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NCE upon a time, on the shores of the great lake, Gitchee Gumee, there
lived a hunter who had ten beautiful young daughters. Their hair was
dark and glossy as the wings of the blackbird, and when they walked or
ran it was with the grace and freedom of the deer in the forest.
Thus it was that many suitors came to court them--brave and handsome
young men, straight as arrows, fleet of foot, who could travel from
sun to sun without fatigue. They were sons of the prairie, wonderful
horsemen who would ride at breakneck speed without saddle or stirrup.
They could catch a wild horse with a noose, tame him in a magical way
by breathing into his nostrils, then mount him and gallop off as if
he always had been ridden. There were those also who came from afar in
canoes, across the waters of the Great Lake, canoes which shot swiftly
along, urged by the strong, silent sweep of the paddle.
All of them brought presents with which they hoped to gain the father's
favor. Feathers from the wings of the eagle who soars high up near the
sun; furs of fox and beaver and the thick, curly hair of the bison;
beads of many colors, and wampum, the shells which the Indians used
for money; the quills of the porcupine and the claws of the grizzly
bear; deerskin dressed to such a softness that it crumpled up in the
hands--these and many other things they brought.
One by one, the daughters were wooed and married, until nine of them had
chosen husbands. One by one, other tents were reared, so that instead
of the single family lodge on the shores of the lake there were tents
enough to form a little village. For the country was a rich one, and
there was game and fish enough for all.
There remained the youngest daughter, Oweenee--the fairest of them all.
Gentle as she was beautiful, none was so kind of heart. Unlike her proud
and talkative elder sisters, Oweenee was shy and modest, and spoke but
little. She loved to wander alone in the woods, with no company but the
birds and squirrels and her own thoughts. What these thoughts were we
can only guess; from her dreamy eyes and sweet expression, one could
but suppose that nothing selfish or mean or hateful ever came into her
mind. Yet Oweenee, modest though she was, had a spirit of her own. More
than one suitor had found this out. More than one conceited young man,
confident that he could win her, went away crestfallen when Oweenee
began to laugh at him.
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The truth is, Oweenee seemed hard to please. Suitor after suitor
came--handsome, tall young men, the handsomest and the bravest in all
the country round. Yet this fawn-eyed maiden would have none of them.
One was too tall, another too short; one too thin, another too fat. At
least, that was the excuse she gave for sending them away. Her proud
sisters had little patience with her. It seemed to be questioning
their own taste; for Oweenee, had she said the word, might have gained a
husband more attractive than any of theirs. Yet no one was good enough.
They could not understand her; so they ended by despising her as a silly
and unreasonable girl.
Her father, too, who loved her dearly and wished her to be happy, was
much puzzled. "Tell me, my daughter," he said to her one day, "Is it
your wish never to marry? The handsomest young men in the land have
sought you in marriage, and you have sent them all away--often with a
poor excuse. Why is it?"
Oweenee looked at him with her large, dark eyes.
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"Father," she said at last. "It is not that I am wilful. But it seems
somehow as if I had the power to look into the hearts of men. It is the
heart of a man, and not his face, that really matters; and I have not
yet found one youth who in this sense is really beautiful."
Soon after, a strange thing happened. There came into the little village
an Indian named Osseo, many years older than Oweenee. He was poor and
ugly, too. Yet Oweenee married him.
How the tongues of her nine proud sisters did wag! Had the spoiled
little thing lost her mind? they asked. Oh, well! They always knew she
would come to a bad end; but it was pretty hard on the family.
Of course they could not know what Oweenee had seen at once--that Osseo
had a generous nature and a heart of gold; that beneath his outward
ugliness was the beauty of a noble mind, and the fire and passion of a
poet. That is why Oweenee loved him; knowing, too, that he needed her
care, she loved him all the more.
Now, though Oweenee did not suspect it, Osseo was really a beautiful
youth on whom an evil spell had been cast. He was in truth the son
of the King of the Evening Star--that Evening Star which shines so
gloriously in the western sky, just above the rim of the earth, as the
sun is setting. Often on a clear evening it hung suspended in the
purple twilight like some glittering jewel. So close it seemed, and so
friendly, that the little children would reach out their hands, thinking
that they might grasp it ere it was swallowed by the night, and keep it
always for their own. But the older ones would say: "Surely it must be
a bead on the garments of the Great Spirit as he walks in the evening
through the garden of the heavens."
Little did they know that the poor, despised Osseo had really descended
from that star. And when he, too, stretched
[Illustration: 0000]
out his arms toward it, and murmured words they could not understand,
they all made sport of him.
There came a time when a great feast was prepared in a neighboring
village, and all of Oweenee's kinsfolk were invited to attend. They set
out on foot--the nine proud sisters, with their husbands, walking ahead,
much pleased with themselves and their finery, and all chattering
like magpies. But Oweenee walked behind in silence, and with her walked
Osseo.
The sun had set; in the purple twilight, over the edge of the earth,
sparkled the Evening Star. Osseo, pausing, stretched out his hands
toward it, as if imploring pity; but when the others saw him in this
attitude they all made merry, laughing and joking and making unkind
remarks.
"Instead of looking up in the sky," said one of the sisters, "he had
better be looking on the ground. Else he may stumble and break his
neck." Then calling back to him, she cried: "Look out! Here's a big log.
Do you think you can manage to climb over it?"
Osseo made no answer; but when he came to the log he paused again. It
was the trunk of a huge oak-tree blown down by the wind. There it had
lain for years, just as it fell; and the leaves of many summers
lay thick upon it. There was one thing, though, the sisters had not
noticed.. The tree-trunk was not a solid one, but hollow, and so big
around that a man could walk inside it from one end to the other without
stooping.
But Osseo did not pause because he was unable to climb over it. There
was something mysterious and magical in the appearance of the great
hollow trunk; and he gazed at it a long time, as if he had seen it in a
dream, and had been looking for it ever since.
"What is it, Osseo?" asked Oweenee, touching him on the arm. "Do you see
something that I cannot see?"