STORY OF SHEE-SHEE-BANZE
There was a young man named Shee-shee-banze (the Little Duck), paddling
his canoe along the shore of the lake.
Two girls came down to the edge of the water, and seeing him, the elder
said to the younger, "Let us call to him to take us a sail."
It must be remarked that in all Indian stories where two or more
sisters are the dramatis personæ, the elder is invariably represented
as silly, ridiculous and disgusting--the younger, as wise and beautiful.
In the present case the younger remonstrated. "Oh! no," said she, "let
us not do such a thing. What will he think of us?"
But the other persevered, and called to him, "Ho! come and take us into
your canoe." The young man obeyed, and approaching the shore, he took
them with him into the canoe.
"Who are you?" asked the elder sister.
"I am _Way-gee-mar-kin_," replied he, "the great Chief."
This Way-gee-mar-kin was something of a fairy, for when surrounded by
his followers, and wishing to confer favors on them, he had a habit of
coughing slightly, when there would fly forth from his mouth quantities
of silver brooches, ear-bobs and other ornaments, for which it was the
custom of his people to scramble, each striving, as in more civilized
life, to get more than his share.
Accordingly, the elder sister said, "If you are Way-gee-mar-kin, let us
see your cough."
Shee-shee-banze had a few of these silver ornaments which he had got by
scrambling, and which he kept stowed away in the sides of his mouth in
case of emergency. So he gave some spasmodic coughs and brought forth a
few, which the girl eagerly seized.
After a time, as they paddled along, a fine noble elk came forth from
the forest, and approached the water to drink.
"What is that?" asked the spokeswoman; for the younger sister sat
silent and modest all the time.
"It is my dog that I hunt with."
"Call him to us, that I may see him."
Shee-shee-banze called, but the elk turned and fled into the woods.
"He does not seem to obey you, however."
"No, it is because you inspire him with disgust, and therefore he flies
from you."
Soon a bear made his appearance by the water's edge.
"What is that?"
"One of my servants."
Again he was requested to call him, and as the call was disregarded,
the same reason as before was assigned.
Their excursion was at length ended. There had been a little magic in
it, for although the young girls had supposed themselves to be in a
canoe, there was, in reality, no canoe at all. They only imagined it to
have been so.
Now Shee-shee-banze lived with his grandmother, and to her lodge he
conducted his young friends.
They stood outside while he went in.
"Grandmother," said he, "I have brought you two young girls, who will
be your daughters-in-law. Invite them into your lodge."
Upon this, the old woman called, "Ho! come in," and they entered. They
were made welcome and treated to the best of everything.
In the meantime, the real Way-gee-mar-kin, the great chief, made
preparations for a grand feast. When he was sending his messenger
out with the invitations, he said to him, "Be very particular to bid
Shee-shee-banze to the feast, for as he is the smallest and meanest
person in the tribe, you must use double ceremony with him, or he will
be apt to think himself slighted."
Shee-shee-banze sat in his lodge with his new friends, when the
messenger arrived.
"Ho! Shee-shee-banze," cried he, "you are invited to a great feast that
Way-gee-mar-kin is to give to-night, to all his subjects."
But Shee-shee-banze took no notice of the invitation. He only whistled,
and pretended not to hear. The messenger repeated his words, and
finding that no attention was paid to them, he went his way.
The young girls looked at each other, during this scene, greatly
astonished. At length the elder spoke.
"What does this mean?" said she. "Why does he call you Shee-shee-banze,
and invite you to visit Way-gee-mar-kin?"
"Oh!" said Shee-shee-banze, "it is one of my followers that always
likes to be a little impudent. I am obliged to put up with it
sometimes, but you observed that I treated him with silent contempt."
The messenger returned to the chief, and reported the manner in which
the invitation had been received.
"Oh!" said the good-natured chief, "it is because he feels he is poor
and insignificant. Go back again--call him by my name, and make a
flourishing speech to him."
The messenger fulfilled his mission as he was bid.
"Way-gee-mar-kin," said he, pompously, "a great feast is to be given
to-night, and I am sent most respectfully to solicit the honor of your
company!"
"Did I not tell you?" said Shee-shee-banze to the maidens. Then nodding
with careless condescension, he added, "Tell them I'll come."
At night, Shee-shee-banze dressed himself in his very best paint,
feathers and ornaments--but before his departure he took his
grandmother aside.
"Be sure," said he, "that you watch these young people closely until I
come back. Shut up your lodge tight, _tight_. Let no one come in or go
out, and above all things, do not go to sleep."
These orders given, he went his way.
The grandmother tried her best to keep awake, but finding herself
growing more and more sleepy, as the night wore on, she took a strong
cord and laced across the mat which hung before the entrance to the
lodge, as the Indians lace up the mouths of their bags, and having seen
all things secure and the girls quiet in bed, she laid down and soon
fell into a comfortable sleep.
The young girls, in the meanwhile, were dying with curiosity to know
what had become of Shee-shee-banze, and as soon as they were sure
the old lady was asleep, they prepared to follow him, and see what
was going on. Fearing, however, that the grandmother might awake and
discover their absence, they took two logs of wood, and putting them
under the blanket, so disposed them as to present the appearance
of persons sleeping quietly. They then cut the cords that fastened
the door, and, guided by the sounds of the music, the dancing, and
the merry-making, they soon found their way to the dwelling of
Way-gee-mar-kin.
When they entered, they saw the chief seated on a throne, surrounded
by light and splendor. Everything was joy and amusement. Crowds of
courtiers were in the apartment, all dressed in the most brilliant
array. The strangers looked around for their friend Shee-shee-banze,
but he was nowhere to be seen.
Now and then the chief would cough, when a shower of silver ornaments
and precious things would fly in all directions, and instantly, a
scramble would commence among the company, to gather them up and
appropriate them. As they thus rushed forward, the brides elect saw
their poor little friend crowded up into a corner, where nobody took
any notice of him, except to push him aside, or step on him whenever he
was in the way. He uttered piteous little squeaks as one and another
would thus maltreat him, but he was too busy taking care of himself to
perceive that those whom he had left snug at home in the lodge were
witnesses of all that was going on.
At length the signal was given for the company to retire, all but the
two young damsels, upon whom Way-gee-mar-kin had set his eye, and to
whom he had sent, by one of his assistants, great offers to induce them
to remain with him and become his wives.
Poor Shee-shee-banze returned to his lodge, but what was his
consternation to find the door open!
"Ho! grandmother," cried he, "is this the way you keep watch?"
The old woman started up. "There are my daughters-in-law," said she,
pointing to the two logs of wood. Shee-shee-banze threw himself on
the ground between them. His back was broken by coming so violently
in contact with them, but that he did not mind--he thought only of
revenge, and the recovery of his sweethearts.
He waited but to get some powerful poison and prepare it, and then he
stole softly back to the wigwam of Way-gee-mar-kin. All was silent, and
he crept in without making the slightest noise. There lay the chief,
with a young girl on each side of him.
They were all sound asleep, the chief lying on his back, with his mouth
wide open. Before he was aware of it, the poison was down his throat,
and Shee-shee-banze had retreated quietly to his own lodge.
The next morning the cry went through the village that Way-gee-mar-kin
had been found dead in his bed. Of course it was attributed to
over indulgence at the feast. All was grief and lamentation. "Let
us go and tell poor Shee-shee-banze," said one, "he was so fond of
Way-gee-mar-kin."
They found him sitting on a bank fishing. He had been up at peep of
day, to make preparation for receiving intelligence.
He had caught two or three fish, and, extracting their bladders, had
filled them with blood, and tied them under his arm. When the friends
of Way-gee-mar-kin saw him, they called out to him,
"Oh! Shee-shee-banze, your friend. Way-gee-mar-kin, is dead!" With a
gesture of despair, Shee-shee-banze drew his knife and plunged it, not
into his heart, but into the bladders filled with blood that he had
prepared. As he fell, apparently lifeless to the ground, the messengers
began to reproach themselves: "Oh! why did we tell him so suddenly?
We might have known he would not survive it. Poor Shee-shee-banze! he
loved Way-gee-mar-kin so."
To their great surprise, the day after the funeral, Shee-shee-banze
came walking toward the wigwam of the dead chief. As he walked, he
sang, or rather chanted to a monotonous strain[AV] the following:
Way-gee-mar-kin is dead, is dead,
I know who killed him.
I guess it was I--I guess it was I.
[Footnote AV: The Indians sing these words to an air peculiar to
themselves.]
All the village was aroused. Everybody flew in pursuit of the murderer,
but he evaded them, and escaped to a place of safety.
Soon after, he again made his appearance, mincing as he walked, and
singing to the same strain as before.
If you wish to take and punish me.
Let the widows come and catch me.
It seemed a good idea, and the young women were recommended to go
and entice the culprit into the village, so that the friends of the
deceased could lay hold of him.
They went forth on their errand. Shee-shee-banze would suffer them to
approach, then he would dance off a little now he would allow them to
come quite near; anon he would retreat a little before them, all the
time singing.
Come, pretty widows, come and catch me.
Thus he decoyed them on, occasionally using honied words and flattering
speeches, until he had gained their consent to return with him to his
lodge, and take up their abode with him.
The friends of the murdered chief were scandalized at such inconstancy,
and resolved to punish all three, as soon as they could catch them.
They surrounded his lodge with cries and threatenings, but
Shee-shee-banze and his two brides had contrived to elude their
vigilance and gain his canoe, which lay in the river, close at hand.
Hardly were they on board, when their escape was discovered. The
whole troop flew after them. Some plunged into the stream, and seized
the canoe. In the struggle it was upset, but immediately on touching
the water, whether from the magical properties of the canoe, or the
necromantic skill of the grandmother, they were transformed into ducks,
and flew quacking away.
Since that time, the water-fowl of this species are always found in
companies of three--two females and a male.
* * * * *
The Canard de France, or Mallard, and the Brancheuse, or Wood Duck, are
of different habits from the foregoing, flying in pairs. Indeed, the
constancy of the latter is said to be so great that if he loses his
mate he never takes another partner, but goes mourning to the end of
his days.