The old conjurers and medicine-men who were at length consulted said,
after long drumming and powwowing and the consuming of much tea and
tobacco, at the expense of his relatives, that the spirits of the
forests and rivers were calling to him to fast and suffer, and prepare
to become a great medicine man; that nature would then reveal her
secrets and give him power and influence over the people and make him
"good medicine," if he obeyed her voice.
Oowikapun heard of the surmisings and mutterings of the people about
him, and at first was very much annoyed. Then no peace coming to him,
for he was afraid to pray to the Good Spirit since he had taken part in
the devil dance, he decided to consult one of the old men of the
village, who had a reputation among the people for wisdom and also as
being well posted in old Indian traditions and legends. The young man
was cordially welcomed to the wigwam of the old man, but Oowikapun had
not been there very long in conversation with him before he found out
that he was a great hater of the whites. On Oowikapun expressing some
surprise at this, and asking his reason for having such bitterness in
his breast toward the palefaces, the old man told him the following
story.
One winter many years ago when he was a great hunter, he had been very
successful in the chase and had caught quite a number of black and
silver foxes, as well as many otters and other valuable fur-bearing
animals. Thinking he could do better in selling his furs by going down
the rivers and across many portages far away to a place where he had
heard that white men had come, who wished to trade with the Indians, and
who had sent word that they would give a good price for rich furs, he
set off for that place. He took his wife along with him to help him
paddle his canoe and to carry the loads across the portages, which were
very many. They reached the place after many days' journey; and the
white men when they saw their bales of rich furs seemed very friendly,
and said as they had come so far they must be very weary; and so they
gave him their fire water to drink, and told him that it would make him
forget that his hands were sore with long paddling his canoe, and that
his feet were weary with the hard walking in the portages. So because
they professed to be his friends he drank their fire water, and found
out that they were his enemies. They gave him more and more, telling
him it was good; and so he foolishly drank and drank until he lost his
senses, and was in a drunken stupor for days.
When he came to himself he found he was out in a cold shed and very
miserable. His head ached and he was very sore. His coat was gone, and
so were his beautifully beaded leggings and moccasins. His gun was
gone, and so were his bales of rich and valuable furs. His wife was
also gone, and there he was, half naked and alone.
Alarmed, he cried out for his things, and asked how it was that he was
in such a sad plight. Hearing him thus calling out, some of those white
men who had pretended to be his friends came to him and said, "Begone,
you poor Indian fool!"
"Where are my furs?" he asked.