Winpe the giant magician,
One day at Uktukâmkw
He saw afar in the distance
Over the silent water,
Far away in the sunset,
Kwîmûŭk (the Loons) a-flying.
Thence did their chief in a circle
Lead them around the lake;
Yet ever drawing nearer
To the Home of Beasts and Men;
And as he came, the Master
Said: “What is thy will, O Kwîmû?”
[Illustration: =Kulóskap and the Loons=]
To whom the Loon replied
“I fain would be thy servant,
Thy servant and thy friend.”
Then the Master taught them a cry,
A strange long cry like the howl
Of a dog when he calls to the moon,
Or when, far away in the forest,
He seeks to find his master;
And told them when they required him
To utter this long strange cry.
Now it came to pass long after
The Master in Uktâkŭmkûk
(The which is Newfoundland)
Came to an Indian village
And all who dwelt therein
Were Kwîmûŭk, who had been
Loons in the time before;
And now they were very glad
As men to see once more
The Master who had blessed them
When they were only birds;
Therefore he made them his huntsmen,
Also his messengers;
Hence comes that in all the stories
Which are told of the mighty Master
The Loons are ever his friends;
And the Indians when they hear
The cry of the Loons, exclaim:
“_Kwîmû elkomtûejul
Kulóskapŭl_,” “The Loon is calling
Kulóskap,” the Master.
FOOTNOTES:
[24] Kulóskap used to fight with Winpe the great wizard.
II
KULÓSKAP AND THE BEAVER
[_Micmac_]
_Kulóskap naga Kwâbît._[25]
Over all the land
Of the Wabanaki,
The Land of the Break of Day,
There is never a place
Where the hand of Kulóskap
Made not a mark.
It is seen on hills and rivers,
On the great roads through mountains,
As well as on mighty rocks
Which once were living monsters.
Such is the wonderful highway
Running along the river
Called Herbert--the road which is named
By white men the Boar’s Back,
By Indians Onwokun,
Which is their word for Causeway.
The tale is told of Kulóskap
That, once while travelling
To visit Partridge Island
And then Cape Blomidon,
His friends were tired of rowing,
Tired of travel by water,
And wished to cross by land;
And, while they all were resting,
The Master, raising his magic
Unto a mighty deed
To be spoken of forever,
Went away for a little time
And cast up a giant ridge,
A wide and beautiful level
Over great bogs and streams,
And across this they travelled
Rejoicing, to await him.
And yet again the Master
Did a very wondrous deed;
For it came to pass in those days
That the beavers had built a dam
From Âûkogegéchk or Blomidon,
Even unto the opposite shore,
And thereby made a pond
Which filled up all the valley.
Now in those times the beavers
Were beasts of monstrous size,
And the Master, though kind of heart,
Seems to have had indeed
But little love for them
Since the day when young Kwâbîtsis,
The son of the Great Beaver,
Tempted Malsum to slay his brother
In the very early time.
Now to this very day
They find the bones of these beavers;
There are many on Unamagik,
Their teeth are six inches wide,
There are no such beavers to-day!
And these are indeed the bones
Of the beavers who built the dam
Across at Cape Blomidon
And crossed the Annapolis Valley.
Now the Master would fain go hunting,
And thereby do a deed
Which should equal the great whale-fishing
Of Kitpûsiigʾnâû.
So he cut the great dam near the shore,
And he bade the boy Marten watch;
For he said, “I greatly suspect
That there is a little beaver
Who is hiding hereabouts.”
And when the dam was cut
From where it joined the shore,
There was a mighty rush,
And the roar of many waters,
So that the beaver dam,
Which was made of giant trees
Deftly fastened together,
Swung full around to the westward;
And yet it did not break
Away from the other shore.
Therefore the end of it lodged
With a great split therein
When the flood had found a passage;
And the whole may be seen there still,
To this very day, even,
As it is seen by all
Of those who pass up the bay;
And still this point, Cape Split,
Is called by the Micmacs Plîgun
Which means the opening
Or cleft of a beaver dam.
Then to frighten the Beaver
The Master threw at it
Several handfuls of earth,
Which falling to eastward
Of what is called Partridge Island,
Became the Five Islands, and
The pond which was left behind
Became the Basin of Minas.
Yet another tradition tells
That after cutting the dam
The Master sat and watched,
And yet no Beaver came forth,
For Kwâbît had escaped by a hole
Which led back to the other side;
Kulóskap then tore up
A rock and he threw it
Very far indeed,
One hundred and fifty miles,
To frighten the Beaver back;
But over the Grand Falls
Kwâbît had gone in haste
And so for the time escaped;
Yet the stone remaineth there
As a wonder to this day.
However, others declare
That by this rock the Beaver
Was killed while swimming away;
For thus the tale was told
By a Penobscot woman
As she sat weaving a basket,
A basket or _abaznoda_
Of that sweet-scented grass
Which Indians dearly love.
Kulóskap gave the names
To everything on earth;
He first made man and woman
Bestowing on them life;
He also made the winds
To make the waters move;
The Turtle was his uncle,
Tiakēūch the Mink
Was his adopted son,
While Mūnŭmkwech, the Woodchuck--
She was his grandmother.
The Beaver built a dam
The greatest ever seen.
[Illustration: =Kulóskap and the Beaver=]
Kulóskap turned it away,
And killed the Beaver, too;
At Mûschik he killed a moose;
The bones are there e’en now,
At Bar Harbor, turned to stone.
The entrails of the moose,
Across the bay he cast
Unto his dogs, and they,
Which were also turned to stone,
To this day may be seen there,
As I have seen them myself;
And there, too, in the rock
Are the prints of his arrow and bow.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Kulóskap and the Beaver.
III
THE SABLE AND THE SERPENT
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Kulóskap wtiwaspʾnil nequt
Otloketmul nʾmokswesul._[26]
All of the olden time,
All in a year it befell
That Kulóskap had a foe:
A very evil man,
A very sinful beast,
A very vile magician,
Who after he had tried
A hundred tricks in vain
Took on the form of a snake,
A serpent of awful size,
In hope to kill the Lord.
Now the Master had a boy
His faithful servitor,
Nʾmokswes or the Sable;
A boy of elfin kind
Who played the magic flute
Wherewith he could entice
All birds and animals
To come to him, when they
Once heard its wondrous sound.
It happened on a time
When Kulóskap was afar,
The Sable broke his flute,
And, deeply crushed with grief,
Would not return again,
But wandered far away
Into the wilderness.
And all of this the Lord
Knew well--for by his art
He knew when aught went wrong
Pertaining to himself.
Then, when returned, he asked
The old, old grandmother
Where Sable was? but she
Could only weep. And then,
The Master said: “I’ll roam
Forever if I must,
But I will find the boy.”
So he went forth, resolved,
Following Sable’s trail,
And tracked him through the snow,
Three days and nights, and then
Heard some one sing afar;
It was the magic song
Which sorcerers only sing
When in the direst need,
And death is drawing near.
So, circling round the place,
Kulóskap looked adown,
And saw a lodge, and heard
The voice distinctly sound,
As he grew nearer; it
Was Sable’s wondrous voice;
Then heard him sing a curse
Against all serpent kind,
And he was wandering
About the place to seek
A stick, extremely straight.
The Master understood
What this all meant: how that
Sable had been enticed
Into the wilderness
By Atoʾsis the Snake,
And that the Serpent-chief
Was in the lodge, and he
Had sent the Sable forth
To seek a long straight rod
For evil magic deeds.
Then, softly singing, he
Bade Sable disobey,
And get a crooked stick,
As twisted as could be,
And told him carefully
What more he was to do.
Then Sable found in fact
A very rugged rod,
As twisted as a worm,
When it is wounded; then
As he came in, the Snake
Cried out, amazed and wroth,
“How hast thou dared to bring
To me a stick like that?”
But Sable, answering,
Replied, “It is not straight,
But what is crookedest
May be the straightest made,
And I do know a charm
Whereby this may be done;
I will but heat this stick
A little in the fire,
And sing the proper spell
And then it shall be straight.”
Now Atoʾsis the Snake,
Like all the crafty folk,
Was very curious
And so looked closely on.
But Sable, when the stick
Was burning, or red hot,
Thrust it into his eyes;
(It had a forked end)
Utterly blinding him;
Then headlong rushed away.
The serpent followed him,
But, even as he left
The wigwam, there he met
The Master, who forthwith
Struck him a mighty blow
And slew him out of hand;
Of old times this befell--
And thus my story ends.
[Illustration: =The Sable and the Serpent=]
FOOTNOTES:
[26] Kulóskap had a servant once who was a Sable.
[Illustration]
IV
KULÓSKAP AND THE TURTLE
[_Micmac and Passamaquoddy_]
_Nekke meiawet nektuk Piliomeskasik ktakʾmigw otlian Pikto._[27]
When the Master left _Uktâkumkûk_,
Called by the English Néwfoundlánd,
He went to Piktook or Pictou,
Which means “the rising of bubbles,”
Because at that place the water
Is ever strangely moving.
There he found an Indian village
And in the village a man
Whom he loved through all his life.
Yet it was not because this man,
Whose name in Micmac is Mikchik
And in our Passamaquoddy
Chikwenóchk “the Turtle,”
Was great or well favored or rich;
He was truly none of these,
Being very poor and lazy,
No longer young or lively,
Nor in any way clever or wise.
It is said he was the uncle
Of Kulóskap, but many declare
It was only by adoption.[28]
However, he always bore
His trials with such good nature,
His wants with such merry patience,
That the Master took strangely to him
With most unwonted affection,
As if he had determined
To make of the idler a man;
Which verily came to pass
Quite soon, and very quaintly,
As you shall presently hear.
When he came to Piktook,
A town of a hundred wigwams,
Kulóskap being a handsome
And very stately warrior
With the air of a great chief,
Was greatly admired by all,
Especially the women;
So that every one felt honored
Whose wigwam he deigned to enter;
Yet he saw the folk very seldom,
And dwelt with old uncle Mikchik
Delighting in his fancies,
Quaint ways and old time stories,
Very old songs of the fathers;
Such things were the joy of his heart.
Now ’twas the time for holding
The great and yearly feast
With dancing and merry games;
But Kulóskap cared not to go
As guest or as performer.
However, he asked his uncle,
“Wilt thou not go to the feast?
All the fair girls of the forest,
All the beautiful matrons,
All the bewitching widows
From far and wide will be there;
Why hast thou never married?
There are many nice women a-waiting,
’Tis evil living alone.”
Thus answered Uncle Turtle:
“I am poor and old and homely,
With no garments fit for a feast;
Therefore ’tis better for me
To smoke my pipe at home.”
“Well, if that be the only hindrance,
Uncle,” replied the Master,
“I can turn tailor I trow,
And fit you to a turn--
Fit you as if by magic,
Or in fact by magic itself;
Therefore have thou no care
As to your face or outside,
For to him who hath the art
’Tis as easy to make a man over
As any suit of clothes.”
“That may be true, my nephew,”
Quoth Turtle, “but what say you,
As to the making over
The _inside_ of a mortal?”
“By Kwâbît the immortal Beaver!”
Replied the Master, laughing,
“That is something harder to do,
Else I were not at work
So long in this world of ours.
Yet, ere I leave this town
For you I will do that also.
As for this present sport,
Do but put on this belt.”
And when he wore the girdle
Mikchik became so young
And so bewitchingly handsome
That never a man or woman
In the land had seen the like;
And as the Master arrayed him
In garments of great splendor,
He also gave him his word
That, as a man, he ever
Should be of men the comeliest,
And as animal, hardest to kill,
Most vital and enduring,
As it truly came to pass.
So Mikchik went to the feast.
Now the chieftain of the Piktook
Had three very beautiful daughters,
And of the three, the youngest
Was the loveliest in the land.
On her the old-young turtle
Cast his experienced eyes
With a boy-like, innocent look,
And said, “I think that damsel
Would exactly suit my complaint,
And therefore I think I will take her!”
Now all the young men in Piktook
Were of just the same opinion,
And all were firmly resolved
To kill the one who should win her.
So the next day the Master,
Taking a bunch of _wâbab_,
That is, of the finest wampum,
Went to the chief of the Piktook
Proposing that his uncle
Should marry the youngest daughter.
And truly the chief was willing,
While the mother at once cried, “Yes!”
To such a grand proposal;
So, without loss of time,
The maiden swept out a wigwam,
And made a bed of sprays,
Or of leaves, upon the floor,
Spreading out a great white bear skin
As a cover over all.
Then with Mikchik and the Master
They had dried meat for supper,
And so the pair were wed.
Now the Turtle seemed very lazy,
And for days after they were married
While other men were hunting
He lounged about at home
Smoking over the fire,
Till one frosty, sunny morning,
His wife said to him, “Mikchik,
If this goes on much longer
We two must certainly starve.”
So he put on his snow-shoes,
Taking his bow and arrows,
And she followed silently after
To see what he would do.
But in truth he did very little,
For he had not gone far forward
Ere he tripped and fell rolling over.
And the wife, returning disgusted,
Said in a rage to her mother:
“He is not in the least a hunter.
He can’t even walk on snow-shoes.”
But the mother said: “Be patient,
There is more in him than you dream.”
One day it came to pass
That the Master said to Mikchik
“To-morrow will be held
The very great yearly ball-play
And you must share in the game.
It will be sore for you,
A game of life and death,
For all the young men who live here
Are your enemies, and will seek
To slay you in the rush
By crowding close together,
And trampling you under foot.
But when they do this, ’twill be
Close by the Sagamore’s lodge,
And that you may escape them
I give you, Uncle, the power
To jump twice over the roof;
But if they chance to bring it
To a third attempt, ’twill be
A very terrible thing for you,
And yet it _must_ come to pass;
‘No honey without a sting;
No chase, no venison.’”
And all of it came to pass
As the Master had foretold;
For the young men of the village
All joined to kill the Turtle,
And to escape them, Mikchik
Jumped, when beset, so high
Over the Sagamore’s lodge
That he looked like an eagle flying.
But when for a third time he
Attempted another leap,
His scalp-lock caught on a pole,
And there he hung a-dangling
In the smoke which rose from below.
Then Kulóskap, who was sitting
On a skin in the tent beneath,
Said: “Uncle the hour is come,
Now will I make thee Sagem,
Grand Sagamore of the Tortoise,
The chief of the Lenni Lenâbe;
Thou shalt bear up a great nation
Which shall rest upon thy shell!”
Then he smoked Mikchik so long
That his skin became a shell,
A very hard round shell,
And the marks of the smoke from the pipe
May be seen thereon to-day.
And of all his entrails he left
But _one_ which was very short,
And then indeed Mikchik
Seeing himself so reduced
Cried out, “Beloved nephew,
You will kill me certainly!”
But the Lord replied, “Far from it,
I am giving you longer life--
A longer life than is given
To any other on earth;
From this time forth, my uncle,
You may pass through a glowing fire,
And never feel its breath,
You may live on land or in water,
Nay, though your head be cut off
It will live for nine days after,
And even so long shall beat
Your heart when cut from your body.”
Whereat Mikchik rejoiced.
And this came, indeed, betimes,
And not before it was needed;
For on the very next day
All of the men went hunting,
And the Master warned the Turtle
That they would attempt his life.
So the men all went before,
While the Turtle toiled slowly behind them;
But when they saw him no more,
He made a magic flight
Far over their heads, and deep
In the forest he slew a moose,
He drew it upon the track
Which he knew that they soon must take;
And when his foes came up,
There he sat on the moose
Smoking, and waiting for them.
Now Kulóskap the Wise
Had unto them foretold
That on that day they would see
Some one come out as first
Who they thought would be last of all.
And when this came to pass,
They were more enraged than before,
And so they planned again
To kill Mikchik, but his nephew
Who was on the point of leaving
The village and all therein,
Told him how it would be.
“First of all, my uncle,
They will build a mighty fire,
And throw you into the flame,
But endure it, and with joy;
For by my magic power
I will see that it does no harm.
Only beg as a dying favor
Not to be cast into water,
Into the water to drown,
Beg and implore and entreat them
To spare thee that terrible torture,
Yes, fight to the bitter end;
So will they certainly do it,
And so it shall come to pass.”
Then he bade farewell to the Turtle,
And they built up a blazing fire
And threw him at once into it;
Wherein, being very lazy,
He turned over and went to sleep,
And when the fire burned low
He called for more wood to rebuild it
Because it was bitterly cold.
Then they all called out, “Let us drown him!”
But hearing this, as in terror
He implored them not to do it.
“Cut me to pieces,” he said,
“Burn me again, or stab me,
But do not, I beg you, throw me
Into the water to drown!”
Therefore they swore they would drown him,
And dragged him down to the shore;
He screamed like a mad magician,
And fought like a wolverine,
Tearing up trees and roots,
Rending the rocks like a tempest;
Yet at length they overpowered him,
And took him in a canoe
To the middle of the lake
And throwing him in they watched him,
Watched him as he was sinking
Till he vanished far down below;
And thinking him surely dead
Returned to their homes rejoicing.
Now on the next day at noon
There was a glowing sunshine,
And something was seen basking
Upon a great flat rock
About a mile from the shore.
So two of the younger men
Took a canoe and went forth
To see what this might be.
And when they came to the rock
Just hanging over the water,
Whom should they see but Mikchik
A-dozing in the sunlight!
But, seeing them coming to take him,
He only said “Good-bye!”
And rolled over into the lake
Wherein it is said he is living
Unto this very day.
So in memory of this thing,
All turtles in swamps or rivers
When they see a man a-coming
Tip-tilt them into the water
With a _plump!_ which means “Good-bye!”--
Or which sounds like it in Indian[29]--
As their ancestor did of yore.
The Turtle lived with his wife
Happily, long and contented.
Then it happened in after years
That Kulóskap came one day
To visit his uncle, and saw
A babe which uttered a word.
As ’twere in a childish cry:
“Knowest thou what he is saying?”
Inquired the Master smiling.
“Truly not I,” said Mikchik,
“For I deem it is in the language
Which is spoken by the demons
Or spirits of the air,
Which ’tis said no mortal knoweth.”
“Well, I think,” replied Kulóskap,
“That he is talking of eggs
For he cries ‘_Huwâh, Huwâh_’
As if he were trying to say
_Wâhwun_--which means an egg
In the Passamaquoddy tongue.”
“But where are eggs to be found?”
Inquired the uncle amazed.
“Seek in the sand,” said the Master,
Where he sought and found full many
And greatly he marvelled at them.
In memory of which and the Master,
All the female turtles
Lay eggs to this very day. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[27] When the Master left Newfoundland he came to Pictou.
[28] It is usual to give as a mere matter of politeness terms of
consanguinity to persons in conversation. Mikchik the Turtle appears
in all the legends as a perfect Panurge or Falstaff, a worthless old
scamp, who is nevertheless liked by everybody and privileged. P.
[29] It is curious that in Italy a stone thrown into water is
supposed by the sound which it makes to answer Yes or No to questions.
V
HOW MIKCHIK THE TURTLE WAS FALSE TO THE MASTER
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Kulóskap meiawet._[30]
Kulóskap the Master
Was lord of beasts and men
Even the one as the other
He ruled them one and all.
Great indeed was his army
His tribe indeed was the whole.
In it the Golden Eagle
Was a leading chief who married
A female Caribou;
And the Turtle, Kulóskap’s uncle,
Married the only daughter
Of the Eagle and Caribou.
Of these things are many traditions,
Many and very long,
Which are told by the fire in winter;
Old people knew these stories,
The younger now forget them
And the wisdom in them all.
It is said that Mikchik the Turtle
Was ever loved by his nephew,
While another tradition tells
That he was false to the Master:
I know not how it may be,
I can only tell the story
As it was told to me.
When the Turtle married,
The Master bade him make
A splendid feast, and for this
He gave him wonderful power.
Then he bade him go down to a point
Of very great rocks by the sea
Where whales were always found,
And told him to bring a whale,
And gave him the might to do so.
But he set an appointed mark
Or space, and said that he must not
Go even an inch beyond it:
So the Turtle went down to the sea,
And caught a monstrous whale,
And bore it up to the camp;
It all seemed very easy,
But he quite forgot that the power
Was given him by the Master;
So he took it all as his own.
Like all men of his kind
He was very vain and curious.
So to see what would come of it
He went beyond the mark
While carrying the whale,
And doing this he lost
The strength on him bestowed;
And sank beneath his burden
Crushed by the mighty whale.
Then many ran to the Master
Saying that Turtle was dead,
But he answered “Cut up the whale
For the dead will soon revive.”
So they cut it up and cooked it;
And when the feast was ready,
The Turtle came yawning on,
And stretching out his leg
Cried out: “How tired I am!
Truly, I think I must
Have overslept myself!”
Then all men feared the Lord,
For now they knew him a spirit,
A spirit of terrible power.
However it came to pass
That the Turtle grew mightily
All in his own conceit,
And thought he could take the place
Of the Master and reign in his stead;
So he called together a council
Of all the beasts, to find
How Kulóskap might be slain.
Greatly the Great One laughed
When he had learned all this
And little did he care.
And knowing all that passed
In their evil hearts, he went
Disguised as an agèd squaw
Into the Council Lodge.
There were two witches there,
The Porcupine and Toad,
Bearing the human form;
Of them he humbly asked
How the Master was to die,
And to him the Toad replied,
“Well! What is that to thee?
And what hast thou to do
With such a thing as this?”
“Truly I meant no harm,”
Was all the Master said.
And then he softly touched
The tip of either’s nose.
And rising, went his way.
But when the witches looked
At one another--both
Screamed out in dire dismay
For neither had a nose!
Their faces were smooth and flat;
So it came that the Porcupine
And Toad, are to this day
Noseless among the beasts.
So the Council came to an end. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[30] Kulóskap the Master.
[Illustration]
VI
HOW KULÓSKAP CONQUERED AKLIBIMO, THE GREAT BULLFROG
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Piʾchce uskichinwi otenesis
Pakichiotote pemtanikek._[31]
Long, long ago,
Far, far away in the mountains
An Indian village stood,
Little known to other men;
All lived therein at their ease,
The men did well in their hunting
The women worked at home,
And all went well--save in _one_ thing
And that one thing was this:
That the town lay by a brook
And except in the stream there was not
A single drop of water
In all the country round
Save in the puddles of rain.
No one of all these Indians
Had ever found a spring,
Yet they all were very fond
Of a drink of good, clear water
And that in their brook was good.
So over it they grew dainty
And were very proud of it.
But after a time they saw
That the brook was running low,
Not only in summer time,
But in autumn after the rains;
And as the water fell
Their spirits, too, sank low;
But day by day it grew less,
Until its bed was as dry
As a dead bone is, which lies
In the ashes of a fire.
Now they had sometime heard
That, far away in the hills
Where none of them had been,
There was another village
Upon this very stream;
But what kind of people dwelt
Therein, no one could say;
So, thinking that these folk
Knew something about the drought,
They sent a man to look
Into the thing. Three days
Onward and upward he went,
Till on the third he came
Unto the village where
He found a solid dam
Built over the rivulet
So that no water could pass,
But all was kept in a pond.
Then, asking the village folk
Why they had done this evil,
Since ’twas of no use to them,
They said: “Go ask our chief,
It was he who ordered it.”