
which you seek. To tell you more I am not permitted; but go on as you
have begun and you will not be disappointed. To-morrow you will again
reach one of my fellow old men, but it is the one you will see after
him who will tell you all, and the manner in which you must proceed to
accomplish your journey. Often has this Red Swan passed, and those
who have followed it have never returned; but you must be firm in your
resolution, and be prepared for all that may happen."
"So will it be," answered Maidwa; and they both lay down to sleep.
Early in the morning the old man ordered his magic kettle to prepare
breakfast, so that his guest might eat before leaving. As Maidwa passed
out, the old man gave him a blessing with his parting advice.
Maidwa set forth in better spirits than at any time since he had
started; and night again found him in company with another old man who
also had a frisky little kettle which hurried up to the fire before it
was spoken to, bustled about and set supper briskly before Maidwa,
and then frisked away again, without waiting for orders. This old man
entertained him kindly and also carefully directed him on his way in the
morning.
He traveled with a light heart, as he now expected to meet the one who
was to give him directions how to proceed to get the Red Swan.
Toward night-fall Maidwa reached the lodge of the third old man. Before
coming to the door he heard him saying:
"Grandchild, come in." And going in promptly he felt quite at home.
The old man prepared him something to eat, acting as the other magicians
had done; and his kettle was of the same size, and looked as if it were
an own brother of the two others which had feasted him, except that this
kettle, in coming and going about its household duties, would make a
passing remark or sing a little tune for itself.
The old man waited until Maidwa had fully satisfied his hunger before he
addressed him:
"Young man, the errand you are bound on is beset with trials and
difficulties. Numbers have passed with the same purpose as that which
now prompts you, but they never returned. Be careful, and if your
guardian spirits are powerful, you may succeed. This Red Swan you are
following is the daughter of a magician who has abundance of everything,
but only this one child, whom he values more than the sacred arrows. In
former times he wore a cap of wampum, which was attached to his scalp;
but powerful Indians, warriors of a distant chief, came and told him
that their chief's daughter was on the brink of the grave, and that she
herself requested his wampum-cap, which she was confident would save
her life. 'If I can only see it,' she said, 'I will recover.' It was
for this cap they had come, and after long solicitation the magician
at length consented to part with it, in hope that it would restore to
health the dying maiden, although when he took it off to hand it to the
messengers it left the crown of his head bare and bloody. Years have
passed since, and his head has not healed. The coming of the warriors
to procure the cap for the sick maiden was a cheat, and they are now
constantly making sport of the unhappy scalp--dancing it about from
village to village--and on every insult it receives the poor old chief
to whom it belongs groans with pain. Those who hold it are too powerful
for the magician, and many have sacrificed themselves to recover it for
him, but without success. The Red Swan has enticed many a young man,
as she has you, to enlist them to procure the scalp, and whoever is so
fortunate as to succeed, it is understood, will receive the Red Swan
as his reward. In the morning you will proceed on your way, and toward
evening you will come to this magician's lodge. You will know it by the
groans which you will hear far over the prairie as you approach. He will
ask you in. You will see no one but himself. He will question you much
as to your dreams and the strength of your guardian spirits. If he is
satisfied with your answers, he will urge you to attempt the recovery
of his scalp. He will show you the course to take, and if you feel
inclined, as I see that you shall, go forward, my son, with a strong
heart; persevere, and I have a presentiment that you will succeed."