when all the Indians were sleeping fast, Minnehaha rose from her bed of
branches, laid aside her garments and walked safely among the
cornfields, drawing the magic circle of her light footsteps closely
around them. No one but the midnight saw her, and no one but the
whippoorwill heard the panting of her bosom, for the darkness wrapped
its cloak closely about her as she walked. And the dragon-fly and the
grasshopper, the spider and the caterpillar, all knew that they could
not cross the magic circle of Minnehaha's footsteps.
When the morning came, however, Kahgahgee gathered about him all his
black and rascally crew of ravens and jays and crows and blackbirds,
shrieking with laughter, and with harsh cries and raucous clamor they
all left the tree-tops and flapped eagerly down upon the cornfields.
"Kaw! Kaw!" they shrieked, "we will dig up the corn from the soft earth,
and we will eat all we can hold, in spite of Minnehaha and her foolish
circle!"
But Hiawatha had overheard the ravens as they laughed at him from among
the tree-tops. He had risen before daybreak and had covered the
cornfields with snares, and at that moment he was hiding in the woods
until all the evil birds should alight on the fields and begin their
wicked feast.
They came with a rush of wings and hungry cries, settled down upon the
cornfields and began to dig and delve and scratch in the earth for the
corn that had been planted there, and with all their skill and cunning,
they did not see that anything was amiss until their claws were caught
in Hiawatha's snares and they were helpless.
Then Hiawatha left his hiding-place among the bushes and strode toward
the captive ravens, and his appearance was so awful that the bravest of
them hopped and shrieked and flapped their wings in terror. He walked
among them, and killed them to the right and left in tens and twenties
without mercy; and he hung their dead bodies on poles, to serve as
scarecrows and to frighten away all other thieves and robbers from the
sacred fields of corn. Only one of the ravens was spared by Hiawatha and
that was Kahgahgee, the ruler of them all. Hiawatha tied him with a
string and fastened him to the ridge-pole of his wigwam, saying:
"Kahgahgee, you are the cause of all this mischief, and I am going to
hold you as a warning to all the ravens left alive. If they light upon
the cornfields and begin again their wicked thieving, I will kill you
and hang your body on a pole as an example." And Hiawatha left Kahgahgee
tied fast to the ridge-pole of the wigwam, hopping and tugging angrily
at his string and croaking in vain for his friends to come and set him
free.
The summer passed, and all the air became warm and soft with the haze of
early autumn. The corn had grown tall and yellow, and the ears were
almost bursting from their sheaths, when old Nokomis said to Minnehaha:
"Let us gather the harvest and strip the ripe ears of all their husks
and tassels," and Minnehaha and Nokomis went through the village,
calling on the women and the maidens and the young men to come forth and
help them with the husking of the corn. All together they went to the
cornfields, and the old men and the warriors sat in the shade at the
edges of the forest and smoked and looked on in approval, while the
young men and maidens stripped the ears of corn and laughed and sang
merrily over their labor. Whenever a youth or a maiden found a crooked
ear, they all laughed even louder, and crept about the cornfields like
weak old men bent almost double with age. But when some lucky maiden
found a blood-red ear in the husking, they all cried out: "Ah, Nushka!
You shall have a sweetheart!" And the old men nodded in approval as they
smoked beneath the pine-trees.
XIV
PICTURE-WRITING
IN those days, the Indians had no way of writing down what they thought,
and could only tell each other their messages and their dreams and
wisdom, by spoken words. The deeds of hunters and the thoughts of wise
men were remembered for a little while, but soon were talked about less
often, and when the old men died there were none left who could tell
about what had happened in the past. The grave-posts had no marks on
them, nor were the Indians able to tell who were buried in the graves.
All they knew was that some one of their own tribe, some former wise man
or hunter, or some beautiful maiden of other days lay buried there. And
Hiawatha was much troubled that the Indians did not know the graves of
their own fathers, and could not tell the men who should come after
them about the wonderful things that had taken place long before they
were born.
Hiawatha spent many days alone in the deep forest, trying to invent some
way by which the Indians could always know what had happened in the
past, and thereby tell secrets to each other and send messages without
the risk of having them forgotten by the messenger. And after a great
deal of thought, Hiawatha discovered one of the finest things in all the
wide world--a secret that has changed the lives of all Indians since his
time.
He took his different colored paints, and began to draw strange figures
on the bark of the birch-tree, and every figure had some meaning that
the red men would always remember. For the great Manito, God of all the
Indians, Hiawatha painted the picture of an egg with different colored
points toward the north and the south, the east and the west, to show
that the Great Spirit was watching over all the world, and could be
found everywhere at once.
For the Evil Spirit, Hiawatha painted the picture of a great serpent to
show that the Evil Spirit was as deadly and wicked and treacherous as
any snake that crawled in the green marsh grass. For Life and Death,
Hiawatha drew two round spots, and painted one of them white and the
other black. The white one was meant for Life, because white is clear
and fair to look upon; the black was meant for Death, because black is
hideous and dark. And Hiawatha painted the sun and the moon and all the
stars of heaven, and he painted forests and mountains, lakes and rivers,
animals and birds. For the earth he drew a straight line, like the line
of the horizon, and for the sky he drew a curved line like a bow. He
filled in the space between with white paint that was to mean the white
light of day; he painted a point at each side, one for sunrise and the
other for sunset, and he drew a number of little stars to represent the
night. And Hiawatha drew all sorts of pictures of men and wigwams and
bows and arrows and canoes, each with its own meaning, until he had
drawn different figures for the different thoughts of men.
He called the Indians to come and see what he had painted, and he said
to them: "Look and learn the meaning of these different figures; go and
paint upon the graves of those whom you remember, some mark that will
always show who it is that lies there buried;" and the Indians painted
on the grave-posts of the graves they had not yet forgotten, figures of
bear and reindeer, and turtles, and cranes, and beavers. Each one of
them invented some sign by which he might always know his dead, and from
these signs many of the Indians have been remembered to this day. On
their birch canoes the Indians drew many different shapes, and the
brightest of them all was the figure of Love. It was painted in deep
scarlet, because scarlet is the strongest of all colors, and the color
meant: "I am greater than all others;" for the Indians believed that
love was mightier than life or death, and more dangerous than either war
or hunting.
Other figures were also painted there, and by looking at the pictures
drawn by an Indian you could tell who he was, and what family he came
from, and whether he was stern and cruel or loving and kind-hearted. For
the Indians were apt to paint the things they thought about the most.
Many were the gifts that Hiawatha gave his people; but when he taught
them how to paint their thoughts, he gave them a better gift than any
other.
XV
HIAWATHA'S LAMENTATION
WHEN Hiawatha lived, there were many evil spirits on the earth; and
these evil spirits were very jealous of the friendship between Hiawatha
and Chibiabos. "If we can only get this Chibiabos in our power," they
plotted, "we will kill him, and when he is dead, Hiawatha cannot do so
much good to all the tribes of men; for Chibiabos helps him like a
brother, and together they are much too strong for us." The evil spirits
joined to destroy both Chibiabos and Hiawatha, and they laid many traps
and thought of many schemes to catch the two friends off their guard.
Hiawatha was so wise that he knew of all this plotting, and he often
said to Chibiabos: "O my brother, stay with me always, for together the
evil spirits cannot do us any harm." But Chibiabos was young and
heedless and he did not fear the evil spirits. He laughed at Hiawatha,
and said to him: "Harm and evil never come near me, my Hiawatha; have no
fear on my account." But Hiawatha only shook his head, and feared all
the more because Chibiabos feared so little.
Once in the winter time, when the Big-Sea-Water was covered with ice and
snow, Chibiabos was hunting a buck with antlers, and the buck ran right
across the frozen lake. Wild with excitement of hunting, Chibiabos
followed him and ran far out from shore upon the treacherous ice, where
the evil spirits were waiting for him. When they saw that he was far
enough from land, they broke the ice and Chibiabos fell with a crash and
a splash into the freezing water of the lake. Even then he might have
saved himself and climbed out upon the ice but the strong, cruel
water-god, the god of the Dacotahs, wrapped his cold wet arms around the
body of Chibiabos and dragged him down, down through the dark black
water to the bottom. There the water-god buried him beneath the mud and
sand, so that his dead body might not rise to the surface; and the evil
spirits danced for joy at the death of Chibiabos. "We have killed him,"
they shouted gleefully to one another; "we have killed the sweetest
singer in the world and the dearest friend of Hiawatha!"
From the headlands on the shore, Hiawatha had seen Chibiabos plunge into
the lake, and he heard the wicked shouting of the evil spirits. He gave
such a cry of sorrow that the forest trembled, and the wolves on the
prairie raised their heads to listen and then howled in answer, while
the hoarse thunder stirred itself among the mountains and awakened all
the echoes to his cry.
Then Hiawatha smeared his face with black paint, the color of sorrow and
of death; he covered his head with his robe and sat for seven long weeks
in his wigwam, grieving for the murdered Chibiabos. And the fir-trees
sadly waved their dark green branches to and fro above his head and
sighed as mournfully as Hiawatha.
Spring came, and all the birds and animals, and even the rivulets, and
flowers and grasses, looked in vain for the dead Chibiabos. The bluebird
sang a song of sorrow from the tree-tops; the robin echoed it from the
silence of the thicket, and the whippoorwill took up the sad refrain at
night and wailed it far and wide through all the woodland. "Chibiabos!
Chibiabos!" murmured every living thing, and all the echoes sighed in
answer until the whole world seemed to mourn for the lost singer.
Then the wise men of the tribes--the medicine-men, the men of
magic--came to Hiawatha as he sat in sorrow in his hut, and they walked
before him in a grave procession to drive the sadness from his heart.
Each of them carried a pouch of healing, made of beaver-skin or lynx or
otter, and filled with roots and herbs of wonderful power to cure all
diseases and to drive the evil spirits of grief from the heart and from
the mind. To and fro they walked, until Hiawatha uncovered his head,
washed the black paint from his face, and followed the wise men to the
Sacred Lodge that they had built beside his own wigwam.
There they gave to Hiawatha a marvelous drink made of spearmint and
yarrow and all sorts of strange and different roots, and when he had
drunk of this they began a wild and mystic dance, beating on the small
drums that they carried, and shaking their pouches of healing in the
face of Hiawatha. "_Hi-au-ha!_" they shouted in strange voices,
"_way-ha-way!_ We can cure you, Hiawatha; we can make you strong." And
they shook their medicine pouches over Hiawatha's head, and continued
beating on their hollow drums, as they circled wildly around him again
and again.
All at once the sorrow left Hiawatha's heart, as the ice is swept from
a river in the springtime, and like a man awakening from evil dreams he
felt that he was healed, and he gazed about him where the medicine-men
were still dancing. They were trying to summon Chibiabos from his grave
deep down in the sandy bottom of the Big-Sea-Water, for the water-god
had buried him so deep that his spirit could not go into the land of
dead men, but was still in his drowned body, struggling to free itself.
And the magic of the wise men was so strong that Chibiabos rose body and
all, and stood on the bottom of the lake, listening to them.
Then the dead man floated to the shore, climbed out upon the bank and
made his way swiftly and silently through the forest to the doorway of
the wigwam where the medicine-men were singing. When he shook the
curtain of the doorway and peered in upon them they would not let him
enter, but gave him through an opening in the door a burning torch and
told him to light a fire in the land of spirits, so that all who died
might see it and find their way thither; and they made Chibiabos ruler
in the Kingdom of the Dead. He left the doorway of the wigwam and
vanished in the forest, and the wise men watched the twinkling of his
torch until it disappeared. They saw that the branches did not move as
he passed, and that the dead leaves and the grass did not even bend or
rustle beneath his footsteps, and they looked at one another much
afraid, because such sights are not good for living men to see.
Four days Chibiabos traveled down the pathway of the dead, and for his
food he ate the dead man's strawberry. He saw many other dead men
struggling under heavy burdens of food and skins and wampum that their
friends had given them to use in the Land of Spirits, and they groaned
beneath their burdens. He passed them all, crossed the sad, dark River
of Death upon the swinging log that floats there; and at last he came to
the Lake of Silver, and was carried in the Stone Canoe over the water to
the Islands of the Blessed, where he rules all ghosts and shadows.
When he had disappeared in the dark forest, Hiawatha left the Sacred
Lodge and wandered eastward and westward teaching men the use of roots
and herbs and the cure of all disorders; and thus was first made known
to the Indians the sacred knowledge of caring for the sick.
XVI
PAU-PUK-KEEWIS
YOU remember how Pau-Puk-Keewis danced the Beggar's Dance at Hiawatha's
wedding, and how, in his wild leaping and whirling at the edges of the
Big-Sea-Water, he tossed up the mighty sand dunes of the Nagow Wudjoo.
And you remember also, how the warriors all disliked Pau-Puk-Keewis,
and called him an idler and coward, for they knew his heart was bad
within him. Only the women cared for Pau-Puk-Keewis, and the women were
deceived by his handsome face and his costly dresses.
One morning Pau-Puk-Keewis came in search of adventures to the village,
and found all the young men gathered in the wigwam of Iagoo, listening
to the wonderful stories that old Iagoo always told when any one would
hear him. He was telling how Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker, climbed up to the
sky and made a hole in Heaven that let out all the warm and pleasant
weather of the summer months. He was describing how the Otter tried it
first, and how the Beaver and the Lynx and Badger also tried it, all of
them climbing to the top of the highest mountain and hitting their heads
against the sky.
"They cracked it but they could not break it," said Iagoo, "and then
Ojeeg the Weasel came and the Wolverine helped him to make ready for the
trial. Ojeeg climbed to the top of the mountain, and the Wolverine went
with him. The Wolverine crouched down like a grasshopper on the mountain
top, with his legs all drawn up beneath him like a squirrel or a
cricket, and he leaped as hard as he was able at the sky.
"The first time he leaped," said Iagoo, "the sky bent above him as the
ice in rivers when the water rises beneath it in the springtime. The
second time he leaped, the sky cracked open, and he could see the light
of Heaven shining through. And the third time he leaped--crash! The sky
broke into bits above him and he disappeared in Heaven, followed closely
by the valiant Weasel, who tumbled into Heaven after him and has been
called 'The Summer-Maker' ever since."
"Hark you," cried Pau-Puk-Keewis, bursting through the open doorway of
the wigwam. "I am tired of all this talk, and I am tired of Hiawatha's
endless wisdom. Listen to me, and you shall learn something more
interesting than old Iagoo's stories. Watch, and I will teach you all a
splendid game."
From his pouch he drew forth all the pieces used in the game of Bowl and
Counters. There were thirteen in all, and nine were painted white on one
side and red on the other; while four were made of brass, one side
polished and the other painted black. On nine of the thirteen pieces
were painted pictures of men, or ducks, or serpents, and Pau-Puk-Keewis
shook them all together in a wooden bowl and tossed them out, explaining
that the score was counted great or little according to the way the
pictures and the colors fell upon the ground. Curious eyes stared at him
as he shook and tossed and counted up the pieces, until the Indians were
drawn into the game one after one, and they sat there playing for prizes
of weapons and fur robes and wampum through the rest of the day and
through the night until the sun rose once again. By that time the
clever, lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis had won everything they owned--deerskin
shirts, wampum, pipes, ermine robes and all sorts of weapons, and he
chuckled to himself.
Then the crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis said to them: "My wigwam is lonely, and I
want a companion in my wanderings. I want a slave. I will risk all the
wampum and the fur robes, everything that I have won, against the nephew
of Iagoo--that young man who is standing yonder. But if I win again, he
shall be my slave for life."
"Done!" cried Iagoo, his eyes glowing like coals beneath his shaggy
brows, and he seized the bowl and shook it fiercely, throwing out the
pieces on the ground. Pau-Puk-Keewis counted, took the bowl and threw in
his turn, and his throw was far more lucky than that of old Iagoo. "The
game is mine!" cried Pau-Puk-Keewis, smiling as he rose and looked about
him, and heaped all the robes and feathers and wampum and weapons in the
arms of Iagoo's nephew, now a slave.
"Carry them to my wigwam yonder," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, "and wait there
until I have need of you;" and he left the tent, followed by the angry
glances of all the other players, who had lost all their fine furs and
wampum belts and even the pipes they had been smoking.
Pau-Puk-Keewis strolled through the sunny morning singing to himself,
for his new wealth made him very happy, and he soon reached the
farthest wigwam of the village, which was the home of Hiawatha.
Nobody was there. Only Kahgahgee, the raven, tied to the ridge-pole,
screamed and flapped his wings, watching Pau-Puk-Keewis with glaring
eyes.
"All are gone," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, thinking of new mischief as he
spoke; "all are gone, and they have left the lodge for me to do with as
I choose."
He seized the raven by the neck and whirled him around in the air like a
rattle, until the bird was strangled, and he left Kahgahgee's dead body
dangling from the ridge-pole as an insult to Hiawatha. Then he went
inside and threw everything into the wildest disorder, piling together
all the kettles and bowls, and all the skins and buffalo-robes that he
could find as an insult to Minnehaha and to Nokomis; and he ran off
through the forest, whistling and singing, much pleased with what he had
done.
He climbed the rocks that overlooked the Big-Sea-Water, and rested
lazily upon his back, gazing up into the sky and listening to the splash
of the waves on the beaches far beneath. The sea-gulls fluttered about
him in great flocks, very curious to know what he was doing, and before
they could get out of his way he had killed them by tens and twenties
and had thrown the dead bodies over the cliff down to the beaches. One
of the sea-gulls, who was perched on a crag above, shouted out: "It is
Pau-Puk-Keewis, and he is killing us by the hundred. Fly quickly and
send a message to our brother! Hasten and bring the news to Hiawatha!"
XVII
THE HUNTING OF PAU-PUK-KEEWIS
WHEN Hiawatha heard of the mischief that Pau-Puk-Keewis had worked among
the gulls he was very angry indeed; but when he discovered the wrecked
wigwam and the dead body of the raven, and heard how Pau-Puk-Keewis had
despoiled Iagoo and his friends of their robes and pipes and wampum, he
swore that he would kill Pau-Puk-Keewis with his own hand.
"The world is not so wide but I will find him!" cried out Hiawatha; "the
way is not so rough but I will reach him with my anger!" and with
several hunters Hiawatha set out upon the trail of Pau-Puk-Keewis.
They followed it to the crags where he had killed the gulls, but by that
time Pau-Puk-Keewis was far away among the lowlands, and turning back he
saw his pursuers on the mountain and waved his arms to mock them.
Hiawatha shouted at him from the mountain top: "The world is not so
rough and wide but I shall catch you, Pau-Puk-Keewis. Hide where you
will, but I shall find you out," and Pau-Puk-Keewis sped forward like an
antelope for Hiawatha's words had made him suddenly afraid.
He rushed through the forest until he came to a little stream that had
overflowed its banks, and there he saw a dam made by the beavers.
Pau-Puk-Keewis stood on the dam and called, and the King of Beavers,
Ahmeek, rose to the surface of the water to find out who the stranger
might be.
"Ahmeek, my friend," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, "the water is very cool and
pleasant. Let me dive in and stay with you awhile! Change me into a
beaver like yourself, so that I may rest with you in your lodge beneath
the water."
"Wait awhile," said Ahmeek, looking at him cautiously. "I must ask the
other beavers," and he sank beneath the water like a stone.
Pau-Puk-Keewis thought he could hear Hiawatha and the hunters crashing
through the forest, and he waded out upon the dam, calling to the
beavers until one head after another popped up out of the water, and all
the beavers in the pond were looking at him.
"Your dwelling is very pleasant, my friends," said Pau-Puk-Keewis in an
entreating voice; "cannot you change me also into a beaver?"
"Yes," said Ahmeek, "let yourself slide down into the water and you
shall become as we are."
Pau-Puk-Keewis slid down into the water and his deer-skin shirt and
moccasins and leggings became black and shiny. His fringes drew
together into a clump, and became a broad black tail; his teeth became
sharp, and long whiskers sprouted out from his cheeks. He was changed
into a beaver.
"Make me large," he said, as he swam about the pond; "make me ten times
larger than the other beavers," and Ahmeek said: "Yes, when you enter
our lodge beneath the water you shall be ten times as large as any one
of us."
They sank down through the water, and Pau-Puk-Keewis saw great stores of
food upon the bottom. They entered the lodge and came up inside of it
above the surface of the water, and the lodge was divided into large
rooms, with ledges on which the beavers slept. There they made
Pau-Puk-Keewis ten times larger than any other beaver, and they said to
him: "Thenceforth you shall rule over all the rest of us and be our
king."
But Pau-Puk-Keewis had not been sitting long upon the throne of the
beavers, when he heard the voice of the beaver watchman call out from
among the water-lilies: "Hiawatha, Hiawatha!" There was a shout and a
noise of rending branches, and the water sucked out of the beavers'
lodge and left it high and dry; their dam was broken. The hunters jumped
on the roof of the lodge and broke a great hole in it, through which the
sunlight streamed as the beavers scuttled away through their doorway to
seek safety in deeper water. But Pau-Puk-Keewis was so big, and so
puffed up with heavy feeding and the pride of being a king, that he
could not crawl through the doorway with the others, but was helpless
before the hunters.