In the great wilderness of the north, midway between Hudson’s Bay and
Lake Ontario, lies a beautiful sheet of water called Stone Lake. It is
surrounded with hills, which are covered with a dense forest, and the
length thereof is about twelve miles. On the shore of this lake there
stood, in the olden time, an Ottawa village, and the most notorious
vagabond in said village was an old bachelor. He was a kind-hearted
rogue, and though he pretended to have a cabin of his own, he spent the
most of his time lounging about the wigwams of his friends, where he was
treated with the attention usually bestowed upon the oldest dog of an
Indian village. The low cunning for which he was distinguished made him
the laughing-stock of all who knew him, and his proverbial cowardice had
won for him the contempt of all the hunters and warriors. Whenever a war
party was convened for the purpose of pursuing an enemy, Wis-ka-go-twa,
or the White Liver, always happened to be in the woods; but when they
returned, singing their songs of victory, the vagabond bachelor
generally mingled conspicuously with the victors.
But, in process of time, Wis-ka-go-twa took it into his head to get
married, and from that moment began the troubles of his life. As soon as
his resolution had become known among the young women of the village,
they came together in secret council, and unanimously agreed that not
one of them would ever listen to the expected proposals of the bachelor,
for they thought him too great a coward to enjoy the pleasures of
matrimony. Years elapsed, and the vagabond was still in the enjoyment of
his bachelorhood.
In the meanwhile a beautiful maiden, named Muck-o-wiss, or the
Whipporwill, had budded into the full maturity of life. She was the
chief attraction of the village, and the heart of many a brave warrior
and expert hunter had been humbled beneath her influence. Among those
who had entered her lodge in the quiet night, and whispered the story of
his love, was Wis-ka-go-twa. She deigned not to reply to his avowals,
and he became unhappy. He asked the consent of her father to their
union, and he said that he had no objections provided the daughter was
willing. It so happened, however, that the maiden was not willing, for
she was a member of that female confederacy which had doomed the
vagabond lover to the miseries of single life. Time passed on, and he
was the victim of a settled melancholy.
The sunny days of autumn were nearly numbered, and an occasional blast
from the far north had brought a shudder to the breast of Wis-ka-go-twa,
for they reminded him of the long winter which he was likely to spend in
his wigwam alone. He pondered upon the gloomy prospect before him, and
in his frenzy made the desperate resolution that he would, by any means
in his power, obtain the love of his soft-eyed charmer. He consequently
began to exert himself in his daily hunts, and whenever he obtained an
uncommonly fat beaver, or large bear, he carefully deposited it before
the lodge of Muck-o-wiss, and he now mingled, more frequently than ever
before, in the various games of the village, and was not behind his more
youthful rivals in jumping and playing ball. In a variety of ways did he
obtain renown, but it was at the expense of efforts which nearly
deprived him of life. Again did he sue for the smiles of Muck-o-wiss,
but she told him he was an old man, and that he did not wear in his hair
a single plume of the eagle, to show that he had ever taken a scalp.
The disappointed vagabond now turned his attention to war. It so
happened, however, that a permanent peace had been established between
the Ottawas and the neighboring tribes, so that our hero was baffled on
this score also. But he had heard it reported in the village that a
party of Iroquois warriors had been seen on that side of the Great Lake,
and as they were heartily hated by his own tribe, he conceived the idea
of absenting himself for a few days, for the purpose of playing a
deceptive game upon the maiden of his love and the entire population of
the village where he lived. Having formed his determination, he kept it
entirely to himself, and on a certain morning he launched his canoe upon
the lake and disappeared, as if going upon a hunting expedition.
Four or five days had elapsed, and the vagabond bachelor was not yet
returned. On the afternoon of the sixth day, a couple of Indian boys,
who had been frolicking away the morning in the woods, returned to the
village in an uncommonly excited mood. They visited almost every wigwam,
and related a grand discovery which they had made. While chasing a deer
into a secluded bay, about ten miles down the lake, they announced that
they had seen Wis-ka-go-twa engaged in a most singular employment. They
were aware of his peculiar reputation, and when they saw him in this
out-of-the-way place, they watched him in silence from behind a fallen
tree. The first act which they saw him perform was, to shoot into the
side of his little canoe some twenty of his flint-headed arrows, which
mutilated the canoe in a most disgraceful manner. He next took some
unknown instrument, and inflicted a number of severe wounds upon his
arms and legs. But the deepest incision which he made was on his leg,
just above the knee, into which they were astonished to see him place,
with a small stick, a kind of white material, which resembled the dry
shell of a turtle. All this being accomplished, they saw the vagabond
embark in his leaky canoe, as if about to return to the village. They
suspected the game that was being played, so they made the shortest cut
home and related the foregoing particulars.
An hour or two passed on, and, as the sun was setting, the villagers
were attracted by a canoe upon the lake. They watched it with peculiar
interest, and found that it was steadily approaching. Presently it made
its appearance within hailing distance, when it was discovered to be
occupied by the vagabond bachelor. Every man, woman, and child
immediately made their appearance on the shore, apparently for the
purpose of welcoming the returning hunter, but in reality with a view of
enjoying what they supposed would turn out a good joke. The hunter
looked upon the crowd with evident satisfaction, but he manifested his
feelings in a very novel manner, for he was momentarily uttering a
long-drawn groan, as if suffering from a severe wound. As the canoe
touched the sand it was found to be half full of bloody water, and one
of the sides had evidently been fired into by the arrows of an enemy. A
murmur ran through the crowd that Wis-ka-go-twa must have had a dreadful
time, and he was called upon to give the particulars, when he did so in
a few words. He had been overtaken, he said, by a party of Iroquois,
consisting of some twenty men, who attacked him while he was pursuing a
bear, and though he succeeded in killing four of his rascally pursuers,
his canoe had been sadly mutilated, and he had received a wound which he
feared would be the cause of his death. In due time the wound was
revealed to the public eye, and the young women turned away with a
shudder; and then the vagabond bachelor was conveyed to his lodge, and
the medicine-man sent for to administer relief.
A day or two elapsed, and the poor hunter was evidently in a bad way.
They asked him what individual in the village he would have to attend
him. He expressed a preference for the father of Muck-o-wiss, who came
and faithfully attended to his duties as a nurse; but the sick was not
yet satisfied. “Whom will you have now?” asked the old man, and the name
of Muck-o-wiss trembled on the lips of the sick lover. His chief desire
was granted, and for three days did the maiden attend to the little
wants of her unfortunate lover. Another day, and he was rapidly mending.
He was now so nearly restored that the maiden began to talk of returning
to her mother’s wigwam. This intelligence roused the hunter from his bed
of furs, and he once more avowed his undying attachment to the charming
maiden. She repulsed him with a frown, and retired from the lodge; so
the hunter was again sadly disappointed. The maiden hastened to tell the
news to all the women of the village, and after they had enjoyed
themselves for upwards of an hour, Muck-o-wiss returned to the wigwam of
her lover, and told him that she would become his wife on one condition,
which was, that on the day he should succeed in killing five bears, on
that day would she enter his lodge and make it her permanent home. For
an Indian to kill five bears on one day was considered a remarkable
feat, and the roguish Muck-o-wiss thought herself secure.
Days passed on, and the vagabond bachelor was again restored to sound
health and devoting himself to the chase. It was just the season when
the black bear takes up its annual journey for the south, and the hunter
had discovered a narrow place in the lake, where the animals were in the
habit of coming. It was the last day of autumn, and early in the morning
he had stationed himself in a good ambush. By the time the sun cast a
short shadow, he had killed three fine specimens, and placed them before
the lodge of his intended wife. The middle of the afternoon arrived, and
he had deposited the fourth animal at the same place. The sunset hour
was nigh at hand, and the hunter had killed and placed in his canoe the
fifth and largest bear that he had ever seen. The happiest hour of the
poor man’s life was now surely nigh at hand. Impatiently did he paddle
his way home. The villagers saw that the vagabond bachelor had been
successful, and Muck-o-wiss and all her female companions were filled
with consternation. But the truly heroic warriors, who had striven in
vain to win the love of the village beauty, were not only astonished,
but indignant, for they could not bear the idea of losing, in such a
manner, the prize which had urged them on in the more noble deeds of
war. But now has the canoe once more reached the shore. Upon his back
has the hunter lifted his prize, and up the bank is he toiling and
staggering along with the immense load, and now has he fixed his eyes
upon the lodge where he is hoping to receive his promised bride. His
heart flutters with tumultuous joy—his knees tremble from fatigue—a
strange faintness passes over his brain—he reels from his upright
position—the bear falls to the ground—and the vagabond bachelor is—dead.