He again exacted a promise of secrecy and went back to his tree. The
eldest took his seat near the fire.
When the hunter came in he was surprised to see the ashes scattered
about. "Why, my son," he said, "you must have played very hard to-day to
raise such a dust all alone."
"Yes," the boy answered, "I was very lonesome, and I ran round and
round--that is the cause of it."
The next day the hunter made ready for the chase as usual. The boy said:
"Father, try and hunt all day, and see what you can kill."
He had no sooner set out than the boy called his friend, and they played
and chased each other round the lodge. They had great delight in
each other's company and made merry by the hour. The hunter was again
returning, and came to a rising ground which caught the winds as they
passed, when he heard his son laughing and making a noise; but the
sounds as they reached him on the hill-top, seemed as if they arose from
two persons playing.
At the same time the younger boy stopped, and after saying, "Your father
is coming," stole away under cover of the high grass to his hollow tree,
which was not far off.
The hunter, on entering, found his son sitting by the fire, very quiet
and unconcerned, although he saw that all the articles of the lodge were
lying thrown about in all directions.
"Why, my son," he said, "you must play very hard every day; and what is
it that you do, all alone, to throw the lodge in such confusion?"
The boy again had his excuse. "Father," he answered, "I play in this
manner: I chase and drag my blanket around the lodge, and that is the
reason you see the ashes spread about."
The hunter was not satisfied until his son had shown him how he played
with the blanket, which he did so adroitly as to set his father laughing
and at last drive him out of the lodge with the great clouds of ashes
that he raised.
The next morning the boy renewed his request that his father should
be absent all day, and see if he could not kill two deer. The hunter
thought this a strange desire on the part of his son, but as he had
always humored the boy, he went into the forest as usual, bent on
accomplishing his wish, if he could.
As soon as he was out of sight, his son hastened to his young companion
at the tree, and they continued their sports.
The father on nearing his home in the evening again heard the sounds of
play and laughter; and as the wind brought them straight to his ear, he
was now certain that there were two voices.
The boy from the tree had no more than time to escape, when the hunter
entered and found his son sitting as usual near the fire. When he cast
his eyes around, he saw that the lodge was in greater confusion than
before.
"My son," he said, "you must be very foolish to play so when alone. But,
tell me, my son; I heard two voices, I am sure," and he looked closely
on the prints of the footsteps in the ashes. "True," he continued, "here
is the print of a foot which is smaller than yours," and he was now
satisfied that his suspicions were well founded, and that some very
young person had been the companion of his son during his absence.
The boy could not now refuse to tell his father what had happened.
"Father," he said, "I found a boy in the hollow of that tree near the
lodge, where you placed my mother's bones."
Strange thoughts came over the mind of the hunter; did his wife live
again in this beautiful child?
Fearful of disturbing the dead, he did not dare to visit the place where
he had deposited her remains.
He, however, engaged his son to entice the boy to a dead tree by the
edge of a wood, where they could kill many flying-squirrels by setting
it on fire. He said that he would conceal himself near-by and take the
boy.
The next day the hunter accordingly went into the woods, and his son,
calling the boy from the tree, urged him to go with him to kill the
squirrels. The boy objected that the father was near, but he was at
length prevailed on to go, and after they had fired the tree, and while
they were busy killing or taking the squirrels, the hunter suddenly made
his appearance and clasped the strange boy in his arms.
"Kago, kago, don't, don't," cried the child. "You will tear my clothes!"
For he was clad in a fine apparel, which shone as if it had been made of
a beautiful transparent skin. The father reassured him by every means in
his power.
By constant kindness and gentle words the boy was reconciled to remain
with them; but chiefly by the presence of his young friend, the hunter's
son, to whom he was fondly attached. The children were never parted from
each other; and when the hunter looked upon the strange boy, he seemed
to see living in him the better spirit of his lost wife. He was thankful
to the Great Spirit for this act of goodness, and in his heart he felt
assured that in time the boy would show great virtue and in some way
avenge him on the wicked Weendigo who had destroyed the companion of his
lodge.
The hunter grew at ease in his spirit and gave all of the time he
could spare from the chase to the society of the two children; but what
affected him most, both of his sons, although they were well-formed and
beautiful, grew no more in stature but remained children still. Every
day they resembled each other more and more, and they never ceased to
sport and divert themselves in the innocent ways of childhood.
One day the hunter had gone abroad with his bow and arrows, leaving
behind in the lodge, at the request of the strange boy, one of the two
shafts which the friendly Weendigo had given to him.
When he returned, what were his surprise and joy to see stretched dead
by his lodge-door the black giant who had slain his wife. He had been
stricken down by the magic shaft in the hands of the little stranger
from the tree; and ever after the boy, or the Bone-Dwarf as he was
called, was the guardian and good genius of the lodge. No evil spirit,
giant, or Weendigo, ever again dared approach it to mar their peace.