|THERE once lived a man and his wife and their son in a lonely forest.
The father went forth every day, according to the custom of the Indians,
to hunt for food to supply his family.
One day while he was absent, his wife, on going out of the lodge, looked
toward the lake that was near and saw a very large man walking on the
water, coming fast toward the lodge. He was already so near that she
could not escape by flight, even if she had wished to.
"What shall I say to the monster?" she thought to herself.
As he advanced rapidly, she ran in, and taking the hand of her son, a
boy of three or four years old, she led him out. Speaking very loud,
"See, my son," she said, "your grandfather"; and then added in a tone of
appeal and supplication, "he will have pity on us." The giant approached
and said, with a loud ha I ha! "Yes, my son"; and added, addressing the
woman, "Have you anything to eat?"
By good luck the lodge was well supplied with meats of various kinds.
The woman thought to please him by handing him these, which were savory
and carefully prepared. But he pushed them away in disgust, saying, "I
smell fire"; and not waiting to be invited, he seized upon the carcass
of a deer which lay by the door and despatched it almost without
stopping to take breath.
When the hunter came home he was surprised to see the monster, he was so
very frightful. He had again brought a deer, which he had no sooner put
down than the cannibal seized it, tore it in pieces, and devoured it as
though he had been fasting for a week. The hunter looked on in fear and
astonishment, and in a whisper he told his wife that he was afraid for
their lives, as this monster was one of those monsters whom Indians call
Weendigoes. He did not even dare to speak to him, nor did the cannibal
say a word, but as soon as he had finished his meal, stretched himself
down and fell asleep.
In the evening the Weendigo told the people that he should go out
a-hunting; and he strided away toward the North. Toward morning he
returned, all besmeared with blood, but he did not make known where he
had been or of what kind of game he had been in quest; but the hunter
and his wife had dreadful suspicions of the sport in which he had been
engaged. Withal his hunger did not seem to be staid, for he took up the
deer which the hunter had brought in and devoured it eagerly, leaving
the family to make their meal of the dried meats which had been reserved
in the lodge.
In this manner the Weendigo and the hunter's family lived for some time,
and it surprised them that the monster did not attempt their lives; he
never slept at night, but always went out and returned by the break of
day stained with blood and looking very wild and famished. When there
was no deer to be had wherewith to finish his repast, he said nothing.
In truth he was always still and gloomy, and he seldom spoke to any of
them; when he did, his discourse was chiefly addressed to the boy.
One evening, after he had thus sojourned with them for many weeks, he
informed the hunter that the time had now arrived for him to take his
leave, but that before doing so, he would give him a charm that would
bring good luck to his lodge. He presented to him two arrows, and
thanking the hunter and his wife for their kindness, the Weendigo
departed, saying, as he left them, that he had all the world to travel
over.
The hunter and his wife were happy when he was gone, for they had looked
every moment to have been devoured by him. Then they tried the arrows,
which never failed to bring down whatever they were aimed at.
So they lived on, prosperous and contented, for a year. One day when the
hunter was absent, his wife, going out of the lodge, saw something like
a black cloud approaching.
She looked until it came near, when she perceived that it was another
Weendigo, or Giant Cannibal.
Remembering the good conduct of the other, she had no fear of this one,
and asked him to look into the lodge.
He did so; but finding after he had glared around that there was no food
at hand, he grew very wroth, and being sorely disappointed, he took the
lodge and threw it to the winds. He seemed hardly at first to notice the
woman in his anger; but presently he cast a fierce glance upon her, and
seizing her by the waist, in spite of her cries and entreaties, he bore
her oft. To the little son, who ran to and fro lamenting, he paid no
heed.
When the hunter returned from the forest at nightfall, he was amazed.
His lodge was gone, and he saw his son sitting near the spot where
it had stood, shedding tears. The son pointed in the direction the
Ween-digo had taken, and as the father hurried along he found the bones
of his wife strewn upon the ground.
The hunter blackened his face and vowed in his heart that he would have
revenge. He built another lodge, and gathering together the bones of his
wife, he placed them in the hollow part of a dry tree.
He left his boy to take care of the lodge while he was absent. Then he
went hunting and roaming about from place to place, striving to forget
his misfortune, and always searching for the wicked Weendigo.
One morning he had been gone but a little while, when his son shot his
arrows out through the top of the lodge; running out to look for them,
he could find them nowhere. The boy had been trying his luck, and he was
puzzled that he had shot his shafts entirely out of sight.
His father made him more arrows, and when he was again left alone, he
shot one of them out; but although he looked as sharply as he could
toward the spot where it fell, and ran thither at once, he could not
find it. He shot another, which was lost in the same way. Returning to
the lodge to replenish his quiver, he happened to espy one of the lucky
arrows which the first Weendigo had given to his father, hanging upon
the side of the lodge. He reached up, and having secured it, he shot it
out at the opening. Immediately running out to find where it fell, he
was surprised to see a beautiful boy just in the act of taking it up and
hurrying away with it to a large tree. There he disappeared.
The hunter's son followed, and having come to the tree, beheld the face
of the boy looking out through an opening in the hollow part.
"Ha! ha!" he said, "my friend, come out and play with me." And he urged
the boy till he consented. They played and shot their arrows by turns.
Suddenly the young boy said, "Your father is coming. We must stop.
Promise me that you will not tell him."
The hunter's son promised, and the other disappeared in the tree.
When the hunter returned from the chase, his son sat demurely by the
fire: In the course of the evening he asked his father to make him a
new bow; and when he was questioned as to the use he could find for two
bows, he answered that one might break or get lost.
The father, pleased at his son's diligence in the practise of the bow,
made him the new weapon; and the next day, as soon as his father had
gone away, the boy ran to the hollow tree and invited his little friend
to come out and play, at the same time presenting to him the new bow.
They went and played in the lodge together, and in their sport they
raised the ashes all over it.