son-in-law's moccasins and see if they be torn; if so, mend them for
him, and bring in his bundle."
Maidwa thought it strange that he should be so warmly received, and
married instantly against his own wishes, although he could not help
noticing that the chief's daughter was pretty.
It was some time before she would take the moccasins which he had laid
off. It displeased him to see her loth to do so; and when at last she
did reach them, he snatched them from her hand and hung them up himself.
He lay down and thought of the swan, and made up his mind to be off with
the dawn. He wakened early, and finding the chief's daughter looking
forth at the door, he spoke to her, but she gave no answer. He touched
her lightly.
"What do you want?" she said, and turned her face away from him.
"Tell me," said Maidwa, "what time the swan passed. I am following it;
come out, and point the way."
"Do you think you can overtake it?" she said.
"Yes," he answered.
"Naubesah--fool!" retorted the chief's pretty daughter.
She, however, went out, and pointed in the direction he should go. The
young man paced slowly along till the sun arose, when he commenced
traveling at his accustomed speed. He passed the day in running, and
although he could not see anywhere on the horizon the Red Swan, he
thought that he discerned a faint red light far over in the west.
When night came, he was pleased to find himself near another village;
and when at a distance he heard the watchman crying out, "We are
visited;" and soon the men of the village stood out to see the stranger.
He was again told to enter the lodge of the chief, and his reception was
in every respect the same as on the previous night; except that the
young woman was more beautiful, and that she entertained him very
kindly. Although urged to stay with them, the mind of Maidwa was fixed
on the object of his journey.
Before daybreak he asked the young woman at what time the Red Swan
passed, and to point out the way. She marked against the sky with her
finger the course it had taken, and told him that it had passed
yesterday when the sun was between mid-day and its falling-place.
Maidwa again set out rather slowly, but when the sun had risen, he tried
his speed by shooting an arrow ahead, and running after it; but it fell
behind him, and he knew that he had lost nothing of his quickness of
foot.
Nothing remarkable happened through the day, and he went on leisurely.
Some time after dark, as he was peering around the country for a
shelter, he saw a light emitted from a small low lodge. He went up to it
very slyly, and, peeping through the door, he discovered an old man
alone, with his head down upon his breast, warming his back before the
fire.
Maidwa thought that the old man did not know that he was standing near
the door; but in this he was mistaken; for, without turning his eyes to
look at him, the old man said, "Walk in, my grandchild; take a seat
opposite to me, and take off your things and dry them, for you must be
fatigued; and I will prepare you something to eat; you shall have
something very delicate."
Maidwa accepted this kind invitation, and entered the lodge. The old man
then remarked, as if in mere course of conversation: "My kettle with
water stands near the fire;" and immediately a small earthen pot with
legs appeared by the fire. He then took one grain of corn, also one of
whortleberry, and put them in the pot.
Maidwa was very hungry, and seeing the limited scale of the old man's
housekeeping, he thought his chance for a supper was very slight. The
old man had promised him something very delicate, and he seemed likely
to keep his word. Maidwa looked on silently, and did not change his face
any more than if the greatest banquet that was ever spread had been
going forward.
The pot soon boiled, when the old man said in a very quiet way:
"The pot will stand at a distance from the fire."
It removed itself, and the old man added to Maidwa:
"My grandchild, feed yourself;" handing him at the same time a dish and
ladle of the same ware as the pot itself.
The young man, whose hunger was very great, helped himself to all that
was in the pot. He felt ashamed to think that he had done so, but before
he could speak the old man said:
"Eat, nay grandchild; eat, eat!" and soon after he again said--"Help
yourself from the pot."
Maidwa was surprised, on dipping in his ladle, to see that it was full;
and although he emptied it a second time, it was still again filled and
refilled till his hunger was entirely satisfied. The old man then
observed, without raising his voice:
"The pot will return to its corner;" and the pot took itself off to its
accustomed place in an out-of-the-way corner of the lodge.
Maidwa observed that the old man was about to address him, and took an
attitude which showed that he was prepared to listen.
"Keep on, my grandchild," said the old man; "you will surely gain that
you seek. To tell you more I am not permitted; but go on as you have
begun and you will not be disappointed. To-morrow you will again reach
one of my fellow old men, but the one you will see after him will tell
you all, and the manner in which you must proceed to accomplish your
journey. Often has this Red Swan passed, and those who have followed it
have never returned; but you must be firm in your resolution, and be
prepared for all that may happen."
"So will it be," answered Maidwa; and they both laid down to sleep.
Early in the morning the old man ordered his magic kettle to prepare
breakfast, so that his guest might eat before leaving. As Maidwa passed
out, the old man gave him a blessing with his parting advice.
Maidwa set forth in better spirits than at any time since he had
started. Night again found him in company with an old man who
entertained him kindly, with a frisky little kettle which hurried up to
the fire before it was spoken to, bustled about and set his supper
briskly before Maidwa, and frisked away again, without waiting for
orders. The old man also carefully directed him on his way in the
morning.
He traveled with a light heart, as he now expected to meet the one who
was to give him directions how to proceed to get the Red Swan.
Toward night-fall Maidwa reached the lodge of the third old man. Before
coming to the door he heard him saying:
"Grandchild, come in;" and going in promptly he felt quite at home.
The old man prepared him something to eat, acting as the other magicians
had done, and his kettle was of the same size, and looked as if it were
an own brother of the two others which had feasted him, except that this
kettle, in coming and going about its household duties, would make a
passing remark, or sing a little tune for itself.
The old man waited until Maidwa had fully satisfied his hunger, when he
addressed him:
"Young man, the errand you are bound on is beset with trials and
difficulties. Numbers have passed with the same purpose as that which
now prompts you, but they never returned. Be careful, and if your
guardian spirits are powerful you may succeed. This Red Swan you are
following is the daughter of a magician who has abundance of every
thing, but only this one child, whom he values more than the sacred
arrows. In former times he wore a cap of wampum, which was attached to
his scalp; but powerful Indians, warriors of a distant chief, came and
told him that their chief's daughter was on the brink of the grave, and
that she herself requested his wampum-cap, which she was confident would
save her life. 'If I can only see it,' she said, 'I will recover.' It
was for this cap they had come, and after long solicitation the magician
at length consented to part with it, in the hope that it would restore
to health the dying maiden, although when he took it off to hand it to
the messengers it left the crown of his head bare and bloody. Years have
passed since, and it has not healed. The coming of the warriors to
procure it for the sick maiden was a cheat, and they are now constantly
making sport of the unhappy scalp--dancing it about from village to
village--and on every insult it receives the poor old chief to whom it
belongs groans with pain. Those who hold it are too powerful for the
magician, and many have sacrificed themselves to recover it for him, but
without success. The Red Swan has enticed many a young man, as she has
you, to enlist them to procure the scalp, and whoever is so fortunate as
to succeed, it is understood, will receive the Red Swan as his reward.
In the morning you will proceed on your way, and toward evening you will
come to this magician's lodge. You will know it by the groans which you
will hear far over the prairie as you approach. He will ask you in. You
will see no one but himself. He will question you much as to your dreams
and the strength of your guardian spirits. If he is satisfied with your
answers, he will urge you to attempt the recovery of his scalp. He will
show you the course to take, and if you feel inclined, as I see that
you do, go forward, my son, with a strong heart; persevere, and I have a
presentiment that you will succeed."
Maidwa answered, "I will try."
Betimes in the morning, after having eaten from the magic kettle, which
sung a sort of farewell chant on its way from the fire-place to its
station in the corner, he set off on his journey.
Toward evening, Maidwa, as he crossed a prairie, heard, as had been
predicted, groans from a distant lodge, which were only interrupted by a
voice from a person whom he could not see, calling to him aloud:
"Come in! come in!"
On entering the lodge, the magician heaved a great groan from the very
bottom of his chest, and Maidwa saw that the crown of his head was all
bare and bloody.
"Sit down, sit down," he said, "while I prepare you something to eat.
You see how poor I am. I have to attend to all my own wants, with no
other servant than that poor little kettle in the corner. Kettle, we
will have something to eat, if you please."
"In a moment," the kettle spoke up from the corner.
"You will oblige me by making all the dispatch you can," said the
magician, in a very humble tone, still addressing the kettle.
"Have patience," replied the kettle, "and I will be with you presently."
After a considerable delay, there came forward out of the corner from
which it had spoken, a great heavy-browed and pot-bodied kettle, which
advanced with much stateliness and solemnity of manner till it had come
directly in front of the magician, whom it addressed with the question:
"What shall we have, sir?"
"Corn, if you please," the magician answered.
"No, we will have whortleberries," rejoined the kettle, in a firm voice.
"Very well; just as you choose."
When he supposed it was time, the magician invited Maidwa to help
himself.
"Hold a minute," interposed the kettle, as Maidwa was about to dip in
his ladle. He paused, and after a delay, the kettle, shaking itself up
and simmering very loudly, said, "Now we are ready."
Maidwa fell to and satisfied his hunger.
"Will the kettle now withdraw?" asked the magician, with am air of much
deference.
"No," said the kettle, "we will stay and hear what the young man has to
say for himself."
"Very well," said the magician. "You see," he added to Maidwa, "how poor
I am. I have to take counsel with the kettle, or I should be all alone,
without a day's food, and with no one to advise me."
All this time the Red Swan was carefully concealed in the lodge, behind
a curtain, from which Maidwa heard now and then a rustling noise, that
fluttered his spirits and set his heart to beating at a wonderful rate.
As soon as Maidwa had partaken of food and laid aside his leggings and
moccasins, the old magician commenced telling him how he had lost his
scalp, the insults it was receiving, the pain he suffered thereby, his
wishes to regain it, the many unsuccessful attempts that had already
been made, and the numbers and power of those who retained it. He would
interrupt his discourse, at times, with sudden groans, and say:
"Oh, how shamefully they are treating it."
Maidwa listened to all the old magician had to say with solemn
attention.
The magician renewed his discourse, and inquired of Maidwa as to his
dreams, or what he saw in his sleep, at such times as he had fasted and
darkened his face to procure guardian spirits.
Maidwa then told him one dream. The magician groaned.
"No, that is not it," he said.
Maidwa told him of two or three others.
The magician groaned again and again, and said, rather peevishly, "No,
these are not the dreams."
"Keep cool," said the kettle, which had left the fire, and was standing
in the middle of the floor, where a pleasant breeze was blowing through
the lodge, and added, "Have you no more dreams of another kind?"
"Yes," said Maidwa; and he told him one.
"That will do," said the kettle. "We are much pleased with that."
"Yes, that is it--that is it!" the magician added. "You will cause me to
live. That was what I was wishing you to say. Will you then go and see
if you can not recover my poor scalp?"
"Yes," said Maidwa, "I will go; and the day after to-morrow, when you
hear the ka-kak cries of the hawk, you will know that I am successful.
You must prepare your head, and lean it out through the door, so that
the moment I arrive I may place your scalp on."
"Yes, yes," said the magician. "As you say it will be done."
Early the next morning Maidwa set out to fulfill his promise; and in the
afternoon, when the sun hangs toward home, he heard the shouts of a
great many people. He was in a wood at the time, and saw, as he thought,
only a few men, but as he went on they increased in numbers. On emerging
upon the plain, their heads appeared like the hanging leaves, they were
so many.
In the middle of the plain he perceived a post, and something waving at
its top. It was the wampum scalp; and every now and then the air was
rent with the war-song, for they were dancing the war-dance in high
spirit around it.
Before he could be observed, Maidwa changed himself into a humming-bird,
and flew toward the scalp. As he passed some of those who were standing
by, he came close to their ears, and as they heard the rapid whirr or
murmur which this bird makes when it flies, they jumped aside, and asked
each other what it could be. Maidwa had nearly reached the scalp, but
fearing that he should be perceived while untying it, he again changed
himself into the down that floats lightly on the air, and sailed slowly
on to the scalp. He loosened it, and moved off heavily, as the weight
was almost too great for him to bear up. The Indians around would have
snatched it away had not a lucky current of air just then buoyed him up.
As they saw that it was moving away they cried out, "It is taken from
us! it is taken from us!"
Maidwa was borne gently along but a little way above their heads; and as
they followed him, the rush and hum of the people was like the dead
beating of the surges upon a lake shore after a storm. But the good wind
gaining strength, soon carried him beyond their pursuit. A little
further on he changed himself into a hawk, and flew swiftly off with
his trophy, crying, "Ka-kak! ka-kak!" till it resounded with its shrill
tone through the whole country, far and wide.
Meanwhile the magician had remembered the instructions of Maidwa,
placing his head outside of the lodge as soon as he heard the ka-kak cry
of the hawk.
In a moment Maidwa came past with rustling wings, and as he flew by,
giving the magician a severe blow on the head with the wampum scalp, his
limbs extended and quivered in an agony, the scalp adhered, and Maidwa,
in his own person, walked into the lodge and sat down, feeling perfectly
at home.
The magician was so long in recovering from the stunning blow which had
been dealt him, that Maidwa feared that in restoring the crown of his
head he had destroyed his life. Presently, however, he was pleased to
see him show, by the motion of his hands and limbs, that his strength
was returning; and in a little while he rose and stood upon his feet.
What was the delight of Maidwa to behold, instead of a withered old man,
far advanced in years and stricken in sorrow, a bright and cheerful
youth, who glittered with life as he stood up before him.
"Thank you, my friend," he said. "Your kindness and bravery of heart
have restored me to my former shape. It was so ordained, and you have
now accomplished the victory."
They embraced; and the young magician urged the stay of his deliverer
for a few days, and they formed a strong attachment to each other. The
magician, to the deep regret of Maidwa, never once alluded to the Red
Swan in all their conferences.
At last the day arrived when Maidwa prepared to return to his home. The
young magician bestowed on him ample presents of wampum, fur, robes, and
other costly things. Although Maidwa's heart was burning within him to
see the Red Swan, to hear her spoken of, and to learn what his fortune
was to be in regard to that fond object of his pursuit, he constrained
his feelings, and so checked his countenance as to never look where he
supposed she might be. His friend the young magician observed the same
silence and caution.
Maidwa's pack for traveling was now ready, and he was taking his
farewell smoke, when the young magician thus addressed him: "My friend
Maidwa, you know for what cause you came thus far, and why you have
risked so much and waited so long. You have proved my friend indeed. You
have accomplished your object, and your noble perseverance shall not go
unrewarded. If you undertake other things with the same spirit, you will
always succeed. My destiny compels me to remain where I am, although I
should feel happy to be allowed to go with you. I have given you, of
ordinary gifts, all you will need as long as you live; but I see you
are backward to speak of the Red Swan. I vowed that whoever procured me
my lost wampum-scalp should be rewarded by possessing the Red Swan."
He then spoke in a language which Maidwa did not understand, the curtain
of the lodge parted, and the Red Swan met his gaze. It was a beautiful
female that he beheld, so majestical and airy in her look, that he
seemed to see a creature whose home should rather be in the free heaven,
and among the rosy clouds, than in this dusky lodge.
"Take her," the young magician said; "she is my sister; treat her well.
She is worthy of you, and what you have done for me merits more. She is
ready to go with you to your kindred and friends, and has been so ever
since your arrival; and my good wishes shall go with you both."
The Red Swan smiled kindly on Maidwa, who advanced and greeted her. Hand
in hand they took their way forth from the lodge, and, watched by the
young magician, advanced across the prairie on their homeward course.
They traveled slowly, and looked with double joy on the beautiful
country over which they had both so lately passed with hearts ill at
ease.
After two or three days they reached the lodge of the third old man who
had entertained him with the singing kettle; but the kettle was not
there. The old man, nevertheless, received them very kindly, and said
to Maidwa, "You see what your perseverance has secured you; do so
always, and you will succeed in whatever you undertake."
On the following morning, when they were about to start, he pulled from
the side of the lodge a bag, which he presented to Maidwa, saying,
"Grandchild, I give you this; it contains a present for you; and I hope
you will live happily till old age."
Bidding him farewell, they again set forward; and they soon came to the
second old man's lodge; he also gave them a present and bestowed his
blessing. Nor did Maidwa see any thing here of the frisky little kettle
which had been so lively on his former visit.
As they went on and came to the lodge of the first old man, their
reception and farewell were the same; and when Maidwa glanced to the
corner, the silent kettle, which had been the first acquaintance he had
made in that family on his travels, was not there. The old man smiled
when he discovered the direction of Maidwa's glance, but he said
nothing.
When, on continuing their journey, they at last approached the first
town which Maidwa had passed in his pursuit, the watchman gave notice as
before, and he was shown into the chief's lodge.
"Sit down there, son-in-law," said the chief, pointing to a place near
his daughter. "And you also," he said to the Red Swan.
The chief's daughter was engaged in coloring a girdle, and, as if
indifferent to these visitors, she did not even raise her head.
Presently the chief said, "Let some one bring in the bundle of our
son-in-law."
When the bundle was laid before him, Maidwa opened one of the bags which
had been given to him. It was filled with various costly
articles--wampum, robes, and trinkets, of much richness and value;
these, in token of his kindness, he presented to the chief. The chief's
daughter stole a glance at the costly gifts, then at Maidwa and his
beautiful wife. She stopped working, and was silent and thoughtful all
the evening. The chief himself talked with Maidwa of his adventures,
congratulated him on his good fortune, and concluded by telling him that
he should take his daughter along with him in the morning.
Maidwa said "Yes."
The chief then spoke up, saying, "Daughter, be ready to go with him in
the morning."
Now it happened when the chief was thus speaking that there was a
foolish fellow in the lodge, who had thought to have got this chief's
daughter for a wife; and he jumped up, saying:
"Who is he," looking grimly at Maidwa, "that he should take her for a
few presents? I will kill him."
And he raised a knife which he had in his hand, and gave it a mighty
flourish in the air. He kept up this terrible flourish till some one
came and pulled him back to his seat, which he had been waiting for,
and then he sat quiet enough.
Amid the greetings of their new friends, Maidwa and the Red Swan, with
the chief's daughter, took their leave by peep of day, and toward
evening they reached the other town. The watchman gave the signal, and
numbers of men, women and children stood out to see them. They were
again shown into the chief's lodge, who welcomed him, saying:
"Son-in-law, you are welcome."
And he requested Maidwa to take a seat by his daughter, and the two
women did the same.
After suitable refreshment for all, and while Maidwa smoked a pipe, the
chief asked him to relate his adventures in the hearing of all the
inmates of the lodge, and of the strangers who had gathered in at report
of his singular fortunes.
Maidwa gave them his whole story. When he came to those parts which
related to the Red Swan, they turned and looked upon her in wonder and
admiration, for she was very beautiful.
The chief then informed Maidwa that his brothers had been to their town
in search of him, but that they had gone back some time before, having
given up all hopes of ever seeing him again. He added, that since he had
shown himself a man of spirit, whom fortune was pleased to befriend, he
should take his daughter with him.
"For although your brothers," he said, "were here, they were too bashful
to enter any of our lodges. They merely inquired for you and returned.
You will take my daughter, treat her well, and that will bind us more
closely together."
It is always the case in an assembly or gathering that some one of the
number is foolish, and disposed to play the clown. It happened to be so
here. One of this very sort was in the lodge, and, after Maidwa had
given the old chief presents, as he had to the other, this pretender
jumped up in a passion, and cried out:
"Who is this stranger, that he should have her? I want her myself."
The chief bade him be quiet, and not to disturb or quarrel with one who
was enjoying their hospitality.
"No, no," he exclaimed, rushing forward as in act to strike.
Maidwa sat unmoved, and paid no heed to his threats.
He cried the louder--"I will have her, I will have her!" whereupon the
old chief, being now vexed past patience, took his great war-club and
tapped this clownish fellow upon the head, which so far subdued him that
he sat for some time quite still; when, after a while, he came to
himself, the chief upbraided him for his folly, and told him to go out
and tell stories to the old women.