Betimes in the morning he set off on his journey, after having eaten
from the magic kettle, which sang a sort of farewell chant on its way
from the fireplace to its station in the corner.
Toward evening as he crossed a prairie, Maidwa heard groans from a
distant lodge, which were only interrupted by a voice from a person whom
he could not see, calling to him aloud:
"Come in! come in!"
As the young man entered the lodge, the magician heaved a great groan
from the very bottom of his chest, and Maidwa saw that the crown of his
head was all bare and bloody.
"Sit down, sit down," he said, "while I prepare you something to eat.
You see how poor I am. I have to attend to all my own wants, with no
other servant than that poor little kettle in the corner. Kettle, we
will have something to eat, if you please."
"In a moment," the kettle spoke up from the corner.
"You will oblige me by making all the despatch you can," said the
magician, in a very humble tone, still addressing the kettle.
"Have patience," replied the kettle, "and I will be with you presently."
After a considerable delay, there came forward ont of the corner from
which it had spoken a great heavy-browed and pot-bellied kettle, which
advanced with much stateliness and solemnity of manner till it had come
directly in front of the magician, whom it addressed with the question:
"What shall we have, sir?"
"Corn, if you please," the magician answered.
"No, we will have whortleberries," rejoined the kettle, in a firm voice.
"Very well; just as you choose."
When he supposed it was time, the magician invited Maidwa to help
himself.
"Hold a minute," interposed the kettle, as Maidwa was about to dip in
his ladle. He paused, and after a delay, the kettle, shaking itself up
and simmering very loudly, said, "Now we are ready."
Maidwa fell to and satisfied his hunger.
"Will the kettle now withdraw?" asked the magician, with an air of much
deference.
"No," said the kettle, "we will stay and hear what the young man has to
say for himself."
"Very well," said the magician. "You see," he added to Maidwa, "how poor
I am. I have to take counsel with the kettle, or I should be all alone,
without a day's food, and with no one to advise me."
All this time the Red Swan was carefully concealed in the lodge, behind
a curtain, from which Maidwa heard now and then a rustling noise that
fluttered his spirits and set his heart to beating at a wonderful rate.
As soon as Maidwa had partaken of food and laid aside his leggings and
moccasins, the old magician commenced telling him how he had lost his
scalp, the insults it was receiving, the pain he suffered thereby, his
wishes to regain it, the many unsuccessful attempts that had already
been made, and the numbers and power of those who retained it. He would
interrupt his discourse at times with sudden groans, and say:
"Oh, how shamefully they are treating it."
Maidwa listened to all the old magician had to say with solemn
attention.
The magician renewed his discourse and inquired of Maidwa as to his
dreams, or what he saw in his sleep, at such times as he had fasted and
darkened his face to procure guardian spirits.
Maidwa then told him one dream. The magician groaned.
"No, that is not it," he said.
Maidwa told him of two or three others.
The magician groaned again and again and said, rather peevishly, "No,
these are not the dreams."
"Keep cool," said the kettle. It had left the fire and was standing in
the middle of the floor, where a pleasant breeze was blowing through the
lodge. Then it added, "Have you no more dreams of another kind?"
"Yes," said Maidwa, and he told him one.
"That will do," said the kettle. "We are much pleased with that."
"Yes, that is it--that is it!" the magician added. "You will cause me to
live. That was what I was wishing you to say. Will you then go and see
if you can not recover my poor scalp?"
"Yes," said Maidwa, "I will go; and the day after to-morrow, when you
hear the ka-kak cries of the hawk, you will know that I am successful.
You must prepare your head, and lean it out through the door, so that
the moment I arrive I may place your scalp on."
"Yes, yes," said the magician. "As you say it will be done."
Early the next morning, Maidwa set out to fulfil his promise; and in
the afternoon, when the sun hangs toward home, he heard the shouts of a
great many people. He was in a wood at the time, and saw, as he thought,
only a few men, but as he went on they increased in numbers. When he
emerged upon the plain, their heads appeared like the hanging leaves,
they were so many.
In the middle of the plain he perceived a post and something waving at
its top. It was the wampum scalp; and every now and then the air was
rent with the war-song, for they were dancing the war-dance in high
spirit around it.
Before he could be observed, Maidwa changed himself into a humming-bird,
and flew toward the scalp. When he passed some of those who were
standing by, he came close to their ears; as they heard the rapid whirr
or murmur which this bird makes when it flies, they jumped aside and
asked each other what it could be. Maidwa by this time had nearly
reached the scalp, but fearing that he should be perceived while untying
it, he again changed himself into the down that floats lightly on the
air, and sailed slowly on to the scalp. He loosened it, and moved
off heavily, as the weight was almost too great for him to carry. The
Indians around would have snatched it away had not a lucky current of
air just then buoyed him up. As they saw that it was moving away they
cried out:
"It is taken from us! it is taken from us!"
Maidwa was borne gently along but a little way above their heads; and
as they followed him, the rush and hum of the people was like the dead
heating of the surges upon a lake shore after a storm. But the good
wind, gaining strength, soon carried him beyond their pursuit. A little
further on he changed himself into a hawk and flew swiftly off with his
trophy, crying, "Ka-kak! ka-kak!" till the hawk cry resounded with its
shrill tone throughout the whole country, far and wide.
Meanwhile the magician had remembered the instructions of Maidwa,
placing his head outside of the lodge as soon as he heard the ka-kak cry
of the hawk.
In a moment Maidwa came past with rustling wings, and as he flew he gave
the magician a severe blow on the head with the wampum-scalp. The old
man's limbs extended and quivered in pain, but the scalp adhered,
just as Maidwa, in his own person, walked into the lodge and sat down,
feeling perfectly at home.
The magician was so long in recovering from the stunning blow which
had been dealt him, that Maidwa feared he had destroyed his life in
restoring the crown of his head. Presently, however, he was pleased to
see him show by the motion of his hands and limbs that his strength was
returning; and in a little while he rose and stood upon his feet. What
was the delight of Maidwa to behold, instead of a withered old man far
advanced in years and stricken in sorrow, a bright and cheerful youth,
who glittered with life as he stood up before him.
"Thank you, my friend," he said. "Your kindness and bravery of heart
have restored me to my former shape. It was so ordained, and you have
now accomplished the victory."
They embraced, and the young magician urged the stay of his deliverer
for a few days. This invitation Maidwa was glad to accept and they
formed a strong attachment to each other.
The magician, to the deep regret of Maidwa, never once alluded to the
Red Swan in all their conferences.
At last the day arrived when Maidwa prepared to return to his home. The
young magician bestowed on him ample presents of wampum, fur, robes, and
other costly things. Although Maidwa's heart was burning within him to
see the Red Swan, to hear her spoken of, and to learn what his fortune
was to be in regard to that fond object of his pursuit, he constrained
his feelings and so checked his countenance as never to look where he
supposed she might be. His friend the young magician observed the same
silence and caution.
Maidwa's pack for traveling was now ready, and he was taking his
farewell smoke, when the young magician thus addressed him:
"My friend Maidwa, you know for what cause you came thus far, and why
you have risked so much and waited so long. You have proved my friend
indeed. You have accomplished your object, and your noble perseverance
shall not go unrewarded. If you undertake other things with the same
spirit, you will always succeed. My destiny compels me to remain where
I am, although I should feel happy to be allowed to go with you. I have
given you, of ordinary gifts, all you will need as long as you live;
but I see you are backward to speak of the Red Swan. I appreciate your
delicacy, but I vowed that whoever procured me my lost wampum-scalp
should be rewarded by possessing her."
He then spoke in a language which Maidwa did not understand, the curtain
of the lodge parted, and the Red Swan met his delighted gaze. It was a
beautiful maiden that he beheld, so majestic and airy in her look, that
he seemed to see a creature whose home should rather be in the free
heaven, among the rosy clouds, than in this dusky lodge.
"Take her," the young magician said, "she is my sister; treat her well.
She is worthy of you, and what you have done for me merits more. She is
ready to go with you to your kindred and friends, and has been so ever
since your arrival. My good wishes shall go with you both."
The Red Swan smiled kindly on Maidwa, who advanced and greeted her. Hand
in hand, then, they took their way forth from the lodge, and, watched
by the young magician, advanced across the prairie on their homeward
course.
They traveled slowly and looked with double joy on the beautiful country
over which they had both so lately passed with hearts ill at ease.
After two or three days they reached the lodge of the third old man
who had entertained him with the singing kettle; but the kettle was not
there. The old man, nevertheless, received them very kindly, and said to
Maidwa:
"You see what your perseverance has secured you; do so always, and you
will succeed in whatever you undertake."
On the following morning, when they were about to start, he pulled from
the side of the lodge a bag, which he presented to Maidwa, saying:
"Grandchild, I give you this; it contains a present for you; and I hope
you will live happily till old age."
Bidding him farewell, they again set forward; and they soon came to the
second old man's lodge. He also gave them a present and bestowed his
blessing.
Nor did Maidwa see anything here of the frisky little kettle which had
been so lively on his former visit.
As they went on and came to the lodge of the first old man, their
reception and farewell were the same; only when Maidwa glanced to the
corner he failed to see the silent kettle, which had served him so well.
The old man smiled when he discovered the direction of Maidwa's glance,
but he said nothing.
When, on continuing their journey, they at last approached the first
town that Maidwa passed in his pursuit, the watchman gave notice as
before, and Maidwa was shown into the chief's lodge.
"Sit down there, son-in-law," said the chief, pointing to a place near
his daughter. "And you also," he said to the Red Swan.
The chief's daughter was engaged in coloring a girdle, and, as
indifferent to these visitors, she did not even raise her head.
Presently the chief said, "Let some one bring in the bundle of our
son-in-law."
When the bundle was laid before him, Maidwa opened one of the bags
which had been given to him. It was filled with various costly
articles--wampum, robes, and trinkets of much richness and value;
these, in token of his kindness, he presented to the chief. The chief's
daughter stole a glance at the costly gifts, then at Maidwa and his
beautiful wife. She stopped working and was silent and thoughtful all
the evening. The chief himself talked with Maidwa of his adventures,
congratulated him on his good fortune, and concluded by telling him that
he should take his daughter along with him in the morning.
"Yes," said Maidwa.
The chief then spoke up, saying, "Daughter, be ready to go with him in
the morning."
Now it happened when the chief was thus speaking that there was a
foolish fellow in the lodge, who had thought to have got this chief's
daughter for a wife. He jumped up, looked grimly at Maidwa, and said:
"Who is he that he should take her for a few presents? I will kill him."
And he raised a knife which he had in his hand and gave it a mighty
flourish in the air. He kept up this terrible flourish till some one
came and pulled him back to his seat. He had been waiting for this and
yielded quietly enough.
At peep of day amid the greetings of their new friends, Maidwa and the
Red Swan, with the chief's daughter, took their leave. Toward evening
they reached the other town. The watchman gave the signal, and numbers
of men, women and children stood out to see them. They were again
shown into the chief's lodge, and the chief welcomed Maidwa, saying:
"Son-in-law, you are welcome."
And he requested Maidwa to take a seat by his daughter, and the two
women did the same.
After suitable refreshments for all, and while Maidwa smoked a pipe,
the chief asked him to relate his adventures in the hearing of all the
inmates of the lodge and of the strangers who had gathered in at report
of his singular fortunes.
Maidwa gave them his whole story. When he came to those parts which
related to the Red Swan, they turned and looked upon her in wonder and
admiration, for she was very beautiful.
The chief then informed Maidwa that his brothers had been to their town
in search of him, but that they had gone back some time before, having
given up all hopes of ever seeing him again.
"But you are a man of spirit," the chief continued, "whom fortune is
pleased to befriend. Take my daughter with you and treat her well. So
shall we be more closely bound together."
It is always the case in an assembly or gathering that some one of the
number is foolish and disposed to play the clown. It happened to be so
here. One of this very sort was in the lodge, and now this pretender
jumped up in a passion and cried out:
"Who is this stranger, that he should have her? I want her myself."
The chief bade him be quiet, and not to disturb or quarrel with one who
was enjoying their hospitality.
"No, no," he exclaimed, rushing forward as in act to strike.
Maidwa sat unmoved and paid no heed to his threats.
He cried the louder--"I will have her, I will have her!" whereupon the
old chief, being now vexed past patience, took his great war-club and
tapped this clownish fellow upon the head, which so far subdued him
that he sat for some time quite still; when, after a while, he came to
himself, the chief upbraided him for his folly and told him to go out
and tell stories to the old women.
When at last Maidwa was about to leave he made rich presents and invited
a number of the families of the chief to go with him and visit his
hunting-grounds, where he promised them that they would find game in
abundance. They consented, and in the morning a large company assembled
and joined Maidwa; and the chief, with a party of warriors, escorted
them a long distance. When ready to return, the chief made a speech and
besought the blessing of the Good Spirit on Maidwa and his friends.
The two companies parted, marching away over the prairie, each on its
own course, their waving feathers glittering in the morning sun, their
war-drums sounding afar.
After several days' travel, Maidwa and his friends came in sight of his
home. The others rested within the woods while he went alone in advance
to see his brothers.
He entered the lodge. It was all in confusion and covered with ashes. On
one side was his elder brother, sitting among the cinders, with his
face blackened, and crying aloud. On the other side sat the younger,
Jee-kewis, also with blackened face, his head covered with stray
feathers and tufts of swan-down. This one presented so curious a
figure that Maidwa could not keep from laughing. He seemed to be so lost
and far-gone in grief that he could not notice his brother's arrival.
The eldest, however, lifted up his head and recognized Maidwa, then
jumped up and shook hands, kissed him, and expressed much joy at his
return.
Maidwa, as soon as he had received his brother's greeting, made known
that he had brought each of; them a wife. And now Jeekewis, hearing a
wife spoken of, roused from his torpor and sprang to his feet, crying
loudly:
"Why, did you come just now?" and at once made for the door and peeped
out to see the strangers. He then commenced jumping and laughing and
crying out, "Women! women!" and that was all the reception he: gave his
brother. But Maidwa told them to wash themselves and put the lodge in
order while he went to fetch the wives in.
Jeekewis scampered about and began to wash himself; but he would every
now and then, with one side of his head all feathers and the other clear
and shining, peep forth to look at the women again. When they came near,
he said, "I will have this one. No, that one"; he did not exactly know
which; he would sit down for an instant, and then rise, and peep about
and laugh; in fact he acted like one beside himself.
As soon as order was restored, and all the company who had been brought
in were seated, Maidwa presented one of the chief's daughters to his
eldest brother, saying: "These women were given to me, to dispose of in
marriage. I now give one to each. I intended so from the first."
Maidwa led the other daughter to Jeekewis and said, "My brother, here is
a wife for you. Live happily."
Jeekewis hung down his head as if he were ashamed, but he would every
now and then steal a look at his wife and also at the other women.
By and by he turned toward his wife and acted as if he had been married
for years.
Maidwa, seeing that no preparation had been made to entertain the
company, said, "Are we to have no supper?"
He had no sooner spoken, than forth from a corner stepped the silent
kettle, which placed itself by the fire and began bubbling and boiling
quite briskly. Presently this was joined by the big talking kettle,
which said, addressing itself to Maidwa, "Master, we shall be ready
presently." And then, dancing along, there came from still another
corner the frisky little kettle, which hopped to their side and took
an active part in the preparations for the evening meal. When all was
nearly ready, a delicate voice was heard singing in the last corner of
the lodge, and keeping up its dainty carol all the way to the fireplace,
the fourth kettle joined the three cooks. Then they all fell to with all
their might to despatch their work in the best possible humor.
It was not long before the big kettle advanced toward Maidwa and said,
in his own confident way, "Supper is ready!"
The feast was a jovial one, for they were all hungry, and plied their
ladles with right good will. And yet the four magic kettles held out,
dip in as often as they would, and had plenty to the end of the revel.
And now to draw to a close, Maidwa and his friends lived in peace for
a time; their town prospered; there was no lack of children; and
everything else was in abundance.
But one day the two brothers began to look darkly upon Maidwa. They
reproached him for having taken from the medicine-sack their dead
father's magic arrows; they upbraided him especially that one was lost.
After listening to them in silence, he said that he would go in search
of the lost arrow, and that it should be restored; and the very next
day, true to his word, he left them.
After traveling a long way and looking in every direction, almost
hopeless of discovering the lost treasure, he came to an opening in
the earth. When he descended this, it led him to the abode of departed
spirits. The country appeared beautiful, the pastures were greener than
his own, the sky bluer than that which hung over the lodge, and the
extent of it was utterly lost in a dim distance. Moreover he saw animals
of every kind wandering about in great numbers. The first he came to
were buffalos; and his surprise was great when they addressed him as
human beings.
They asked him what he came for, how he had descended, and why he was so
bold as to visit the abode of the dead.
He answered that he was in quest of a magic arrow, to appease the anger
of his brothers.
"Very well," said the leader of the buffalos, whose form was nothing
but bone. "Yes, we know it," and he and his followers moved off a little
space from Maidwa, as if they were afraid of him. "You have come,"
resumed the buffalo-spirit, "to a place where a living man has never
before been. Return immediately to your tribe, for under pretence of
recovering one of the magic arrows which belong to you by your father's
dying wish, your brothers have sent you off so that they may become
possessed of your beautiful wife, the Red Swan. Speed home! You will
find the magic arrow at the lodge-door. You will live to a very old age,
and die happily. You can go no farther in these abodes of ours."
Maidwa looked, as he thought, to the west, and saw a bright light as if
the sun was shining in its splendor, but he saw no sun.
"What light is that yonder?" he asked.
The buffalo whose form was nothing but bone answered--"It is the place
where those who were good dwell."
"And that dark cloud?" Maidwa again asked.
"It is the place of the wicked," answered the buffalo.
This cloud was very dark and to look upon it pained his eyes. So Maidwa
moved away with the help of his guardian spirits, stood upon the earth
again, and beheld the sun giving light as usual.
All else that he learned in the abodes of the dead is unknown, for he
never spoke of it to any human being.
After regaining the earth and wandering a long time to gather knowledge
to make his people happy and to add to their comfort, he drew near to
his village one evening. Passing all the other lodges he came to his own
door, where he found the magic arrow, as he had been promised. He heard
his brothers within at high words with each other. They were quarrelling
for the possession of his wife, who had remained constant through all
his absence, and sadly awaited his return. Maidwa listened in shame and
sorrow.
He entered the lodge, holding his head aloft as one conscious of good
principle and shining with anger. He spoke not a word, but placing the
magic arrow to his bow, he would have laid his brothers dead at his
feet.
Just then, however, the talking kettle stepped forward and spoke such
words of wisdom, the singing kettle trolled forth such a soothing little
song, the guilty brothers were so contrite and keenly repentant of their
intended wrong, the Red Swan was so radiant and forgiving, the silent
kettle straightway served them up so hearty and wholesome a meal, and
the frisky little kettle was so joyful and danced about so merrily, that
Maidwa decided to forgive them. And when the magic arrows were laid away
in the medicine-sack, there was in all the Indian country that night no
happier family than the three brothers, who ever after dwelt together in
all kindness, as all good brothers should.
[Illustration: 0091]