destroyed his son-in-law. He entered his lodge in silence, and set his
wits busily at work again to contrive some plan for easing his feelings
in that respect.
He could not help saying to himself:
"What manner of boy is this who is ever escaping from my power? But his
guardian spirit shall not save him. I will entrap him to-morrow. Ha, ha,
ha!"
He was painfully aware that he had tried two of his charms without
effect, and that he had but two more left. He now professed to be more
friendly with his son-in-law than ever, and the very next day he said to
Owasso:
"Come, my son, you must go with me to procure some young eagles. We
will tame them, and have them for pets about the lodge. I have
discovered an island where they are in great abundance."
They started on the trip, and when, after traversing an immense waste of
water, they had reached the island, Mishosha led him inland until they
came to the foot of a tall pine-tree, upon which the nests were to be
found.
"Now, my son," said Mishosha, "climb up this tree and bring down the
birds. I think you will get some fine ones up there."
Owasso obeyed. When he had with great difficulty got near the nest,
Mishosha cried out, addressing himself to the tree, and without much
regard to the wishes of Owasso:
"Now stretch yourself up and be very tall."
The tree, at this bidding, rose up so far that Owasso would have
imperiled his neck by any attempt to get to the ground.
"Listen, ye eagles!" continued Mishosha. "You have long expected a gift
from me. I now present you this boy, who has had the presumption to
climb up where you are to molest your young. Stretch forth your claws
and seize him."
So saying, the old magician, according to his custom in such cases,
turned his back upon Owasso, and going off in his canoe at a word, he
left his son-in-law to shift for himself.
But the birds did not seem to be so badly-minded as the old magician had
supposed; for a very old bald eagle, quite corpulent and large of limb,
alighting on a branch just opposite, opened conversation with him by
asking what had brought him there.
Owasso replied that he had not mounted the tree of himself, or out of
any disposition to harm his people; that his father-in-law, the old
magician who had just left them, had sent him up; that he was constantly
sending him on mischievous errands. In a word, the young man was
enlarging at great length upon the character of the wicked Manito, when
he was interrupted by being darted upon by a hungry-eyed bird, with long
claws.
Owasso, not in the least disconcerted, boldly seized this fierce eagle
by the neck and dashed it against the rocks, crying out:
"Thus will I deal with all who come near me."
The old eagle, who appeared to be the head of the tribe, was so pleased
with this show of spirit that he immediately appointed two tall birds,
uncommonly strong in the wings, to transport Owasso to his lodge. They
were to take turns in conducting him through the air.
Owasso expressed many obligations to the old eagle for his kindness, and
they forthwith set out. It was a high point from which they started, for
the pine-tree had shot far, far up toward the clouds, and they could
even descry the enchanted island where the old magician lived; though it
was miles and miles away. For this point they steered their flight; and
in a short time they landed Owasso at the door of the lodge.
With many compliments for their dispatch, Owasso dismissed the birds,
and stood ready to greet his wicked father-in-law who now arrived; and
when he espied his son-in-law still unharmed, Mishosha grew very black
in the face. He had but a single charm left.
He thought he would ponder deeply how he could employ that to the best
advantage; and it happened that while he was doing so, one evening, as
Owasso and his wife were sitting on the banks of the lake, and the soft
breeze swept over it, they heard a song, as if sung by some one at a
great distance. The sound continued for some time, and then died away in
perfect stillness. "Oh, it is the voice of Sheem," cried Owasso. "It is
the voice of my brother! If I could but only see him!" And he hung down
his head in deep anguish.
His wife witnessed his distress, and to comfort him she proposed that
they should attempt to make their escape, and carry him succor on the
morrow.
When the morning came, and the sun shone warmly into the lodge, the wife
of Owasso offered to comb her father's hair, with the hope that it
would soothe him to sleep. It had that effect; and they no sooner saw
him in deep slumber than they seized the magic canoe, Owasso uttered the
charmed words, "Chemaun Poll!" and they glided away upon the water
without need of oar or sail.
They had nearly reached the land on the opposite side of the lake, and
could distinctly hear the voice of the younger brother singing his
lament as before, when the old magician wakened. Missing his daughter
and her husband, he suspected deception of some kind; he looked for his
magic boat and found it gone. He spoke the magic words, which were more
powerful from him than from any other person in the world, and the canoe
immediately returned; to the sore disappointment of Owasso and his wife.
When they came back to the shore, Mishosha stood upon the beach and drew
up his canoe. He did not utter a word. The son-in-law and daughter
entered the lodge in silence.
The time, walking along in its broad open path, brought the autumn
months to a close, and the winter had set in. Soon after the first fall
of snow, Owasso said:
"Father, I wish to try my skill in hunting. It is said there is plenty
of game not far off, and it can now be easily tracked. Let us go."
The magician consented; they set out, and arriving at a good ground for
their sport, they spent the day in hunting. Night coming on, they built
themselves a lodge of pine-branches to sleep in. Although it was
bitterly cold, the young man took off his leggings and moccasins, and
hung them up to dry. The old magician did the same, carefully hanging
his own in a separate place, and they lay down to sleep.
Owasso, from a glance he had given, suspected that the magician had a
mind to play him a trick, and to be beforehand with him, he watched an
opportunity to get up and change the moccasins and leggings, putting his
own in the place of Mishosha's, and depending on the darkness of the
lodge to help him through.
Near daylight, the old magician bestirred himself, as if to rekindle the
fire; but he slyly reached down a pair of moccasins and leggings with a
stick, and thinking they were no other than those of Owasso's, he
dropped them into the flames; while he cast himself down, and affected
to be lost in a heavy sleep. The leather leggings and moccasins soon
drew up and were burned.
Instantly jumping up and rubbing his eyes, Mishosha cried out:
"Son-in-law, your moccasins are burning; I know it by the smell."
Owasso rose up, deliberately and unconcerned.
"No, my friend," said he, "here are mine," at the same time taking them
down and drawing them on. "It is your moccasins that are burning."
Mishosha dropped his head upon his breast. All his tricks were played
out--there was not so much as half a one left to help him out of the
sorry plight he was in.
"I believe, my grandfather," added Owasso, "that this is the moon in
which fire attracts, and I fear you must have set your foot and leg
garments too near the fire, and they have been drawn in. Now let us go
forth to the hunt."
The old magician was compelled to follow him, and they pushed out into a
great storm of snow, and hail, and wind, which had come on over night;
and neither the wind, the hail, nor the snow, had the slightest respect
for the bare limbs of the old magician, for there was not the least
virtue of magic in those parts of old Mishosha's body. After a while
they quite stiffened under him, his body became hard, and the hair
bristled in the cold wind, so that he looked to Owasso--who turned away
from him, leaving the wicked old magician alone to ponder upon his past
life--to Owasso he looked like a tough old sycamore-tree more than a
highly-gifted old magician.
Owasso himself reached home in safety, proof against all kinds of
weather, and the magic canoe became the exclusive property of the young
man and his wife.
During all this part of Owasso's stay at the lodge of Mishosha, his
sister, whom he had left on the main land with Sheem, their younger
brother, had labored with good-will to supply the lodge. She knew enough
of the arts of the forest to provide their daily food, and she watched
her little brother, and tended his wants, with all of a good sister's
care. By times she began to be weary of solitude and of her charge. No
one came to be a witness of her constancy, or to let fall a single word
in her mother-tongue. She could not converse with the birds and beasts
about her, and she felt, to the bottom of her heart, that she was alone.
In these thoughts she forgot her younger brother; she almost wished him
dead; for it was he alone that kept her from seeking the companionship
of others.
One day, after collecting all the provisions she had been able to
reserve from their daily use, and bringing a supply of wood to the door,
she said to her little brother:
"My brother, you must not stray from the lodge. I am going to seek our
elder brother. I shall be back soon."
She then set the lodge in perfect order, and, taking her bundle, she set
off in search of habitations. These she soon found, and in the enjoyment
of the pleasures and pastimes of her new acquaintance, she began to
think less and less of her little brother, Sheem. She accepted proposals
of marriage, and from that time she utterly forgot the abandoned boy.
As for poor little Sheem, he was soon brought to the pinching turn of
his fate. As soon as he had eaten all of the food left in the lodge, he
was obliged to pick berries, and live off of such roots as he could dig
with his slender hands. As he wandered about in search of wherewithal to
stay his hunger, he often looked up to heaven, and saw the gray clouds
going up and down. And then he looked about upon the wide earth, but he
never saw sister nor brother returning from their long delay.
At last, even the roots and berries gave out. They were blighted by the
frost or hidden out of reach by the snow, for the mid-winter had come
on, and poor little Sheem was obliged to leave the lodge and wander away
in search of food.
Sometimes he was enforced to pass the night in the clefts of old trees
or caverns, and to break his fast with the refuse meals of the savage
wolves.
These at last became his only resource, and he grew to be so little
fearful of these animals that he would sit by them while they devoured
their meat, and patiently await his share.
After a while, the wolves took to little Sheem very kindly, and seeming
to understand his outcast condition, they would always leave something
for him to eat. By and by they began to talk with him, and to inquire
into his history. When he told them that he had been forsaken by his
brother and his sister, the wolves turned about to each other, lifted up
their eyes to heaven, and wondered among themselves, with raised paws,
that such a thing should have been.
In this way, Sheem lived on till the spring, and as soon as the lake was
free from ice, he followed his new friends to the shore.
It happened on the same day, that his elder brother, Owasso, was fishing
in his magic canoe, a considerable distance out upon the lake; when he
thought he heard the cries of a child upon the shore. He wondered how
any human creature could exist on so bleak and barren a coast.
He listened again with all attention, and he heard the cry distinctly
repeated; and this time it was the well-known cry of his younger brother
that reached his ear. He knew too well the secret of his song, as he
heard him chaunting mournfully:
"My brother! My brother! Since you left me going in the canoe, a-hee-ee,
I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf,
E-wee."
Owasso made for the shore, and as he approached the lament was repeated.
The sounds were very distinct, and the voice of wailing was very
sorrowful for Owasso to listen to, and it touched him the more that it
died away at the close, into a long-drawn howl, like that of the wolf.
In the sand, as he drew closer to the land, he saw the tracks as of that
animal fleeing away; and besides these the prints of human hands. But
what were the pity and astonishment that smote Owasso to the heart when
he espied his poor little brother--poor little forsaken Sheem--half boy
and half wolf, flying along the shore.
Owasso immediately leaped upon the ground and strove to catch him in his
arms, saying soothingly, "My brother! my brother! Come to me."
But the poor wolf-boy avoided his grasp, crying, as he fled, "Neesia,
neesia. Since you left me going in the canoe, a-he-ee, I am half changed
into a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee!" and howling
between these words of lament.
The elder brother, sore at heart, and feeling all of his brotherly
affection strongly returning, with renewed anguish, cried out, "My
brother! my brother! my brother!"
But the nearer he approached to poor Sheem, the faster he fled, and the
more rapidly the change went on; the boy-wolf by turns singing and
howling, and calling out the name, first of his brother and then of his
sister, till the change was complete. He leaped upon a bank, and looking
back, and casting upon Owasso a glance of deep reproach and grief, he
exclaimed, "I am a wolf!" and disappeared in the woods.
XII.
THE MAGIC BUNDLE.
A poor man, called Iena, or the Wanderer, was in the habit of roaming
about from place to place, forlorn, without relations, and almost
helpless. He had often wished for a companion to share his solitude; but
who would think of joining their fortunes with those of a poor wanderer,
who had no shelter but such as his leather hunting-shirt provided, and
no other household in the world than the bundle which he carried in his
hand, and in which his hunting-shirt was laid away?
One day as he went on a hunting excursion, to relieve himself of the
burden of carrying it, Iena hung up his bundle on the branch of a tree,
and then set out in quest of game.
On returning to the spot in the evening, he was surprised to find a
small but neat lodge built in the place where he had left his bundle;
and on looking in he beheld a beautiful female, sitting on the further
side of the lodge, with his bundle lying beside her.
During the day Iena had so far prospered in his sport as to kill a deer,
which he now cast down at the lodge door.
Without pausing to take the least notice, or to give a word of welcome
to the hunter, the woman ran out and began to see whether it was a large
deer that he had brought. In her haste she stumbled and fell at the
threshold.
Iena looked at her with astonishment, and thought to himself, "I
supposed I was blessed, but I find my mistake. Night-Hawk," said he,
speaking aloud, "I will leave my game with you that you may feast on
it."
He then took up his bundle and departed. After walking some time he came
to another tree, on which he suspended his bundle as before, and went in
search of game.
Success again attended him, and he returned, bringing with him a deer,
and he found that a lodge had sprung up as before, where he had hung his
bundle. He looked in and saw a beautiful female sitting alone, with his
bundle by her side.
She arose and came out toward the deer which he had deposited at the
door, and he immediately went into the lodge and sat by the fire, as he
was weary with the day's hunt, which had carried him far away.
The woman did not return, and wondering at her delay, Iena at last
arose, and peeping through the door of the lodge, beheld her greedily
eating all the fat of the deer. He exclaimed, "I thought I was blessed,
but I find I was mistaken." Then addressing the woman: "Poor Marten,"
said he, "feast on the game I have brought."
He again took up his bundle and departed; and, as usual, hung it upon
the branch of a tree, and wandered off in quest of game.
In the evening he returned, with his customary good luck, bringing in a
fine deer. He again found that a lodge had taken the place of his
bundle. He gazed through an opening in the side of the lodge, and there
was another beautiful woman sitting alone, with a bundle by her side.
As soon as he entered the lodge, she rose cheerfully, welcomed him home,
and without delay or complaining, she brought in the deer, cut it up as
it should be, and hung up the meat to dry. She then prepared a portion
of it for the supper of the weary hunter. The man thought to himself,
"Now I am certainly blessed."
He continued his practice of hunting every day, and the woman, on his
return, always welcomed him, readily took charge of the meat, and
promptly prepared his evening meal; and he ever after lived a contented
and happy man.
XIII.
THE RED SWAN.
Three brothers were left destitute, by the death of their parents, at an
early age. The eldest was not yet able to provide fully for their
support, but he did all that he could in hunting; and with this aid, and
the stock of provisions already laid by in the lodge, they managed to
keep along. They had no neighbors to lend them a helping hand, for the
father had withdrawn many years before from the body of the tribe, and
had lived ever since in a solitary place. The lads had no idea that
there was a human being near them. They did not even know who their
parents had been; for, at the time of their death, the eldest was too
young to remember it.
Forlorn as they were, they however kept a good heart, and making use of
every chance, in course of time they all acquired a knowledge of hunting
and the pursuit of game. The eldest became expert in the craft of the
forest, and he was very successful in procuring food. He was noted for
his skill in killing buffalo, elk, and moose; and he instructed his
brothers, so that each should become a master over a particular animal
which was assigned to him.
After they had become able to hunt and to take care of themselves, the
elder proposed to leave them and to go in search of the world, promising
to return as soon as he could procure them wives. In this intention he
was overruled by his brothers, who said that they could not part with
him.
Jeekewis, the second, was loud in disapproval of the scheme, saying:
"What will you do with those you propose to get? We have lived so long
by ourselves, we can still do without them." This counsel prevailed, and
for a time the three brothers continued together.
One day they agreed to kill each a male of that kind of animal, which
each was most expert in hunting, for the purpose of making quivers from
their skins. When these quivers were prepared, they were straightway
filled, with arrows; for they all had a presentiment that something was
about to happen which called upon them to be ready.
Soon after they hunted on a wager to see who should come in first with
game, and have the privilege of acting as entertainer to the others.
They were to shoot no other beast or bird than such as each was in the
habit of killing.
They set out on different paths. Maidwa, the youngest, had not gone far
before he saw a bear, an animal he was not to kill, by the agreement.
He, however, followed him closely, and driving an arrow through and
through him, he brought him to the ground.
Although contrary to the engagement with his brothers, Maidwa commenced
skinning him, when suddenly something red tinged the air all around him.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was perhaps deceived; but rub as hard as
he would, the red hue still crimsoned the air, and tinged every object
that he looked on--the tree-tops, the river that flowed, and the deer
that glided away along the edge of the forest--with its delicate
splendor.
As he stood musing on this fairy spectacle, a strange noise came to his
ear from a distance. At first it seemed like a human voice. After
following the sound he reached the shore of a lake. Floating at a
distance upon its waters sat a most beautiful Red Swan, whose plumage
glittered in the sun, and when it lifted up its neck, it uttered the
peculiar tone he had heard. He was within long bow-shot, and, drawing
the arrow to his ear, he took a careful aim and discharged the shaft. It
took no effect. The beautiful bird sat proudly on the water, still
pouring forth its peculiar chant, and still spreading the radiance of
its plumage far and wide, and lighting up the whole world, beneath the
eye of Maidwa, with its ruby splendors.
He shot again and again, till his quiver was empty, for he longed to
possess so glorious a creature. Still the swan did not spread its wings
to fly, but, circling round and round, stretched its long neck and
dipped its bill into the water, as if indifferent to mortal shafts.
Maidwa ran home, and bringing all the arrows in the lodge, shot them
away. He then stood with his bow dropped at his side, lost in wonder,
gazing at the beautiful bird.
While standing thus, with a heart beating more and more eagerly every
moment for the possession of this fair swan, Maidwa remembered the
saying of his elder brother, that in their deceased father's
medicine-sack were three magic arrows; but his brother had not told
Maidwa that their father, on his death-bed, which he alone had attended,
had especially bequeathed the arrows to his youngest son, Maidwa, from
whom they had been wrongfully kept. The thought of the magic arrows put
heart in Maidwa, and he hastened with all speed to secure them.
At any other time he would have shrunk from opening his father's
medicine-sack, but something prompted him to believe that there was no
wrong now, and snatching them forth he ran back, not staying to restore
the other contents to the sack, but leaving them scattered, here and
there, about the lodge.
He feared, as he returned, that the swan must by this time have taken
wing; but, as he emerged from the wood, to his great delight the air was
as rosy as ever, and there, in her own serene and beautiful way, still
sat the glorious Red Swan.
With trembling hand he shot the first of his magic shafts: it grazed a
wing. The second came closer, and cut away a few of the bright red
feathers, which fluttered and fell like flakes of fire in the water. The
third, which he carefully aimed and drew home upon the string with all
his force, made the lucky hit, and passed through the neck of the bird a
little above the breast.
"The bird is mine," said Maidwa, to himself; but to his great surprise,
instead of seeing it droop its neck and drift to the shore, the Red Swan
flapped its wings, rose slowly, and flew off with a majestic motion
toward the falling sun.
Maidwa, that he might meet his brothers, rescued two of the magic arrows
from the water; and although the third was borne off, he had a hope yet
to recover that too, and to be master of the swan. He was noted for his
speed; for he would shoot an arrow and then run so fast that the arrow
always fell behind him; and he now set off at his best speed of foot. "I
can run fast," he thought, "and I can get up with the swan some time or
other."
He sped on, over hills and prairies, toward the west, and was only
going to take one more run, and then seek a place to sleep for the
night, when, suddenly, he heard noises at a distance, like the murmur of
waters against the shore; as he went on, he heard voices, and presently
he saw people, some of whom were busy felling trees, and the strokes of
their labor echoed through the woods. He passed on, and when he emerged
from the forest, the sun was just falling below the edge of the sky.
He was bent on success in pursuit of the swan, whose red track he marked
well far westward till she was lost to sight. Meanwhile he would tarry
for the night and procure something to eat, as he had fasted since he
had left home.
At a distance, on a rising ground, he could see the lodges of a large
village. He went toward it, and soon heard the watchman, who was set on
a height to overlook the place, and give notice of the approach of
friends or foes, crying out, "We are visited;" and a loud halloo
indicated that they had all heard it.
When Maidwa advanced, the watchman pointed to the lodge of the chief.
"It is there you must go in," he said, and left him.
"Come in, come in," said the chief; "take a seat there;" pointing to the
side of the lodge where his daughter sat. "It is there you must sit."
They gave him something to eat, and, being a stranger, very few
questions were put to him; it was only when he spoke that the others
answered him.