it into moccasins for him, while he busied himself in preparing a bow
and arrows. As soon as these things were done, he left the lodge one
morning at sunrise, without saying a word to his father or mother. He
fired one of his arrows into the air, which fell westward. He took that
course, and at night coming to the spot where the arrow had fallen, was
rejoiced to find it piercing the heart of a deer. He refreshed himself
with a meal of the venison, and the next morning fired another arrow.
After travelling all day, he found it also in another deer. In this
manner he fired four arrows, and every evening found that he had killed
a deer. What was very singular, however, was, that he left the arrows
sticking in the carcasses, and passed on without withdrawing them. In
consequence of this, he had no arrow for the fifth day, and was in great
distress at night for the want of food. At last he threw himself upon
the ground in despair, concluding that he might as well perish there as
go further. But he had not lain long before he heard a hollow, rumbling
noise, in the ground beneath him. He sprang up, and discovered at a
distance the figure of a human being, walking with a stick. He looked
attentively and saw that the figure was walking in a wide beaten path,
in a prairie, leading from a lodge to a lake. To his surprise, this
lodge was at no great distance. He approached a little nearer and
concealed himself. He soon discovered that the figure was no other than
that of the terrible witch, Wok-on-kahtohn-zooeyah-pee-kah-haitchee, or
the little old woman who makes war. Her path to the lake was perfectly
smooth and solid, and the noise our adventurer had heard, was caused by
the striking of her walking staff upon the ground. The top of this staff
was decorated with a string of the toes and bills of birds of every
kind, who at every stroke of the stick, fluttered and sung their various
notes in concert.
She entered her lodge and laid off her mantle, which was entirely
composed of the scalps of women. Before folding it, she shook it
several times, and at every shake the scalps uttered loud shouts of
laughter, in which the old hag joined. Nothing could have frightened
him more than this horrific exhibition. After laying by the cloak she
came directly to him. She informed him that she had known him from the
time he left his father's lodge, and watched his movements. She told
him not to fear or despair, for she would be his friend and protector.
She invited him into her lodge, and gave him a supper. During the
repast, she inquired of him his motives for visiting her. He related
his history, stated the manner in which he had been disgraced, and the
difficulties he labored under. She cheered him with the assurance of
her friendship, and told him he would be a brave man yet.
She then commenced the exercise of her power upon him. His hair being
very short, she took a large leaden comb, and after drawing it through
his hair several times, it became of a handsome feminine length. She
then proceeded to dress him as a female, furnishing him with the
necessary garments, and decorated his face with paints of the most
beautiful dye. She gave him a bowl of shining metal. She directed him to
put in his girdle a blade of scented sword-grass, and to proceed the
next morning to the banks of the lake, which was no other than that over
which the Red Head reigned. Now Pah-hah-undootah, or the Red Head, was a
most powerful sorcerer and the terror of all the country, living upon an
island in the centre of the lake.
She informed him that there would be many Indians on the island, who,
as soon as they saw him use the shining bowl to drink with, would come
and solicit him to be their wife, and to take him over to the island.
These offers he was to refuse, and say that he had come a great
distance to be the wife of the Red Head, and that if the chief could
not come for her in his own canoe, she should return to her village.
She said that as soon as the Red Head heard of this, he would come for
her in his own canoe, in which she must embark. On reaching the island
he must consent to be his wife, and in the evening induce him to take a
walk out of the village, when he was to take the first opportunity to
cut off his head with the blade of grass. She also gave him general
advice how he was to conduct himself to sustain his assumed character
of a woman. His fear would scarcely permit him to accede to this plan,
but the recollection of his father's words and looks decided him.
Early in the morning, he left the witch's lodge, and took the hard
beaten path to the banks of the lake. He reached the water at a point
directly opposite the Red Head's village. It was a beautiful day. The
heavens were clear, and the sun shone out in the greatest effulgence.
He had not been long there, having sauntered along the beach, when he
displayed the glittering bowl, by dipping water from the lake. Very
soon a number of canoes came off from the island. The men admired his
dress, and were charmed with his beauty, and a great number made
proposals of marriage. These he promptly declined, agreeably to the
concerted plan. When the facts were reported to the Red Head, he
ordered his canoe to be put in the water by his chosen men, and crossed
over to see this wonderful girl. As he came near the shore, he saw that
the ribs of the sorcerer's canoe were formed of living rattlesnakes,
whose heads pointed outward to guard him from enemies. Our adventurer
had no sooner stepped into the canoe than they began to hiss and
rattle, which put him in a great fright. But the magician spoke to
them, after which they became pacified and quiet, and all at once they
were at the landing upon the island. The marriage immediately took
place, and the bride made presents of various valuables which had been
furnished by the old witch.
As they were sitting in the lodge surrounded by friends and relatives,
the mother of the Red Head regarded the face of her new daughter-in-law
for a long time with fixed attention. From this scrutiny she was
convinced that this singular and hasty marriage augured no good to her
son. She drew her husband aside and disclosed to him her suspicions:
"This can be no female," said she; "the figure and manners, the
countenance, and more especially the expression of the eyes, are,
beyond a doubt, those of a man." Her husband immediately rejected her
suspicions, and rebuked her severely for the indignity offered to her
daughter-in-law. He became so angry, that seizing the first thing that
came to hand, which happened to be his pipe stem, he beat her
unmercifully. This act requiring to be explained to the spectators, the
mock bride immediately rose up, and assuming an air of offended
dignity, told the Red Head that after receiving so gross an insult from
his relatives he could not think of remaining with him as his wife, but
should forthwith return to his village and friends. He left the lodge
followed by the Red Head, and walked until he came upon the beach of
the island, near the spot where they had first landed. Red Head
entreated him to remain. He pressed him by every motive which he
thought might have weight, but they were all rejected. During this
conference they had seated themselves upon the ground, and Red Head, in
great affliction, reclined his head upon his fancied wife's lap. This
was the opportunity ardently sought for, and it was improved to the
best advantage. Every means was taken to lull him to sleep, and partly
by a soothing manner, and partly by a seeming compliance with his
request, the object was at last attained. Red Head fell into a sound
sleep. Our aspirant for the glory of a brave man then drew his blade of
grass, and drawing it once across the neck of the Red Head completely
severed the head from the body.
He immediately stripped off his dress, seized the bleeding head, and
plunging into the lake, swam safely over to the main shore. He had
scarcely reached it, when, looking back, he saw amid the darkness the
torches of persons come out in search of the new-married couple. He
listened till they had found the headless body, and he heard their
piercing shrieks of sorrow, as he took his way to the lodge of his kind
adviser.
She received him with rejoicing. She admired his prudence, and told him
his bravery could never be questioned again. Lifting up the head, she
said he need only have brought the scalp. She cut off a small piece for
herself, and told him he might now return with the head, which would be
evidence of an achievement that would cause the Indians to respect him.
In your way home, she said, you will meet with but one difficulty.
Maunkah Keesh Woccaung, or the spirit of the Earth, requires an offering
from those who perform extraordinary achievements. As you walk along in
a prairie, there will be an earthquake. The earth will open and divide
the prairie in the middle. Take this partridge and throw it into the
opening, and instantly spring over it. All this happened precisely as it
had been foretold. He cast the partridge into the crevice and leapt over
it. He then proceeded without obstruction to a place near his village,
where he secreted his trophy. On entering the village he found his
parents had returned from the place of their spring encampment, and were
in great sorrow for their son, whom they supposed to be lost. One and
another of the young men had presented themselves to the disconsolate
parents, and said, "Look up, I am your son." Having been often deceived
in this manner, when their own son actually presented himself, they sat
with their heads down, and with their eyes nearly blinded with weeping.
It was some time before they could be prevailed upon to bestow a glance
upon him. It was still longer before they recognized him for their son;
when he recounted his adventures they believed him mad. The young men
laughed at him. He left the lodge and soon returned with his trophy. It
was soon recognized. All doubts of the reality of his adventures now
vanished. He was greeted with joy and placed among the first warriors of
the nation. He finally became a chief, and his family were ever after
respected and esteemed.
THE WHITE STONE CANOE.
There was once a very beautiful young girl, who died suddenly on the
day she was to have been married to a handsome young man. He was also
brave, but his heart was not proof against this loss. From the hour she
was buried, there was no more joy or peace for him. He went often to
visit the spot where the women had buried her, and sat musing there,
when, it was thought, by some of his friends, he would have done better
to try to amuse himself in the chase, or by diverting his thoughts in
the war-path. But war and hunting had both lost their charms for him.
His heart was already dead within him. He pushed aside both his
war-club and his bow and arrows.
He had heard the old people say, that there was a path that led to the
land of souls, and he determined to follow it. He accordingly set out,
one morning, after having completed his preparations for the journey.
At first he hardly knew which way to go. He was only guided by the
tradition that he must go south. For a while he could see no change in
the face of the country. Forests, and hills, and valleys, and streams
had the same looks which they wore in his native place. There was snow
on the ground, when he set out, and it was sometimes seen to be piled
and matted on the thick trees and bushes. At length it began to
diminish, and finally disappeared. The forest assumed a more cheerful
appearance, and the leaves put forth their buds, and before he was
aware of the completeness of the change, he found himself surrounded by
spring. He had left behind him the land of snow and ice. The air became
mild; the dark clouds of winter had rolled away from the sky; a pure
field of blue was above him, and as he went he saw flowers beside his
path, and heard the songs of birds. By these signs he knew that he was
going the right way, for they agreed with the traditions of his tribe.
At length he spied a path. It led him through a grove, then up a long
and elevated ridge, on the very top of which he came to a lodge. At the
door stood an old man, with white hair, whose eyes, though deeply sunk,
had a fiery brilliancy. He had a long robe of skins thrown loosely
around his shoulders, and a staff in his hands. It was Chebiabos.
The young Chippewa began to tell his story; but the venerable chief
arrested him, before he had proceeded to speak ten words. "I have
expected you," he replied, "and had just risen to bid you welcome to my
abode. She whom you seek, passed here but a few days since, and being
fatigued with her journey, rested herself here. Enter my lodge and be
seated, and I will then satisfy your inquiries, and give you directions
for your journey from this point." Having done this, they both issued
forth to the lodge door. "You see yonder gulf," said he, "and the wide
stretching blue plains beyond. It is the land of souls. You stand upon
its borders, and my lodge is the gate of entrance. But you cannot take
your body along. Leave it here with your bow and arrows, your bundle,
and your dog. You will find them safe on your return." So saying, he
re-entered the lodge, and the freed traveller bounded forward, as if
his feet had suddenly been endowed with the power of wings. But all
things retained their natural colors and shapes. The woods and leaves,
and streams and lakes, were only more bright and comely than he had
ever witnessed. Animals bounded across his path, with a freedom and a
confidence which seemed to tell him, there was no blood shed here.
Birds of beautiful plumage inhabited the groves, and sported in the
waters. There was but one thing, in which he saw a very unusual effect.
He noticed that his passage was not stopped by trees or other objects.
He appeared to walk directly through them. They were, in fact, but the
souls or shadows of material trees. He became sensible that he was in a
land of shadows. When he had travelled half a day's journey, through a
country which was continually becoming more attractive, he came to the
banks of a broad lake, in the centre of which was a large and beautiful
island. He found a canoe of shining white stone, tied to the shore. He
was now sure that he had come the right path, for the aged man had told
him of this. There were also shining paddles. He immediately entered
the canoe, and took the paddles in his hands, when to his joy and
surprise, on turning round, he beheld the object of his search in
another canoe, exactly its counterpart in everything. She had exactly
imitated his motions, and they were side by side. They at once pushed
out from shore and began to cross the lake. Its waves seemed to be
rising, and at a distance looked ready to swallow them up; but just as
they entered the whitened edge of them they seemed to melt away, as if
they were but the images of waves. But no sooner was one wreath of foam
passed, than another, more threatening still, rose up. Thus they were
in perpetual fear; and what added to it, was the _clearness of the
water_, through which they could see heaps of beings who had perished
before, and whose bones lay strewed on the bottom of the lake. The
Master of Life had, however, decreed to let them pass, for the actions
of neither of them had been bad. But they saw many others struggling
and sinking in the waves. Old men and young men, males and females of
all ages and ranks, were there; some passed, and some sank. It was only
the little children whose canoes seemed to meet no waves. At length,
every difficulty was gone, as in a moment, and they both leaped out on
the happy island. They felt that the very air was food. It strengthened
and nourished them. They wandered together over the blissful fields,
where everything was formed to please the eye and the ear. There were
no tempests--there was no ice, no chilly winds--no one shivered for the
want of warm clothes: no one suffered for hunger--no one mourned the
dead. They saw no graves. They heard of no wars. There was no hunting
of animals; for the air itself was their food. Gladly would the young
warrior have remained there forever, but he was obliged to go back for
his body. He did not see the Master of Life, but he heard his voice in
a soft breeze. "Go back," said this voice, "to the land from whence you
come. Your time has not yet come. The duties for which I made you, and
which you are to perform, are not yet finished. Return to your people
and accomplish the duties of a good man. You will be the ruler of your
tribe for many days. The rules you must observe will be told you by my
messenger, who keeps the gate. When he surrenders back your body, he
will tell you what to do. Listen to him, and you shall afterwards
rejoin the spirit, which you must now leave behind. She is accepted,
and will be ever here, as young and as happy as she was when I first
called her from the land of snows." When this voice ceased, the
narrator awoke. It was the fancy work of a dream, and he was still in
the bitter land of snows, and hunger, and tears.
ONAIAZO, THE SKY-WALKER.
A LEGEND OF A VISIT TO THE SUN.
AN OTTOWA MYTH.
A long time ago, there lived an aged Odjibwa and his wife, on the
Shores of Lake Huron. They had an only son, a very beautiful boy, whose
name was O-na-wut-a-qut-o, or he that catches the clouds. The family
were of the totem of the beaver. The parents were very proud of him,
and thought to make him a celebrated man, but when he reached the
proper age, he would not submit to the We-koon-de-win, or fast. When
this time arrived, they gave him charcoal, instead of his breakfast,
but he would not blacken his face. If they denied him food, he would
seek for birds' eggs, along the shores, or pick up the heads of fish
that had been cast away, and broil them. One day, they took away
violently the food he had thus prepared, and cast him some coals in
place of it. This act brought him to a decision. He took the coals and
blackened his face, and went out of the lodge. He did not return, but
slept without; and during the night, he had a dream. He dreamed that he
saw a very beautiful female come down from the clouds and stand by his
side. "O-no-wut-a-qut-o," said she, "I am come for you--step in my
tracks." The young man did so, and presently felt himself ascending
above the tops of the trees--he mounted up, step by step, into the air,
and through the clouds. His guide, at length, passed through an
orifice, and he, following her, found himself standing on a beautiful
plain.
A path led to a splendid lodge. He followed her into it. It was large,
and divided into two parts. On one end he saw bows and arrows, clubs
and spears, and various warlike implements tipped with silver. On the
other end were things exclusively belonging to females. This was the
home of his fair guide, and he saw that she had, on the frame, a broad
rich belt, of many colors, which she was weaving. She said to him: "My
brother is coming and I must hide you." Putting him in one corner, she
spread the belt over him. Presently the brother came in, very richly
dressed, and shining as if he had points of silver all over him. He
took down from the wall a splendid pipe, together with his sack of
a-pa-ko-ze-gun, or smoking mixture. When he had finished regaling
himself in this way, and laid his pipe aside, he said to his sister:
"Nemissa" (which is, my elder sister), "when will you quit these
practices? Do you forget that the Greatest of the Spirits had commanded
that you should not take away the child from below? Perhaps you suppose
that you have concealed O-no-wut-a-qut-o, but do I not know of his
coming? If you would not offend me, send him back immediately." But
this address did not alter her purpose. She would not send him back.
Finding that she was purposed in her mind, he then spoke to the young
lad, and called him from his hiding-place. "Come out of your
concealment," said he, "and walk about and amuse yourself. You will
grow hungry if you remain there." He then presented him a bow and
arrows, and a pipe of red stone, richly ornamented. This was taken as
the word of consent to his marriage; so the two were considered husband
and wife from that time.
O-no-wut-a-qut-o found everything exceedingly fair and beautiful around
him, but he found no inhabitants except her brother. There were flowers
on the plains. There were bright and sparkling streams. There were
green valleys and pleasant trees. There were gay birds and beautiful
animals, but they were not such as he had been accustomed to see. There
was also day and night, as on the earth; but he observed that every
morning the brother regularly left the lodge, and remained absent all
day; and every evening the sister departed, though it was commonly but
for a part of the night.
His curiosity was aroused to solve this mystery. He obtained the
brother's consent to accompany him in one of his daily journeys. They
travelled over a smooth plain, without boundaries, until
O-no-wut-a-qut-o felt the gnawings of appetite, and asked his companion
if there were no game. "Patience! my brother," said he, "we shall soon
reach the spot where I eat my dinner, and you will then see how I am
provided." After walking on a long time, they came to a place which was
spread over with fine mats, where they sat down to refresh themselves.
There was, at this place, a hole through the sky; and O-no-wut-a-qut-o,
looked down, at the bidding of his companion, upon the earth. He saw
below the great lakes, and the villages of the Indians. In one place,
he saw a war party stealing on the camp of their enemies. In another,
he saw feasting and dancing. On a green plain, young men were engaged
at ball. Along a stream, women were employed in gathering the a-puk-wa
for mats.
"Do you see," said the brother, "that group of children playing beside
a lodge? Observe that beautiful and active boy," said he, at the same
time darting something at him, from his hand. The child immediately
fell, and was carried into the lodge.
They looked again, and saw the people gathering about the lodge. They
heard the she-she-gwun, of the meeta, and the song he sung, asking that
the child's life might be spared. To this request, the companion of
O-no-wut-a-qut-o made answer: "Send me up the sacrifice of a white
dog." Immediately a feast was ordered by the parents of the child, the
white dog was killed, his carcass was roasted, and all the wise men and
medicine men of the village assembled to witness the ceremony. "There
are many below," continued the voice of the brother, "whom you call
great in medical skill, but it is because their ears are open, and they
listen to my voice, that they are able to succeed. When I have struck
one with sickness, they direct the people to look to me; and when they
send me the offering I ask, I remove my hand from off them, and they
are well." After he had said this, they saw the sacrifice parcelled out
in dishes, for those who were at the feast. The master of the feast
then said, "We send this to thee, great Manito," and immediately the
roasted animal came up. Thus their dinner was supplied, and after they
had eaten, they returned to the lodge by another way.
After this manner they lived for some time; but the place became
wearisome at last. O-no-wut-a-qut-o thought of his friends, and wished
to go back to them. He had not forgotten his native village, and his
father's lodge; and he asked leave of his wife to return. At length she
consented. "Since you are better pleased," she replied, "with the cares
and the ills, and the poverty of the world, than with the peaceful
delights of the sky, and its boundless prairies, go! I give you
permission, and since I have brought you hither, I will conduct you
back; but, remember, you are still my husband, I hold a chain in my
hand by which I can draw you back whenever I will. My power over you is
not, in any manner, diminished. Beware, therefore, how you venture to
take a wife among the people below. Should you ever do so, it is then
that you shall feel the force of my displeasure."
As she said this, her eyes sparkled--she raised herself slightly on her
toes, and stretched herself up, with a majestic air; and at that
moment, O-no-wut-a-qut-o awoke from his dream. He found himself on the
ground, near his father's lodge, at the very spot where he had laid
himself down to fast. Instead of the bright beings of a higher world,
he found himself surrounded by his parents and relatives. His mother
told him he had been absent a year. The change was so great, that he
remained for some time moody and abstracted, but by degrees he
recovered his spirits. He began to doubt the reality of all he had
heard and seen above. At last, he forgot the admonitions of his spouse,
and married a beautiful young woman of his own tribe. But within four
days, she was a corpse. Even this fearful admonition was lost, and he
repeated the offence by a second marriage. Soon afterwards, he went out
of the lodge, one night, but never returned. It was believed that his
Sun-wife had recalled him to the region of the clouds, where, the
tradition asserts, he still dwells, and walks on the daily rounds,
which he once witnessed.
BOSH-KWA-DOSH,
OR
THE MASTODON.