In an early age of the world, when there were fewer inhabitants than
there now are, there lived an Indian, in a remote place, who had a wife
and two children. They seldom saw any one out of the circle of their
own lodge. Animals were abundant in so secluded a situation, and the
man found no difficulty in supplying his family with food.
In this way they lived in peace and happiness, which might have
continued if the hunter had not found cause to suspect his wife. She
secretly cherished an attachment for a young man whom she accidentally
met one day in the woods. She even planned the death of her husband for
his sake, for she knew if she did not kill her husband, her husband,
the moment he detected her crime, would kill her.
The husband, however, eluded her project by his readiness and decision.
He narrowly watched her movements. One day he secretly followed her
footsteps into the forest, and having concealed himself behind a tree,
he soon beheld a tall young man approach and lead away his wife. His
arrows were in his hands, but he did not use them. He thought he would
kill her the moment she returned.
Meantime, he went home and sat down to think. At last he came to the
determination of quitting her forever, thinking that her own conscience
would punish her sufficiently, and relying on her maternal feelings to
take care of the two children, who were boys, he immediately took up
his arms and departed.
When the wife returned she was disappointed in not finding her husband,
for she had now concerted her plan, and intended to have dispatched
him. She waited several days, thinking he might have been led away by
the chase, but finding he did not return, she suspected the true cause.
Leaving her two children in the lodge, she told them she was going a
short distance and would return. She then fled to her paramour and came
back no more.
The children, thus abandoned, soon made way with the food left in the
lodge, and were compelled to quit it in search of more. The eldest boy,
who was of an intrepid temper, was strongly attached to his brother,
frequently carrying him when he became weary, and gathering all the
wild fruit he saw. They wandered deeper and deeper into the forest,
losing all traces of their former habitation, until they were
completely lost in its mazes.
The eldest boy had a knife, with which he made a bow and arrows, and was
thus enabled to kill a few birds for himself and brother. In this manner
they continued to pass on, from one piece of forest to another, not
knowing whither they were going. At length they saw an opening through
the woods, and were shortly afterward delighted to find themselves on
the borders of a large lake. Here the elder brother busied himself in
picking the seed pods of the wild rose, which he reserved as food. In
the mean time, the younger brother amused himself by shooting arrows in
the sand, one of which happened to fall into the lake. Panigwun,[82] the
elder brother, not willing to lose the arrow, waded in the water to
reach it. Just as he was about to grasp the arrow, a canoe passed up to
him with great rapidity. An old man, sitting in the centre, seized the
affrighted youth and placed him in the canoe. In vain the boy addressed
him--"My grandfather (a term of respect for old people), pray take my
little brother also. Alone, I cannot go with you; he will starve if I
leave him." Mishosha (the old man) only laughed at him. Then uttering
the charm, Chemaun Poll, and giving his canoe a slap, it glided through
the water with inconceivable swiftness. In a few moments they reached
the habitation of the magician, standing on an island in the centre of
the lake. Here he lived with his two daughters, who managed the affairs
of his household. Leading the young man up to the lodge, he addressed
his eldest daughter. "Here," said he, "my daughter, I have brought a
young man to be your husband." Husband! thought the young woman; rather
another victim of your bad arts, and your insatiate enmity to the human
race. But she made no reply, seeming thereby to acquiesce in her
father's will.
The young man thought he saw surprise depicted in the eyes of the
daughter, during the scene of this introduction, and determined to
watch events narrowly. In the evening he overheard the two daughters in
conversation. "There," said the eldest daughter, "I told you he would
not be satisfied with his last sacrifice. He has brought another
victim, under the pretence of providing me a husband. Husband, indeed!
the poor youth will be in some horrible predicament before another sun
has set. When shall we be spared the scenes of vice and wickedness
which are daily taking place before our eyes?"
Panigwun took the first opportunity of acquainting the daughters how he
had been carried off, and been compelled to leave his little brother on
the shore. They told him to wait until their father was asleep, then to
get up and take his canoe, and using the charm he had obtained, it
would carry him quickly to his brother. That he could carry him food,
prepare a lodge for him, and be back before daybreak. He did, in every
respect, as he had been directed--the canoe obeyed the charm, and
carried him safely over, and after providing for the subsistence of his
brother, he told him that in a short time he should come for him. Then
returning to the enchanted island, he resumed his place in the lodge,
before the magician awoke. Once, during the night, Mishosha awoke, and
not seeing his destined son-in-law, asked his daughter what had become
of him. She replied that he had merely stepped out, and would be back
soon. This satisfied him. In the morning, finding the young man in the
lodge, his suspicions were completely lulled. "I see, my daughter,"
said he, "you have told the truth."
As soon as the sun arose, Mishosha thus addressed the young man. "Come,
my son, I have a mind to gather gulls' eggs. I know an island where
there are great quantities, and I wish your aid in getting them." The
young man saw no reasonable excuse; and getting into the canoe, the
magician gave it a slap, and uttering a command, they were in an
instant at the island. They found the shores strown with gulls' eggs,
and the island full of birds of this species. "Go, my son," said the
old man, "and gather the eggs, while I remain in the canoe."
But Panigwun had no sooner got ashore, than Mishosha pushed his canoe a
little from the land, and exclaimed--"Listen, ye gulls! you have long
expected an offering from me. I now give you a victim. Fly down and
devour him." Then striking his canoe, he left the young man to his
fate.
The birds immediately came in clouds around their victim, darkening the
air with their numbers. But the youth seizing the first that came near
him, and drawing his knife, cut off its head. He immediately skinned
the bird and hung the feathers as a trophy on his breast. "Thus," he
exclaimed, "will I treat every one of you who approaches me. Forbear,
therefore, and listen to my words. It is not for you to eat human
flesh. You have been given by the Great Spirit as food for man. Neither
is it in the power of that old magician to do you any good. Take me on
your backs and carry me to his lodge, and you shall see that I am not
ungrateful." The gulls obeyed; collecting in a cloud for him to rest
upon, and quickly flew to the lodge, where they arrived before the
magician. The daughters were surprised at his return, but Mishosha, on
entering the lodge, conducted himself as if nothing extraordinary had
taken place.
The next day he again addressed the youth: "Come, my son," said he, "I
will take you to an island covered with the most beautiful stones and
pebbles, looking like silver. I wish you to assist me in gathering some
of them. They will make handsome ornaments, and possess great medicinal
virtues." Entering the canoe, the magician made use of his charm, and
they were carried in a few moments to a solitary bay in an island,
where there was a smooth sandy beach. The young man went ashore as
usual, and began to search. "A little further, a little further," cried
the old man. "Upon that rock you will get some fine ones." Then pushing
his canoe from land--"Come, thou great king of fishes," cried the old
man; "you have long expected an offering from me. Come, and eat the
stranger whom I have just put ashore on your island." So saying, he
commanded his canoe to return, and it was soon out of sight.
Immediately a monstrous fish thrust his long snout from the water,
crawling partially on the beach, and opening wide his jaws to receive
his victim. "When!" exclaimed the young man, drawing his knife and
putting himself in a threatening attitude, "when did you ever taste
human flesh? Have a care of yourself. You were given by the Great
Spirit to man, and if you, or any of your tribe eat human flesh you
will fall sick and die. Listen not to the words of that wicked man, but
carry me back to his island, in return for which I will present you a
piece of red cloth." The fish complied, raising his back out of the
water, to allow the young man to get on. Then taking his way through
the lake, he landed his charge safely on the island before the return
of the magician. The daughters were still more surprised to see that he
had escaped the arts of their father the second time. But the old man
on his return maintained his taciturnity and self-composure. He could
not, however, help saying to himself--"What manner of boy is this, who
is ever escaping from my power? But his spirit shall not save him. I
will entrap him to-morrow. Ha, ha, ha!"
Next day the magician addressed the young man as follows: "Come, my
son," said he, "you must go with me to procure some young eagles. I
wish to tame them. I have discovered an island where they are in great
abundance." When they had reached the island, Mishosha led him inland
until they came to the foot of a tall pine, upon which the nests were.
"Now, my son," said he, "climb up this tree and bring down the birds."
The young man obeyed. When he had with great difficulty got near the
nest, "Now," exclaimed the magician, addressing the tree, "stretch
yourself up and be very tall." The tree rose up at the command.
"Listen, ye eagles," continued the old man, "you have long expected a
gift from me. I now present you this boy, who has had the presumption
to molest your young. Stretch forth your claws and seize him." So
saying, he left the young man to his fate, and returned.
But the intrepid youth, drawing his knife, and cutting off the head of
the first eagle that menaced him, raised his voice and exclaimed, "Thus
will I deal with all who come near me. What right have you, ye ravenous
birds, who were made to feed on beasts, to eat human flesh? Is it
because that cowardly old canoe-man has bid you do so? He is an old
woman. He can neither do you good nor harm. See, I have already slain
one of your number. Respect my bravery, and carry me back that I may
show you how I shall treat you."
The eagles, pleased with his spirit, assented, and clustering thick
around him formed a seat with their backs, and flew toward the
enchanted island. As they crossed the water they passed over the
magician, lying half asleep in his canoe.
The return of the young man was hailed with joy by the daughters, who
now plainly saw that he was under the guidance of a strong spirit. But
the ire of the old man was excited, although he kept his temper under
subjection. He taxed his wits for some new mode of ridding himself of
the youth, who had so successfully baffled his skill. He next invited
him to go a hunting.
Taking his canoe, they proceeded to an island and built a lodge to
shelter themselves during the night. In the mean while the magician
caused a deep fall of snow, with a storm of wind and severe cold.
According to custom, the young man pulled off his moccasins and
leggings, and hung them before the fire to dry. After he had gone to
sleep, the magician, watching his opportunity, got up, and taking one
moccasin and one legging, threw them into the fire. He then went to
sleep. In the morning, stretching himself as he arose and uttering an
exclamation of surprise, "My son," said he, "what has become of your
moccasin and legging? I believe this is the moon in which fire
attracts, and I fear they have been drawn in." The young man suspected
the true cause of his loss, and rightly attributed it to a design of
the magician to freeze him to death on the march. But he maintained the
strictest silence, and drawing his conaus over his head, thus communed
with himself: "I have full faith in the Manito who has preserved me
thus far, I do not fear that he will forsake me in this cruel
emergency. Great is his power, and I invoke it now that he may enable
me to prevail over this wicked enemy of mankind."
He then drew on the remaining moccasin and legging, and taking a dead
coal from the fireplace, invoked his spirit to give it efficacy, and
blackened his foot and leg as far as the lost garment usually reached.
He then got up and announced himself ready for the march. In vain
Mishosha led him through snows and over morasses, hoping to see the lad
sink at every moment. But in this he was disappointed, and for the
first time they returned home together.
Taking courage from this success, the young man now determined to try
his own power, having previously consulted with the daughters. They all
agreed that the life the old man led was detestable, and that whoever
would rid the world of him, would entitle himself to the thanks of the
human race.
On the following day the young man thus addressed his hoary captor: "My
grandfather, I have often gone with you on perilous excursions, and
never murmured. I must now request that you will accompany me. I wish to
visit my little brother, and to bring him home with me." They
accordingly went on a visit to the main land, and found the little lad
in the spot where he had been left. After taking him into the canoe, the
young man again addressed the magician: "My grandfather, will you go and
cut me a few of those red willows on the bank, I wish to prepare some
smoking mixture." "Certainly, my son," replied the old man; "what you
wish is not very hard. Ha, ha, ha! do you think me too old to get up
there?" No sooner was Mishosha ashore, than the young man, placing
himself in the proper position struck the canoe with his hand, and
pronouncing the charm, N'chimaun Poll, the canoe immediately flew
through the water on its return to the island. It was evening when the
two brothers arrived, and carried the canoe ashore. But the elder
daughter informed the young man that unless he sat up and watched the
canoe, and kept his hand upon it, such was the power of their father, it
would slip off and return to him. Panigwun watched faithfully till near
the dawn of day, when he could no longer resist the drowsiness which
oppressed him, and he fell into a short doze. In the mean time, the
canoe slipped off and sought its master, who soon returned in high glee.
"Ha, ha, ha! my son," said he; "you thought to play me a trick. It was
very clever. But you see I am too old for you."
A short time after, the youth again addressed the magician. "My
grandfather, I wish to try my skill in hunting. It is said there is
plenty of game on an island not far off, and I have to request that you
will take me there in your canoe." They accordingly went to the island
and spent the day in hunting. Night coming on they put up a temporary
lodge. When the magician had sunk into a profound sleep, the young man
got up, and taking one of Mishosha's leggings and moccasins from the
place where they hung, threw them into the fire, thus retaliating the
artifice before played upon himself. He had discovered that the foot
and leg were the only vulnerable parts of the magician's body. Having
committed these articles to the fire, he besought his Manito that he
would raise a great storm of snow, wind, and hail, and then laid
himself down beside the old man. Consternation was depicted on the
countenance of the latter, when he awoke in the morning and found his
moccasin and legging missing. "I believe, my grandfather," said the
young man, "that this is the moon in which fire attracts, and I fear
your foot and leg garments have been drawn in." Then rising and bidding
the old man follow him, he began the morning's hunt, frequently turning
to see how Mishosha kept up. He saw him faltering at every step, and
almost benumbed with cold, but encouraged him to follow, saying, we
shall soon get through and reach the shore; although he took pains, at
the same time, to lead him in roundabout ways, so as to let the frost
take complete effect. At length the old man reached the brink of the
island where the woods are succeeded by a border of smooth sand. But he
could go no farther; his legs became stiff and refused motion, and he
found himself fixed to the spot. But he still kept stretching out his
arms and swinging his body to and fro. Every moment he found the
numbness creeping higher. He felt his legs growing downward like roots,
the feathers of his head turned to leaves, and in a few seconds he
stood a tall and stiff sycamore, leaning toward the water.
Panigwun leaped into the canoe, and pronouncing the charm, was soon
transported to the island, where he related his victory to the
daughters. They applauded the deed, agreed to put on mortal shapes,
become wives to the two young men, and forever quit the enchanted
island. And passing immediately over to the main land, they lived lives
of happiness and peace.
[82] The end wing feather.
PEETA KWAY,
THE FOAM-WOMAN.
AN OTTOWA LEGEND.
There once lived a woman called Monedo Kway[83] on the sand mountains
called "the Sleeping Bear," of Lake Michigan, who had a daughter as
beautiful as she was modest and discreet. Everybody spoke of the beauty
of this daughter. She was so handsome that her mother feared she would
be carried off, and to prevent it she put her in a box on the lake,
which was tied by a long string to a stake on the shore. Every morning
the mother pulled the box ashore, and combed her daughter's long,
shining hair, gave her food, and then put her out again on the lake.
One day a handsome young man chanced to come to the spot at the moment
she was receiving her morning's attentions from her mother. He was
struck with her beauty, and immediately went home and told his feelings
to his uncle, who was a great chief and a powerful magician. "My
nephew," replied the old man, "go to the mother's lodge, and sit down
in a modest manner, without saying a word. You need not ask her the
question. But whatever _you think_ she will understand, and what _she
thinks_ in answer you will also understand." The young man did so. He
sat down, with his head dropped in a thoughtful manner, without
uttering a word. He then thought, "I wish she would give me her
daughter." Very soon he understood the mother's thoughts in reply.
"Give you my daughter?" thought she; "_you_! No, indeed, my daughter
shall never marry _you_." The young man went away and reported the
result to his uncle. "Woman without good sense;" said he, "who is she
keeping her daughter for? Does she think she will marry the
Mudjikewis?[84] Proud heart! we will try her magic skill, and see
whether she can withstand our power." The pride and haughtiness of the
mother was talked of by the spirits living on that part of the lake.
They met together and determined to exert their power in humbling her.
For this purpose they resolved to raise a great storm on the lake. The
water began to toss and roar, and the tempest became so severe, that
the string broke, and the box floated off through the straits down Lake
Huron, and struck against the sandy shores at its outlet. The place
where it struck was near the lodge of a superannuated old spirit called
Ishkwon Daimeka, or the keeper of the gate of the lakes. He opened the
box and let out the beautiful daughter, took her into his lodge, and
married her.
When the mother found that her daughter had been blown off by the
storm, she raised very loud cries and lamented exceedingly. This she
continued to do for a long time, and would not be comforted. At length,
after two or three years, the spirits had pity on her, and determined
to raise another storm and bring her back. It was even a greater storm
than the first; and when it began to wash away the ground and encroach
on the lodge of Ishkwon Daimeka, she leaped into the box, and the waves
carried her back to the very spot of her mother's lodge on the shore.
Monedo Equa was overjoyed; but when she opened the box, she found that
her daughter's beauty had almost all departed. However, she loved her
still because she was her daughter, and now thought of the young man
who had made her the offer of marriage. She sent a formal message to
him, but he had altered his mind, for he knew that she had been the
wife of another: "_I_ marry your daughter?" said he; "_your_ daughter!
No, indeed! I shall never marry her."
The storm that brought her back was so strong and powerful, that it
tore away a large part of the shore of the lake, and swept off Ishkwon
Daimeka's lodge, the fragments of which, lodging in the straits, formed
those beautiful islands which are scattered in the St. Clair and
Detroit rivers. The old man himself was drowned, and his bones are
buried under them. They heard him singing his songs of lamentation as
he was driven off on a portion of his lodge; as if he had been called
to testify his bravery and sing his war song at the stake.
I ride the waters like the winds;
No storms can blench my heart.
[83] Female spirit or prophetess.
[84] A term indicative of the heir or successor to the first
place in power.
PAH-HAH-UNDOOTAH,
THE RED HEAD.
A DACOTAH LEGEND.
As spring approaches, the Indians return from their wintering grounds
to their villages, engage in feasting, soon exhaust their stock of
provisions, and begin to suffer for the want of food. Such of the
hunters as are of an active and enterprising cast of character, take
the occasion to separate from the mass of the population, and remove to
some neighboring locality in the forest, which promises the means of
subsistence during this season of general lassitude and enjoyment.
Among the families who thus separated themselves, on a certain occasion,
there was a man called Odshedoph Waucheentongah, or the Child of Strong
Desires, who had a wife and one son. After a day's travel he reached an
ample wood with his family, which was thought to be a suitable place to
encamp. The wife fixed the lodge, while the husband went out to hunt.
Early in the evening he returned with a deer. Being tired and thirsty he
asked his son to go to the river for some water. The son replied that it
was dark and he was afraid. He urged him to go, saying that his mother,
as well as himself, was tired, and the distance to the water was very
short. But no persuasion was of any avail. He refused to go. "Ah, my
son," said the father, at last, "if you are afraid to go to the river,
you will never kill the Red Head."
The boy was deeply mortified by this observation. It seemed to call up
all his latent energies. He mused in silence. He refused to eat, and
made no reply when spoken to.