cheeks, as though she were enamored of his fair looks, that Wassamo had
not the heart to call him up.
Binding his girdle upon his brow, in this he thrust the torch, and went
forward, with the light dancing through the green leaves at every turn
of his head, to prepare the evening meal.
He again spoke to his cousin, but gently, to learn whether he was in
truth asleep. The cousin murmured, but made no reply; and Wassamo
stepped softly about with the dancing fire-plume lighting up the gloom
of the forest at every turn he made.
Suddenly he heard a laugh It was double, or the one must be the perfect
echo of the other. To Wassamo there appeared to be two persons at no
great distance.
"Cousin," said Wassamo, "some person is near us. I hear a laugh; awake
and let us look out!"
The cousin made no answer.
Again Wassamo heard the laughter in mirthful repetition, like the ripple
of the water-brook upon the shining pebbles of the stream. Peering out
as far as the line of the torchlight pierced into the darkness, he
beheld two beautiful young females smiling on him. Their countenances
appeared to be perfectly white, like the fresh snow.
He crouched down and pushed his cousin, saying, in a low voice, "Awake!
awake! here are two young women."
But he received no answer. His cousin seemed lost to all earthly sense
and sound; for he lay unmoved, smiling, in the calm light of the moon.
Wassamo started up alone, and glided toward the strange females.
As he approached them he was more and more enraptured with their beauty;
but just as he was about to speak to them, he suddenly fell to the
earth, and they all three vanished together. The moon shone where they
had just stood, but she saw them not. A gentle sound of music and soft
voices accompanied their vanishing, and this wakened the cousin.
As he opened his eyes, in a dreamy way, he saw the kettle near him. Some
of the fish he observed were in the bowl. The fire flickered, and made
light and shadow; but nowhere was Wassamo to be seen. He waited, and
waited again, in the expectation that Wassamo would appear.
"Perhaps," thought the cousin, "he is gone out again to visit the nets."
He looked off that way, but the canoe still lay close by the rock at the
shore. He searched and found his footsteps in the ashes, and out upon
the green ground a little distance, and then they were utterly lost.
He was now greatly troubled in spirit, and he called aloud, "Netawis!
cousin! cousin!" but there was no answer to his call. He called again in
his sorrow, louder and louder, "Netawis! Netawis! cousin! cousin!
whither are you gone?" But no answer came to his voice of wailing. He
started for the edge of the woods, crying as he ran, "My cousin!" and
"Oh, my cousin!"
Hither and thither through the forest he sped with all his fleetness of
foot and quickness of spirit; and when at last he found that no voice
would answer him, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud.
He returned to the fire, and sat down. He mused upon the absence of
Wassamo with a sorely-troubled heart. "He may have been playing me a
trick," he thought; but it was full time that the trick should be at an
end, and Wassamo returned not. The cousin cherished other hopes, but
they all died away in the morning light, when he found himself alone by
the hunting-fire.
"How shall I answer to his friends for Wassamo?" thought the cousin.
"Although," he said to himself, "his parents are my kindred, and they
are well assured that their son is my bosom-friend, will they receive
that belief in the place of him who is lost. No, no; they will say that
I have slain him, and they will require blood for blood. Oh! my cousin,
whither are you gone?"
He would have rested to restore his mind to its peace, but he could not
sleep; and, without further regard to net or canoe, he set off for the
village, running all the way.
As they saw him approaching at such speed and alone, they said, "Some
accident has happened."
When he had come into the village, he told them how Wassamo had
disappeared. He stated all the circumstances. He kept nothing to
himself. He declared all that he knew.
Some said, "He has killed him in the dark." Others said, "It is
impossible; they were like brothers; they would have fallen for each
other. It can not be."
At the cousin's request, many of the men visited the fish-fire. There
were no marks of blood. No hasty steps were there to show that any
conflict or struggle had occurred. Every leaf on every tree was in its
place; and they saw, as the cousin had before, that the foot-prints of
Wassamo stopped in the wood, as if he had gone no further upon the
earth, but had ascended into the air.
They returned to the village, and no man was the wiser as to the strange
and sudden vanishing of Wassamo. None ever looked to see him more; only
the parents, who still hoped and awaited his return.
The spring, with all its blossoms and its delicate newness of life, came
among them; the Indians assembled to celebrate their vernal feast from
all the country round.
Among them came the sad cousin of Wassamo. He was pale and thin as the
shadow of the shaft that flies. The pain of his mind had changed his
features, and wherever he turned his eyes, they were dazzled with the
sight of the red blood of his friend.
The parents of Wassamo, far gone in despair, and weary with watching for
his return, now demanded the life of Netawis. The village was stirred to
its very heart by their loud lamentings; and, after a struggle of pity,
they decided to give the young man's life to the parents. They said that
they had waited long enough. A day was appointed on which the cousin was
to yield his life for his friend's.
He was a brave youth, and they bound him only by his word to be ready at
the appointed hour. He said that he was not afraid to die; for he was
innocent of the great wrong they laid to his charge.
A day or two before the time set to take his life, he wandered sadly
along the shore of the lake. He looked at the glassy water, and more
than once the thought to end his griefs by casting himself in its
depths, came upon him with such sudden force that it was only by severe
self-control that he was able to turn his steps in another direction. He
reflected--"They will say that I was guilty if I take my own life. No. I
will give them my blood for that of my cousin."
He walked on, with slow steps, but he found no comfort, turn where he
would; the sweet songs of the grove jarred upon his ear; the beauty of
the blue sky pained his sight; and the soft green earth, as he trode
upon it, seemed harsh to his foot, and sent a pang through every nerve.
"Oh, where is my cousin?" he kept saying to himself.
Meanwhile, when Wassamo fell senseless before the two young women in the
wood, he lost all knowledge of himself until he wakened in a distant
scene. He heard persons conversing. One spoke in a tone of command,
saying, "You foolish girls, is this the way that you rove about at
nights without our knowledge? Put that person you have brought on that
couch of yours, and do not let him lie upon the ground."
Wassamo felt himself moved, he knew not how, and placed upon a couch.
Some time after, the spell seemed to be a little lightened, and on
opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was lying in a
spacious and shining lodge, extending as far as the eye could reach.
One spoke to him and said: "Stranger, awake, and take something
wherewith to refresh yourself."
He obeyed the command and sat up. On either side of the lodge he beheld
rows of people seated in orderly array. At a distance he could see two
stately persons, who looked rather more in years than the others, and
who appeared to exact obedience from all around them. One of them, whom
he heard addressed as the Old Spirit-man, spoke to Wassamo. "My son,"
said he, "know it was those foolish girls who brought you hither. They
saw you at the fishing-ground. When you attempted to approach them you
fell senseless, and at the same moment they transported you to this
place. We are under the earth. But be at ease. We will make your stay
with us pleasant. I am the guardian Spirit of the Sand Mountains. They
are my charge. I pile them up, and blow them about, and do whatever I
will with them. It keeps me very busy, but I am hale for my age, and I
love to be employed. I have often wished to get one of your race to
marry among us. If you can make up your mind to remain, I will give you
one of my daughters--the one who smiled on you first, the night you
were brought away from your parents and friends."
Wassamo dropped his head and made no answer. The thought that he should
behold his kindred no more, made him sad.
He was silent, and the Old Spirit continued: "Your wants will all be
supplied; but you must be careful not to stray far from the lodge. I am
afraid of that Spirit who rules all islands lying in the lakes. He is my
bitter enemy, for I have refused him my daughter in marriage; and when
he learns that you are a member of my family, he will seek to harm you.
There is my daughter," added the Old Spirit, pointing toward her. "Take
her. She shall be your wife."
Forthwith Wassamo and the Old Spirit's daughter sat near each other in
the lodge, and they were man and wife.
One evening the Old Spirit came in after a busy day's work out among the
sand-hills, in the course of which he had blown them all out of shape
with great gusts of wind, and strewn them about in a thousand
directions, and brought them back and piled them up in all sorts of
misshapen heaps.
At the close of this busy day, when the Old Spirit came in very much out
of breath, he said to Wassamo, "Son-in-law, I am in want of tobacco.
None grows about this dry place of mine. You shall return to your
people and procure me a supply. It is seldom that the few who pass these
sand-hills offer me a piece of tobacco,--it is a rare plant in these
parts,--but when they do, it immediately comes to me. Just so," he
added, putting his hand out of the side of the lodge and drawing in
several pieces of tobacco which some one passing at that moment offered
as a fee to the Old Spirit, to keep the sand-hills from blowing about
till they had got by.
Other gifts beside tobacco came in the same way to the side of the
lodge--sometimes a whole bear, then a wampum-robe, then a string of
birds--and the Sand-Spirits altogether led an easy life; for they were
not at the trouble to hunt or clothe themselves; and whenever the
housekeeping began to fall short, nothing would happen but a wonderful
storm of dust, all the sand-hills being straightway put in an uproar,
and the contributions would at once begin to pour in at the side windows
of the lodge, till all their wants were supplied.
After Wassamo had been among these curious people several months, the
old Sand-Spirit said to him, "Son-in-law, you must not be surprised at
what you will see next; for since you have been with us you have never
known us to go to sleep. It has been summer when the sun never sets here
where we live. But now, what you call winter, is coming on. You will
soon see us lie down, and we shall not rise again till the spring. Take
my advice. Do not leave the lodge. I have sure knowledge that that
knavish Island Spirit is on the prowl, and as he has command of a
particular kind of storm, which comes from the south-west, he only waits
his opportunity to catch you abroad and do you a mischief. Try and amuse
yourself. That cupboard," pointing to a corner of the lodge, "is never
empty; for it is there that all the offerings are handed in while we are
asleep. It is never empty, and--" But ere the old Sand-Spirit could
utter another word, a loud rattling of thunder was heard, and instantly,
not only the Old Spirit but every one of his family, vanished out of
sight.
When the storm had passed by, they all reappeared in the lodge. This
sudden vanishing and reappearance occurred at every tempest.
"You are surprised," said the Old Spirit, "to see us disappear when it
thunders. The reason is this: that noise which you fancy is thunder, is
our enemy the Island Spirit hallooing on his way home from the hunt. We
get out of sight that we may escape the necessity of asking him to come
in and share our evening meal. We are not afraid of him, not in the
least."
Just then it chanced to thunder again, and Wassamo observed that his
father-in-law made extraordinary dispatch to conceal himself, although
no stranger, at all resembling in any way the Island Spirit, was in
view.
Shortly after this the season of sleep began, and one by one they laid
themselves down to the long slumber.
The Old Spirit was the last to drop away; and, before he yielded, he
went forth and had his last sport with the sand-hills, and he so tossed
and vexed the poor hills, and scattered them to and fro, and whirled
them up in the air, and far over the land, that it was days and days
before they got back to any thing like their natural shape.
While his relations were enjoying this long sleep, Wassamo amused
himself as best he could. The cupboard never failed him once: for visit
it when he would, he always found a fresh supply of game, and every
other dainty which his heart desired.
But his chief pastime was to listen to the voices of the travelers who
passed by the window at the side of the lodge where they made their
requests for comfortable weather and an easy journey.
These were often mingled with loud complainings, such as "Ho! how the
sand jumps about!" "Take away that hill!" "I am lost!" "Old Sand-Spirit,
where are you? help this way!" and the like, which indicated that such
as were journeying through the hills had their own troubles to
encounter.
As the spring-light of the first day of spring shone into the lodge, the
whole family arose and went about the affairs of the day as though they
had been slumbering only for a single night. The rest of the Old Spirit
seemed to have done him much good, for he was very cheerful; and, first
putting his head forth from the window for a puff at a sand-hill, which
was his prime luxury in a morning, he said to Wassamo, "Son-in-law, you
have been very patient with our long absence from your company, and you
shall be rewarded. In a few days you may start with your wife to visit
your relations. You can be absent one year, but at the end of that time
you must return. When you get to your home-village, you must first go in
alone. Leave your wife at a short distance from the lodge, and when you
are welcome, then send for her. When there, do not be surprised that she
disappears whenever you hear it thunder." He added, with a sly look,
"That old Island Spirit has a brother down in that part of the country.
You will prosper in all things, for my daughter is very diligent. All
the time that you pass in sleep, she will be at work. The distance is
short to your village. A path leads directly to it, and when you get
there, do not forget my wants as I stated to you before."
Wassamo promised obedience to these directions, and, at the appointed
time, set out in company with his wife. They traveled on a pleasant
course, his wife leading the way, until they reached a rising ground.
At the highest point of this ground, she said, "We will soon get to your
country."
It suddenly became broad day, as they came upon a high bank; they
passed, unwet, for a short distance under the lake, and presently
emerged from the water at the sand-banks, just off the shore where
Wassamo had set his nets on the night when he had been borne away by the
two strange females.
He now left his wife sheltered in a neighboring wood, while he advanced
toward the village alone.
Musing sadly, and from time to time breaking forth in mournful cries, as
he walked the shore, it was his cousin that Wassamo beheld as he turned
the first point of land by the lake.
With the speed of lightning the cousin rushed forward. "Netawis!
Netawis!" he cried, "is it indeed you? Whence have you come, oh, my
cousin?"
They fell upon each other's necks, and wept aloud. And then, without
further delay or question, the cousin ran off with breathless dispatch
to the village. He seemed like a shadow upon the open ground, he sped so
fast.
He entered the lodge where sat the mother of Wassamo in mourning for her
son. "Hear me," said the cousin. "I have seen him whom you accuse me of
having killed. He will be here even while we speak."
He had scarcely uttered these words when the whole village was astir in
an instant. All ran out and strained their eyes to catch the first view
of him whom they had thought dead. And when Wassamo came forward, they
at first fell from him as though he had been in truth one returned from
the Spirit-land. He entered the lodge of his parents. They saw that it
was Wassamo, living, breathing and as they had ever known him. And joy
lit up the lodge-circle as though a new fire had been kindled in the
eyes of his friends and kinsfolk.
He related all that had happened to him from the moment of his leaving
the temporary night-lodge with the flame on his head. He told them of
the strange land in which he had sojourned during his absence. He added
to his mother, apart from the company, that he was married, and that he
had left his wife at a short distance from the village.
She went out immediately in search of her; they soon found her in the
wood, and all the women in the village conducted her in honor to the
lodge of her new relations. The Indian people were astonished at her
beauty, at the whiteness of her skin, and still more, that she was able
to talk with them in their own language.
The village was happy, and the feast went on as long as the supply held
out. All were delighted to make the acquaintance of the old
Sand-Spirit's daughter; and as they had heard that he was a magician and
guardian of great power, the tobacco which he had sent for by his
son-in-law, came in, in great abundance, with every visitor.
The summer and fall which Wassamo thus passed with his parents and the
people of his tribe were prosperous with all the country.
The cousin of Wassamo recovered heart, and sang once more his sad or
mirthful chants, just as the humor was upon him; but he kept close by
Wassamo, and watched him in all his movements. He made it a point to ask
many questions of the country he came from; some of which his cousin
replied to, but others were left entirely in the dark.
At every thunder-storm, as the old Sand-Spirit had foreboded, the wife
of Wassamo disappeared, much to the astonishment of her Indian company,
and, to their greater wonder, she was never idle, night nor day.
When the winter came on, Wassamo prepared for her a comfortable lodge,
to which she withdrew for her long sleep; and he gave notice to his
friends that they must not disturb her, as she would not be with them
again until the spring returned.
Before lying down, she said to her husband, "No one but yourself must
pass on this side of the lodge."
The winter passed away with snows, and sports and stones in the lodge;
and when the sap of the maple began to flow, the wife of Wassamo
wakened, and she immediately set about work as before. She helped at
the maple-trees with the others; and, as if luck were in her presence,
the sugar-harvest was greater than had been ever known in all that
region.
The gifts of tobacco, after this, came in even more freely than they had
at first; and as each brought his bundle to the lodge of Wassamo, he
asked for the usual length of life, for success as a hunter, and for a
plentiful supply of food. They particularly desired that the sand-hills
might be kept quiet, so that their lands might be moist, and their eyes
clear of dust to sight the game.
Wassamo replied that he would mention each of their requests to his
father-in-law.
The tobacco was stored in sacks, and on the outside of the skins, that
there might be no mistake as to their wants, each one who had given
tobacco had painted and marked in distinct characters the totem or
family emblem of his family and tribe. These the old Sand-Spirit could
read at his leisure, and do what he thought best for each of his various
petitioners.
When the time for his return arrived, Wassamo warned his people that
they should not follow him nor attempt to take note how he disappeared.
He then took the moose-skin sacks filled with tobacco, and bade farewell
to all but Netawis. He insisted on the privilege of attending Wassamo
and his wife for a distance, and when they reached the sand-banks he
expressed the strongest wish to proceed with them on their journey.
Wassamo told him that it could not be; that only spirits could exert the
necessary power, and that there were no such spirits at hand.
They then took an affectionate leave of each other, Wassamo enjoining it
upon his cousin, at risk of his life, to not look back when he had once
started to return.
The cousin, sore at heart, but constrained to obey, parted from them,
and as he walked sadly away, he heard a gliding noise as of the sound of
waters that were cleaved.
He returned home, and told his friends that Wassamo and his wife had
disappeared, but that he knew not how. No one doubted his word in any
thing now.
Wassamo with his wife soon reached their home at the hills. The old
Sand-Spirit was in excellent health, and delighted to see them. He
hailed their return with open arms; and he opened his arms so very wide,
that when he closed them he not only embraced Wassamo and his wife, but
all of the tobacco-sacks which they had brought with them.
The requests of the Indian people were made known to him; he replied
that he would attend to all, but that he must first invite his friends
to smoke with him. Accordingly he at once dispatched his pipe-bearer and
confidential aid to summon various Spirits of his acquaintance, and set
the time for them to come.
Meanwhile he had a word of advice for his son-in-law Wassamo. "My son,"
said he, "some of these Manitoes that I have asked to come here are of a
very wicked temper, and I warn you especially of that Island Spirit who
wished to marry my daughter. He is a very bad-hearted Monedo, and would
like to do you harm. Some of the company you will, however, find to be
very friendly. A caution for you. When they come in, do you sit close by
your wife; if you do not, you will be lost. She only can save you; for
those who are expected to come are so powerful that they will otherwise
draw you from your seat, and toss you out of the lodge as though you
were a feather. You have only to observe my words and all will be well."
Wassamo took heed to what the Old Spirit said, and answered that he
would obey.
About mid-day the company began to assemble; and such a company Wassamo
had never looked on before. There were Spirits from all parts of the
country; such strange-looking persons, and in dresses so wild and
outlandish! One entered who smiled on him. This, Wassamo was informed,
was a Spirit who had charge of the affairs of a tribe in the North, and
he was as pleasant and cheery a Spirit as one would wish to see. Soon
after, Wassamo heard a great rumbling and roaring, as of waters tumbling
over rocks; and presently, with a vast bluster, and fairly shaking the
lodge with his deep-throated hail of welcome to the old Sand-Spirit, in
rolled another, who was the Guardian Spirit and special director of a
great cataract or water-fall not far off.
Then came with crashing steps the owner of several whirlwinds, which
were in the habit of raging about in the neighboring country. And
following this one, glided in a sweet-spoken, gentle-faced little
Spirit, who was understood to represent a summer-gale that was
accustomed to blow, toward evening, in at the lodge-doors, and to be
particularly well disposed toward young lovers.
The last to appear was a great rocky-headed fellow; and he was twice as
stony in his manners; and swaggered and strided in, and raised such a
commotion with his great green blanket when he shook it, that Wassamo
was nearly taken off his feet; and it was only by main force that he was
able to cling by his wife. This, which was the last to enter, was that
wicked Island Spirit, who looked grim enough at Wassamo's wife, who had
rejected him, as he passed in.
Soon after, the old Sand-Spirit, who was a great speech-maker, arose and
addressed the assembly.