The Indian fairy book; from the original legends

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THE CELESTIAL SISTERS. Page n.

THE

INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

FROM THE ORIGINAL LEGENDS.

BY

CORNELIUS MATHEWS.

I

Witt Illustrations by Jota IcLenan.

ENGRAVED BY A. V. S. ANTHONY.

NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY ALLEN BROTHERS.

1869.

Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 18C3,

BY CORNELIUS MATHEWS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New-York.

*

PREFACE.

THE following stories have been, time out of mind, in
their original form, recited around the lodge-fires and
under the trees, by the Indian story-tellers, for the en
tertainment of the red children of the West. They were
originally interpreted from the old tales and legends by
the late Henry B. Schoolcraft, and are now re-interpreted
and developed by the Editor, so as to enable them, as
far as worthy, to take*a place with the popular versions
of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, Cinderella, Little
Red Riding Hood, and other world-renowned tales of
Europe and the East, to which, in their original concep
tion, they bear a resemblance in romantic interest and
quaint extravagance of fancy. The Editor hopes that
these beautiful and sprightly legends of the West, if not
marred in the handling, will repay, in part at least, the
glorious debt which we have incurred to the Eastern
World for her magical gifts of the same kind.

October, 1868.

CONTENTS.

PAGM

L — THE CELESTIAL SISTERS ... 7

H.— THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE FOR THE SUN. 16

HE. — STRONG DESIRE AND THE RED SORCERER 22

IV.— THE WONDERFUL EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER 34

V.— THE Two JEEBI 68

VL — OSSEO, THE SON. OF THE EVENING STAR 74

VII. — GRAY EAGLE' AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS. 83

VHL— THE TOAD-WOMAN 90

IX. — THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN 98

X. — WHITE FEATHER AND THE Six GIANTS 102

XL — SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 115

XTT. — THE MAGIC BUNDLE 135

Xm.— THE RED SWAN 138

*

XTV. — THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP 170

XV. — THE LITTLE SPIRIT OR BOY-MAN 179

XVI.— THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.. . 190

Vi CONTENTS.

PAGE

XVII. — HE OP THE LITTLE SHELL 207

XVIII. — MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER 215

XIX. — LEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTER 252

XX. — THE WINTER SPIRIT AND HIS VISITOR 261

XXL— THE FIRE-PLUME 264

XXIL — WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF 288

XXHL— THE BIRD LOVER. 299

XXIV. — BOKWEWA THE HUMPBACK 315

XXV. — THE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER 324

XXVI. — "WUNZH, THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN 330

ILLUSTRATIONS.

FRONTISPIECE. — THE CELESTIAL SISTERS 11

THE BEAR SERVANTS 69

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP 176

THE MORNING STAR AND HER BROTHER. 212

THE CELESTIAL SISTERS.

WAUPEE, or the White Hawk, lived in a re-
mote part of the forest, where animals
abounded. Every day he returned from the chase
with a large spoil, for he was one of the most skill
ful and lucky hunters of his tribe. His form was
like the cedar; the fire of youth beamed from his
eye; there was no forest too gloomy for him to pene
trate, and no track made by bird or beast of any
kind which he could not readily follow.

One day he had gone beyond any point which he
had ever before visited. He traveled through an
open wood, which enabled him to see a great dis
tance. At length he beheld a light breaking through
the foliage of the distant trees, which made him sure
that he was on the borders of a prairie. It was a
wide plain, covered with long blue grass, and enam
eled with flowers of a thousand lovely tints.

After walking for some time without a path, mus
ing upon the open country, and enjoying the fra-

8 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

grant breeze, he suddenly came to a ring worn
among the grass and the flowers, as if it had been
made by footsteps moving lightly round and round.
But it was strange — so strange as to cause the
White Hawk to pause and gaze long and fixedly
upon the ground — there was no path which led to
this flowery circle. There was not even a crushed
leaf nor a broken twig, nor the least trace of a foot
step, approaching or retiring, to be found. He
thought he would hide himself and lie in wait to
discover, if he could, what this strange circle
meant.

Presently he heard the faint sounds of music in the
air. He looked up in the direction they came from,
and as the magic notes died away he saw a small
object, like a little summer cloud that approaches
the earth, floating down from above. At first it
was very small, and seemed as if it could have been
blown away by the first breeze that came along; but
it rapidly grew as he gazed upon it, and the music
every moment came clearer and more sweetly to his
ear. As it neared the earth it appeared as a basket,
and it was filled with twelve sisters, of the most
lovely forms and enchanting beauty.

As soon as the basket touched the ground they
leaped out, and began straightway to dance, in the
most joyous manner, around the magic ring, striking,
as they did so, a shining ball, which uttered the

THE CELESTIAL SISTERS. 9

most ravishing melodies, and kept time as they
danced

The White Hawk, from his concealment, en
tranced, gazed upon their graceful forms and move
ments. He admired them all, but he was most
pleased with the youngest. He longed to be at her
side, to embrace her, to call her his own; and una
ble to remain longer a silent admirer, he rushed out
and endeavored to seize this twelfth beauty who so
enchanted him. But the sisters, with the quick
ness of birds, the moment they descried the form
of a man, leaped back into the basket, and were
drawn up into the sky.

Lamenting his ill-luck, Waupee gazed longingly
upon the fairy basket as it ascended and bore the
lovely sisters from his view. ""They are gone," he
said, " and I shall see them no more."

He returned to his solitary lodge, but he found no
relief to his mind. He walked abroad, but to look
at the sky, which had withdrawn from his sight the
only being he had ever loved, was painful to him
now.

The next day, selecting the same hour, the White
Hawk went back to the prairie, and took his station
near the ring; in order to deceive the sisters, he
assumed the form of an opossum, and sat among
the grass as if he were there engaged in chewing
the cud. He had not waited long when he saw the

10 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

*

cloudy basket descend, and heard the same sweet
music falling as before. He crept slowly toward
the ring; but the instant the sisters caught sight of
him they were startled, and sprajig into their car.
It rose a short distance when one of the elder sisters
spoke:

" Perhaps," she said, " it is come to show us how
the game is played by mortals."

" Oh no," the youngest replied; " quick, let us
ascend."

And all joining in a chant, they rose out of
sight.

Waupee, casting off his disguise, walked sorrow
fully back to his lodge — but ah, the night seemed
very long to lonely White Hawk! His whole soul
was filled with the thought of the beautiful sister.

Betimes, the next day, he returned to the' haunted
spot, hoping and fearing, and sighing as though
his very soul would leave his body in its anguish.
He reflected upon the plan he should - follow to se
cure success. He had already failed twice; to fail a
third time would be fatal. Near by he found an
old stump, much covered with moss, and just then
in use as the residence of a number of mice, who
had stopped there on a pilgrimage to some relatives
on the other side of the prairie. The White Hawk
was so pleased with their tidy little forms that he
thovght he, too, would be a mouse, especially as they

THE CELESTIAL SISTERS. 11

were by no means formidable to look at, and would
not be at all likely to create alarm.

He accordingly, having first brought the stump
and set it near the ring, without further notice be
came a mouse, and peeped and sported about, and
kept his sharp little eyes busy with the others; but
he did not forget to keep one eye up toward the sky,
and one ear wide open in the same direction.

It was not long before the sisters, at their custom
ary hour, carne down and resumed their sport.

" But see," cried the younger sister, " that stump
was not there before."

She ran ofT, frightened, toward the basket. Her
sisters only smiled, and gathering round the old tree-
stump, they struck it, in jest, when out ran the
mice, and among them Waupee. They killed them
all but one, which was pursued by the younger sis
ter. Just as she had raised a silver stick which she
held in her hand to put an end to it, too, the form
of the White Hawk arose, and he clasped his prize
in his arms. The other eleven sprang to their bas
ket, and were drawn up to the skies.

Waupee exerted all his skill to please his* bride
and win her affections. He wiped the tears from
her eyes; he related his adventures in the chase; he
dwelt upon the charms of life on the earth. He was
constant in his attentions, keeping fondly by her
side, and picking out the way for her to walk as he

12 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

led her gently toward his lodge. He felt his heart
glow with joy as he entered it, and from that mo
ment he was one of the happiest of men.

Winter and summer passed rapidly away, and as
the spring drew near with its balmy gales and its
many-colored flowers, their happiness was increased
by the presence of a beautiful boy in their lodge.
What more of earthly blessing was there for them to
enjoy?

Waupee's wife was a daughter of one of the stars;
and as the scenes of earth began to pall upon her
sight, she sighed to revisit her father. But she was
obliged to hide tiiese feelings from her husband.
She remembered the charm that would carry her up,
and while White Hawk was engaged in the chase,
she took occasion to construct a wicker basket,
which she kept concealed. In the mean time, she
collected such rarities from the earth as she thought
would please her father, as well as the most dainty
kinds of food.

One day when Waupee was absent, and all was in
readiness, she went out to the charmed ring, taking
with her her little son. As they entered the car she
commenced her magical song, and the basket rose.
The song was sad, and of a lowly and mournful ca
dence, and as it was wafted far away by the wind,
it caught her husband's ear. It was a voice which
he well knew, and he instantly ran to the prairie

THE CELESTIAL SISTERS. 13

Though he made breathless speed, he could not
reach the ring before his wife and child had ascended
beyond his reach. He lifted up his voice in loud ap
peals, but they were unavailing. The basket still
went up. He watched it till it became a small
speck, and finally it vanished in the sky. He then
bent his head down to the ground, and was miser
able.

Through a long winter and a long summer Wau-
pee bewailed his loss, but he found no relief. The
beautiful spirit had come and gone, and he should
see it no more!

He mourned his wife's loss sorely, but his son's
still more; for the boy had both the mother's beauty
and the father's strength.

In the mean time his wife had reached her home
in the stars, and in the blissful employments of her
father's house she had almost forgotten that she had
left a husband upon the earth. But her son, as he
grew up, resembled more and more his father, and
every day he was restless and anxious to visit the
scene of his birth. His grandfather said to his
daughter, one day:

" Go, my child, and take your son down to his
father, and ask him to come up and live with us.
But tell him to bring along a specimen of each kind
of bird and animal he kills in the chase."

She accordingly took the boy and descended.

14 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The White Hawk, who was ever near the enchanted
spot, heard her voice as she came down the sky.
His heart beat with impatience as he saw her form
and that of his son, and they were soon clasped in
his arms.

He heard the message of the Star, and he began
to hunt with the greatest activity, that he might col
lect the present with all dispatch. He spent whole
nights, as well as days, in searching for every curious
and beautiful animal and bird. He only preserved a
foot, a wing, or a tail o*f each.

When all was ready, Waupee visited once more
each favorite spot — the hill-top whence he had been
used to see the rising sun; the stream where he had
sported as a boy; the old lodge, now looking sad and
solemn, which he was to sit in no more; and last of
all, coming to the magic circle, he gazed widely
around him with tearful eyes, and, taking his wife
and child by the hand, they entered the car and
were drawn up — into a country far beyond the flight
of birds, or the power of mortal eye to pierce.

Great joy was manifested upon their arrival at the
starry plains. The Star Chief invited all his people
to a feast; and when they had assembled, he pro
claimed aloud that each one might continue as he
was, an inhabitant of his own dominions, or select
of the earthly gifts such as he liked best. A very
strange confusion immediately arose; not one but

THE CELESTIAL SISTEES. 15

sprang forward. Some chose a foot, some a wing,
some a tail, and some a claw. Those who selected
tails or claws were changed into animals, and ran
off; the others assumed the form of birds, and flew
away. Waupee chose a white hawk's feather. His
wife and son followed his example, and each one "be
came a white hawk. He spread his wings, and, fol
lowed by his wife and son, descended with the other
birds to the earth, where he is still to be found, with
the brightness of the starry plains in his eye, and
the freedom of the heavenly breezes in his wings.

II.

THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE FOR THE SUN.

AT the time when the animals reigned in the
earth, they had killed all the people but a girl
and her little brother, and these two were living in
fear, in an out-of-the-way place. The boy was a per
fect little pigmy, and never grew beyond the size of a
mere infant ; but the girl increased with her years,
so that the task of providing food and shelter fell
wholly upon her. She went out daily to get wood for
the lodge-fire, and she took her little brother with her
that no mishap might befall him ; for he was too
little to leave alone. A big bird, of a mischievous
disposition, might have flown away with him. She
made him a bow and arrows, and said to him one
day, "My little brother, I will leave you behind
where I have been gathering the wood ; you must
hide yourself, and you will soon see the snow-birds
come and pick the worms out of the logs which I
have piled up. Shoot one of them and bring it home/'

THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE. 17

i e obeyed her, and tried his best to kill one, but
he came home unsuccessful. His sister told him
that he must not despair, but try again the next
day.

She accordingly left him at the gathering-place of
the wood, and returned to the lodge. Toward night
fall she heard his little footsteps crackling through
the snow, and he hurried in and threw down, with an
air of triumph, one of the birds which he had killed.
" My sister," said he, "I wish you to skin it, and
stretch the skin, and when I have killed more, I will
have a coat made out of them."

" But what shall we do with the body ?" said she ;
for they had always up to that time lived upon
greens and berries.

" Cut it in two," he answered, " and season our
pottage with one half of it at a time."

It was their first dish of game, and they relished it
greatly.

The boy kept on in his efforts, and in the course
of time he killed ten birds — out of the skins of which
his sister made hirn a little coat : being very small, he
had a very pretty coat, and a bird skin to spare.

" Sister," said he, one day, as he paraded up and
down before the lodge, enjoying his new coat, and
fancifying himself the greatest little fellow in the
world — as he was, for there was no other beside him —
" My sister, are we really alone in the world, or are

18 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

we playing at it ? Is there nobocb- else living ?
And, tell me, was all this great broad earth and this
huge big sky made for a little boy and girl like yo^
and me ?"

She told him, by no means ; there were many
folks very unlike a harmless girl and boy, such as
they were, who lived in a certain other quarter of the
earth, who had killed off all of their kinsfolk ; and
that if he would live blameless and not endanger his
life, he must never go where they were. This only
served to inflame the boy's curiosity ; and he soon
after took his bow and arrows and went in that
direction. After walking a long time and meeting
no one, he became tired, and stretched himself upon
a high green knoll where the day's warmth had
melted off the snow.

It was a charming place to lie upon, and he fell
asleep ; and, while sleeping, the sun beat so hot upon
him that it not only singed his bird-skin coat, but it
so shrivelled and shrunk and tightened it upon the
little boy's body, as to wake him up.

When he felt how the sun had seared and the mis
chief its fiery beams had played with the coat he was
so proud of, he flew into a great passion, and berated
the sun in a terrible way for a little boy no higher
than a man's knee, and he vowed fearful things
against it.

" Do not think you are too high," said he ; "I

THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE. 19

ehall revenge myself. Oh, sun ! I will have you for
a plaything yet."

On coming home he gave an account of his misfor
tune to his sister, and bitterly bewailed the spoiling
of his new coat. He would not eat — not so much as
a single berry. He lay down as one that fasts ; nor
did he move nor change his manner of lying for ten
full days, though his sister strove to prevail on him
to rise. At the end of ten days he turned over, and
then he lay full ten days on the other side.

When he got up he was very pale, but very reso
lute too. He bade his sister make a snare, for, he
informed her, that he mearjt to catch the sun. She
said she had nothing ; but after awhile she brought
forward a deer's sinew which the father had left, and
which she soon made into a string suitable for a
noose. The moment she showed it to him he was
quite wroth, and told her that would not do, and
directed her to find something else. She said she
had nothing — nothing at all. At last she thought of
the bird-skin that was left over when the coat was
made; and this she wrought into a string. With this
the little boy was more vexed than before. " The
sun has had enough of my bird-skins," he said ; " find
something else." She went out of the lodge saying
to herself, " Was there ever so obstinate a boy ?" She
did not dare to answer this time that she had noth
ing. Luckily she thought of her own beautiful hair,

20 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

and pulling some of it from among her locks, she
quickly braided it into a cord, and, returning, she
handed it to her brother. The moment his eye fell
upon this jet black braid he was delighted. "This
will do," he said ; and he immediately began to run
it back and forth through his hands as swiftly as he
could ; and as he drew it forth, he tried its strength.
He said again, '" this will do ;" and winding it in a
glossy coil about his shoulders, he set out a little
after midnight. *His object was to catch the- sun
before he rose. He fixed his snare firmly on a spot
just where the sun must strike the land as it rose
above the earth ; and sure enough, he caught the
sun, so that it was held fast in the cord and did not
rise.

The animals who ruled the earth were immediately
put into great commotion. They had no light ; and
they ran to and fro, calling out to each other, and in
quiring what had happened. They summoned a
council to debate upon the matter, and an old dor
mouse, suspecting where the trouble lay, proposed
that some one should be appointed to go and cut
the cord. This was a bold thing to undertake, as
the rays of the sun could not fail to burn whoever
should venture so near to them.

At last the venerable dormouse himself undertook
it, for the very good reason that no one else would.
At this time the dormouse was the largest animal in

THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE. 21

the world. When he stood up he looked like a
mountain. It made haste to the place where the sun
lay ensnared, and as it came nearer and nearer, its
back began to smoke and bum with the heat, and
the whole top of his huge bulk was turned in a very
short time to enormous heaps of ashes. It suc
ceeded, however, in cutting the cord with its teeth
and freeing the sun, which rolled up again, as round
and beautiful as ever, into the wide blue sky. But
the^. dormouse — or blind woman as it is called — was
shrunk away to a very small size ; and that is the
reason why it is now one of the tiniest creatures upon
the earth.

The little boy returned home when he discovered
that the sun had escaped his snare, and devoted
himself entirely to hunting. " If the beautiful hair
of my sister would not hold the sun fast, nothing
in the world could," he said. " He was not born, a
little fellow like himself, to look after the sun. It
required one greater and wiser than he was to regu
late that." And he went out and shot ten more
snow-birds ; for in this business he was very expert ;
and he had a new bird-skin coat made, which was
prettier than the one he had worn before.

III.

STRONG DESIRE, AND THE RED SORCERER

was a man called Odshedoph, or the
J- Child of Strong Desires, who had a wife and
one son. He had withdrawn his family from the
village, where they had spent the winter, to the
neighborhood of a distant forest, where game
abounded. This wood was a day's travel from his
winter home, and under its ample shadow the wife
fixed the lodge, while the husband went out to hunt.
Early in the evening he returned with a deer, and,
being weary and athirst, he asked his son, whom he
called Strong Desire, to go to the river for some
water. The son replied that it was dark, and he was
afraid. His father still urged him, saying that his
mother, as well as himself, was tired, and the dis
tance to the water very short. But no persuasion
could overcome the young man's reluctance. He
refused to go.

" Ah, my son," said the father, at last, " if you

THE RED SORCERER. 23

are afraid to go to the river, you will never kill the
Bed Head."

The stripling was deeply vexed by this observa
tion; it seemed to touch him to the very quick. He
mused in silence. He refused to eat, and made no
reply when spoken to. He sat 'by the lodge' door
all the night through, looking up at the stars, and
sighing like one sorely distressed.

The next day he asked his mother to dress the
skin of the deer, and to make it into moccasins for
him, while he busied himself in preparing a bow
and arrows.

As soon as these were in readiness, he left the
lodge one morning, at sunrise, without saying a word
to his father or mother. As he passed along, he fired
one of his arrows into the air, which fell westward.
He took that course, and coming to the spot where
the arrow had fallen, he was rejoiced to find it pierc
ing the heart of a deer. He refreshed himself with
a meal of the venison, and the next morning he
fired another arrow. Following its course, after
traveling all day he found that he had transfixed
another deer. In this manner he fired four arrows,
and every evening he discovered that he had killed
a deer.

By a strange oversight, he left the arrows sticking
in the carcasses, and passed on without withdrawing
them. Having in this way no arrow for the fifth

24 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

day, he was in great distress at night for the wan'
of food.

At last he threw himself upon the earth in de
spair, concluding that he might as well perish there
as go further. But he had not lain long before hi
heard a hollow rumbling noise, in the ground beneath
him, like that of an earthquake moving slowly along.

He sprang up, and discovered at a distance the
figure of a human being, walking with a stick. He
looked attentively, and saw that the figure was walk
ing in a wide beaten path in a prairie, leading from
a dusky lodge to a lake, whose waters were black and
turbid.

To his surprise, this lodge, which had not been in
view when he cast himself upon the ground, was
now near at hand. He approached a little nearer,
and concealed himself; and in a moment ke discov
ered that the figure was no other than that of the
terrible witch, the little old woman who makes war.
Her path to the lake was perfectly smooth and solid,
and the noise Strong Desire Tiad heard was caused
by the striking of her walking staff upon the ground.
The top of this staff was decorated with a string of
the toes and bills of birds of every kind, who, at
every stroke of the stick, fluttered and sung their va
rious notes in concert.

She entered her lodge and laid off her mantle,
which was entirely composed of the scalps of women.

THE RED SORCERER. 25

Before folding it, she shook it several times, and at
every shake the scalps uttered loud shouts of laugh
ter, in which the old hag joined. The boy, who
lingered at the door, was greatly alarmed, but he
uttered no cry.

After laying by the cloak, she came directly to
him. Looking at him steadily, she informed him
that she had known him from the time he had left
his father's lodge, and had watched his movements.
She told him not to fear or despair, for she would be
his protector and friend. She invited him into her
lodge, and gave him a supper. During the repast,
she questioned him as to his motives for visiting her.
He related his history, stated the manner in which
he had been disgraced, and the difficulties he labored
under.

" Now tell me truly," said the little old woman
who makes war, " you were afraid to go to the water
in the dark/'

" I was/' Strong Desire answered, promptly.

As he replied, the hag waved her staff. The
birds set up a clamorous cry, and the mantle shook
violently as all the scalps burst into a hideous shout
of laughter.

" And are you afraid now," she asked again.

" I am," again answered Strong Desire, without
hesitation.

" But you are not afraid to speak the truth," re-

2

26 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

joined the little old woman. " You will be a brave
man yet."

She cheered him with the assurance of her friend
ship, and began at once to exercise her power upon
hirn. His hair being very short, she took a great
leaden comb, and after drawing it through his locks
several times, they became of a handsome length like
those of a beautiful young woman. She then pro
ceeded to dress him as a female, furnishing him with
the necessary garments, and tinting his face with col
ors of the most charming dye. She gave him, too, a
bowl of shining metal. She directed him to put in
his girdle a blade of scented sword-grass, -and to pro
ceed the next morning to the banks of the lake,
which was no other than that over which the Ked
Head reigned. Now Hah-Undo-Tah, or the Eed
Head, was a most powerful sorcerer, living upon an
island in the centre of his realm of water, and he
was the terror of all the country. She informed him
that there would be many Indians upon the island,
who, as soon as they saw him use the shining bowl to
drink with, would come and solicit him to be their
wife, and to take him over to the island. These
offers he was to refuse, and to say that he had come
a great distance to be the wife of the Bed Head, and
that if the chief could not seek her for himself,
she would return to her village. She said, that
as soon as the Eed Head heard of this he would

THE RED SORCERER. 27

come for her in his own canoe, in which she must
embark.

" On reaching the shore/' added the little old wo
man, " you must consent to be his wife ; and in the
evening you are to induce him to take a walk out of
the village, and when you have reached a lonesome
spot, use the first opportunity to cut off his head
with the blade of grass/'

She also gave Strong Desire general advice how
he was to conduct himself to sustain his assumed
character of a woman. His fear would scarcely per
mit him to consent to engage in an adventure at
tended with so much danger ; but the recollection of
his father's looks and reproaches of the want of
courage, decided him.

Early in the morning he left the lodge of the little
old woman who makes war, which w^s clouded in a
heavy brackish fog, so thick and heavy to breathe,
that he with difficulty made his way forth. When
he turned to look back for it, it was gone.

He took the hard beaten path to the banks of the
lake, and made for the water at a point directly op
posite the Ked Head's kdge.

Where he now stood it was beautiful day. The
heavens were clear, and the sun shone out as brightly
to Strong Desire as on the first morning when he
had put forth his little head from the door of his
father's lodge. He had not been long there, saunter-

28 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

ing along the beach, when -he displayed the glitter
ing bowl by dipping water from the lake. Very soon
a number of canoes came off from the island. The
men admired his dress, and were charmed with his
beauty, and almost with one voice they all made pro
posals of marriage. These, Strong Desire promptly
declined. *

When this was reported to Ked Head, he ordered
his royal bark to be launched by his chosen men of
the oar, and crossed over to see this wonderful girl.
As they approached the shore, Strong Desire saw
that the ribs of the sorcerer's canoe were formed of
living rattlesnakes, whose heads pointed outward to
guard him from his enemies. Being invited, he
had no sooner stepped into the canoe, than they be
gan to hiss and rattle furiously, which put him in a
great fright ; but the magician spoke to them, when
they became pacified and quiet. Shortly after they
were at the landing upon the island. The marriage
took place immediately ; and the bride made pres
ents of various valuables which had been furnished
her by the old witch who inhabited the cloudy lodge.

As they were sitting in tfe lodge, surrounded by
the friends and relatives, the mother of the Eed
Head regarded the face of her new daughter-in-law
for a long time with fixed attention. From this
scrutiny she was convinced that this singular and
hasty marriage boded no good to her son. She drew

THE RED SORCERER. 29

him aside, and disclosed to him her suspicions.
This can be no female, said she ; she has the fig
ure and manners, the countenance, and more espe
cially the eyes, are beyond a doubt those of a man.
Her husband rejected her suspicions, and rebuked
her severely for entertaining such notions of her own
daughter-in-law. She still urged her doubts, which
so vexed the husband that he broke his pipe-stem
in her face, and called her an owl.

This act astonished the company, who sought an
explanation ; and it was no sooner given, than the
mock bride, rising with an air of oifended dignity,
informed the Red Head that after receiving so gross
an affront from his relatives she could not think of
remaining with him as his wife, but should forthwith
return to her own friends.

With a toss of the head, like that of an angry
female, Strong Desire left the lodge, followed by Eed
Head, and walked away until he came to the beach
of the island, near the spot where they had first
landed. Eed Head entreated him to remain, urging
every motive, and making all sorts of magnificent
promises — none of which seemed to make the least
impression. Strong Desire, Ked Head thought, was
very hard-hearted. During these appeals they had
seated themselves upon the ground, and Ked Head,
in great affliction, reclined his head upon his fancied
wife s lap. Strong Desire now changed his manner,

30 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

was very kind and soothing, and suggested in the
most winning accent that if Ked Head would sleep
soundly for awhile he might possibly dream himself
out of all his troubles. Ked Head, delighted at so
happy a prospect, said that he would fall asleep im
mediately.

" You have killed a good many men in your time,
Ked Head," said Strong Desire, by way of suggest
ing an agreeable train of ideas to the sorcerer.

" Hundreds," answered Ked Head; "and what is
better, now that I am fairly settled in life by this
happy marriage, I shall be able to give my whole at
tention to massacre."

"And you will kill hundreds more," interposed
Strong Desire, in the most insinuating manner im
aginable.

" Just so, my dear," Ked Head replied, with a
great leer; " thousands. There will be no end to my
delicious murders. I love dearly to kill people. I
would like to kill you if you were not my wife."

" There, there," said Strong Desire, with the coax
ing air of a little coquette, "go to sleep; that's a
good Ked Head."

No other subject of conversation occurring to the
chief, now that he had exhausted the delightful topic
of wholesale murder, he straightway fell into a deep
sleep.

The chance so anxiously sought for had come; and

THE RED SORCERER. 31

Strong Desire, with a smiling eye, drawing his blade
of grass with lightning swiftness once across the
neck of the Eed Head, severed the huge and wicked %
head from the body.

In a moment, stripping off his woman's dress,
underneath which he had all along worn his male
attire, Strong Desire seized the bleeding trophy,
plunged into the lake, and swam safely over to the
ma in shore. He had scarcely reached it, when, look
ing back, he saw amid the darkness the torches of
persons come out in search of the new married
couple. He listened until they had found the head
less body, and he heard their piercing shrieks of rage
and sorrow as he took his way to the lodge of his
kind adviser.

The little old woman who makes war was in an
excellent humor, and she received Strong Desire with
rejoicing. . She admired his prudence, and assured him
his bravery should never be questioned again. Lift
ing up the head, which she gazed upon with vast
delight, she said he need only have brought the scalp.
Cutting off a lock of the hair for herself, she told
him he might now return with the head, which
would be evidence of an achievement that would
cause his own people to respect him.

" In your way home," added the little old woman,
"you will meet with but one difficulty. Maunkah-
keesh, the Spirit of the Earth, requires an offering

32 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

or sacrifice from all of her sons who perform extraor
dinary deeds. As you walk along in a prairie there
will be an earthquake; the earth will open and di
vide the prairie in the middle. Take this partridge
and throw it into the opening, and instantly spring
over it."

With many thanks to the little old witch, who
had so faithfully befriended him, Strong Desire took
leave of her, and having, by the course pointed out,
safely passed the earthquake, he arrived near his own
village. He secretly hid his precious trophy.

On entering the village, he found that his parents
had returned from the place of their spring encamp
ment by the wood-side, and that they were in heavy
sorrowing for their son, whom they supposed to be
lost. One and another of the young men had pre
sented themselves to the disconsolate parents, and
said, " Look up, I am your son ;" but when they
looked up, they beheld not the familiar face of
Strong Desire.

Having been often deceived in this manner, when
their own son in truth presented himself they sat
with their heads down, and with their eyes nearly
blinded with weeping. It was some time 'before they
could be prevailed upon to bestow a glance upon
him. It was still longer before they could recognize
him as their son who had refused to draw water
from 1he river, at night, for fear, for his countenance

THE KED SORCERER. 33

was no longer that of a timid stripling; it was that
of a man who has seen and done great things, and
who has the heart to do greater still.

When he recounted his adventures they believed
him mad. The young men laughed at him — him,
Strong Desire — who feared to walk to the river at
night-time.

He left the lodge, and ere their laughter had

ceased, returned with his trophy. He held aloft

«

the head of the Ked Sorcerer, with the great ghastly
leer which lighted it up before his last sleep, at pros
pect of a thousand future murders, fresh upon it.
It was easily recognized, and the young men who
had scoffed at Strong Desire shrunk into the cor
ners out of sight. Strong Desire had conquered
the terrible Ked Head! All doubts of the truth of
his adventures were dispelled.

He was greeted with joy, and placed among the
first warriors of the nation. He finally became a
chief, and his family were ever after respected and
esteemed.

2*

IV.

THE WONDERFUL EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER.

A MAN, of small stature, found himself standing
alone on a prairie. He thought to himself,
" How came I here ? Are there no "beings on this
earth but myself ? I must travel and see. I must
walk till I find the abodes of men."

So soon as his mind was made up, he set out, he
knew not whither, in search of habitations. He was
a resolute little fellow, and no difficulties could turn
him from his purpose : neither prairies, rivers, woods
nor storms, had the effect to daunt his courage or
turn him back. After traveling a long time, he
came to a wood, in which he saw decayed stumps of
trees, as if they had been cut in ancient times, but no
other trace of men. Pursuing his journey, he found
more recent marks of the same kind ; after this, he
came upon fresh traces of human beings ; first their
footsteps, and then the wood they had felled, lying in
heaps. Pushing on, ho emerged toward dusk from

EXPLOITS OF GKASSHOPPER. 35

the forest, and beheld at a distance a large village of
high lodges standing on rising ground.

" I am tired of this dog- trot/' he said to himself.
" I will arrive there on a run."

He started off with all his speed. On coming to
the first lodge, without any especial exertion, he
jumped over it, and found himself standing by the
door on the other side. Those within saw something
pass over the owning in the roof ; they thought from
the shadow it cast that it must have been some huge
bird — and then they heard a* thump upon the ground.
" What is that ?" they all said and several ran out
to see.

They invited him in, and he found himself in com
pany with an old chief and several men who were
seated in the lodge. Meat was set before him ; aftei
which the old chief asked him whither he was going,
and what was his name. He answered that he was
in search of adventures, and that his name was
" Grasshopper."

They all opened their eyes upon the stranger with
a broad stare.

" Grasshopper !" whispered one to another ; and a
general titter went round.

They invited him to stay with them, which he was
inclined to do ; for it was a pleasant village, but so
small as to constantly embarrass Grasshopper. He
was in perpetual trouble ; whenever he shook hands

36 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

with a stranger, to whom he might be introduced,
such was the abundance of his strength, without

O J

meaning it, he wrung his arm off at the shoulder.
Once or twice, in mere sport, he cuffed the boys,
about the lodge, by the side of the head, and they
flew out of sight as though they had been shot from
a bow ; nor could they ever be found again, though
they were searched for in all the country round, far
and wide. If Grasshopper proposed.' to himself a
short stroll in the morning, he was at once miles
out of town. When he entered a lodge, if he hap
pened for a moment to forget himself, he walked
straight through the leathern, or wooden, or earthen
walls, as if he had been merely passing through a
bush. At his meals he broke in pieces all the
dishes, set them down as lightly as he would ; and
putting a leg out of bed when he rose, it was a
common thing for him to push off the top of the
lodge.

He wanted more elbow-room ; and after a short
stay, in which, by the accidentally letting go of his
strength, he had nearly laid waste the whole place,
and filled it with demolished lodges and broken pot
tery, and one-armed men, he made up his mind to go
further, taking with him a young man who had
formed a strong attachment for him, and who might
serve him as his pipe-bearer ; for Grasshopper was a
huge smoker, and vast clouds followed him wherever

EXPLOITS OF GBASSHOPPEK. 37

he went ; so that people could say, " Grasshopper is
coming \" by the mighty smoke he raised.

They set out together, and when his companion
was fatigued with walking, Grasshopper would put
him forward on his journey a mile or two by giving
him a cast in the air, and lighting him in a soft place
among the trees, or in a cool spot in a water-pond,
among the sedges and water-lilies. At other times
he would lighten the way by showing off a few tricks,
such as leaping over trees, and turning round on one
leg till he made the dust fly ; at which the pipe-
bearer was mightily pleased, although it sometimes
happened that the character of these gambols fright
ened him. For Grasshopper would, without the least
hint of such an intention, jump into the air far
ahead, and it would cost the little pipe-bearer half a
day's hard travel to come up with him ; and then
the dust Grasshopper raised was often so thick and
heavy as to completely bury the poor little pipe-
bearer, and compel Grasshopper to dig diligently and
with might and main to get him out alive.

One day they came to a very large village, where
they were well received. After staying in it
some time (in the course of which Grasshopper,
in a fit of abstraction, walked straight through the
sides of three lodges without stopping to look for
the door), they were informed of a number of wicked
spirits, who lived at a distance, and who made it a

58 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

practice to kill all who came to their lodge. At
tempts had been made to destroy them, but they
had always proved more than a match for such as
iiad come out against them.

Grasshopper determined to pay them a visit, al
though he was strongly advised not to do so. The
chief of the village warned him of the great danger
he would incur, but finding Grasshopper resolved,
he said:

" Well, if you will go, being my guest, I will send
twenty warriors to serve you."

Grasshopper thanked him for the offer, although
he suggested that he thought he could get along
without them, at which the little pipe-bearer
grinned, for his master had never shown in that vil
lage what he could do, and the chief thought that
Grasshopper, being little himself, would be likely to
need twenty warriors, at the least, to encounter the
wicked spirits with any chance of success. Twenty
young men made their appearance. They set for
ward, and after about a day's journey they descried
the lodge of the Manitoes.

Grasshopper placed his friend, the pipe-bearer,
and the warriors, near enough to see all that passed,
while he went alone to the lodge.

As he entered, Grasshopper saw five horrid-look
ing Manitoes in the act of eating. It was the
father and his four sons. They were really hideous

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPEK. 39

to look upon. Their eyes were swimming low in
their heads, and they glared about as if they were
half starved. They offered Grasshopper something
to eat, which he pcfctely refused, for he had a
strong suspicion that it was the thigh-bone of a man.

" What have you come for?" said the old one.

" Nothing/' answered Grasshopper ; " where is
your uncle?"

They all stared at him, and answered:

" We ate him, yesterday. What do you want?"

" Nothing," s"aid Grasshopper ; " where is your
grandfather?'

They all answered, wiln another broad stare:

" We ate him a week ago. Do you not wish to
wrestle?"

" Yes," replied Grasshopper, "I don't mind if 1
do take a turn; but you must be easy with me, for
you see I am very little."

Pipe-bearer, who stood near enough to overhear
the conversation, grinned from ear to ear when he
caught this remark. The Manitoes answered:

" Oh yes, we will be easy with you."

And as they said this they looked at each other,
and rolled their eyes about in a dreadful manner.
A hideous smile came over their faces as they whis
pered among themselves :

" It 's a pity he 's so thin. You go," they said to
the eldest brother.

* 40 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The two got ready — the Manito and Grasshopper
— and they were soon clinched in each other's arms
for a deadly throw. Grasshopper knew their object
— his death; they wanted a taste of his delicate
little body, and he was determined they should
have it, perhaps in a different sense from that they
intended.

"Haw! haw!" they cried, and soon the dust and
dry leaves flew about as if driven by a strong wind.
The Manito was strong, but Grasshopper thought he
could master him; and all at once giving him a sly
trip, as the wicked spirit was trying to finish his
breakfast with a piece out of his shoulder, he sent
the Manito head-foremost against a stone; and, call
ing aloud to the three others, he bade them come and
take the body away.

The brothers now stepped forth in quick succession,
but Grasshopper having got his blood up, and lim
bered himself by exercise, soon dispatched the three
— sending one this way, another that, and the third
straight up into the air, so high that he never came
down again.

It was time for the old Manito to be frightened,
and dreadfully frightened he got, and ran for his
life, which was the very worst thing he could have
done; for Grasshopper, of all his gifts of strength,
was most noted for his speed of foot. The old Man
ito set off, and for mere sport's sake, Grasshopper

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 41

pursued him. Sometimes he was before the wicked
old spirit, sometimes he was flying over his head,
and then he would keep along at a steady trot just
at his heels, till he had blown all the breath out of
the old knave's body.

Meantime his friend, the pipe-bearer, and the
twenty young warriors, cried out:

" Ha, ha, ah! ha, ha, ah! Grasshopper is driving
him before him!"

The Manito only turned his head now and then to
look back. At length, when he was tired of the
sport, to be rid of him, Grasshopper, with a gentle
application of his foot, sent the wicked old Manito
whirling away through the air, in which he made a
great number of the most curious turn-overs in the
world, till he came to alight, when it so happened
that he fell astride of an old bull-buffalo, grazing in
a distant pasture, who straightway set off with him*
at a long gallop, and the old Manito has not been
heard of to this day.

The warriors and the pipe-bearer and Grasshopper
set to work and burned down the lodge of the wicked
spirits, and then when they came to look about, they
saw that the ground was strewn on all sides with
human bones bleaching in the sun ; these were the
unhappy victims of the Manitoes. Grasshopper then
took three arrows from his girdle, and after having
performed a ceremonj to the Great Spirit, he shot

42 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

one into the air, crying, " You are lying down ; rise
up, or you will be hit 1"

The bones all moved to one place. He shot the
second arrow, repeating the same words, when each
bone drew toward its fellow-bone ; the third arrow
brought forth to life the whole multitude of people
who had been killed by the Manitoes. Grasshopper
conducted the crowd to the chief of the village, who
had proved his friend, and gave them into his hands.
The chief was there with his counselors, to whom he
spoke apart.

• « Who is more worthy," said the chief to Grass
hopper, "to rule than you. You alone can defend
them."

Grasshopper thanked him, and told him that he
was in search of more adventures. " I have done
some things," said little Grasshopper, rather boast-
•f ully, " and I think I can do some more."

The chief still urged him, but he was eager to go,
and naming pipe-bearer to tarry and take his place,
he set out again on his travels, promising that he
would some time or other come back and see them.

" Ho I ho ! ho !" they all cried. " Come back
again and see us !" He renewed his promise that he
would ; and then set out alone.

After traveling some time he came to a great lake,
and on looking about he discovered a very large otter
on an island. He thought to himself, " His skin will

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 43

make me a fine pouch." And he immediately drew
up at long shots, and drove an arrow into his side.
He waded into the lake, and with some difficulty
dragged him ashore, and up a hill overlooking the
lake.

As soon as Grasshopper got the otter into the sun
shine where, it was warm, he skinned him, and threw
the carcass some distance off, thinking the war-eagle
would come, and that he should have a chance to
secure his feathers as ornaments for the head ; for
Grasshopper hegan to be proud, and was disposed to
display himself.

He soon Jieard a rushing noise as of a loud wind,
but 'could see nothing. Presently a large eagle drop
ped, as if from the air, upon the otter's carcass.
Grasshopper drew his bow, and the arrow passed
through under both of his wings. The bird made a
convulsive flight upward, with such force that the
cumbrous body was borne up several feet from the
ground ; but with its claws deeply fixed, the heavy
otter brought the eagle back to the earth. Grass
hopper possessed himself of a handful of the prime
feathers, crowned his head with the trophy, and set
off in high spirits on the look out for something new.

After walking awhile, he came to a body of water
which flooded the trees on its banks — it was a
lake made by beavers. Taking his station on the
raised dam where *he stream escaped, he watched to

44 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

see whether any of the beavers would show them
selves. A head presently peeped out of the water to
see who it was that disturbed them.

" My friend ," said Grasshopper, in his most per
suasive manner, " could you not oblige me by turn
ing me into a beaver like yourself. Nothing would
please me so much as to make your acquaintance, I
can assure you ;" for Grasshopper was curious to
know how these watery creatures lived, and what
kind of notions they had.

" I do not know," replied the beaver, who was ra
ther short-nosed and surly. " I will go and ask the
others. Meanwhile stay where you are, if you
please."

" To be sure," answered Grasshopper, stealing
down the bank several paces as soon as the beaver's
back was turned.

Presently there was a great splashing of the water,
and all the beavers showed their heads, and looked
warily to where he stood, to see if he was armed ;
but he had knowingly left his bow and arrows in a
hollow tree at a short distance.

After a long conversation, which they conducted
in a whisper so that Grasshopper could not catch a
word, strain his ears as he would, they all advanced
in a body toward the spot where he stood ; the chief
approaching the nearest, and lifting his head highest
out of the water.

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 45

" Can you not," said Grasshopper, noticing that
they waited for him to speak first, a turn me into a
beaver ? I wish -to live among you."

" Yes," answered their chief ; " lie down." And
Grasshopper in a moment found himself a heaver,
and was gliding into the water, when a thought
seemed to strike him, and he paused at the edge of
the lake. " I am very small," he said, to the beaver,
in a sorrowful tone. "You must make me large,"
he said ; for Grasshopper was terribly ambitious, and
wanted always to be the first person in every com
pany. " Larger than any of you ; in my present
size it's hardly worth my while to go into the
water."

" Yes, yes !" said they. " By and by, when we
gel? into the lodge it shall be done."

They all dived into the lake, and in passing great
heaps of limbs and logs at the bottom, he asked the
use of them ; they answered, " It is for our winter's
provisions."

When they all got. into tho lodge their number
was about one hundred. The lodge was large and
warm.

" Now we will make you large," said they. " Will
that do ?"

" Yes," he answered ; for he found that he was
ten times the size of the largest.

" You need not go out," said the others ; " we

46 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

will bring you food into the lodge, and you will be
our chief/'

" Very well/' Grasshopper answered. He thought,
"I will stay here and grow fat at their expense/*
But, soon after, one ran into the lodge, out of breath?
crying out, " We are visited by the Indians !"

All huddled together in great fear. The water be
gan to lower, for the hunters had broken down the
darn, and they soon heard them on the roof of the
lodge, breaking it up. Out jumped all the beavers
into the water, and so escaped.

Grasshopper tried to follow them ; but, unfortu
nately, to gratify his ambition, they had made him
so large that he could not creep out at the hole. He
tried to call them back, but either they did not hear
or would not attend to him ; he worried himself*so
much in searching for a door to let him out, that he
looked like a great bladder, swollen and blistering in
the sun, and the sweat stood oirt upon his forehead
in knobs aud huge bubbles.

Although he heard and understood every word that
the hunters spoke — and some of their expressions
suggested terrible ideas — he could not turn himself
back into a man. He had chosen to be a beaver, and
a beaver he must be. One of the hunters, a prying
little man, with a single lock dangling over one eye —
this inquisitive little fellow put his head in at the
top of the lodge. " Ty-au !" cried he. " Tut iy-au /

EXPLOITS OF GKASSHOPPER. 47

Me-shau-mik — king of beavers is in." Whereupon
the whole crowd of hunters began upon him with
their clubs, and knocked his scull about until it was
no harder than a morass in the middle of summer.
Grasshopper thought as well as ever he did. although
he was a beaver ; and he felt that he was in a rather
foolish scrape, inhabiting the carcass of a beaver.

Presently seven or eight of the hunters hoisted his
body upon long poles, and marched away home with
him. As they went, he reflected in this manner :
" What will become of me ? My ghost or shadow
will not die after they get me to their lodges." •

Invitations were immediately sent out for a grand
feast ; but as soon as his body got cold, his soul
being uncomfortable in a house without heat, flew
off.

Having reassumed his mortal shape, Grasshopper
found himself standing near a prairie. After walk
ing a distance, he saw a herd of elk feeding. He
admired their apparent ease and enjoyment of life,
and thought there could be nothing more pleas
ant than the liberty of running about and feeding on
the prairies. He had been a water animal and now he
wished to become a land animal, to learn what passed
in an elk's head as he roved about. He asked them
if they could not turn him into one of themselves.

" Yes," they answered, after a pause. " Get do^n
on your hands and feet."

48 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

He obeyed their directions, and forthwith found
himself to be an elk.

"I want big horns, big feet," said he; "I wish to
be very large;" for all the conceit and vain-glory had
not been knocked out of Grasshopper, even by the
sturdy thwacks of the hunters' clubs.

" Yes, yes," they answered. " There," exerting
their power, " are you big enough?"

" That will do," he replied; for, looking into a
lake hard by, Grasshopper saw that he was very
large. They spent their time in grazing and run
ning to and fro; but what astonished Grasshopper,
although he often lifted up his head and directed his
eyes that way, he could never see the stars, which he
had so admired as a human being.

Being rather cold, one day, Grasshopper went into
a thick wood for shelter, whither he was followed by
most of the herd. They had not been long there
when some elks from behind passed the others like a
strong wind, calling out:

"The hunters are after us!"

All took the alarm, and off they ran, Grasshopper
with the rest.

" Keep out on the plains," they said. But it was
too late to profit by this advice, for they had already
got entangled in the thick woods. Grasshopper soon
scented the hunters, who were closely following his
trail for they had left all the others and were

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 49

Lnaking after him in full cry. He jumped furiously,
dashed through the underwood, and broke down
whole groves of saplings in his flight. But this only
made it the harder for him to get on, such a huge
and lusty elk was he by his own request.

Presently, as he dashed past an open space, he
felt an arrow in his side. They could not well
miss it, he presented so wide a jnark to the shot.
He bounded over trees under the "smart, but the
shafts clattered thicker and thicker at his ribs,
and at last one entered his heart. He fell to the
ground, and heard the whoop of triumph sounded by
the hunters. On coming up, they looked on the (^r-
cass with astonishment, and with their hands up to
their mouths, exclaimed: "Ty-au! ty-au!"

There were about sixty in the party, who had
come out on a special hunt, as one of their number
had, the day before, observed his large tracks on the
plains. When they had skinned him his flesh grew
cold, and his spirit took its flight from the dead
body, and Grasshopper found himself in human
shape, with a bow and arrows.

But his passion for adventure was not yet cooled;
for on coming to a large lake with a sandy beach,
he saw a large flock of brant, and speaking to them
in the bralit language, he requested them to make a
brant of him.

3

50 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Yes/' they replied, at once; for the brant is a
bird of a very obliging disposition.

"But I want to be very large/' he said. There
was no end to the ambition of little Grasshopper.

" Very well," they answered; and he soon found
himself a large brant, all the others standing gazing
in astonishment at his great size.

" You must fly a£ leader/' they said.

" No/' answered Grasshopper; " I will fly behind."

"Very well/' rejoined the brant; " one thing more
we have to say to you, brother Grasshopper " (for he
had told them his name). " You must be careful, in
flying, not to look down, for something may happen
to you."

"Well, it is so," said he; and soon the flock rose
up into the air, for they were bound north. They
flew very fast — he behind. One day, while- going
with a strong wind, and as swift as their wings could
flap, as they passed over a large village the Indians
raised a great shout on seeing them, particularly on
Grasshopper's account, for his wings were broader
than two large mats. The village people made such
a frightful noise that he forgot what had been told
him about looking down. They were now scudding
along as swift as arrows; and as soon as he brought
his neck in and stretched it down to look at the
shouters, his huge tail was caught by the wind, and
over and over he was blown. He tried to right him-

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPEK. 51

»

self, but without success, for he had no sooner got
out of one heavy air-current than he fell into an
other, which treated him even more rudely than that
he had escaped from. Down, down he went, making
more turns than he wished for, from a height of sev
eral miles.

The first moment he had to look about him, Grass
hopper, in the shape of a big brant, was aware that
he was jammed into a large hollow tree. To get
backward or forward was out of the question, and
there, in spite of himself, was Grasshopper forced
to tarry till his brant life was ended by starvation,
when, his spirit being at liberty, he was once more
a human being.

As he journeyed on in search of further adven
tures, Grasshopper came to a lodge in which were
two old men, with heads white from extreme age.

7 O

They were very fine old men to look at. There was
such sweetness and innocence in their features that
Grasshopper would have enjoyed himself very much
at their lodge, if he had had no other entertainment
than such as the gazing upon the serene and happy
faces of the two innocent old men with heads white
from extreme age afforded.

They treated him well, and he made known to
them that he was going back to his village, his
friends and people, whereupon the two white-headed
old men very heartily wished him a good journey

I
52 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

and abundance of comfort in seeing his friends
once more. They even arose, old and infirm as
they were, and tottering with exceeding difficulty to
the door, were at great pains to point out to him
the exact course he should take; and they called his
attention to the circumstance that it was much
shorter and more direct than he would have taken
himself. Ah! what merry deceivers were these two
old men with very white heads.

Grasshopper, with blessings showered on him un
til he was fairly out of sight, set forth with good
heart. He thought he heard loud laughter resound
ing after him in the direction of the lodge of the
two old men; but it could not have been the two old
men, for they were, certainly, too old to laugh.

He walked briskly all day, and at night he had
the satisfaction oil reaching a lodge in all respects
like that which he had left in the morning. There
were two fine old men, and his treatment was in
every particular the same, even down to the parting
blessing and the laughter that followed him as he
went his way.

After walking the third day, and coming to a
lodge the same as before, he was satisfied from the
bearings of the course he had taken that he had been
journeying in a circle, and by a notch which he had
cut in the door-post that these were the same two
old men, all along; and that, despite their innocent

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 53

faces and their very white heads, they had been play
ing him a sorry trick.

" Who are you/' said Grasshopper, " to treat me
so? Come forth, I say."

They were compelled to obey his summons, lest,
in his anger, he should take their lives; and they
appeared on the outside of the lodge.

" We must have a little trial of speed, now," said
Grasshopper.

"A race?" they asked. "We are very old; we
can not run."

" We will see," said Grasshopper; whereupon he
set them out upon the road, and then he gave them
a gentle push, which put them in motion. Then he
pushed them again — harder — harder — until they got
under fine head-way, when he gave each of them an
astounding shock with his foot, and off they new at
a great rate, round and round the course; and such
was the magic virtue of the foot of Grasshopper,
that no object once set agoing by it could by any pos
sibility stop; so that, for aught we know to the con
trary, the two innocent, white-headed, merry old
men, are trotting with all their might and main
around the circle in which they beguiled Grasshop
per, to this day.

Continuing his journey, Grasshopper, although
his head was warm and buzzing with all sorts of
schemes, did not know exactly what to do until he

54 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

came to a big lake. He mounted a high hill to try
and see to the other side, but he could not. He then
made a canoe, and sailed forth. The water was very
clear — a transparent blue — and he saw that it
abounded with fish of a rare and delicate com
plexion. This circumstance inspired him with a wish
to return to his village, and to bring his people to
live near this beautiful lake.

Toward evening, coming to a woody island, he en
camped and ate the fish he had speared, and they
proved to be as comforting to the stomach as they
were pleasing to the eye. The next day Grasshop
per returned to the main land, and as he wandered
along the shore he espied at a distance the celebrat
ed giant, Manabozho, who is a bitter enemy of
Grasshopper, and loses no opportunity to stop him
on his journeyings and to thwart his plans.

At first it occurred to Grasshopper to have a trial
of wits with the giant, but, on second thoughts, he
said to himself, " I am in a hurry now ; I will see
him another time."

With no further mischief than raising a great
whirlwind of dust, which caused Manabozho to rub
his eyes severely, Grasshopper quietly slipped out of
the way ; and he made good speed withal, for in much
'less time than you could count half the stars in the
eky of a winter night, he had reached home.

His return was welcomed with a great hubbub of

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 55

feasting and songs ; and he had scarcely set foot in the
village before he had invitations to take pot-luck at
different lodges, which would have lasted him the
rest of his natural life. Pipe-hearer, who had some
time before given up the cares of a ruler, and fallen
back upon his native place, fairly danced with joy at
the sight of Grasshopper, who, not to be outdone,
dandled him affectionately in his arms, by casting
him up and 'down in the air half a mile or so, till lit
tle Pipe-bearer had no breath left in his body to say
that he was happy to see Grasshopper home again.

Grasshopper gave the village folks a lively account
ef his adventures, and when he came to the blue
lake and the abundant fish, he dwelt upon their
charms with such effect that they agreed, with one
voice, that it must be a, glorious place to live in,
and if he would show them the way they would shift
camp and settle there at once.

He not only showed them the way, but bringing
his wonderful strength and speed of foot to bear, in
less than half a day he had transported the whole
village, with its children, women, tents, and imple
ments of war, to the new water-side.

Here, for a time, Grasshopper appeared to be con
tent, until one day a message came for him in the
shape of a bear, who said that their king wished to
see him immediately at his village. Grasshopper
was ready in an instant ; and mounting upon the

56 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

messenger's back, off lie ran. Toward evening they
climbed a high mountain, and came to a cave where
the bear-king lived. He was a very large person ;
and puffing with fat and a sense of his own impor
tance, he made Grasshopper welcome by inviting him
in to his lodge.

As soon as it was proper, he spoke, and said that
he had sent for him on hearing that he was the chief
who was moving a large party toward his hunting-
grounds.

" You must know," said the bear-king with a ter
rible growl, "that you have no right there, and I
wish you would leave the country with your party,
or else the strongest force will take possession. Take
notice."

" Very well," replied Grasshopper, going toward
the door, for he suspected that the king of the bears
was preparing to give him a hug. "So be it."

He wished to gain time, and to consult his people ;
for he had seen as he came along that the bears were
gathering in great force on the side of the mountain.
He also made known to the bear-king that he would
go back that night that his people might be put in
immediate possession of his royal behest.

The bear-king replied that Grasshopper might do
as he pleased, but that one of his young men was at
his command ; and, jumping nimbly on his back,
Grasshopper rode home.

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 57

He assembled the people, and ordered the bear's
head off, to be hung outside of the village, that the
bear-spies, who were lurking in the neighborhood,
might see it and carry the news to their chief.

The next morning, by break of day, Grasshopper
had all of his young warriors under arms and ready
for a fight. About the middle of the afternoon the
bear war-party came in sight, led on by the pursy
king, and making a tremendous noise. They ad
vanced on their hind-legs, and made a very imposing
display of their teeth and eyeballs.

The bear-chief himself came forward, and with a
majestic waive of his right hand, said that he did not
wish to shed the blood of the young warriors j but
that if Grasshopper, who appeared to be the head
of the war-party, consented, they two would have a
race, and the winner should kill the losing chief, and
all his young men should be servants to the other.

Grasshopper agreed, of course — how little Pipe-
bearer, who stood by, grinned as they came to
terms !— and they started to run before the whole*
company of warriors who stood in a circle looking on.

At first there was a prospect that Grasshopper
would be badly beaten ; for although he kept crowd
ing the great fat bear-king till the sweat trickled
from his shaggy ears, he never seemed to be able to
push past him. By and by, Grasshopper, going through
a number of the most extraordinary maneuvers in

58 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the world, raised about the great fat bear-king such
eddies and whirlwinds with the sand, and so danced
about, before and after him, that he at last got fairly
bewildered, and cried out for them to come and take
him off. Out of sight before him in reaching the
goal, Grasshopper only waited for the bear-king to
come up, when he drove an arrow straight through
him, and ordered them to take the body away and
make it ready for. supper ; as he was getting hungry.

He then directed all of the other bears to fall to
and help prepare the feast ; for in fulfillment of the
agreement they had become servants. With many
wry faces the bears, although bound to act becomingly
in then: new character, according to the forfeit, served
up the body of their late royal master ; and in doing
this they fell, either by accident or design, into many
curious mistakes.

When the feast came to be served up, and they
were summoned to be in attendance, one of them, a
sprightly young fellow of an inquisitive turn of
mind, was found upon the roof of the lodge, with
his head half way down the smoke-hole, with a view
to learn what they were to have for dinner. Another,
a middle-aged bear with very long arms, who was
put in charge of the children in the character of
nurse, squeezed three or four of the most promising
young papooses to death, while the mothers were
outside to look after the preparations ; and another,

THE BEAR SERVANTS. Page

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 59

when he should have been waiting at the back of
his master, had climbed a shady tree and was in
dulging in his afternoon nap. And when, at last,
the dinner was ready to be served, they came tum
bling in with the dishes, heels over head, one after
the other, so that one half of the feast was spread
upon the ground, and the other half deposited out
of doors, on the other side of the lodge.

After a while, however, by strict discipline, and
threatening to cut off their provisions, the bear-serv
ants were brought into tolerable control.

Yet Grasshopper, with his ever restless disposition,
was uneasy; and, having done so many wonderful
things, he resolved upon a strict and thorough re
form in all the affairs of the village. To prevent fu
ture difficulty, he determined to adopt new regula
tions between the bears and their masters.

With this view, he issued an edict that hencefor
ward the bears should eat at the first table, and that
the Indians were to wait upon them; that in all pub
lic processions of an honorable character the bears
should go first; and that when any fighting was to
be done, the Indians should have the privilege re
served of receiving the first shots. A special exemp
tion was made in behalf of Grasshopper's favorite and
confidential adviser, the Pipe-bearer (who had been
very busy in private, recommending the new order of
things), who was to be allowed to sit at the head of

60 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the feast, and to stay at home with the old women
in the event of "battle.

Having seen his orders strictly enforced, and the
rights of the bears over the Indians fairly estab
lished, Grasshopper fixed his mind upon further ad
ventures. He determined to go abroad for a time,
and having an old score to settle with Manabozho,
he set out with a hope of soon falling in with that
famous giant. Grasshopper was a blood relation of
Dais Irnid, or He of the Little Shell, and had heard
of what had passed between that giant and his kins
man.

After wandering a long time he came to the lodge
of Manabozho, who was absent. He thought he
must play him a trick; and so he turned every thing
in the lodge upside down, and killed his birds, of
which there was an extraordinary attendance, for
Manabozho is master of the fowls of the air, and this
was the appointed morning for them to call and pay
their court to him. Among the number was a raven,
accounted the meanest of birds, which Grasshopper
killed and hung up by the neck, to insult him.

He then went on till he came to a very high point
of rocks running out into the lake, from the top of
which he could see the country, back as far as the
eye could reach. While sitting there, Manabozho's
mountain chickens flew around and past him in great
numbers. Out of mere spite to their master, Grass-

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 61

hopper shot them by the score, for his arrows were
very sure and the birds very plenty, and he amused
himself by throwing the birds down the rocks. At
length a wary bird cried out:

" Grasshopper is killing us; go and tell our father/'

Away sped a delegation of the birds which were
the quickest of wing, and Manabozho soon made his
appearance on the plain below. Grasshopper, who,
when he is in the wrong, is no match for Manabozho,
made his escape on the other side. Manabozho, who
had in two or three strides reached the top of the
mountain, cried out:

" You are a rogue. The earth is not so large but
I can get up to you."

Off ran Grasshopper and Manabozho after him.
The race was sharp ; and such leaps and strides as
they -made ! Over hills and prairies, with all his
speed, went Grasshopper, and Manabozho hard upon
him. Grasshopper had some mischievous notions
still left in his head which he thought might befriend
him. He knew that Manabozho was under a spell to
restore whatever he, Grasshopper, destroyed. Forth
with he stopped and climbed a large pine-tree, strip
ped off its beautiful green foliage, threw it to the
winds, <and then went on.

When Manabozho reached the spot, the tree ad
dressed him : " Great chief/' said the tree, " will you
give my life again ? Grasshopper has killed me."

62 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Yes/' replied Manabozho, who, as quickly as he
could, gathered the scattered leaves and branches,
renewed its beauty with his breath, and se+ off.
Although Grasshopper in the same way compelled
Manabozho to lose time in repairing the hemlock, the
sycamore, cedar, and many other trees, the giant did
not falter, but pushing briskly forward, was fast over
taking him, when Grasshopper happened to see an
elk. And1 asking him, for old acquaintance' sake, to
take him on his back, the elk did so, and for some
time he made good headway, but still Manabozho was
in sight.

He was fast gaining upon him, when Grasshopper
threw himself off the elk's back ; and striking a
great sandstone rock near the path, he broke it into
pieces, and scattered the grains in a thousand direc
tions ; for this was nearly his last hope of escape.
Manabozho was so close upon him at this place that
he had almost caught him ; but the foundation of
the rock cried out,

" Have ! Ne-me-sho, Grasshopper has spoiled me.
Will you not restore me to life ?"

" Yes/' replied Manabozho. He re-established the
rock in all its strength.

He then pushed on in pursuit, and had got so
near to Grasshopper as to put out his arm to seize
him ; but Grasshopper dodged him, and, as his last
chance, he immediately raised such a dust and com-

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPEK. 63

motion by whirlwinds, as made the trees break and
the sand and leaves dance in the air. Again and
again Manabozho stretched his arm, but he escaped
him at every turn, and kept up such a tumult of
dust that he dashed into a hollow tree which had
been blown down, changed himself into a snake, and
crept out at the roots just in time to save his life j
for at that moment Manabozho, who had the power
of lightning, struck it, and it was strewn about in
little pieces.

Again Grasshopper was in human shape, and
Manabozho was pressing him hard. At a distance he
saw a very high bluff of rocks.jutting out into a lake,
and he ran for the foot of the precipice which was
abrupt and elevated. As he came near, to his sur
prise and great relief, the Manito of the rock
opened his door and told Grasshopper to come in.
The door was no sooner closed than Manabozho
knocked.

" Open it !" he cried, with a loud voice. The
Manito was afraid of him ; but he said to Grasshop
per, " Since I have taken you as my guest, I would
sooner die with you than open the door."

" Open it !" Manabozho again cried, in a louder
voice than before.

The Manito kept silent. Manabozho, however,
made no attempt to open it by force. He waited a
few moments. .

64 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Very well/' he said ; "I give you till morning to
live/'

Grasshopper trembled, for he thought his last houi
had come ; but the Manito bade him to be of good
cheer.

When the night came on the clouds were thick
and black, and as they were torn open by the
lightning, such discharges of thunder were never
heard as bellowed forth. The clouds advanced slowly
and wrapped the earth about with their vast shadows
as in a huge cloak. All night long the clouds gath
ered, and the lightning flashed, and the thunder
roared, and above all could be heard Manabozho
muttering vengeance upon poor little Grasshopper.

" You have led a very foolish kind of life, Grass
hopper," said his friend the Manito.

" I know it — I know it !" Grasshopper answered.

" You had great gifts of strength awarded to you/'
said the Manito.

" I am aware of it," replied Grasshopper.

" Instead of employing it for useful purposes, and
for the good of your fellow-creatures, you have done
nothing since you became a man but raise whirl
winds on the highways, leap over trees, break what
ever you met in pieces, and perform a thousand* idle
pranks."

Grasshopper, with great penitence, confessed that
his friend the Manito spoke but too truly ; and at

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 65

last his entertainer, with a still more serious manner,
said :

" Grasshopper, you still have your gift of strength,
Dedicate it to the good of mankind. Lay all of
these wanton and vain-glorious notions out of your
head. In a word, be as good as you are strong."

" I will/' answered Grasshopper. " My heart is
changed; I see the error of my ways."

Black and stormy as it had been all night, when
morning came the sun was shining, the air was soft
and sweet as the summer down and the blown rose;
and afar off upon the side of a mountain sat Mana-
bozho, his head upon his knees, languid and cast
down in spirit. His power was gone, for now Grass
hopper was in the right, and he could touch him no
more.

With many thanks, Grasshopper left the good
Manito, taking the nearest way home to his own
people.

As he passed on, he fell in with an old man who
was wandering about the country in search of some
place which he could not find. As soon as he
learned his difficulty, Grasshopper, placing the old
man upon his back, hurried away, and in a short
hour's dispatch of foot set him down among his own
kindred, of whom he had been in quest.

Loosing no time, Grasshopper next came to an
open plain, where a small number of men stood at

36 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

bay, and on the very point of being borne down by
great odds, in a force of armed warriors, fierce of as
pect and of prodigious strength. When Grasshopper
saw this unequal struggle, rushing forward he seized
a long bare pole, and, wielding it with his whole
force, he drove the fierce warriors back; and, laying
about him on every hand, he soon sent them a thou
sand ways in great haste, and in a very sore plight.

Without tarrying to receive the thanks of those to
whom he had brought this timely relief, he made his
utmost speed, and by the close of the afternoon he
had come in sight of his own village. W'hat were his
surprise and horror, as he approached nearer, to dis
cover the bears in excellent case and flesh, seated at
lazy leisure in the trees, looking idly on while his
brother Indians, for their pastime, were dancing a
fantastic and wearisome dance, in the course of which
they were frequently compelled to go upon all fours
and bow their heads in profound obeisance to their
bear-masters in the trees.

As he drew nearer, his heart sunk within him to
Bee how starved, and hollow-eyed, and woe-begone
they were; and his horror was at its height when, as
he entered his own lodge, he beheld his favorite and
friend, the Pipe-bearer, also on all fours, smoothing
the floor with the palms of his hands to make it a
comfortable sitting-place for the bears on their re
turn from the dance. ^

EXPLOITS OF GRASSHOPPER. 67

It did not take Grasshopper a long time to resolve
what he should do. He immediately resumed power
in the village, bestowed a sound cudgeling upon the
bears, and sent them off to live in the mountains,
among their own people, as bears should; restored to
the people all their rights; gave them plenty to eat
and drink; exerting his great strength in hunting, in
rebuilding their lodges, keeping in check their ene
mies, and doing all the good he could to every body.

Peace and plenty soon shone and showered upon
the spot; and, never once thinking of all his wild and
wanton frolics, the people blessed Grasshopper for all
his kindness, and sincerely prayed that his name
might "be held in honor for a thousand years to
come, as no doubt it will.

Little Pipe-bearer stood by Grasshopper in all his
course, and admired his ways as much now that he
had taken to being orderly and useful, as in the old
times, when he was walking a mile a minute, and
in mere wantonness bringing home whole forests in
his arms for fire-wood, in midsummer.

It was a great old age to 'which Grasshopper lived,
and when at last he came to die, there was not a dry
eye in all that part of the world where he spent his
latter days.

v.

THE TWO JEEBI.

rilHEKE lived a hunter in the North, who had a
wife and one child. His lodge stood far off in
the forest , several days' journey from any other. He
spent his days in hunting, and his evenings in relat-
irig to his wife the incidents that had befallen him.
As game was very abundant, he found no difficulty
in killing as much as they wanted. « Just in all his
acts, he lived a peaceful and happy life.

One evening during the winter season, it chanced
that he remained out longer than usual, and his wife
began to fear that some accident had befallen him.
It was already dark. She listened attentively, and
at last heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
Not doubting that it was her husband, she went
to the door and beheld two strange females. She
bade them enter, and invited them to remain. She
observed that they were total strangers in the coun
try. There was something so peculiar in their looks,
air and manner, that she was disturbed by their pres
ence. They would not come near to the fire. They

THETWOJEEBI. 69

sat in a remote part of the lodge, shy and taciturn,
and dreW their garments about them in such a man
ner as nearly to hide their faces. So far as she could
judge, they were pale, hollow-eyed, and long-visaged,
very thin and emaciated.

There was but little light in the lodge, as the fire
was low, and its fitful flashes, by disclosing their
white faces and then dropping them in sudden dark
ness, served rather to increase than to dispel her
fears.

"Merciful Spirit!" cried a voice from the opposite
part of the lodge; "there are two corpses clothed
with garments!"

The hunter's wife turned around, but seeing no
body save her little child, staring across from under
his blanket, she said to herself, " The boy can not
speak; the sounds were but the gusts of wind." She
trembled, and was ready to sink to the earth.

Her husband at this moment entered, and in some
measure relieved her alarm. He threw down the car
cass of a large fat deer.

"Behold what a fine and fat animal!" cried the
mysterious females; and they immediately ran and
pulled off pieces of the whitest fat, which they greed
ily devoured.

The hunter and his wife looked on with astonish
ment, but remained silent. They supposed that
their guests might have been stricken with famine.

70 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The next day,, however, the same unusual conduct
was repeated. The strange females again tore off
the fat and devoured it with eagerness. The third
day, the hunter thought that he would anticipate
their wants by tying up a share of the hunt, and
placing it apart for their express use. They ac
cepted it, but still appeared dissatisfied, and went
to the wife's portion and tore off more.

The hunter and his wife were surprised at such
rude and unaccountable conduct, but they remained
silent, for they respected their guests, and had ob
served that they had been attended with marked
good luck during the sojourn of these mysterious
visitors in their lodge.

In other respects, the deportment of the females
was strictly unexceptionable. They were modest,
distant, and silent. They never uttered a word dur
ing the day. At night they would occupy themselves
in procuring wood, which they carried to the lodge,
and then, restoring the implements exactly where
they had found them, resume their places without
speaking. They were never known to stay out until
daylight. They never laughed or jested.

The winter was nearly passed away, when, one
evening, the hunter was abroad later than usual.
The moment he came in and laid down his day's
hunt, as was his custom, before his wife, the two fe
males seized upon the deer and began to tear off the

THETWOJEEBI. 71

fat in so unceremonious a way that her anger was
excited. She constrained herself, however, in a good
degree, but she could not conceal her feelings, though
she said hut little.

The strange guests observed the state of her mind,
and they became uneasy, and withdrew further still
into the remote gloom of the lodge. The good
hunter saw the eclipse that was darkening the quiet
of his lodge, and carefully inquired of its cause; but
his wife denied having used any words of complain
ing or reproach.

They retired to their couches, and the hunter tried
to compose himself to sleep, but could not, for the
sighs and sobs of the two females were incessant.
He arose on his couch and addressed them as follows:

"Tell me/' said he, "what is it that gives you
pain of mind and causes you to bemoan your pres
ence here. Has my wife given you offense, or tres
passed upon the rights of hospitality?"

They replied in the negative. " We have been
treated by you with kindness and affection. It is not
for any slight we have received that we weep. Our
mission is not to you only. We come from the other
land to test mankind, and to try the sincerity of the
living. Often we have heard the bereaved by death
say that if the lost could be restored, they would de
vote their lives to make them happy. We have been
moved by the bitter lamentations which have reached

72 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the place of the departed, and have come to make
proof of the sincerity of those who have lost friends.
We are your two dead sisters. Three moons were
allotted us by the Master of Life to make the trial.
More than half the time had heen successfully passed,
when the angry feelings of your wife indicated the
irksorneness you felt at our presence, and has made
us resolve on our departure."

They continued to talk to the hunter and his wife,
gave them instructions as to a future life, and pro
nounced a blessing upon them.

" There is one point," they added, " of which we
wish to speak. You have thought our conduct very
strange and rude in possessing ourselves of the
choicest parts of your hunt. That was the point of
trial selected to put you to. It is the wife's peculiar
privilege. You love your wife. For another to usurp
what belongs to her, we know to be the severest test
of her goodness of heart, and consequently of your
temper and feelings. We knew your manners and
customs, but we came to prove you, not by complying
with but by violating them. Pardon us. We are the
agents of him who sent us. Peace to your dwelling.
Farewell \"

When they ceased, total darkness filled the lodge.
No object could be seen. The inmates heard the
lodge-door open and shut, but they never saw more of
the Two Spirits. ,

THE TWO JEEBI. 73

The hunter found the success which they had prom
ised. He became celebrated in the chase, and nevei
wanted for any thing. He had many children, all of
whom grew up to manho'od ; and he who had lain in
the lodge, a little child, while the Jeebi dwelt there,
led them in all good deeds, and health, peace, and
long life were the rewards of the hunter's hospitality.

4

VI.

OSSEO, THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR.

FT! HEBE once lived an Indian in the north who had
-L ten daughters, all of whom grew up to woman
hood. They were rioted for their beauty, especially
Oweenee, the youngest, who was very independent in
her way of thinking. She was a great admirer of
romantic places, and spent much of her time with
the flowers and winds and clouds in the open air.
Though the flower were homely, if it was fragrant —
though the wind were rough, if it was healthful — and
though the cloud were dark, if it embosomed the fruit
ful rain, she knew how, in spite of appearances, to
acknowledge the good qualities concealed from the eye.
She paid very little attention to the many handsome
young men who came to her father's lodge for the pur
pose of seeing her.

Her elder sisters were all sought in marriage, and
one after the other they went off to dwell in the
lodges of their husbands ; but Oweenee was deaf to
all proposals of the kind. At last she married an old

SON OF THE EVENING STAR. * 75

man called Osseo, who was scarcely able to walk, and
who was too poor to have things like others. The
only property he owned in the world was the walking-
staff which he carried in his hand. Though thus poor
and homely, Osseo was a devout and good man ;
faithful in all his duties, and obedient in all things
to the Good Spirit. Of course they jeered and
laughed at Oweenee on all sides, but she seemed to
be quite happy, and said to them, " It is my choice
and you will see in the end who has acted the wisest."

They made a special mock of the walking-staff, and
scarcely an hour in the day passed that they had not
some disparaging reference to it. Among themselves
they spoke of Osseo of the walking-staff, in derision,
as the owner of the big woods, or the great timber-
man.

" True " said Oweenee, " it is but a simple stick ;
but as it supports the steps of my husband, it is
more precious to me than all the forests of the
north."

A time came when the sisters, and their husbands,
and their parents were all invited to a feast. As the
distance was considerable, they doubted whether
Osseo, so aged and feeble, would be able to under
take the journey ; but in spite of their friendly
doubts, he joined them, and set out with a good
heart.

As they walked along the path they could not

76^ THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

help pitying their young and handsome sister who
had such an unsuitable mate. She, however, smiled
upon Osseo, and kept with him by the way the
same as if he had been the comeliest bridegroom
in all the company. Osseo often stopped and gazed
upward ; but they could perceive nothing in the di
rection in which he looked, unless it was the faint
glimmering of the evening star. They heard him
muttering to himself as they went along, and one of
the elder sisters caught the words, " Pity me, my
father !"

" Poor old man," said she ; " he is talking to his
father. What a pity it is that he would not fall and
break his neck, that our sister might have a young
husband."

Presently as they came to a great rock where Osseo
had been used to breathe his morning and his even
ing prayer, the star emitted a brighter ray, which
shone directly in his face. Osseo, with a sharp cry,
fell trembling to the earth, where the others would
have left him, but his good wife raised him up, and
he sprang forward on the path, and with steps light
as the reindeer he led the party, no longer decrepid
and infirm, but a beautiful young man. On turning
around to look for his wife, behold she had become
changed, at the same moment, into an aged and
feeble woman, bent almost double, and walking with
the staff which he had cast aside.

SON OF THE EVENING STAK. 77

Osseo immediately joined her, and with looks of
fondness and the tenderest regard, bestowed on her
every endearing attention, and constantly addressed
her by the term of ne-ne-moosh-a, or my sweetheart.

As they walked along, whenever they were not
gazing fondly in each other's face, they bent their
looks on heaven, and a light, as if of far-off stars,
was in their eyes.

On arriving at the lodge of the hunter with whom
they were to feast, they found the banquet ready,
and as soon as their entertainer had finished his
harangue — in which he told them his feasting was in
honor of the Evening or Woman's Star — they began
to partake of the portion dealt out, according to age
and character, to each one of the guests. The food
was very delicious, and they were all happy but
Osseo, who looked at his wife, and then gazed up
ward, as if he was^ looking into the substance of the
sky. Sounds were soon heard, as if from far-off
voices in the air, and they became plainer arid
plainer, till he could clearly distinguish some of the
words.

" My son, my son," said the voice; " I have seen your
afflictions, and pity your wants. T come to call you
away. from a scene that is stained with blood and
tears. The earth is full of sorrows. Wicked spirits,
the enemies of mankind, walk abroad, and lie in wait
to ensnare the children of the sky. Every night they

78 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

are lifting their voices to the Power of Evil, and every
day they make themselves busy in casting mischief in
the hunter's path. You have long been their victim,
but you shall be their victim no more. The spell you
were under is broken. Your evil genius is overcome.
I have cast him down by my superior strength, and it
is this strength I now exert for your happiness. As
cend, my son; ascend into the skies, and partake of
the feast I have prepared for you in the stars, and
bring with you those you love.

" The food set before you is enchanted and blessed.
Fear not to partake of it. It is endowed with magic
power to give immortality to mortals, and to change
men to spirits. Your bowls and kettles shall no
longer be wood and earth. The one shall become sil
ver, and the other pure gold. They shall shine like fire,
and glisten like the most beautiful scarlet. Every fe
male shall also change her state and looks, and no
longer be doomed to laborious tasks. She shall put
on the beauty of the star-light, and become a shining
bird of the air. She shall dance, and not work. She
shall sing, and not cry.

" My beams," continued the voice, " shine faintly
on your lodge, but they have power to transform it
into the lightness of the skies, and decorate it with
the colors of the clouds. Come, Osseo, my son, and
dwell no longer on earth. Think strongly on my
words, and look steadfastly at my beams. My power

SON OF THE EVENING STAB. 79

is now at its height. Doubt not, delay not. It is the
voice of the Spirit of the Stars that calls you away to
happiness and celestial rest."

The words were intelligible to Osseo, but his com
panions thought them some far-off sounds of music,
or birds singing in the woods. Very soon the lodge
began to shake and tremble, and they felt it rising
into the air. It was too late to run out, for they were
already as high as the tops of the trees. Osseo looked
around him as the lodge passed through the topmost
boughs, and behold ! their wooden dishes were
changed into shells of a scarlet color, the poles of the
lodge to glittering rods of silver, and the bark that
covered them into the gorgeous wings of insects.

A moment more and his brothers and sisters, and
their parents and friends, were transformed into birds
of various plumage. Some were jays, some par
tridges and pigeons, and others gay singing birds,
who hopped about, displaying their many-colored
feathers, and singing songs of cheerful note.

But his wife, Oweenee, still kept her earthly garb,
and exhibited all the indications of extreme old age.
He again cast his eyes in the direction of the clouds,
and uttered the peculiar cry which had given him the
victory at the rock. In a moment the youth and
beauty of his wife returned; her dingy garments as
sumed the shining appearance of green silk, and her
staff was changed into a silver feather

80 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The lodge again shook and trembled, for they were
now passing through the uppermost clouds, and they
immediately after found themselves in the Evening
Star, the residence of Osseo's father.

" My son," said the old man, " hang that cage of
birds which you have brought along in your hand at
the door, and I will inform you why you and your
wife have been sent for."

Osseo obeyed, and then took his seat in the lodge.

" Pity was shown to you," resumed the King of
the Star, " on account of the contempt of your wife's
sister, who laughed at her ill fortune, and ridiculed
you while you were under the power of that wicked
spirit whom you overcame at the rock. That spirit
lives in the next lodge, being the small star you see
on the left of mine, and he has always felt envious of
my family because we had greater power, and es
pecially that we had committed to us the care of the
female world. He failed in many attempts to destroy
your brothers and sisters-in-law, but succeeded at
last in transforming yourself and your wife into de-
crepid old persons. You must be careful and not
let the light of his beams fall on you, while you are
here, for therein lies the power of his enchantment.
A ray of light is the bow and arrow he uses."

Osseo lived happy and contented in the parental
lodge, and in due time his wife presented him with
a son, who grew up rapidly, and in the very likeness

SON OF THE EVENING STAR. 81

of Osseo himself. He was very quick and ready in
learning every thing that was done in his grandfa
ther's dominions, but he wished also to learn the art
of hunting, for he had heard that this was a favor
ite pursuit below. To gratify him, his father made
him a bow and arrows, and he then let the birds out
of the cage that he might practice in shooting. In
this pastime he soon became expert, and the very
first day he brought down a bird; but when he went
to pick it up, to his amazement it was a beautiful
young woman, with the arrow sticking in her breast.
It was one of his younger aunts.

The moment her blood fell upon the surface of
that pure and spotless planet, the charm was dis
solved. The boy immediately found himself sinking,
although he was partly upheld by something like
wings until he passed through the lower clouds, and
he then suddenly dropped upon a high, breezy isl
and in a large lake. He was pleased, on looking
up, to see all his aunts and uncles following him in
the form of birds, and he soon discovered the silver
lodge, with his father and mother, descending, with
its waving tassels fluttering like so many insects'
gilded wings. It rested on the loftiest cliffs of the
island, and there they fixed their residence. They
all resumed their natural shapes, but they were di
minished to the size of fairies; and as a mark of
homage to the King of the Evening Star, they never

4*

82 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

failed on every pleasant evening during the summei
season to join hands and dance upon the top of the
rocks. These rocks were quickly observed by the In
dians to be covered, in moonlight evenings, with a
larger sort of Ininees, or little men, and were called
Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong, or Little Spirits, and the
island is named from them to this day.

Their shining lodge can be seen in the summer
evenings, when the moon beams strongly on the pin
nacles of the rocks; and the fishermen who go near
those high cliffs at night, have even heard the voices
of the happy little dancers. And Osseo and his wife,
as fondly attached to each other as ever, always lead
the dance.

VII.

GRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS.

npHERE were six falcons living in a nest, five of
J- whom were still too young to fly, when it so hap
pened that both the parent birds were shot in one
day. The young brood waited anxiously for their
return ; but night carne, and they were left without
parents and without food.

Gray Eagle, the eldest, and the only one whose
feathers had become stout enough to enable him to
leave the nest, took his place at the head of the
family, and assumed the duty of stifling their cries
and providing the little household with food, in
which he was very successful. But, after a short
time had passed, by an unlucky mischance, while
out on a foraging excursion, he got one of his
wings broken. This was the more to be regretted, as
the season had arrived when they were soon to go to a
southern country to pass the winter, and the chil
dren were only waiting to become a little stronger and
more expert on the wing to set out on the journey.

84 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Finding that their elder brother did not return,
they resolved to go in search of him. After beating
up and down the country for the better part of a
whole day, they at last found him, sorely wounded
and unable to fly, lodged in the upper branches of a
sycamore-tree.

" Brothers," said Gray Eagle, as soon as they were
gathered around, and questioned him as to the ex
tent of his injuries, " an accident has befallen me,
but let not this prevent your going to a warmer
climate. Winter is rapidly approaching, and you
can not remain here. It is better that I alone should
die, than for you all to suffer on my account."

"No, no," they replied, with one voice. "We
will not forsake you. We will share your sufferings ;
we will abandon our journey, and take care of you as
you did of us before we were able to take care of
ourselves. If the chill climate kills you, it shall kill
us. Do you think we can so soon forget your broth
erly care, which has equaled a father's, and even a
mother's kindness ? Whether you live or die, we
will live or die with you."

They sought out a hollow tree to winter in, and
contrived to carry their wounded nest-mate thither ;
and before the rigor of the season had set in, they
had, by diligence and economy, stored up food enough
to carry them through the winter months.

To make the provisions they had laid in last the

GRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS. 85

better, it was agreed among them that two of their
number should go south ; leaving the other three to
watch over, feed, and protect their wounded brother.
The travelers set forth, sorry to leave home, but
resolved that the first promise of spring should bring
them back again. At the close of day, the three
brothers who remained, mounting to the very peak
of the tree, and bearing Gray Eagle in their arms,
watc&ed them, as they vanished away southward, till
their forms blended with the air and were wholly
lost to sight.

Their next business was to set the household in
order, and this, with the judicious direction of Gray
Eagle, who was propped up in a snug fork, with soft
cushions of dry moss, they speedily accomplished.'
One of the sisters, for there were two of these, took
upon herself the charge of nursing Gray Eagle, pre
paring his food, bringing him water, and changing
his pillows when he grew tired of one position. She
also looked to it that the house itself was kept in a
tidy condition, and that the pantry was supplied
with food. The second brother was assigned the
duty of physician, and he was to prescribe such herbs ,
and other medicines as the state of the health of
Gray Eagle seemed to require. As the second broth
er had no other in valid- on his visiting-list, he de
voted the time not given to the cure of his patient,
to the killing of game wherewith to stock the house-

86 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

keeper's larder ; so that, whatever he did, he was
always busy in the line of professional duty — killing
or curing: On his hunting excursions, Doctor Falcon
carried with him his youngest brother, who, being a
foolish young fellow, and inexperienced in the ways
of the world, it was not thought safe to trust alone.

In due time, what with good nursing, and good
feeding, and good air, Gray Eagle recovered from his
wound, and he repaid the kindness of his brothers by
giving them such advice and instruction in the art of
hunting as his age and experience qualified him to im
part. As spring advanced, they began to look about
for the means of replenishing their store-house, whose
supplies were running low; and they were all quite
successful in their quest except the youngest, whose
name was Peepi, or the Pigeon-Hawk, and who had
of late* begun to set up for himself. Being small
and foolish, and feather-headed, flying hither and
yonder without any set purpose, it so happened that
Peepi always came home, so to phrase it, with an
empty game-bag, and his pinions terribly rumpled.

At last Gray Eagle spoke to him, and demanded
the cause of his ill-luck.

" It is not my smallness nor weakness of body,"
Peepi answered, " that prevents my bringing home
provender as well as my brothers. I am all the
time on the wing, hither and thither. I kill ducks
and other birds every time I go out; but just as I

GRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS. 87

get to the woods, on my way home, I am met by a
large ko-ko-ho, who robs me of my prey; and/
added Peepi, with great energy, "it's my settled
opinion that the villain lies in wait for the very pur
pose of doing so."

" I have no doubt you are right, Brother Peepi,"
rejoined Gray Eagle. "I know this pirate — his
name is White Owl; and now that I feel my strength
fully recovered, I will go out with you to-morrow
and help you look after this greedy bush-ranger."

The next day they went forth in company, and ar
rived at a fine fresh- water lake. Gray Eagle seated
himself hard by, while Peepi started out, and soon
pounced upon a duck.

"Well done!" thought his brother, who saw his
success; but just as little Peepi was getting to land
with his prize, up sailed a large white owl from a
tree where he, too, had been watching, and laid
claim to it. He was on the point of wresting it
from Peepi, when Gray Eagle, calling out to the in
truder to desist, rushed up, and, fixing his talons in
both sides of the owl, without further introduction
or ceremony, flew away with him.

The little Pigeon-Hawk followed closely, with the
duck under his wing, rejoiced and happy to think
that he had something to carry home at last. He
was naturally much vexed with the owl, and had no
sooner delivered over the duck to his sister, the

88 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

housekeeper, than he flew in the owl's face, and,
venting an abundance of reproachful terms, would,
in his passion, have torn the very eyes out of the
White Owl's head.

" Softly, Peepi," said the Gray Eagle, stepping in
between them. " Don't be in such a huff, my little
brother, nor exhibit so revengeful a temper, Do
you not know that we are to forgive our enemies ?
White Owl, you may go; but let this be a lesson to
you, not to play the tyrant over those who may
chance to be weaker than yourself."

So, after adding to this much more goo 1 advice,
and telling him what kind of herbs would cure his
wounds, Gray Eagle dismissed White Owl, and the
four brothers and sisters sat down to supper.

The next day, betimes, in the morning, before the
household had fairly rubbed fhe cobwebs'out of the
corners of their eyes, there came a knock at the
front door — which was a dry branch that lay down
before the hollow of the tree in which they lodged —
and being called to come in, who should make their
appearance but the two nest-mates, who had just re
turned from the South, where they had been winter
ing. There was great rejoicing over their return,
and now that they were all happily re-united, each
one soon chose a mate and began to keep house in
the woods for himself.

Spring ha*d now revisited the North. The cold

GRAY EAGLE AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS. 89

winds had all blown themselves away, the ice had
melted, the streams were open, and smiled as they
looked at the blue sky once more; and the forests,
far and wide, in their green mantle, echoed every
cheerful sound.

But it is in vain that spring returns, and that
the heart of Nature is opened in bounty, if we are
not thankful to the Master of Life, who has preserved
us through the winter. Nor does that man answer
the end for which he was made who does not show a
kind and charitable feeling to all who are in want
or sickness, especially to his blood relations.

The love and harmony of Gray Eagle and his
brothers continued. They never forgot each other.
Every week, on the fourth afternoon of the week
(for that was the time when they had found their
wounded elder brother), they had a meeting in the
hollow of the old sycamore-tree, when they talked
over family matters, and advised with each other, aa
brothers should/ about their affairs.

VIII.

THE TOAD-WOMAN.

C\ BEAT good luck once happened to a young wo-
^-J man who was living all alone in the woods with
nobody near her but her little dog; for, to her surprise,
she found fresh meat every morning at her door. She
was very curious to know who it was that supplied
her, and watching one morning, just as the sun had
risen, she saw a handsome young man gliding away
into the forest. Having seen her, he became her
husband, and she had a son by him.

One day, not long after this, he did not return at
evening, as usual, from hunting. She waited till late
at night, but he came no more.

The next day, she swung her child to sleep in its
cradle, and then said to her dog, " Take care of your
brother while I am gone, and when he cries, halloo
for me."

The cradle was made of the finest wampum, and
all its bandages and ornaments were of the same
precious stuff.

THE "TOAD-WOMAN. 91

After a short time, the woman heard the cry of the
dog, and running home as fast as sjie could, she
found her child gone, and the dog too. On looking
around, she saw scattered upon the ground pieces of
the wampum of her child's cradle, and she knew
that the dog had been faithful, and had striven his
best to save her child from being carried off, as
he had been, by an old woman, from a distant
country, called Mukakee Mindemoea, or the Toad-
Woman.

The mother hurried off at full speed in pursuit,
and as she flew along, she came, from time to time,
to lodges inhabited by old women, who told her at
what time the child-thief had passed ; they also
gave her shoes that she might follow on. There was
a number of these old women who seemed as if they
were prophetesses, and knew what was to corne long
beforehand. Each of them would say to her that
when she had arrived at the next lodge, she must set
the toes of the moccasins they had given her point
ing homeward, an^ that they would return of them
selves. The young woman was very careful to send
back in this manner all the1 shoes she borrowed.

She thus followed in the pursuit, from valley to
valley, and stream to stream, for many months and
years ; when she came at length to the lodge of the
last of the friendly old grandmothers, as they were
called, who gave her the last instructions how to pro

92 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

ceed. She told her that she was near the place where
.her son was to be found ; and she directed her to
build a lodge of cedar-boughs, hard by the old
Toad- Woman's lodge, and to make a little bark
dish, and to fill it with the juice of the wild grape.

" Then/' she said, " your first child (meaning the
dog) will come and find you out."

These directions the young woman followed just as
they had been given to her, and in a short time she
heard her son, now grown up, going out to hunt,
with his dog, calling out to him, " Peewaubik — Spirit-
Iron—Twee ! Twee !"

The dog soon came into the lodge, and she set
before him the dish of grape-juice.

" See, my child," she said, addressing him, " the
pretty drink your mother gives you."

Spirit-Iron took a long draught, and immediately
left the lodge with his eyes wide open ; for it was
the' drink which teaches one to see the truth of
things as they are. He rose up when he got into the
open air, stood upon his hincfclegs, and looked about.
" I see how it is," he said ; and marching off, erect
like a man, he sought out his young master.

Approaching him in great confidence, ne bent
down and whispered in his ear (having first looked
cautiously around to see that no one was listening),
" This old woman here in the lodge is no mother of
yours. I have found your real mother, and she is

THE TOAD-WOMAN. 93

worth looking at. When we come back from our
day's sport, 111 prove it to you."

They went out into the woods, and at the close of
the afternoon they brought back a great spoil of
meat of all kinds. The young man, as soon as he
had laid aside his weapons, said to the old Toad- Wo
man, " Send some of the best of this meat to the
stranger who has arrived lately."

The Toad- Woman answered, " No ! Why should
I send to her, the poor widow !"

The young man would not be refused ; and at last
the old Toad- Woman consented to take something
and throw it down at the door. She called out,
" My son gives you this." But, being bewitched by
Mukakee Mindemoea, it was so bitter and distasteful,
that the young woman immediately cast it out of the
lodge after her.

In the evening the young man paid the stranger a
visit at her lodge of cedar-boughs. She then told him
that she was his real mother, and that he had been
stolen away from her by the old Toad-Woman, who
was a child-thief and a witch. As the young man
appeared to doubt, she added, " Feign yourself sick
when you go home to her lodge; and when the Toad-
Woman asks what ails you, say that you wish to see
your cradle ; for your cradle was of wampum, and
your faithful- brother the dog, in striving to save you,
tore off these nieces which I show you."

;

94 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

They were reai wampum,, white and blue, shining
and beautiful ; and the young man, placing them in
his bosom, set off; but as he did not seem quite,
steady in his belief of the strange woman's story, the
dog Spirit-Iron, taking his arm, kept close by
his side, and gave him many words of encouragement
as they went along. They entered the lodge to
gether ; and the old Toad- Woman saw, from some
thing in the dog's eye, that trouble was coming.

" Mother," said the young man, placing his hand
to his head, and leaning heavily upon Spirit-Iron,
as if a sudden faintness had come upon him, " why
am I so different in looks from the rest of your
children ?"

" Oh," she answered, " it was a very bright, clear
blue sky when you were born; that is the reason."

He seemed to be so very ill that the Toad- Woman
at length asked what she could do for him. He said
nothing could do him good but the sight of his
cradle. She ran immediately and brought a cedar
cradle; but he said:

" That is not my cradle."

She went and got another of her own children's
cradles, of which there were four; but he turned his
head, and said:

" That is not mine; I am as sick as ever."

When she had shown the four, and they had been
all rejected, she at last produced the real cradle.

TIT T: TO AD- WO MAN. 95

The young man saw that it was of the same stuff
as the wampum which he had in his bosom. He
could even see the marks of the teeth of Spirit-Iron
left upon the edges, where he had taken hold; striv
ing to hold it back. He had no doubt, now, which
was his mother.

To get free of the old Toad- Woman, it was neces
sary that the young man should kill a fat bear; and,
being directed by Spirit-Iron, who was very wise in
such a matter, he secured the fattest in all that
country; and having stripped a tall pine of all its
bark and branches, he perched the carcass in the
top, with its head to the east and its tail due west.
Keturning to the lodge, he informed the old Toad-
Woman that the fat bear was ready for her, but that
she would have to go very far, even to the end of the
earth, to get it. She answered:

" It is not so far but that I can get it;" for of all
things in the world, a fat bear was the delight of
the old Toad- Woman.

Sh£ at once set forth; and she was no sooner out
of sight than the young man and his dog, Spirit-
Iron, blowing a strong breath in the face of the Toad-
Woman's four children (who were all bad spirits, or
bear-fiends), they put out their life. They then set
them up by the side of the door, having first thrust
a piece of the white fat in each of their mouths.

The Toad- Woman spent a long time in finding

i

96 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the bear which she had been sent after, and she
made at least five and twenty attempts before she
was able to climb to the carcass. She slipped down
three times where she went up once. When she re
turned with the great bear on her back, as she drew
near her lodge she was astonished to see the four chil
dren standing up by the door-posts with the fat in
their mouths. She was angry with them, and called
out:

" Why do you thus insult the pomatum of your
brother?"

She was still more angry when they made no an
swer to her complaint; but when she found that they
were stark dead, and placed in this way to mock
her, her fury was very great indeed. She ran after
f the tracks of the young man and his mother as fast
as she could; so fast, indeed, that she was on the
very point of overtaking them, when the dog, Spirit-
Iron, coming close up to his master, whispered to
him — " Snakeberry!"

" Let the snakeberry spring up to detain her!"
cried out the young man ; and immediately the ber
ries spread like scarlet all over the path, for a long
distance; and the old Toad-Woman, who was almost
as fond of these berries as she was of fat bears, could
not avoid stooping down to pick and eat.

The old Toad- Woman was very anxious to get for
ward, but the snakeberry-vines kept spreading out

THE TOAD-WOMAN. 97

on every side; and they still grow and grow, and
spread and spread; and to this day the wicked old
Toad- Woman is busy picking the berries, and she
will never be able to get beyond to the other side, to
disturb the happiness of the young hunter and his
mother, who still live, with therr faithful dog, in the
shadow of the beautiful wood-side where they were
born.

5

IX.

k

THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN.

AN old man had an only son, named ladilla, who
had come to that age which is thought to be
most proper to make the long and final fast which
is to secure through life a guardian genius or spirit.

%

The father was ambitious that his son should surpass
all others in whatever was deemed wisest and great
est among his people. To accomplish his wish, he
thought it necessary that the young ladilla should
fast a much longer time than any of those renowned
for their power or wisdom, whose fame he coveted.

He therefore directed his son to prepare with great
ceremony for the important event. After he had
been several times in the sweating-lodge and bath,
which were to prepare and purify him for communion
with his good spirit, he ordered him to lie down upon
a clean mat in a little lodge expressly provided for
him. He enjoined upon him at the same time to en
dure his fast like a man, and promised that at the
expiration of twelve days he should receive food and
the blessing of his father.

THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN. 99

The lad carefully observed the command, and lay
with his face covered, calmly awaiting the approach
of the spirit which was to decide his good or evil for
tune for all the days of his life.

Every morning his father came to the door of the
little lodge and encouraged him to persevere, dwell
ing at length on the vast honor and renown that
must ever attend him, should he accomplish the full
term of trial allotted to him.

To these glowing words of promise and glory the
boy never replied, but he lay without the least sign
of discontent or murmuring until the ninth day,
when he addressed his father as follows:

" My father, my dreams forbode evil. May I
break my fast now, and at a more favorable time
make a new fast?"

The father answered:

" My son, you know not what you ask. If you get
up now, all your glory will depart. Wait patiently
a little longer. You have but three days more, and
your term will be completed. You know it is for
your own good, and I encourage you to persevere.
Shall not your aged father live to see you a star
among the chieftains and the beloved of battle?"

The son assented; and covering himself more
closely, that he might shut out the light which
prompted him to complain, he lay till 'the eleventh
day, when he repeated his request.

100 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The father addressed ladilla as he had the day he-
fore, and promised that he would himself prepare his
first meal, and hring it to him by the dawn of the
morning.

The son moaned, and the father added:

" Will you hring shame upon your father when his
sun is falling in the west?"

" I will not shame you, my father," replied la
dilla; and he lay so still and motionless that you
could only know that he was living hy the gentle
heaving of his hreast.

At the spring of day, the next morning, the father,
delighted at having gained his end, prepared a repast
for his son, and hastened to set it before him. On
coming to the door of the little lodge, he was sur
prised to hear his son talking to himself. He stooped
his ear to listen, and, looking through a small open
ing, he was yet more astonished when he heheld his
son painted with vermilion over all his breast, and
in the act of finishing his work by laying on the
paint as far back on his shoulders as he could reach
with his hands, saying at the same time, to himself :

" My father has destroyed my fortune as a man.
He would not listen to iny requests. He has urged
me beyond my tender strength. He will be the loser.
I shall be forever happy in my new state, for I have
been obedient to my parent. He alone will be the
sufferer, for my guardian spirit is a just one

THE ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN. 101

Though not propitious to me in the manner I de-
gfred, he has shown me pity in another way — he has
given me another shape; and now I must go."

At this moment the old man broke in, exclaiming:
" My son! my son! I pray you leave me not!"
But the young man, with the quickness of a bird,
had flown to the top of the lodge and perched him
self on the highest pole, having been changed into a
beautiful robin red-breast. He looked down upon
his father with pity beaming in his eyes, and ad
dressed him as follows:

" Kegret not, my father, the change you behold.
I shall be happier in my present state than I could
have been as a man. I shall always be the friend of
men, and keep near their dwellings. I shall ever be
happy and contented; and although I could»not grat
ify your wishes as a warrior, it will be my daily aim
to make you amends for it as a harbinger of peace
and joy. I will cheer you by my songs, and strive to
inspire in others the joy and lightsomeness of heart I
feel in my present state. This will be some compen
sation to you foi- the loss of glory you expected. I
am now free from the cares and pains of human life.
My food is spontaneously furnished by the mountains
and fields, and my pathway of life is in the bright air."
Then stretching himself on his toes, as if delighted
with the gift of wings, ladilla caroled one of his
sweetest songs, and flew away into a neighboring wood.

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS.

was an old man living in the depth of a
J- forest, with his grandson, whom he had taken in
charge when quite an infant. The child had no
parents, brothers, or sisters ; they had all been de
stroyed by six large giants, and he had been informed
that he had no other relative living beside his grand
father. The band to whom he had belonged had put
up their children on a wager in a race against those
of the giants, and had thus lost them. There was an
old tradition in the tribe, that, one day, it would
produce a great man, who would wear a white
feather, and who would astonish every one by his
feats of skill and bravery.

The grandfather, as soon as the child could play
about, gave him a bow and arrows to amuse himself
with. He went into the edge of the woods one day,
and saw a rabbit ; but not knowing what it was, he
ran home and described it to his grandfather. He
told him what it was, that its flesh was good to eat,

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. 103

and that if he would shoot one of his arrows into its
body he would kill it. The boy went out again and
brought home the little animal, which he asked his
grandfather to boil, that they might feast on it. He
humored the boy in this, and he encouraged him to
go on in acquiring the knowledge of hunting, until
he could kill deer and the larger kinds of game ; and
he became, as he grew up, an expert hunter.

As they lived alone, and away from other Indians,
the curiosity of the stripling was excited to know
what was passing in the world. One day he came to
the edge of a prairie, where he saw ashes like those at
his grandfather's lodge, and lodge-poles left standing.

He returned, and inquired whether his grandfather
had put up the poles and made the fire. He was an
swered, No. Nor did he believe that he had seen any
thing of the kind. He must have lost his senses to
be talking of such things.

Another day the young man went out to see what
there was, within a day's hunt, that was curious ; and
on entering the woods he heard a voice calling out to
him, " Come here, you destined wearer of the White
Feather. You do not wear it, yet, but you are
worthy of it. Keturn home and take a short nap.
You will dream of hearing a voice, which will tell you
to rise and smoke. You will see in your dream a
pipe, a smoking-sack, and a large white feather.
When you awake you will find these articles. Put

104 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the feather on your head, and you will become a
great hunter, a great warrior, and a great man, able
to do any thing. As a proof that these things shall
come to pass, when you smoke, the smoke will turn
into pigeons."

The voice then informed the young man who he was,
and made, known the character of his grandfather,
who was imposing upon him to serve his own ends.

The voice-spirit then caused a vine to be laid at
his side, and told him that he was now of an age to
avenge the wrongs of his kindred. " When you meet
your enemy," the spirit added, " you will run a race
with him. He will not see the vine, because it is
enchanted. While you are running, you will throw
it over his head and entangle him, so that you will
win the race."

Long before this speech was ended the .young
man had turned to the quarter from which the voice
proceeded, and he was astonished to behold a man ;
for as yet he had never seen any human being be
side his grandfather.

As he looked more keenly, he saw that this man,
who had the looks of great age, was wood from the
breast downward, and that he appeared to be fixed
in the earth. As his eye dwelt apon this strange
being, the countenance by degrees faded away, and
when he advanced to the spot whence it had ad
dressed him, it was gone.

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. 105

He returned home ; slept ; in the midst of his
slumbers, as fro^m the hollow of the air, heard the
voice ; wakened and found the promised gifts. His
grandfather, when his attention was called to his
awakening, was greatly surprised to find the youth
with a white feather on his forehead, and to see flocks
of pigeons flying out of his lodge. He then remem
bered the old tradition, and knowing that now the
day when he should lose control of his charge had
begun, he bitterly bewailed the hour.

Possessed of his three magic gifts, the young man
departed the next morning, to seek his enemies, and
to demand revenge.

The six giants lived in a very high lodge in the
middle of a wood. He traveled on, in good heart,
till he reached this lodge, where he found that his
coming had been made known by the little spirits
who carry the news. The giants hastened out, and
gave a cry of joy as they saw him drawing near.
When he approached within hail, they began to make
sport of him, saying, "Here comes the little man
with the white feather, who is to achieve such wonder
ful wonders."

When, however, he had arrived among them, they
spoke him fair, saying he was a brave man and
would do brave things. Their object was to encour
age him, so that he would be bold to engage in some
fool-hardy trial of strength.

5*

106 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

*

Without paying much heed to their fine speeches,
White Feather went fearlessly into their lodge ; and
without waiting for invitation, he challenged them to
a foot-match. They agreed ; and, as they said, by
way of being easy with him, they told him to begin
the race with the smallest of their number.

The point to which they were to run was a peeled
tree toward the rising sun, and then back to the
starting-place, which was a war-club of iron. Who
ever won this stake, was empowered to use it in dis
patching the defeated champion. If White Feather
should overcome the first giant, he was to try the
second, and so on, until they had all measured speed
with him. By a dexterous use of the vine, he gained
the first race, struck down his competitor, and cut off
his head.

The next morning he ran with the second giant,
whom he also outran, killed and beheaded.

He went on in this way for the five mornings, al
ways conquering by the aid of his vine, and lopping
off the heads of the vanquished giants.

The last of the giants who was yet to run with
him acknowledged 'his power, but prepared secretly
to deceive him. By way of parley, he proposed that
White Feather should leave the heads with him, and
that he would give him a handsome start for odds.
This White Feather declined, as he preferred to
keep the heads as trophies of his victory.

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. 107

Before going to the giant's lodge, on the sixth
morning, he met his old counselor in the woods,
standing rooted in the earth,* as befbre. He told
White Feather that he was about to be deceived;
that he had never known any other sex but his own,
but that as he went on his way to the lodge he would
meet the most beautiful woman in the world. He
must pay no attention to her, but as soon as he
caught her eye he must wish himself changed into an
elk. The change would take place immediately, and
he must go to feeding and not look at her again.

White Feather thanked his kind adviser, and when
he turned to take his leave he was gone as before.

He proceeded toward the lodge, met the female as
had been foretold to him, and became an elk. She
reproached him that he had cast aside the form of a
man that he might avoid her.

" I have traveled a great distance," she added,
"to see you and to become your wife; for I have
heard of your great achievements, and admire you
very much."

Now this woman was the sixth giant, who had as
sumed this disguise to entrap White Feather.

Without a suspicion of her real character, her re
proaches and her beauty affected him so deeply that
he wished himself a man again, and he at once re
sumed his natural shape. They sat down together,
and he began to caress and to make love to her.

108 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

Soothed by her smiles and her gracious manners,
he ventured to lay his head on her lap, and in a little
while he fell into a deep slumber.

Even then, such was her fear of White Feather,
she doubted whether his sleep might not be feigned.
To assure herself she pushed his head aside, and see
ing that *he remained unconscious, she quickly as
sumed her own form as the sixth giant, took the
plume from the brow of White Feather and placed
it upon his own head, and with a sudden blow of his
war-club changed him into a dog, in which degraded
form he followed his enemy to the lodge.

While these things were passing, there were living
in an Indian village at some distance, two sisters,
the daughters of a chief, who were rivals, and they
were at that very time fasting to acquire power, for
the purpose of enticing the wearer of the white
feather to visit their lodge. They each secretly hoped
to engage his affections, and each had built a lodge
in the border of the village encampment.

The giant knowing this, and having become pos
sessed of the magic plume, went immediately to visit
them. As he approached, the sisters, who were on
the look-out at their lodge-doors, espied and recog
nized the feather.

The eldest sister had prepared her lodge with great
show, and all the finery she could command, so as to

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. 109

attract the eye. The youngest touched nothing in
her lodge, but left it in its ordinary state.

The eldest went out to meet the giant, and invited
him in. He accepted her invitation, and made her
his wife. The youngest sister invited the^enchanted
dog into her lodge, prepared him a good supper and
a neat bed, and treated him with much attention.

The giant, supposing that whoever possessed the
white feather possessed also all its virtues, went out
upon the prairie to1 hunt, hallooing aloud to the
game to come and be killed; but the great hubbub
he kept up scared them away, and he returned at
night with nothing but himself; for he had shouted
so lustily all day long that he had been even obliged
to leave the mighty halloo, with which he had set
out, behind.

The dog went out the same day hunting upon the
banks of a river. He stole quietly along to the spot,
and stepping into the water he drew out a stone,
which instantly became a beaver.

The next day the giant followed the dog, and hid
ing behind a tree, he watched the manner in which
the dog hunted in the river when he drew out a
stone, which at once turned into a beaver.

" Ah, ha!" said the giant to himself, " I will catch
some beaver for myself."

And as soon as the dog had left the place, the
giant went to the river, and, imitating the dog, he

110 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

drew out a stone, and was delighted to see it, as soon
as it touched the land, change into a fine fat beaver.

Tying it to his belt he hastened home, shouting a
good deal, and brandishing the white feather about,
as if he were prepared now to show them what he
could do when he once tried. When he reached
home he threw it down, as is the custom, at the door
of the lodge before he entered.

After being seated a short time, he gave a dry
cough, and bade his wife bring in his hunting girdle
She made dispatch to obey him, and presently re
turned with the girdle, with nothing tied to it but a
stone.

The next day, the dog finding that, his method of
catching beavers had been discovered, went to a
wood at some distance, and broke off a charred limb
from a burned tree, which instantly became a bear.
The giant, who appeared to have lost faith in his
hulla-balooing, had again watched him, did exactly
as the dog had done, and carried a bear home ; but
his wife, when she came to go out for it, found noth
ing but a black stick tied to his belt.

And so it happened with every thing. Whatever
the dog undertook, prospered ; whatever the giant
attempted, failed. Every day the youngest sister
had reason to be more proud of the poor dog she had
asked into her lodge, and every day the eldest sister
was made more aware, that though she had married

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. Ill

the white feather, the virtues of the magic plume
were not the personal property of the noisy giant.

At last the giant's wife determined that she would
go to her father and make known to him what a valu-
ahle husband she had, and how he furnished her
lodge with a great abundance of sticks and stones,
which he would pass upon her for bear and beaver.
So, when her husband,, whose brave halloo had now
died away to a feeble chirp, had started for the hunt,
she set out.

As soon as these two had gone away from the
neighborhood, the dog made signs to his mistress to
sweat him after the manner of the Indians. He
had always been a good dog, and she was willing to
oblige him. She accordingly made a lodge just large
enough for him to creep in. She then put in heated
stones, and poured water upon them, which raised a
vapor that filled the lodge and searched with its
warmth to the very heart's core of the enchanted
dog.

When this had been kept up for the customary
time, the enchanted dog was completely sweated
away, and in his stead, as might have been expected,
out came a very handsome young man, but, -unhap
pily, without the power of speech. In taking away
the dog, it appears that the sweating-lodge had -also
carried off the voice with it.

Meantime- the elder sister had reached her father's,

112 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

and, with much circumstance and a very long face,
had told him how that her sister was supporting an
idle dog, and entertaining him as her husband. In
her anxiety to make known her sister's affairs and the
great scandal she was bringing upon the family, the
eldest forgot to say any thing of the sticks and stones
which her own husband brought home for bears and
beavers. The old man suspecting that there was
magic about her house, sent a deputation of young
men and women to ask his youngest daughter to
come to him, and to bring her dog along with her.
When the deputation reached the lodge, they were
surprised to find, in the place of the dog, a fine
young man ; and on announcing their message, they
all returned to the old chief, who was no less surprised
at the change.

He immediately assembled all the old and wise
heads of the nation to come and be witnesses to the
exploits which it was reported that the young man
could perform. The sixth giant, although neither
very old nor very wise, thrust himself in among the
relations of the old chief.

When they were all assembled and seated in a cir
cle, the old chief took his pipe and filled it, and
passed it to the Indians around, to see if any thing
would happen when they smoked. They passed it on
until it came around to the Dog, who made a sign
that it should be handed first to the giant, which wag

WHITE FEATHER AND THE SIX GIANTS. 113

done. And the giant puffed with all his might, and
shook the white feather upon his head, and swelled
his chest ; but nothing came of it, except a great
deal of smoke. The Dog then took it himself. He
made a sign to them to put the white feather upon
his head. This was no sooner done, than he recov
ered his speech, and, beginning to draw upon the pipe
at the same moment, behold, immense flocks of white
and blue pigeons rushed from the smoke.

From that moment the sixth giant was looked
upon as an impostor, and as soon as White Feather
had, at the request of the company, faithfully re
counted his history, the old chief, who was one of the
best-hearted magicians that ever lived, ordered that
the giant should be transformed into a dog, and
turned into the middle of the village, where the boys
should pelt him to death with clubs ; which being
done, the whole six giants were at an end, and never
troubled that neighborhood again, forever after.

The chief then gave out a command, at the re
quest of White Feather, that all the young men
should employ themselves four days in making ar
rows. White Feather also asked for a buffalo robe.
This he cut into thin shreds, and in the night, when
no one knew of it, he went and sowed them about
the prairie in every direction.

At the end of the four days, he invited them to
gather together all of their arrows, and to accom-

114 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

pany him to a buffalo hunt. When they got put
upon the prairie, they found it covered with a great
herd of buffaloes. Of these they killed as many as
they pleased, and, afterward, they had a grand fes
tival in honor of White Feather's triumph over the
giants.

All this being pleasantly over, White Feather got
.his wife to ask her father's permission to go with him
on a visit to his grandfather. The old chief replied
to this application, that a woman must follow her
husband into whatever quarter of the world he may
choose to go.

Bidding farewell to all his friends, White Feather
placed the plume in his frontlet, and taking his war-
club in his hand, he led the way into the forest, fol
lowed by his faithful wife.

XL

•

SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY.

ON a certain afternoon the sun was falling in the
West, and in the midst of the ruddy silence a
solitary lodge stood on the banks of a remote lake.
One sound only broke, in the least degree, the forest
stillness — the low breathing of the dying inmate, who
was the head of a poor family. His wife and chil
dren surrounded the buffalo robe on which he lay.
Of the children, two were almost grown up — a daugh
ter and a son ; the other was a boy, and a mere child
in years.

All the skill of the household in their simple
medicines was exhausted, and they stood looking on
or moved about the lodge with whispered steps,
awaiting the departure of the spirit. As one of • the
last acts of kindness, the skin door of the lodge had
been thrown back to admit the fresh air of the even
ing. The poor man felt a momentary return of
strength, and raising himself a little, he addressed
his family

116 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

"I leave you/' he said, "in a world of care, in which
it has required all my strength and skill to supply
you food, and to protect you from the storms and
cold of a harsh climate."

He cast his eyes upon his wife, and continued r
" For you, my partner in life, I have less sorrow,
because I am persuaded you jvill not .remain long be
hind me ; but you, my children ! my poor and forsak
en children, who have just begun the career of life,
who will shelter you from calamity ? Listen to ray
words. Unkindness, ingratitude, and every wicked
ness, are in the scene before you. It was for this
that years ago I withdrew from my kindred and my
tribe to spend my days in this lonely spot. I have
contented myself with the company of your mother
and yourselves, during seasons of very frequent scarc
ity and want, while your kindred, feasting in plenty,
have caused the forests to echo with the shouts of
successful war. I gave up these things for the enjoy
ment of peace. I wished to hide you away from the
bad examples which would have spoiled your inno
cence. I have seen you, thus far, grow up in purity
of heart. If we have sometimes suffered bodily want,
we have escaped pain of mind. We have not been
compelled to look on or to take a part with the red
hand in scenes of rioting and bloodshed. My path
now stops. I have arrived at the brink of the world.
I will shut nay eyes in peace if you, my children, will

SHE EM*, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 11 T

promise me to cherish each other. Let not your
mother suffer during the few days tlmt are left to
her ; and I charge you, on no account, to forsake
your younger brother. Of him I give you both my
dying command to have a tender care."

He spoke no more, and as the sun fell out of view
the light had gone from his face. The family stood
still, as if they expected to hear something further ;
but when they came to his side and called him by
name, his spirit did not answer. It was in another
world.

The mother and daughter lamented aloud, but the
elder son clothed himself in silence, as though it had
been a mantle, and took his course as. though nothing
had occurred. He exerted himself to supply, with
his bow and net, the wants of the little household,
but he never made mention of his father.

Five moons had filled and waned, and the sixth
was near its full, when the mother also died. In her
last moments she pressed the fulfillment of their fa
ther's wish.

The winter passed, and the spring, sparkling in the
clear northern air, cheered the spirits of the lonely
little people in the lodge.

The girl, being the eldest, directed her brothers,
and she seemed to feel a tender and sisterly affection
for the youngest, who was slight in frame and of a
delicate temper. The other boy soon began to break

118 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

forth with restless speeches, which showed that his
spirit was not»at ease. One day he addressed his sis
ter as follows :

" My sister, are we always to live as if there were
no other human beings in the world ? Must I de
prive myself of the pleasure of mingling with my own
kind ? I have determined this question for myself.
I shall seek the villages of men, and you can not pre
vent me."

The sister replied :

" I do not say no, my brother, to what you desire;
we are not forbidden the society of our fellow-mor
tals, but we are told to cherish each other, and to do
nothing that shall not be agreeable to all our little
household. Neither pleasure nor pain ought, there
fore, to separate us, especially from our younger
brother, who, being but a child, and weakly withal,
is entitled to a double share of our affection. If we
follow our separate fancies, it will surely make us
neglect him, whom we are bound by vows, both to
our father and mother, to support."

The young man received this address in silence,
and still took his course as though nothing out of the
ordinary way had occurred. After awhile he seemed
to recover his spirits; and as they lived in a large
country, where there were open fields, the two broth
ers, at his invitation, often amused themselves in
playing ball. One afternoon he chose the ground

SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 119

near to a beautiful lake, and they played and laughed
with great spirit, and the ball was seldom allowed to
touch the ground.

Now in this lake there happened to harbor a wicked
old Manito, Mishosha by name, who looked at the
brothers as they played, and he was vastly pleased
with their nimbleness and beauty. He thought to
himself, what shall I do to get these lads to accom
pany me ? One of them shall hit the ball sideways,
and it shall fall into my canoe.

It so happened, and it somehow seemed as if
Owasso, the elder brother, had purposely given it
"that direction. When Owasso saw the old man, he
professed to be greatly surprised, as was the other,
Sheem by name, in truth, for he had not noticed the
old Manito before.

" Bring the ball to us," they both cried out.
" Come to the shore."

" No," answered the old magician. He, however,
came near enough for either of them to wade out to
him. " Come, come," he said. " Come and get
your ball."

They insisted that he should come ashore, but he
sturdily declined to oblige them.

" Very well," said Owasso, " I will go and get it."
And he ran into the water. " Hand it to me"," he
said, when he had approached near enough to re-
reive it.

120 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

"Ha!" answered the Manito, "reach over and get
it yourself."

Owasso was about to grasp the ball, when the old
magician suddenly seized him and pushed him into
the boat.

" My grandfathe*," said Owasso, " pray take nay
little brother also. Alone I can not go with you; he
will starve if I leave him."

Mishosha only laughed at him ; then uttering the
charmed words, " Chemaun Poll !" and giving his
canoe a slap, it glided through the water, without
further help, with the swiftness of an arrow.

In a short time they reached the magician's lodge,
which stood upon the further shore, a little distance
back from the lake. The two daughters of Mishosha
were seated within. " My daughter," he said to his
eldest, as they entered the lodge, " I have brought
you a husband."

The young woman smiled ; for Owasso was a
comely youth to look upon. The magician told him
to take his seat near her, and by this act the mar
riage ceremony was completed, and Owasso and the
magician's daughter were man and wife, and in the
course of time they had born to them a son.

But no sooner was Owasso in the family than the
old Manito wished him out of the way, and he went
about in his own wicked fashion to compass it.

One day he asked his son-in-law to go out a-fish-

SHE EM, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 121

ing with him. They started without delay ; for the
magician had only to speak, and off went the canoe.
They reached a solitary bay in an island, a very dark,
lonely, and out-of-the-way place. The Manito ad
vised Owasso to spear a large sturgeon which came
alongside, and with its great glassy eye turned up,
seemed to recognize the magician. Owasso rose in
the boat to dart his spear, and by speaking that mo
ment to his canoe. Mishosha shot forward and hurled
his son-in-law headlong into the water ; where, leav
ing him to struggle for himself, he was soon out of
sight.

Owasso, being himself gifted with limited magical
powers, spoke to the fish, and bade him swim toward
the lodge, while he carried him along, which he did
at great speed. Once he directed the sturgeon to rise
near the surface of the water, so that he might, if
possible, get a view of the magician. The fish
obeyed, and Owasso saw the wicked old Manito busy
in another direction, fishing, as unconcerned as
though he had not just lost a member of his
family. .

On went the fish, and on went Owasso, till they
reached the shore, near the magician's lodge, in ad
vance of him. He then spoke kindly to the stur
geon, and told him he should not be angry with him
for having speared him, as he was created to be meat
for man. The sturgeon made no reply, or if he did,

6

122 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

it has not been reported ; and Owasso, drawing him
on shore, went up and told his wife to dress and cook
it immediately. By the time it was prepared the
magician had come in sight.

" Your grandfather has arrived," said the woman
to her son ; "go and see what he brings, and eat this
as you go " — handing a piece of the fish.

The boy went, and the magician no sooner saw
him with the fish in his hand, than he asked him,
" \Vhat are you eating ? and who brought it ?"

He replied, " My father brought it."

The magician began to feel uneasy, for he found
that he had been outwitted ; he, however, put on a
grave face, and entering the lodge, acted as if nothing
unusual had happened.

Some days after this, Mishosha again requested his
son-in-law to accompany him ; and Owasso, without
hesitation, said " Yes !"

They went out, and, in a rapid passage, they ar
rived at a solitary island, which was no more than a
heap of high and craggy rocks.

The magician said to Owasso, "Go on shore, my
son, and pick up all the gulls' eggs you can find."

The rocks were strewn with eggs, and the air re
sounded with the cry of the birds as they saw them
gathered up by Owasso.

The old magician took the opportunity to speak to
the gulls. " I have long wished," he said, " to offer

SHE EM, THE FOKSAKEN BOY. 123

you something. I now give you this young man for
food."

He then uttered the charm to his canoe, and it shot
out of sight, leaving Owasso to make his peace the
best way he could.

The gulls flew in immense numbers around him,
and were ready to devour him. Owasso did not lose
his presence of mind, but he addressed them and said :

" Gulls, you know you were not formed to eat hu
man flesh, nor was man made to be the prey of birds.
Obey my words. Fly close together, a sufficient
number of you, and carry me on your backs to the
magician's lodge."

They listened attentively to what he said, and see
ing nothing unreasonable in his request, they obeyed
him, and Owasso soon found himself sailing through
the air swiftly homeward.

Meanwhile, it appears that the old magician had
fallen asleep and allowed his canoe to come to a
stand-still; for Owasso, in his flight over the lake,
saw him lying on his back in the boat, taking a nap,
which was quite natural, as the day was very soft and
balmy.

As Owasso, with his convoy of birds, passed over,
he let fall, directly in the face of the old magician, a
capful of gulls' eggs, which broke and so besmeared
his eyes that he could barely see. He jumped up and
exclaimed :

124 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" It is always so with these thoughtless birds.
They never consider where they drop their eggs."

Owasso had flown on and reached the lodge in
safety, and, excusing himself for the liberty, he
killed two or three of the gulls for the sake of their
feathers to ornament his son's head.

When the magician arrived, soon after, his grand
son came out to meet him, tossing his head about as
the feathers danced and struggled with the wind.

" Where did you get these ?" asked the Manito,
" and who brought them ?"

" My father brought them/' the boy replied.

The old magician was quite distressed in his mind
that he had not destroyed his son-in-law. He en
tered his lodge in silence, and set his wits busily at
work again to contrive some plan for easing his feel
ings 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

SHE EM, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 125

jsome young eagles. We will tame them; and have
them for pets about the lodge. I have discovered
an islan I 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 diffi
culty got near the nest, Mishosha cried out, address
ing 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 at
tempt 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 cus
tom 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.

126 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Bat the birds did not seein to be so badly-minded
as the old magician had supposed ; for a very old
bald eagle, quite corpulent and large of limb, alight
ing 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 peo
ple; 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

SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN EOT. 127

could even descry the enchanted island where the oLl
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 Sheern,"
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 hor>e that it would

ing. 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 arriv
ing at a good ground for their sport, they spent the
day in hunting. Night coming on, they built them-

129

selves a lodge of pine-branches to sleep in. Although
it was bitterly cold, the young man took off his leg
gings 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 de
pending on the darkness of the lodge to help him
through.

Near daylight, the old magician bestirred him
self, 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 Owas-
so'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, Mi*
shosha 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."

130 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Mishosha dropped his head upon liis 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 magi
cian, 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, leav
ing 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 ma
gician.

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

SHEEM, THE FORSAKEN BOY. 131

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 bring
ing a supply of wood to the door, she said to her lit
tle 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, tak
ing 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

132 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 re
turning 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 con
dition, they would always leave something for him
to eat. By and by they began to talk with him, and

133

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 broth
er, Owasso, was fishing in his magic canoe, a consid
erable 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 dis
tinct, 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.

134 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

In the sand, as he drew closer to the land, he saw
the tracks as of that animal fleeing away; and be
sides 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" re
newed 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 ex
claimed, "I am a wolf!" and disappeared in the
woods.

XII.

THE MAGIC BUNDLE.

A POOR man, called lena, or the Wanderer, was
•£L 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 for
tunes with those of a poor wanderer, who had no
shelter but such as his leather hunting-shirt pro
vided, 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 re
lieve himself of the burden of carrying it, lena 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.

136 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

During the day lena 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.

lena 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, lena at last arose, and peeping through the

THE MAGIC BUNDLE. 137

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 address
ing 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 cheer
fully, 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 pre
pared his evening meal ; and he ever after lived a
contented and happy man.

THE RED SWAN.

rPHEEE brothers were left destitute, by the death
J- 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 kill
ing buffalo, elk, and moose ; and he instructed his

THE BED SWAN. 139

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 in
tention 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 rilled 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 privi
lege 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,

140 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

an animal he was not to kill, by the agreement.
He, however, followed him closely, and driving an
arrow through and through hirn, he brought him to
the ground.

Although contrary to the engagement with his
brothers, Maidwa commenced skinning him, \vhen
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 follow
ing the sound he reached the shore of a lake. Float
ing at a distance upon its waters sat a most beauti
ful Ked 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 Jook 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 light
ing up the whole world, beneath the eye of Maidwa,
with its ruby splendors.

THE RED SWAN. 141

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 med
icine-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 be
queathed 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 stay
ing to restore the other contents to the sack, but
leaving them scattered, here and there, about the
lodge.

142 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

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 Ked 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 arid 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 mo
tion 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. a 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,

THE RED SWAN. 143

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/r
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

144 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

was only when he spoke that the others answered
him.

" Daughter," said the chief, as soon as the night
had set in, " take our son-in-law's moccasins and see
if they he 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 moc
casins which he had laid off. It displeased him to see
her loth to do so j 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 look
ing 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.

THE RED SWAN. 145

She, however, went out, and pointed in the direc
tion he should go. The young man paced slowly
along till the sun arose, when he commenced travel
ing at his accustomed speed. He passed the day in
running, and although he could not see any where on
the horizon the Ked Swan, he thought that he dis
cerned 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 ar
row ahead, and running after it; but it fell behind
him, and he knew that he had lost nothing of his
quickness of foot.

7

146 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 some
thing 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

THE BED SWAN. % 147

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 grejit,
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 :

t: Eat, my 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 ;

148 THE INDIAN FA'RY BOOK.

" 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-mor
row 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 ac
complish your journey. Often has this Ked 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 ex
pected to meet the one who was to give him direc
tions how to proceed to get the Eed Swan.

THE RED SWAN. 149

Toward night-fall Maidwa reached the lodge of
the third old man. Before corning 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, act
ing 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, ex
cept 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 satis
fied his hunger, when he addressed him :

" Young man, the errand you are bound on is be
set 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 pow
erful 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 wam
pum-cap, which she was confident would save her

150 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

life. c If I can only see it/ she said, c I will recover.'
It was for this cap they had come, and after long so
licitation 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 with
out 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 Bed Swan as his re
ward. 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 satis
fied with your answers, he will urge you to attempt
the recovery of his scalp. He will show you the

THE RED SWAN. 151

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 oif 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 hi 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.

152 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" 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-browe4 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 in
vited Maidwa to help himself.

" Hold a minute," interposed the kettle, as Maid
wa was about to dip in his ladle. He paused, and
after a delay, the kettle, shaking itself up and sim
mering very loudly, said, " Now we are ready."

Maidwa fell to and satisfied his hunger.

" Will the kettle now withdraw ?" asked the ma
gician, with am airt)f 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, with
out a day's food, and with no one to advise me."

THE RED SWAN. 153

All this time the Red Swan was carefully con
cealed 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 unsuccess
ful 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

v*

154 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 ho
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

THiE RED SWAN. 155

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 stand
ing 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 beat
ing of the surges upon a lake shore after a storm.
But the good wind gaining strength, soon cariied him
beyond their pursuit. A little further on he changed
himself into a hawk, and flew swiftly off with his

.156 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

'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 in
structions 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 kind
ness and bravery of heart have restored me to my
former shape. It was so ordained, and you have now
accomplished the victory."

THE RED SWAN. 157

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 ma
gician, to the deep regret of Maidwa, neve* 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 cau
tion.

Maidwa's pack for traveling was now ready, and he
was taking his farewell smoke, when the young magi
cian 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 un
rewarded. 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

158 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK

as you live; but I see you are backward to speak of
the Ked Swan. I vowed that whoever procured me
my lost wampum-scalp should be rewarded by pos
sessing 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 fe
male 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 ad
vanced 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

THE RED SWAN. 159

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 1
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 lit
tle 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, point
ing to a place near his daughter. " And you also/''
he said to the Eed Swan.

160 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 even
ing. 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 speak
ing 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 wjiich 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

THE BED SWAN. "161

pulled him back to his seat, which he had been wait
ing for, and then he sat quiet enough.

Amid the greetings of their new friends, Maidwa
and the Ked 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 Maid
wa 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 Ked Swan,
they turned and looked upon her in wonder and ad
miration, 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 sho^d take
his daughter with him.

162 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" For although your brothers," he said, " were
here, they were too hashful 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 if- 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 sub
dued 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 sto
ries to the old women.

THE RED SWAN. 163

When at last Maidwa was about to leave, he in
vited a number of the families of the chief to go with
him and visit their hunting-grounds,, where he prom
ised them that they would find game in abundance.
They consented, and in the morning a large company
assembled and joined Maidwa; and the chief, with a
party of warriors, escorted them a long distance.
When ready to return, the chief made a speech and
besought the blessing of the Good Spirit on Maidwa
and his friends.

They parted, each on its course, making music
with their war-drums, which could be heard from
afar as they glittered with waving feathers in the
morning sun, in their march over the prairie, which
was lost in the distant sky.

After several days' travel, Maidwa and his friends
came in sight of his home. The others rested within
the woods while, he went alone in advance to see his
brothers.

He entered the lodge. It was all in confusion and
covered with ashes. On one side, sitting among the
cinders, with his face blackened, and crying aloud,
was his elder brother. On the other side sat the
younger, Jeekewis, also with blackened face, his head
covered with stray feathers and tufts of swan-down.
This one presented so curious a figure that Maidwa
could not keep from laughing. He seemed to be so
lost and far-gone in grief that he could not notice his

164 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK. *

brother's arrival. The eldest, however, after a while,
lifting up his head, recognized Maidwa, jumped up
and shook hands, and kissed him, and expressed much
joy at his return.

Maidwa, as soon as he had seen the lodge set in
order, made known that he had brought each of them
a wife. As soon as Jeekewis heard a wife spoken of,
he roused from his torpor, sprang to his feet, and
said :

" Why is it just now that you have come ?" and
at once made for the door and peeped out to see the
strangers. He then commenced jumping and laugh
ing, and crying out, " Women ! women !" and that
was all the reception he gave his brother. Maidwa
told them to wash themselves and prepare, for he
would go and fetch the females in.

Jeekewis scampered about, and began to wash him
self ; but he would every now and then, with one
side of his head all feathers, and the other clear and
shining, peep forth to look at the women again.
When they came near, he said, " I will have this and
that one;" he did not exactly know which; he would
sit down for an instant, and then rise, and peep about
and laugh; in fact he acted like one beside himself.

As soon as order was restored, and all the company
who had been brought in were seated, Maidwa pre
sented one of the chief's daughters to his eldest
brother, saying: " These women were given to me, to

THE BED SWAN. 165

dispose of in marriage. I now give one to each. I
intended so from the first."

Jeekewis spoke up and said, " I think three wives
would have been enough for you."

Maidwa led the other daughter to Jeekewis, and
said, " My brother, here is one for you, and live hap-

ply."

Jeekewis hung down his head as if he was ashamed,
but he would every now and then steal a look at his
wife and also at the other women.

By and by he turned toward his wife and acted as
if he had been married for years.

Maidwa seeing that no preparation had been made
to entertain the company, said, " Are we to have no
supper ?"

He had no sooner spoken, than forth from a corner
stepped the silent kettle, which placed* itself by the
fire, and began bubbling and boiling quite briskly.
Presently that was joined by the big talking kettle,
which said, addressing itself to Maidwa, " Master, we
shall be ready presently;" and then, dancing along,
came, from still another, the frisky little kettle, which
hopped to their side, and took an active part in the
preparations for the evening meal. When all was
nearly ready, a delicate voice was heard singing in the
last corner of the lodge, and keeping up its dainty
carol all the way to the fire-place, the fourth kettle
joined the three cooks, and they all fell to with all

166 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

their might, and in the best possible humoi, to dis
patch their work.

It was not long before the big kettle advanced to
ward Maidwa, and said, in his own confident way,
" Supper is ready!"

The feast was a jovial one; and although they were
all hungry, and plied their, ladles with right good will,
yet, dip in as often as they would, the four magic
kettles held out, and had plenty to the end of the
revel.

To draw to a close, Maidwa and his friends lived in
peace for a time; their town prospered; there was
no lack of children ; and every thing else was in
abundance.

One day the two brothers began to look dark upon
Maidwa, and to reproach him for having taken from
the medicine-sack their deceased father's magic ar
rows; they upbraided him especially that one was
lost.

After listening to them in silence, he said that he
would go in search of it, and that it should be re
stored; and the very next day, true to his word, he
left them.

After traveling a long way, and looking in every
direction, almost hopeless of discovering the lost
treasure, he came to an opening in the earth, and
descending, it led him to the abode of departed spirits.
The country appeared beautiful, the pastures were

THE BED SWAN. 167

greener than his own, and the sky bluer than that
which hung over the lodge, and the extent of it was
utterly lost in a dim distance; and he saw animals
of every kind wandering about in great numbers.
The first he came to were buffalos; his surprise was
great when they addressed him as human beings.

They asked him what he came for, how he had de
scended, and why he was so bold as to visit the abode
of the dead.

He answered that he was in quest of a magic ar
row, to appease the anger of his brothers.

"Very well," said the leader of the buffalos,
whose form was nothing but bone. " Yes, we know
it," and he and his followers moved off a little space
from Maidwa, as if they were afraid of him. " You
have come," resumed the buffalo-spirit, " to a place
where a living man has never before been. Yo.u will
return immediately to your tribe, for, under pretense
of recovering one of the magic arrows which belong
to you by your father's dying wish, they have sent
you off that they might become possessed of your
beautiful wife, the Bed Swan. Speed home! You
will find the magic arrow at the lodge-door. You
will live to a very old age, and die happily. You
can go no further in these abodes of ours."

Maidwa looked, as he thought, to the west, and
saw a bright light as if the sun was shining in its
splendor, but he saw no sun.

168 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" What light is that yonder ?" he asked.

The all-boned buffalo answered — " It is the place
where those who were good dwell."

" And that dark cloud ?" Maidwa again asked.

" It is the place of the wicked/' answered the buf
falo.

Maidwa turned away, for it was very dark, and it
pained his eyes to look upon it ; and, moving away
by the aid of his guardian spirits, he again stood
upon the earth, and beheld the sun giving light as
usual.

All else that he learned in the abodes of the dead,
and his travels and acts previous to his return home
ward, are unknown, for he never spoke of them to
any human being.

After wandering a long time to gather knowledge to
make his people happy and to add to their comfort, he
one evening drew near to his own village. Passing all
the other lodges he came to his own door, where he
found the magic arrow, as he had been promised. He
heard his brothers from within at high words with
each other. They were quarreling for the possession
of his wife, who, through all his absence, had re
mained constant, and sadly awaited his return.
Maidwa listened in shame and sorrow.

He entered the lodge, holding his head aloft as one
conscious of good principle and shining with anger.
He spoke not a word, but, placing the magic arrow

THE RED SWAN. 169

to his bow, he would have laid his brothers dead at
his feet ; but just then the talking kettle stepped for
ward and spoke such words of wisdom, and the sing
ing kettle trolled forth such a soothing little* song,
and the guilty brothers were so contrite and keenly
repentant of their intended wrong, and the Ked
Swan was so radiant and forgiving, the silent kettle
straightway served them up so hearty and wholesome
a meal, and the frisky little kettle was so joyful and
danced about so merrily, that when the magic arrows
were laid away in the medicine-sack by Maidwa,
there was that night in all the Indian country no
happier family than the three brothers, who ever
after dwelt together in all kindness, as all good

brothers should.

8

XIV.

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP.

A£ a punishment for having once upon a time used
that foot against a venerable medicine man, Ag-
go Dah Gauda had one leg looped up to his thigh, so
that he was obliged to get along by hopping. By
dint of practice he had become very skillful in this
exercise, and he could make leaps which seemed al
most incredible.

Aggo had a beautiful daughter, and his chief care
was to secure her from being carried off by the king
of the buffalos, who was the ruler of all the herds of
that kind, and had them entirely at his command to
make them do as he willed.

Dah Gauda, too, was quite an important person in
his own way, for he lived in great state, having a log
house of his own, and a court-yard which extended
from the sill of his front-door as many hundred miles
westward as he chose to measure it.

Although he might claim this extensive privilege
of ground, he advised his daughter to keep within
doors, and by no means to go far in the neighborhood,

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. 171

as she would otherwise be sure to be stolen away, as
he was satisfied that the buffalo-king spent night and
day lurking about and lying in wait to seize her.

One sunshiny morning, when there were just two or
three promising clouds rolling moistly about the sky,
Aggo prepared to go out a-fishing ; but before he left
the lodge he reminded her of her strange and indus
trious lover, whom she had never seen.

" My daughter," said he, "I am going out to fish,
and as the day will be a pleasant one, you must
recollect that we have an enemy near, who is con
stantly going about with two eyes that never close,
and do not expose yourself out of the lodge."

With this excellent advice, Aggo hopped off in
high spirits ; but he had scarcely reached the fishing-
ground when he heard a voice singing, at a distance:

Man with the leg tied up,
Man with the leg tied up,
Broken hip — hip —
Hipped.

Man with the leg tied up,
Man with the leg tied up,
Broken leg — leg —
Legged.

There was no one in sight, but Aggo heard the
words quite plainly, and as he suspected the ditty to
be the work of his enemies, the buffalos, he hopped
home as fast as his one leg could carry him.

172 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Meantime, the daughter had no sooner been
left alone in the lodge than she thought with
herself :

" It is hard to be thus forever kept in doors. But
my father says it would be dangerous to venture
abroad. I know what I will do. I will get 0*1 the
top of the house, and there I can comb and dress my
hair, and no one can harm me."

She accordingly ascended the roof and busied her
self in untying and combing her beautiful hair ; for
it was truly beautiful, not only of a fine, glossy qual
ity, but it was so very long that it hung over the
eaves of the house and reached down on the ground,
as she sat dressing it.

She was wholly occupied in this employment, with
out a thought of danger, when, all of a sudden, the
king of the buffalos came dashing on with his herd
of followers, and making sure of her by means of her
drooping tresses, he placed her upon the back of one
of his favorite buffalos, and away he cantered over
the plains. Plunging into a river that bounded his
land, he bore her safely to his lodge on the other
side.

And now the buffalo-king having secured the beau
tiful person of Aggo Dah Gauda's daughter, he set
to work to make her heart his own — a little ceremony
which it would have been, perhaps, wiser for his maj
esty, the king of the buffalos, to have attended to

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. 173

before, for he now worked to little purpose. Al
though he labored with great zeal to gain her affec
tions, she sat pensive and disconsolate in the lodge,
among the other females, and scarcely ever spoke,
nor did she take the least interest in the affairs of
the king's household.

To the king himself she paid no heed, and although
he breathed forth to her every soft and gentle word
he could think of, she sat still and motionless foi
all the world like one of the lowly bushes by the
door of her father's lodge, when the summer wind has
died away.

The king enjoined it upon the others in the lodge
as a special edict, on pain of instant death, to give to
Aggo's daughter every thing that she wanted, and to
be careful not to displease her. They set before her
the choicest food. They gave her the seat of honoi
in the lodge. The king himself went out hunting to
obtain the most dainty meats, both of animals and
wild fowl, to pleasure her palate; and he treated hei
every morning to a ride upon one of the royal buffa-
los, who was so gentle in his motions as not even to
disturb a single one of the tresses of the beautiful
hair of Aggo's daughter as she paced along.

And not content with these proofs of his attach
ment, the king would sometimes fast from all food,
and having thus purified his spirit and cleared his
voice, he would take his Indian flute, and, sitting be-

174 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

fore the lodge, give vent to his feelings in pensive
echoes, something after this fashion :

My sweetheart,
My sweetheart,

Ah me I

When I think of you,
When I think of you,

Ah me!
What can I do, do, do?

How I love you,
How I love you,

Ah mel

Do not hate me,
Do not hate me,

Ah me!

Speak— e'en berate me.
When I think of you,

Ah me!
What can I do, do, do ?

In the mean time, Aggo Dah Gauda had reached
home, and finding that his daughter had been stolen,
his indignation was so thoroughly awakened that he
would have forthwith torn every hair from his head,
but, being entirely bald, this was out of the question,
so, as an easy and natural vent to his feelings, Aggo
hopped off half a mile in every direction. First he
hopped east, then he hopped west, next he hopped
north, and again he hopped south, all in search of his
daughter; till the one leg was fairly tired out. Then he
sat down in his lodge, and resting himself a little, he
reflected, and then he vowed that his single leg should

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. 175

never know rest again until lie had found his beauti
ful (laughter and brought her home. For this pur
pose he immediately set out.

Now that he proceeded more coolly, he could easily
track the buffalo-king until he came to the banks of
the river, where he saw that he had plunged in and
swam over. There having been a frosty night or two
"since, the water was so covered with thin ice that
Aggo could not venture upon it, even with one leg.
He encamped hard by till it became more solid, and
then crossed over and pursued the trail.

As he went along he saw branches broken off and
strewed behind, which guided him in his course; for
these had been purposely cast along by the daughter.
And the manner in which she had accomplished it
was this. Her hair was all untied when she was
caught up, and being very long it took hold of the
branches as they darted along, and it was these twigs
that she broke off as signs to her father.

When Aggo came to the king's lodge it was even
ing. Carefully approaching, he peeped through the
sides, and saw his daughter sitting disconsolate. She
immediately caught his eye, and knowing that it was
her father come for her, she all at once appeared to
relent in her heart, and, asking for the royal iipper,
said to the king, "I will go and get you a drink
of water."

This token of submission delighted his majesty,

176 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

and, high in hope, he waited with impatience for her
return.

At last he went out, but nothing could be seen or
heard of the captive daughter. Calling together his
followers, they sallied forth upon the plains, and had
not gone far when they espied by the light of the
moon, which was shining roundly just over the edge
of the prairie, Aggo Dah Gauda, his daughter in his
arms, making all speed with his one leg toward the
west.

The buffalos being set on by their king, raised a
great shout, and scampered off in pursuit. They
thought to overtake Aggo in less than no time; but
although he had a single leg only, it was in such fine
condition to go, that to every pace of theirs, he hop
ped the length of a cedar-tree.

But the buffalo-king was well assured that he
would be able to overtake Aggo, hop as briskly as he
might. It would be a mortal shame, thought the
king, to be outstripped by a man with one leg tied
up; so, shouting and cheering, and issuing orders on
all sides, he set the swiftest of his herd upon the
track, with strict commands to take Aggo dead or
alive. And. a curious sight it was to see.

At one time a buffalo would gain handsomely
upon Aggo, and be just at the point of laying hold
of him, when off Aggo would hop, a good furlong, in
an oblique line, wide out of his reach; which bring-

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. Page

I?6.

THE MAN WITH HIS LEG TIED UP. 177

ing him nearly in contact with another of the herd,
away he would go again, just as far off in another
direction.

And in this way Aggo kept the whole company of
the buffalos zig-zagging across the plain, with the
poor king at their head, running to and fro, shouting
among them and hurrying them about in the wildest
way. It was an extraordinary road that Aggo was
taking toward home; and after a time it so puz
zled and bewildered the buffalos that they were
driven half out of their wits, and they roared, and
brandished their tails, and foamed, as if they would
put out of countenance and frighten out of sight
the old man in the moon, who was looking on all the
time, just above the edge of the prairie.

As for the king himself, losing at last all patience
at the absurd idea of chasing a man with one leg all
night long, he called his herd together, and fled, in
disgust, toward the west, and never more appeared in
all that part of the country.

Aggo, relieved of his pursuers, hopped off a hun
dred steps in one,* till he reached the stream, crossed
it in a twinkling of the eye, and bore his daughter in
triumph to his lodge.

In the course of time Aggo's beautiful daughter
married a very worthy young warrior, who was neither
a buffalo-king nor so much as the owner of any more

8*

178 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

of the buffalos than a splendid skin robe which he
wore, with great effect, thrown over his shoulders, on
his wedding-day. On which occasion, Aggo Dah
Gauda hopped about on- his one leg livelier than
ever.

XV.

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN.

IN a little lodge at a beautiful spot on a lake
shore, alone with his sister, lived a boy remarka
ble for the smallness of his stature. Many large
rocks were scattered around their habitation, and it
had a very wild and out-of-the-way look.

The boy grew no larger as he advanced in years,
and yet, small as he was, he had a big spirit of his
own, and loved dearly to play the master in the lodge.
One day in winter he told his sister to make him
a ball to play with, as he meant to have some sport
along the shore on the clear ice. When she handed
him the ball, his sister cautioned him not to go too
far.

He laughed af her, and posted off in high glee,
throwing his ball before him and running after it at
full speed, and he went as fast as his ball. At last
his ball flew to a great distance ; he followed as fast
as he could. After he had run forward for some time,
he saw what seemed four dark spots upon the ice,
straight before him.

180 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

When he came up to the shore he was surprised to
see four large, tall men, lying on the ice, spearing
fish. They were four brothers, who looked exactl}
alike. As the little boy-man approached them, the
nearest looked up, and in his turn he was surprised
to see such a tiny being, and turning to his broth
ers, he said :

" Tia ! look ! see what a little fellow is here."

The three others thereupon looked up too, and see
ing these four faces, as if they had been one, the lit
tle spirit or boy-man said to himself :

" Four in one ! What a time they must have in
choosing their hunting-shirts !"

After they had all stared for a moment at the boy,
they covered their heads, intent in searching for fish.
The boy thought to himself:

- " These four-faces fancy that I am to be put off
without notice because I am so little, and they are so
broad and long. They shall find out. I may find a
way to teach them that I am not to be treated so
lightly."

After they were covered up, the boy-man, looking
sharply about, saw that among them they had
caught one large trout, which was lying just by
their side. Stealing along, he slyly seized it, and
placing his fingers in the gills, and tossing his ball
before him, he ran off at full speed.

They heard the pattering ol his little steps upon

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN. 181

the ice, and when the four looked up all together, they
saw their fine trout sliding away, as if of itself, at a
great rate, the boy being so small that he could not
be distinguished from the fish.

" See I" they cried out, " our fish is running away
on the dry land !"

When they stood up they could just see, over the
fish's head, that it was the boy-man who was carrying
it off

The little spirit reached the lodge, and having left
the trout at the door, he told his sister to go out and
bring in the fish he had brought home.

She exclaimed, " Where could you have got it ?
I hope you have not stolen it."

" Oh/' he replied, " I found it on the ice. It was
caught in our lake. Have we no right to a little lake
of our own ? I shall claim all the fish that come out
of its waters."

" How," the sister asked again, " could you have
got it there ?"

" No matter," said the boy ; " go and cook it/

It was as much as the girl could do to drag the
great trout within doors. She cooked it, and its fla
vor was so delicious that she asked no more questions
as to how he had come by i£.

The next morning the little spirit or boy-man set
off as he had the day before.

He made all sorts of sport with his ball as he frol-

182 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

icked along — high over his head he would toss it,
straight up into the air ; then far before him, and
again, in mere merriment of spirit, he would send it
bounding back, as if he had plenty of speed and
enough to spare in running back after it. And the
ball leaped and bounded about, and glided through
the air as if it were a live thing, and enjoyed the
sport as much as the boy-man himself.

When he came within hail of the four large men,
who were fishing there every day, he cast his ball
with such force that it rolled into the ice-hole about
which they were busy. The boy, standing on the
shore of the lake, called out :

" Four-in-one, pray hand me my ball/'
" No, indeed," they answered, setting up a grim
laugh which curdled their four dark faces all at once,
" we shall not ;" and with their fishing-spears they
thrust the ball under the ice.

" Good !" said the boy-man, " we shall see."
Saying which he rushed upon the four brothers and
thrust them at one push into the water. His ball
bounded back to the surface, and, picking it up, he
ran off, tossing it before him in his own sportive way.
Outstripping it in speed he soon reached home, and
remained within till the next morning.

The four brothers, rising up from the water at the
same time, dripping and wroth, roared out in one
voice a terrible threat of vengeance, which they prom-

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN. 183

ised to execute the next day. They knew the boy's
speed, and that they could by no means overtake
him.

By times in the morning, the four brothers were
stirring in their lodge, and getting ready to look after
their revenge.

Their old mother, who lived with them, begged
them not to go.

" Better," said she, " now that your clothes are
dry, to think no more of the ducking than to go and
all four of you get your heads broken, as you surely
will, for that boy is a monedo or he could not perform
such feats as he does."

But her sons paid no heed to this wise advice, and,
raising a great war-cry, which frightened the birds
overhead nearly out of their feathers, they started for
the boy's lodge among the rocks.

The little spirit or boy-man heard them roaring
forth their threats as they approached, but he did
not appear to be disquieted in the least. His sister
as yet had heard nothing ; after a while she thought
she could distinguish the noise of snow-shoes on the
snow, at a distance, but rapidly advancing. She
looked out, and seeing the four large men coming
straight to their lodge she was in great fear, and run
ning in, exclaimed :

" He is coming, four times as strong as ever \" for
^she supposed that the one man whom her brother had

184 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

offended had become so angry as to make four of
himself in order to wreak his vengeance.

The boy-man said, " Why do you mind them ?
Give me something to eat."

O -

" How can you think of eating at such a time ?"
she replied.

" Do as I request you, and be quick."

She then gave little spirit his dish, and he com
menced eating.

Just then the brothers came to the door.

" See !" cried the sister, " the man with four
heads 1"

The brothers were about to lift the curtain at the
door, when the boy-man turned his dish upside down,
and immediately the door was closed with a stone ;
upon which the four brothers set to work and ham
mered with their clubs with great fury, until at
length they succeeded in making a slight opening.
One of the brothers presented his face at this little
window, and rolled his eye about at the boy-man in
a very threatening way.

The little spirit, who, when he had closed the door,
had returned to his meal, which he was quietly eat
ing, took up his bow and arrow which lay by his side,
and let fly the shaft, which, striking the man in the
head, he fell back. The boy-man merely called out
" Number one" as he fell, and went on with his meal

In a moment a second face, just like the first, pre-

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OR BOY-MAN. 185

sented itself ; and as he raised his bow, his sister said
to him :

" What is the use ? You have killed that man
already."

Little spirit fired his arrow — the man fell — he
called out " Number two," and continued his meal.

The two others of the four brothers were dispatched
in the same quiet way, and counted off as " Number
three" and " Number four."

After they were all well disposed of in this way,
the boy-man directed his sister to go out and see
them. She presently ran back, saying :

" There are four of them."

" Of course," the boy-man answered, " and there
always shall be four of them."

Going out himself, the boy-man raised the broth
ers to their feet, and giving each a push, one with
his face to the East, another to the West, a third to
the South, and the last to the North, he sent them
off to wander about the earth ; and whenever you see
four men just alike; they are the four brothers whom
the little spirit or boy-man dispatched upon their
travels.

But this was not the last display of the boy-man's
power.

When spring came on, and the lake began to
sparkle in the morning sun, the boy-man said to his
sister :

186 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Make me a new set of arrows, and a bow."

Although he provided for their support, the little
spirit never performed household or hard work of
any kind, and his sister obeyed.

When she had made the weapons, which, though
they were very small, were beautifully wrought and
of the best stuff the field and wood could furnish, she
again cautioned him not to shoot into the lake.

"She thinks," said the boy-man to himself,"!
can see no further into the water than she. My sis
ter shall learn better."

Kegardless of her warnings, he on purpose dis
charged a shaft into the lake, waded out into the
water till he got into its depth, and paddled about
for his arrow, so as to call the attention of his sister,
and as if to show that he hardily braved her advice.

She hurried to the shore, calling on him to return ;
but instead of heeding her, he cried out :

" You of the red fins, come and swallow me !"

Although his sister did not clearly understand
whom her brother was addressing, she too called out:

" Don't mind the foolish boy 1"

The boy-man's order seemed to be best attended
to, for immediately a monstrous fish came and swal
lowed him. Before disappearing entirely, catching a
glimpse of his sister standing in despair upon the
shore, the boy-man hallooed out to her :

" Me-zush-ke-zin-ance I"

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OB BOY-MAN. 187

She wondered what he meant. At last it occurred
to her that it must be an old moccasin. She accord
ingly ran to the lodge, and bringing one, she tied it to
a string attached to a tree, and cast it into the water.

The great fish said to the boy-man under water .

" What is that floating ?"

To which the boy-man replied :

" Go, take hold of it, swallow it as fast as you can;
it is a great delicacy."

The fish darted toward the old shoe and swallowed
it, making of it a mere mouthful.

The boy-man laughed in himself, but said nothing,
till the fish was fairly caught, when he took hold of
the line and began to pull himself in his fish-carriage
ashore.

The sister, who was watching all this time, opened
wide her eyes as the huge fish came up and up upon
the shore; and she opened them still more when the
fish seemed to speak, and she heard from within a
voice, saying, " Make haste and release me from this
nasty place."

It was her brother's voice, which she was accus
tomed to obey; and she made haste with her knife to
open a door in the side of the fish, from which the
boy-man presently leaped forth. He lost no time in
ordering her to cut it up and dry it; telling her that
their spring supply of meat was now provided.

The sister now began to believe that her brother

188 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

was an extraordinary boy; yet she was not altogether
satisfied in her mind that he was greater than the
rest of the world.

They sat, one evening, in the lodge, musing with
each other in the dark, by the light of each other's
eyes — for they had no other of any kind — when the
sister said, " My brother, it is strange that you, who
can do so much, are no wiser than the Ko-ko, who
gets all his light from the moon; which shines or not,
as it pleases."

" And is not that light enough ?" asked the little
spirit.

" Quite enough," the sister replied. " If it would
but come within the lodge and not sojourn out in the
tree-tops and among the clouds."

" We will have a light of our own, sister," said the
boy-man; and, casting himself upon a mat by the
door, he commenced singing :

Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing,
Light me to bed and my song I will sing ;
Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head,
That I may merrily go to my bed.

Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep,

That I may joyfully go to my sleep ;

Come, little fire-fly, come little beast,

Come ! and I'll make you to-morrow a feast.

Come, little candle, that flies as I sing,,
Bright little fairy-bug, night's little king ;
Come and I'll dream as you guide me along ;
Come and I'll pay you, my bug, with a soug.

THE LITTLE SPIRIT, OB BOY-MAN. 189

As the boy-man chanted this call, they came in at
first one by one, then in couples, till at last, swarming
in little armies, the fire-flies lit up the little lodge
with a thousand sparkling lamps, just as the stars
were lighting the mighty hollow of the sky without.

The faces of the sister and brother shone upon
each other, from their opposite sides of the lodge,
with a kindly gleam of mutual trustfulness ; and
never more from that hour did a doubt of each other
darken their little household.

XVI.

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.

ALONG-, long time ago, a little boy was living
with his sister entirely alone in an uninhabited
country, far out in the north-west. He was called
the Boy that carries the Ball on his Back, from an
idea that he possessed supernatural powers. This boy
was in the habit of meditating alone, and asking
within himself, whether there were other beings sim
ilar to themselves on the earth.

When he grew up to manhood, he inquired of his
sister whether she knew of any human beings beside
themselves. She replied that she did; and that there
was, at a great distance, a large village.

As soon as he heard this, he said to his sister, " I
am now a young man and very much in want of a
companion;" and he asked his sister to make him
several pairs of moccasins.

She complied with his request; and as soon as he
received the moccasins, he took up his war-club and
set out in quest of the distant village.

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. 191

He traveled on till he came to a small wigwam,
a"nd on looking into it he discovered a very old wo
man sitting alone by the fire. As soon as she saw the
stranger, she invited him in, and thus addressed
him:

" My poor grandchild, I suppose you are one of
those who seek for the distant village, from which no
person has ever yet returned. Unless your guardian
is more powerful than the guardians of those who
have gone before you, you will share a similar fate to
theirs. Be careful to provide yourself with the invis
ible bones they use in the medicine-dance, for with
out these you can not succeed/

After she had thus spoken, she gave him the fol
lowing directions for his journey :

" When you come near to the village which you
seek, you will see in the center a large lodge, in which
the chief of the village, who has two daughters, re
sides. Before the door there is a great tree, which is
smooth and without bark. On this tree, about the
height of a man from the ground, is hung a small
lodge, in which these two false daughters dwell. It is
here that so many have been destroyed, and among
them your two elder brothers. Be wise, my grand
child, and abide strictly by my directions."

The old woman then gave to the young man the
bones which were to secure his success; and she in
formed him with great care how he was to proceed.

192 THE INDIAN FAIEY BOOK.

Placing them in his bosom, Onwee Bahmondang,
or the Wearer of the Ball, continued his journey,
and kept eagerly on until he arrived at the village of
which he was in search; and as he was gazing around
him, he saw both the tree and the lodge which the
old woman had mentioned.

He at once bent his steps for the tree, and ap
proaching, he endeavored to reach the suspended
lodge. But all his efforts were in vain; for as often
as he attempted to reach it, the tree began to trem
ble, and it soon shot up so that the lodge could
hardly be perceived.

He bethought him of his guardian, and invoking
his aid, and changing himself into a squirrel, he
mounted nimbly up again, in the hope that the lodge
would not now escape him. Away shot the lodge,
climb as briskly as he might.

Panting, and out of breath, he remembered the
instructions of the old woman, and drawing from his
bosom one of the bones, he thrust it into the trunk
of the tree, and rested himself to be ready to start
again.

As often as he wearied of climbing, for even a
squirrel can not climb forever, he repeated the little
ceremony of the bones ; but whenever he came near
the lodge and put forth his hand to touch it, the tree
would shoot up as before, and carry the lodge up
far beyond his reach.

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. 198

At length the bones being all gone, and the lodge
well-nigh out of sight, he began to despair, for the
earth,, too, had long since vanished entirely from his
view.

Summoning his whole heart, he resolved to try
once more. On and up he went, and, as soon as he
put forth his hand to touch it, the tree again shook,
and away went the lodge.

One more endeavor, brave Onwee, and in he goes ;
for having now reached the arch of heaven, the fly
away lodge could go no higher.

Onwee entered the lodge with a fearless step, and
he beheld the two wicked sisters sitting opposite each
other. He asked their names. The one on his left
hand called herself Azhabee, and the one on the
right, Negahnabee.

.After talking with them a little while, he discov
ered that whenever he addressed the one on his left
hand, the tree would tremble as before and settle
down to its former place ; but when he addressed
the one on his right hand, it would again shoot up
ward.

When he thus perceived that by addressing the
one on his left hand that the tree would descend, he
continued to do so until it had again settled down to
its place near the earth. Then seizing his war-club,
he said to the sisters :

"You who have caused the death of so many of
9

194 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

my brethren I will now put an end to, and thus have
revenge for those you have destroyed."

As he spoke this he raised the club, and with one
blow laid the two wicked women dead at his feet.

Onwee then descended, and learning that these
sisters had a brother living with their father, who
had shared all together in the spoils of all such as
the wicked sisters had betrayed, and who would now
pursue him for having put an end to their wicked
profits, Onwee set off at random, not knowing
whither he went.

The father coming in the evening to visit the
lodge of his daughters, discovered what had hap
pened. He immediately sent word to his son that
his sisters had been slain, and that there were no
more spoils to be had, which greatly inflamed the
young man's temper, especially the woeful announce
ment at the close.

" The person who has done this," said the brother,
as soon as he had reached the spot, chafing and
half beside himself at the gloomy prospect of having
no more travelers to strip, " must be that boy who
carries the ball on his back. I know his mode of
going about his business, and since he would not al
low himself to be killed by my sisters, he shall have
the honor of dying by my hand. I will pursue him
and have revenge."

" It is well, my son," replied the father ; " the

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. 195

spirit of your life grant you success. I counsel you
to be wary in the pursuit. Bahmondang is a cunning
youth. It is a strong spirit who has put him on to
do this injury to us, and he will try to deceive you in
every way. Above all, avoid tasting food till you
succeed ; for if you break your fast before you see his
blood, your power will be destroyed."

The son took this fatherly advice all in good part,
except that portion which enjoined upon him to ab
stain from staying his stomach ; but over that he
made a number of wry faces, for the brother of the
two wicked sisters had, among numerous noble gifts,
a very noble appetite. Nevertheless, he took up -hip
weapons and departed in pursuit of Onwee Bah
mondang, at the top of his speed. *

Onwee finding that he was closely followed,
climbed up into one of the tallest trees, and shot
forth the magic arrows with which he had provided
himself.

Seeing that his pursuer was not turned back by
his arrows, Onwee renewed his flight ; and when he
found himself hard pressed, and his enemy close be
hind him, he transformed himself into the skeleton
of a moose that had been killed, whose flesh had
come off from his bones. He then remembered the
moccasins which his sister had given him, and which
were enchanted. Taking a pair of them, he placed
them near the skeleton.

196 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Go," said lie to them, " to the end of the earth."

The moccasins then left him, and their tracks re
mained.

The angry brother at length came to the skeleton
of the moose, when he perceived that the track he
had been long pursuing did not stop there, so he con
tinued to follow it up till he arrived at the end of the
earth, where, for all his trouble, he found only a pair
of moccasins.

Vexed that he had been outwitted by following a
pair of moccasins instead of their owner, who was
the object of his pursuit, he bitterly complained, re
solving not to give up his revenge, and to be more
waiy in scrutinizing signs.

He then called to mind the skeleton he had met
with on his way, and concluded that it must be the
object of his search.

He retraced his steps toward the skeleton, but to
his surprise it had disappeared, and the tracks of the
wearer of the ball were in another direction. He
now became faint with hunger, and lost heart ; but
when he remembered the blood of his sisters, and
that he should not be allowed to enjoy a meal, nor
so much as a mouthful, until he had put an end to
Onwee Bahrnondang, he plucked up his spirits and
determined again to pursue.

Onwee, finding that he was closely followed, and
that the hungry brother was approaching very fast,

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. 197

changed himself into a very old man, with two
daughters, and living in a large lodge in the center
of a beautiful garden, which was filled with every
thing that could delight the eye, or was pleasant to
the taste. He made himself appear so very old as to
be unable to leave his lodge, and to require his
daughters to bring him food and wait on him, as
though he had been a mere child. The garden also
had the appearance of old age, with its ancient
bushes and hanging branches and decrepit vines loit
ering lazily about in the sun.

The brother kept on until he was nearly starved and
ready to sink to the earth. He exclaimed, with a long-
drawn and most mournful sigh, " Oh ! I will forget
the blood of my ^ters, for I am starving. Oh ! oh !"

But again he thought of the blood of his sisters,
and what a fine appetite he would have if he should
ever be allowed to eat any thing again, and once
more he resolved to pursue, and to be content with
nothing short of the amplest revenge.

He pushed on till he came to the beautiful garden.
He advanced toward the lodge.

As soon as the fairy daughters perceived him
they ran and told their father that a stranger ap
proached.

Their father replied, " Invite him in, my children,
invite him in."

They did so promptly, and, by the command of

198 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

their father, they boiled some corn, and prepared
several other palatable dishes. The savor was most
delicious to the nostrils of the hungry brother, who
had not the least suspicion of the sport that was
going on at his expense.

He was faint and weary with travel, and he felt
that he could endure fasting no longer; for his appe
tite was terribly inflamed by the sight of the choice
food that was steaming before him.

He fell to and partook heartily of the meal; and,
by so doing, he was overcome, and lost his right of
revenge. All at once he forgot the blood of his sis
ters, and even the village of his nativity, and his
father's lodge, and his whole past life. He ate so
keenly, and came and went to the* choice dishes so
often, that drowsiness at length overpowered him,
and he soon fell into a profound sleep.

Onwee Bahmonclang watched his opportunity, and
as soon as he saw that the false brother's sleep
was sound, he resumed his youthful form, and sent
off the two fairy daughters and the old garden; and
drawing the magic-ball from his back, which turned
out to be a great war-club, he fetched the slumbering
brother a mighty blow, which sent him away too;
and thus did Onwee Bahmondang vindicate his title
as the Wearer of the Ball.

When Onwee swung around, with the great force
and weight of the club with which he had dispatched

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS.

199

the brother of the two wicked women, he found him
self in a large village, surrounded by a great crowd
of people. At the door of a beautiful lodge stood
his sister, smiling, and ready to invite him in. On-
wee entered, and hanging up his war-club and the
enchanted moccasins, which he had recovered, he
rested from his labors, and smoked his evening pipe,
with the admiration and appoval of the whole world.

With one exception only, Onwee Bfchmondang had
the hearty praises of all the people.

Now it happened that there lived in this same vil
lage an envious afid boastful fellow, who had been
once a chief, but coming home always badly whipped,
he was put out of office, and now spent his time about
the place mainly* in proclaiming certain great things
which he had in his eye, and which he meant to do —
one of these days.

This man's name was Ko-ko, the Owl; and hear
ing much of the wonderful achievements of the
Wearer of the Ball, Ko-ko put on a big look, and

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200 BTHE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Ball. In fact it was the self-same ball that Onwee
had employed, except that the magic had entirely
gone out of it. Coming by night in the shadow of
the lodge, he thrust his arm in at the door, and stealth
ily possessed himself of the enchanted moccasins.
He would have taken away Onwee's war-club too, if
he could have carried it; but although he was twice
the size and girth of Onwee, he had not the strength
to lift it; so he ^borrowed a club from an old chief, who
was purblind, and mistook Ko-ko for his brother
who was a brave man; and raising a terrible tumult
with his voice, and a great dust with his heels, Ko-
ko set out.

He had traveled all day, when he came to a small
wigwam, and on looking into it, he* discovered a very
old woman sitting alone by the fire; just as Onwee
had before.

This is the wigwam, said Ko-ko, and this is the
old woman.

" What are you looking for ?" asked the old woman.

" I want to find the lodge with the wicked young
women in it, who slay travellers and steal their trap
pings," answered Ko-ko.

" You mean the two young women who lived in
the flying lodge ?" said the old woman.

" The same," answered Ko-ko. " I am going to
kill them."

With this he gave a great flourish with his bor-

THE ENCHANTED M 0 C C A S I ™. 201

rowed club, and looked desperate and murderous as
he could.

" They were slain yesterday by the Wearer of the
Ball/' said the old woman.

Ko-ko looked around for the door in a very owl
ish way, and heaving a short hem from his chest, he
acknowledged that he had heard something to that
effect down in one of the villages.

"But there 's the brother. I "11 have a chance at
him," said Ko-ko.

" He is dead too/' said the old woman.

" Is there nobody then left for me to kill ?" cried
Ko-ko. " Must I then go back without any blood
upon my hands ?"

He made as if he could shed tears over his sad
mishap.

" The father is still living; and you will find him
in the lodge, if you have a mind to call on him. He
would like to see the Owl," the old woman added.

" He shall," replied Ko-ko. " Have you any bones
about the house; for I suppose I shall have to climb
that tree."

"Oh, yes; plenty," answered the old woman.
" Ypu. can have as many as you want."

And she gave him a handful of fish-bones, which
Ko-ko, taking them to be the Invisible Tallies
which had helped Onwee Bahmondang in climbing
the magical tree, thrust into his bosom.
9*

202 ^THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" Thank you," said Ko-ko, taking up his club and
striding toward the door.

" Will you not have a little advice," said the old
woman. " This is a dangerous business you are going
on."

Ko-ko turned about and laughed to scorn the
proposal, and putting forth his right foot from the
lodge first, an observance in which he had great
hopes, he started for the lodge of the wicked father.

Ko-ko ran very fast, as if he feared he should lose
the chance of massacring any member of the wicked
family, until he came in sight of the lodge hanging
upon the tree.

He then slackened his pace, and crept forward with
a wary eye lest somebody might chance to be look
ing out at the door. All was, however, still up there;
and -Ko-ko clasped the tree and began to climb.

Away went the lodge, and up went Ko-ko, puf
fing and panting, after it. And it was not a great
while before the Owl had puffed and panted away all
the wind he had to spare ; and yet the lodge kept fly
ing aloft, higher, higher. What was to be done!

Ko-ko of course bethought him of the bones, for
that was just what, as he knew, had occurred to On-
wee Bahmondang under the like circumstances.

He had the bones in his bosom; and now it was
necessary for him to be a squirrel. He immediately
called on several guardian spirits whom he knew of

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. .203

by name, and requested them to convert him into a
squirrel. But not one of all them seemed to pay the
slightest attention to his request; for there he hung,
the same heavy-limbed, big-headed, be-clubbed, and
be-blanketed Ko-ko as ever.

He then desired that they would turn him into an
opossum; an application which met with the same
luck 'as the previous one. After this he petitioned to
be a wolf, a gophir, a dog, or a bear — if they would
be so obliging. The guardian spirits were either all
deaf, or indifferent to his wishes, or absent on some
other business.

Ko-ko, in spite of all his begging and supplica
tion and beseeching, was obliged to be still Ko-ko.

" The bones, however," he said, to himself, " are
good. I shah1 get a nice rest, at any rate, if I am
forced to climb as I am."

With this he drew out one of the bones from his
bosom, and shouting aloud, " Ho! ho! who is there?"
he thrust it into the trunk of the tree, and would
have indulged himself in a rest; but being no more
than a common fish-bone, without the slightest savor
of magic in it, it snapped with Ko-ko, who came
tumbling down, with the door of the lodge which he
had shaken loose, rattling after him.

" Ho! ho! who is there ?" cried the wicked father,
making his appearance at the opening and looking
down.

204 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

ee*tt is I, Onwee Bahmandang !" cried Ko-koor,
thinking to frighten the wicked father.

"Ah! it is you,' is it ? I will be there presently,"
called the old man. " Do not be in haste to go away!"

" Ko-ko, observing that the old man was in earn
est, scrambled up from the ground, and set off
promptly at his highest rate of speed.

When he looked back and saw that the wicked
father was gaining upon him, Ko-koor mounted a
tree, as had Onwee Bahmandang before, and fired off
a number of arrows, but as they were no more than
common arrows, he got nothing by it, but was obliged
to descend, and run again for life.

As he hurried on he encountered the skeleton of a
moose, into which he would have transformed him
self, but not having the slightest confidence in any
one of all the guardians who should have helped him,
he passed on.

The wicked father was hot in pursuit, and Ko-koor
was suffering terribly for lack of wind, when luckily
he remembered the enchanted moccasins. He could
not send them to the end of the earth, as had Onwee
Bahmondang.

" I will improve on that dull fellow," said Ko-ko.
" I will put them on myself."

Accordingly, Ko-ko had just time to draw on the
moccasins when the wicked father came in sight.

" G-o now!" cried Ko-ko, giving orders to the en-

THE ENCHANTED MOCCASINS. 205

changed moccasins ; and go they did; but to the
astonishment of the Owl, they turned immediately
about in tte way in which the wicked father, now,
very furious, was approaching.

" The other way! the other way!" cried Ko-ko,

Cry as loud as he would, the enchanted mocca
sins would keep on in their own course; and before he
could shake himself out of them, they had run him
directly into the face of the wicked father.

" What do you mean, you Owl ?" cried the wicked
father, falling upon Ko-ko with a huge club, and
counting his ribs at every stroke.

" I can not help it, good man," answered Ko-ko.
" I tried my best—"

Ko-ko would have gone the other way, but the
enchanted moccasins kept hurrying him forward.
" Stand off, will you ?" cried the old man.

By this time, allowing the wicked father chance to
bestow no more than five-and-twenty more blows
upon Ko-ko, the moccasins were taking him past.

" Stop !" cried the old man again. " You are
running away. Ho! ho! you are a coward!"

" I am not, good man," answered Ko-ko, carried
away by the magical shoes, " I assure you." But ere
he could finish his avowal, the moccasins had hurried
him out of sight.

" At any rate, I shall soon be home at this speed/'
said Ko-koor to himself.

206 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The moccasins seemed to know his thoughts; for
just then they gave a sudden leap, slipped away from
his feet, and left the Owl flat upon his back ! while
they glided home "by themselves, to the lodge of
Onwee Bahmondang, where they belonged.

A party of hunters passing that way after several
days, found Ko-ko sitting among the bushes, looking
greatly bewildered; and when they inquired of him
how he had succeeded with the wicked father at the
lodge, he answered that he had demolished the whole
establishment, but that his name was not Ko-ko3
but Onwee Bahmondang; saying which, he ran away
into the woods, and was never seen more.

XVII.

HE OF THE LITTLE SHELL.

ONCE upon a time, all the people of a certain
country had died, excepting two helpless chil
dren, a baby boy and a little girl.

When their parents died, these children were
asleep. The little girl, who was the elder, was the
first to awake. She looked around her, but seeing
nobody beside her little brother, who lay smiling in
his dreams, she quietly resumed her bed.

At the end of ten days her brother moved, without

, . •

'opening his eyes.

At the end of ten days more he changed his posi
tion, lying on the other side, and in this way he kept
on sleeping for a long time ; and pleasant, too, must
have been his dreams, for his little sister never looked
at him that he was not quite a little heaven of smiles
and flashing lights, which beamed about his head
and filled the lodge with a strange splendor.

The girl soon grew to be a woman, but the boy in
creased in stature very slowly. It was a long time
before ho could even creep, and he was well advanced

208 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

•«T

in years before lie could stand alone. When lie was
able to walk, his sister made him a little' bow and ar
rows, and hung around his neck a small shell, saying :

" You shall be called Dais Irnid, or He of the
Little Shell."

Every day he would go out with his little bow,
shooting at the small birds. The first bird he killed
was a torn-tit. His sister was highly pleased when
he took it to her. She carefully prepared and stuffed
it, and put it away for him.

The next day he killed a red squirrel. His sister
preserved this, too. The third day he killed a par
tridge, and this they had for their evening meal.

After this he acquired more courage, and would
venture some distance from home. His skill and
success as a hunter daily increased, and he killed the
deer, bear, moose, and other large animals inhabiting
the forest.

At last, although so very small of stature, he be
came a great hunter, and all that he shot he brought

home and shared with his sister : and whenever he

«»

entered the lodge, a light beamed about his head and
filled the place with a strange splendor.

He had now arrived at the years of manhood, but
he still remained a perfect infant in size.

One day, walking about in quest of game, he came
to a small lake.

It was in the winter season ; and upon the ice of

HE OF THE LITTLE SHELL. 209

the lake lie saw a man of giant height, employed
killing beavers.

Comparing himself with this great man, he felt
that he was no bigger than an insect. He seated
himself on the shore and watched his movements.

When the large man had killed many beavers, he
put them on a hand-sled which he had, and pursued
his way home. When he saw him retire, the dwarf
hunter followed, and, wielding his magic shell, he
cut off the tail of one of the beavers, and ran home
with the prize.

The giant, on reaching his lodge with his sled-load
of beavers, was surprised to find one of them shorn
of its tail. +

The next day the little hero of the shell went to
the same lake. The giant, who had been busy there
for some time, had already loaded his sled and com
menced his return ; but running nimbly forward
and overtaking him, he succeeded in securing another
of the beaver-tails.

" I wonder," said the giant, on reaching his lodge
and overlooking his beavers, " what dog it is that
has thus cheated me. Could I meet him, I would
make his flesh quiver at the point of my javelin/'

The giant forgot that he had taken these very bea
vers out of a beaver-darn which belonged to the lit
tle shell-man and his sister, without permission.

The next day he pursued his hunting at the bea-

210 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

ver-dam near the lake, and lie was again followed by
the little man with, the shell.

This time the giant was so nimble in his move
ments that he had nearly reached home before the
Shell, make the best speed he could, could overtake
him ; but he was just in -time to clip another bea
ver's tail before the sled slipped into the lodge.

The giant would have been a patient giant, in
deed, if his anger had not been violent at these con
stant tricks played upon him. What vexed him
most, was, that he could not get a sight of his en
emy. Sharp eyes he would have needed to do so, in
asmuch as he of the little shell had the gift of
making himself invisible whenever he^hose.

The giant, giving vent to his feelings with many

loud rumbling words, looked sharply around to see

whether he could discover any tracks. He could find

,none. The unknown had stepped too lightly to

leave the slightest mark behind.

The next day the giant resolved to disappoint his
mysterious follower by going to the beaver-dam very
early ; and accordingly, when the little shell man
came to the place he found the fresh traces of his
work, but the giant had already gone away. He fol
lowed hard upon his tracks, but he failed to overtake
him. When he of the little shell came in sight of
the lodge, the stranger was in front of it, employed
in skinning his beavers.

HE OF THE LITTLE SHELL. 211

As Dais-Imid stood looking at him — for he had
been all this time in visible— he thought :

" I will let him have a view of me."

Presently the man, who proved to be no less a per
sonage than the celebrated giant, Manabozho, looked
up and saw him.

After regarding him with attention, "Who are
you, little man ?" said Manabozho. " I have a mind
to kill you." *

The little hero of the shell replied :

" If you were to try to 'kill me you could not do it."

With this speech of the little man, Manabozho
grabbed at him ; but when he thought to have had
him in his hand, he was gone.

" Where are you now, little man ?" cried Mana
bozho.

" Here, under your girdle," answered the shell-
dwarf ; at which giant Manabozho, thinking to crush
him, slapped down his great hand with all his might;
but on unloosing his girdle he was disappointed at
finding no dwarf there.

" Where are you now, little man 9" he cried again,
in a greater rage than ever.

" In your right nostril !" the dwarf replied ; where
upon the giant Manabozho seized himself by the fin- '
ger and thumb at the place, and gave it a violent
tweak ; but as he immediately heard the voice of
the dwarf at a distance upon the ground, he was sat-

212 THE INDIA.N FAIRY BOOK.

isfied that he had only pulled his own nose to no pur
pose.

" Good-by, Manabozho/' said the voice of the in
visible dwarf. " Count your beaver-tails, and you
will find that I have taken another for my sister ;"
for he of the little shell never, in his wanderings or
pastimes, forgot his sister and her wishes. " Good-
by, beaver-man !"

^.nd as he went away he made himself visible
once more, and a light beamed about his head and
lit the air around him with a strange splendor ; a
circumstance which Manabozho, who was at times
quite thick-headed and dull of apprehension, could
no way understand.

When Dais-Imid returned home, he told his sister
that the time drew nigh when they must separate.

" I must go away/7 said Dais-Imid, " it is my
fate. You, too," he added, " must go away soon.
Tell me where you would wish to dwell."

She said, " I would like to go to the place of the
breaking of daylight. I have always loved the East.
The earliest glimpses of light are from that quarter,
and it is to my mind the most beautiful part of the
heavens. After I get there, my brother, whenever
you see the clouds, in that direction, of various colors,
you may think that your sister is painting her face."

" And I," said he, " I, my sister, shall live on the
mountains and rocks. There I can see you at the

~

THE MORNING STAR AND HER BROTHER. Page

HE OF T H*E LITTLE SHELL. 213

earliest hour ; there are the streams of water clear ;
the air is pure, and the golden lights will shine ever
around my head; and I shall ever be called ' Puck-
Ininee, or the Little Wild Man of the Mountains/
But/' he resumed, "before we part forever, I. must
go and try to find what manitoes rule the earth, and
see which of them will be friendly to us."

He left his sister and traveled over the surface of
the globe, and then went far down into the earth.

He had been treated • '/ell wherever he went. At
last he came to a giant manito, who had a large
kettle which was forever boiling. The giant, who
was a first cousin to Manabozho, and had already
heard of the tricks which Dais-Imid had played upon
his kinsman, regarded him with a stern look, and,
catching him up in his hand, he threw him uncere
moniously into the kettle.

It was evidently the giant's intention to drown
Dais-Imid ; in which he was mistaken, for by means
of his magic shell, little Dais, in less than a second's
time, bailed the water to the bottom, leaped from
the kettle, and ran away unharmed.

He returned to his sister and related his rovings
and adventures. He finished his story by addressing
her thus :

" My sister there is a manito at each of the four
corners of the earth. There is also one above them,
far in the sky, a Great Being who assigns to you, and

214 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

to me, and to all of us, where we must go. And
last," he continued, " there is another and wicked
one who lives deep down in the earth. It will he OUT
lot to escape out of his reach. We must now sepa
rate. When the winds hlow from the four corners
of the earth, you must then go. They will carry
you to the place you wish. I go to the rocks and
mountains, where my kindred will ever delight to
dwell."

Dais-Imid then took his ball-stick and commenced
running up a high mountain, and a bright light
shone about his head all the way, and he kept sing
ing as he went :

Blow, winds, blow I my sister lingers

For her dwelling in the sky,
Where the morn, with rosy fingers,

Shall her cheeks with vermil dye.

There my earliest views directed,

Shall from her their color take,
And her smiles, through clouds reflected,

Guide me on by wood or lake.

While I range the highest mountains,

Sport in valleys green and low,
Or, beside our Indian fountains,

Raise my tiny hip-hallo.

Presently the winds blew, and, as Dais-Imid had
predicted, his sister was borne by them to the east
ern sky, where she has ever since lived, and her name
is now the Morning Star.

XVIII.

MANABQZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER.

•

HHHERE was never in the whole world a more .mis-
-1- chievous busy-body than that notorious giant
Manabozho. He was every where, in season and out
of season, running about, and putting his hand in
whatever was going forward. To carry on his game,
he could take almost any shape he pleased; he could
be very foolish or very wise; very weak or very
strong; very poor or very rich — -just as happened to
suit his humor best. Whatever any one else could
do, he would attempt without a moment's reflection.
He was a match for any man he met, and there were
few manitoes that could get the better of him. By
turns he would be very kind, or very cruel; an animal
or a bird; a man or a spirit; and yet, in spite of all
these gifts, Manabozho was always getting himself in
volved in all sorts of troubles; and more than once, in
the course of his busy adventures, was this great
maker of mischief driven to his wits' ends to come
off with his life.

216 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

To begin at the beginning, Manabozho, while yet
a youngster, was living with his grandmother, near
the edge of a wide prairie. It was on this prairie that
he first saw animals and birds of every kind ; he also
there made first acquaintance with thunder and light
ning; he would sit by the hour watching the clouds
as they rolled, and musing on the shades of light and
darkness as the day rose and fell.

For a stripling, Manabozho was uncommonly wide
awake. Every new sight he beheld in the heavens
was a subject of remark; every new animal or bird,
an object of deep interest; and every sound that
came from the bosom of nature, was like a new les
son which he was expected to learn. He often trem
bled at what he heard and saw. •

To the scene of the wide open prairie his grand
mother sent him at an early age to watch. The first

sound he heard was that of the owl, at which he was

•

greatly terrified, and, quickly descending the tree he
had climbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. " No-
ko ! noko ! grandmother!" he cried. " I have heard
a rnonedo."

She laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind
of noise his reverence made. He answered, " It makes
a noise like this : ko -ko-ko-ho."

His grandmother told him he was young and fool
ish; that what he heard was only a bird which de
rived its name from the peculiar noise it made.

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 217

He returned to the prairie and continued his watch.
As he stood there looking at the clouds, he thought
to himself, "It is singular that I am so simple and
my grandmother so wise; and that I have neither
father nor mother. I have never heard a word about
them. I must ask and find out."

He went home and sat down, silent and dejected.
Finding that this did not attract the notice of his
grandmother, he began a loud lamentation, which he
kept increasing, louder and louder, till it shook the
lodge, and nearly deafened the old grandmother. She
at length said, " Manabozho, what is the matter with
you ? you are making a great deal of noise." m

Manabozho started off again with his doleful hub
bub; but succeeded in jerking out between his big
sobs, " I have n't got any father nor mother ; I
have n't;" and he set out again lamenting more boist
erously than ever.

Knowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful
temper, his grandmother dreaded to tell him the
story of his parentage; as she knew he would make
trouble of it.

Manabozho renewed his cries, and managed to
throw out, for a third or fourth time, his sorrowful
lament that he was a poor unfortunate, who had no
parents and no relations.

She at last said to him, " Yes, you have a father
and three brothers living. Your mother is dead . She

10

218 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

was taken for a wife by your father, the West with
out the consent of her parents. Your brothers are
the North, East, and South; and being older than
yourself, your father has given them great power with
the winds, according to their names. You are the
youngest of his children. I have nursed you *from
your infancy; for your mother, owing to the ill-treat
ment of your father, died in giving you birth. I have
no relations beside you this side of the planet in
which I was born, and from which I was precipitated
by female jealousy. Your mother was my only child,
and you are my only hope/'

" I am glad my father is living," said Manabozho.
" I shall set out in the morning to visit him."

His grandmother would have discouraged him ;
saying it was a long distance t© the place where his
father, Ningabiun, or the West, lived.

This information seemed rather to please than to
disconcert Manabozho; for by this time he had grown
to such a size and strength that he had been compel
led to leave the narrow shelter of his grandmother's
lodge and to live out of doors. He was so tall that,
if he had been so disposed, he could have snapped off
the heads of the birds roosting in the topmost
branches of the highest trees, as he stood up, with
out being at the trouble to ;:limb. And if he had
at any time taken a fancy to jne of the same trees
for a walking-stick, he would have had no more to

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 219

d o than to pluck it up with his thumb and finger,
and strip down the leaves and twigs with the palm of
his hand. .

Bidding good-by to his venerable old grandmother,
who pulled a very long face over his departure., Mana-
bozho set out at great headway, for he was able to
stride from one side of a prairie to the other at a sin
gle step

He found his father on a high mountain-ground,
far in the west. His father espied his approach at a
great distance, and bounded down the mountain-side
several miles to give him welcome, and, side-by-side,
apparently delighted with each other, they reached
in two or three of their giant paces the lodge of
the West, which stood high up near the clouds.

They spent some days in talking with each other
— for these two great persons did nothing on a small
scale, and a whole day to deliver a single sentence,
such was the immensity of their discourse, was quite
an ordinary affair.

One evening, Manabozho asked his father what he
was most afraid of on earth.

He replied—" Nothing."

" But is there nothing you dread, here — nothing
that would hurt you if you took too much of it ?
Come, tell me."

Manabozho was very urgent ; at last his father said:

" Yes, there is a black stone to be found a couple

220 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

of hundred miles from here, over that way/' pointing
as he spoke. " It is the only thing earthly that I am
afraid of, for if it should happen to hit me on any
part of my body it would hurt me very much."

The West made this important circumstance
known to Manabozho in the strictest confidence.

" Now you will not tell any one, Manabozho, that
the black stone is bad medicine for your father, will
you ?" he added. " You are a good son, and I know
will keep it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling
boy, is there not something that you don't like ?"

Manabozho answered promptly — " Nothing."

His father, who was of a very steady and persever
ing temper, put the same question to him seventeen
times, and each time Manabozho made the same
answer — " Nothing." '

But the West insisted-—" There must be some
thing you are afraid of."

" Well, I will tell you," says Manabozho, " what
it is."

He made an effort to speak, but it seemed to be
too much for him.

" Out with it," said Ningabiun, or the West,
fetching Manabozho such a blow on the back as
shook the mountain with its echo.

" Je-ee, je-ee— it is," said Manabozho, apparently
in great pain; " Yeo, yeo 1 I can not name it, I
tremble so."

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-M AKEE. 221

The West told him to banish his fears, and to
speak up ; no one would hurt him.

Manabozho began again, and he would have gone"
aver the same make-believe of anguish, had not his
father, whose strength he knew was more than a
match for his own, threatened to pitch him into a
river about five miles off. At last he cried
out :

" Father, since you will know, it is the root of the
bulrush."

He who could with perfect ease spin a sentence a
whole day long, seemed to be exhausted by the effort
of pronouncing that one word, " bulrush."

Some time after, Manabozho observed :

" I will get some of the black rock, merely to see
how it looks."

" Well," said the father, " I will also get a little
of the bulrush-root, to learn how it tastes."

They were both double-dealing with each other, and
in their hearts getting ready for some desperate work.

They had no sooner separated for the evening than
Manabozho was striding off the couple of hundred
miles necessary to bring him to the place where black
rock was to be procured, while down the other side
of the mountain hurried Ningabiun.

At the break of day they each appeared at the
great level on the mountain-top, Manabozho with
twenty loads, at least, of the black stone, on one sido,

222 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

and on the other the West, with a whole meadow of
bulrush in his arms.

Manabozho was the first to strike — hurling a great
piece of the black rock, which struck the West di
rectly between the eyes, who returned the favor with
a blow of bulrush, that rung over the shoulders of
Manabozho, far and wide, like the whip-thong of the
lightning among the clouds.

And now either rallied, and Manabozho poured in
a tempest of black rock, while Mngabiun discharged
a shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, thwack upon
thwack — they fought hand to hand until black rock
and bulrush were all gone. Then they betook them
selves to hurling crags at each other, cudgeling with
huge oak-trees, and defying each other from one
mountain-top to another ; while at times they shot
enormous boulders of granite across at each other's
heads, as though they had been mere jack-stones.
The battle, which had commenced on the mountains,
had extended far west. The West was forced to
give ground. Manabozho pressing on, drove him
across rivers and mountains, ridges and lakes, till at
last he got him to the very brink of the world.

" Hold !" cried the West. " My son, you know
my power, and although I allow that I am now fairly
out of breath, it is impossible to kill me^ Stop where
you are, and I will also' portion you out with as much
power as your brothers. The four quarters of the

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 223

globe are already occupied, but you can go and do a
great deal of good to the people of the earth, which
is beset with serpents, beasts and monsters, who
make great havoc of human life. Go and do
good, and if you put forth half the strength you
have to-day, you will acquire a name that will last
forever. When you have finished your work I will
have a place provided for you. You will then go
and sit with your brother, Kabinocca, in the North/'

Manabozho gave his father his hand upon this
agreement. And parting from him, he returned to
his own grounds, where he lay for some time sore of
his wounds.

These being, however, greatly allayed, and soon
after cured by his grandmother's skill in medicines,
Manabozho, as big and sturdy as ever, was ripe for
new adventures. He set his thoughts immediately
upon a war excursion against the Pearl Feather, a
wicked old manito, living on the other side of the
great lake, who had killed his grandfather. He begun
his preparations by making huge bows and ariows
without number; but he had no heads for his shafts.
At last Noko told him that an old man, who lived
at some distance, could furnish him with such
as he needed. He sent her to get some. She soon
returned with her wrapper full. Manabozho told her
that he had not enough, and sent her again. She
came back with as many more. He thought to him-

224 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

self, " I must find out the way of making these
heads."

Instead of directly asking how it was done, he pre
ferred — -just like Manabozho — to deceive his grand
mother to come at the knowledge he desired, by a
trick. "Noko," said he, "while I take my drum
and rattle, and sing my war-songs, do you go and try
to get me some larger heads, for these you have
brought me are all of the same size. Go and see
whether the old man is not willing to make some
a little larger."

He followed her at a distance as she went, having
left his drum at the lodge, with a great bird tied at
the top, whose fluttering should keep up the drum
beat, the same as if he were tarrying at home. He
saw the old workman busy, and learned how he pre
pared the heads; he also beheld the old man's daugh
ter, who was very beautiful; and Manabozho now dis
covered for the first time that he had a heart of his
own, and the sigh he heaved passed through the ar
row-maker's lodge like a gale of wind.

" How it blows!" said the old man.

" It must be from the south," said the daughter;
" for it is very fragrant."

Manabozho slipped away, and in two strides he
was at home, shouting forth his songs as though he
had net&er left the lodge. He had just time to free
the bird which had been beating the drum, when his

THE MISCHIEF-MAKEB. 225

grandmother came in and delivered to him the big
arrow-heads.

In the evening the grandmother said, " My son,
you ought to fast before you go to war, as 'your broth
ers do; to find out whether you will be successful or
not/'

He said he had no objection; and having privately
stored away, in a shady place in the forest, two or
three dozen juicy bears, a moose, and twenty strings
of the tenderest birds, he would retire from the
lodge so far as to be entirely out of view of his
grandmother, fall to and enjoy himself heartily,
and at nightfall, having just dispatched a dozen
birds and half a bear or so, he would return, totter
ing and wo-begone, as if quite famished, so as to
move deeply the sympathies of his wise old grand-
dame.

The place of his fast had been chosen by the JSTo-
ko, and she had told him it must be so far as to be
beyond the sound of her voice or it would be un
lucky.

After a time Manabozho, who was always spying
out mischief, said to himself, " I must find out why
my grandmother is so anxious to have me fast at this
spot/'

The next day he went but a short distance. She
cried out, " A little further off ;" but he came nearer
to the lodge, the rogue that he was, and cried out in

10*

226 THE INDIAN FAIKY BOOK.

a low, counterfeited voice, to make it appeal that he
was going away instead of approaching. He had now
got so near that he could see all that passed in the
lodge

He had not been long in ambush when an old
magician crept into the lodge. This old magician
had very long hair, which hung across his shoulders
and down his back, like a bush or foot-mat. They
commenced talking about him, and in doing so, they
put their two old heads so very close together that
Manabozho was satisfied they were kissing each other.
He was indignant that any one should take such a
liberty with his venerable grandmother, and to mark
his sense of the outrage, he touched the bushy hair
of the old magician with a live coal which he had
blown upon. The old magician had not time to kiss
the old grandmother more than once again before he
felt the flame; and jumping out into the air, it
burned only the fiercer, and he ran, blazing like a
fire-ball, across the prairie.

Manabozho who had, meanwhile, stolen off to his
fasting-place, cried out, in a heart-broken tone, and
as if on the very point of starvation, "Noko! Noko!
is it time for me to come home?"

" Yes," she cried. And when he came in she asked
him, " Did you see any thing ?"

" Nothing," he answered, with an air of childish
candor; looking as much like a big simpleton as he

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 227

could The grandmother looked at him very closely-
and said no more.

Manabozho finished his term of fasting; in the
course of which he slyly dispatched twenty fat bears,
six dozen birds, and two fine moose; sung his war-
song, and embarked in his canoe, fully prepared for
war. Beside weapons of battle, he had stowed in a
large supply of oil.

He traveled rapidly night and clay, for he had
only to will or speak, and the canoe went. At
length he arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. He
paused to view them; he observed that they were
some distance apart, and that the flames which they
constantly belched forth reached across the pass. He
gave them a good morning, and began talking with
them in a very friendly way; but they answered,
" We know you, Manabozho; you can not pass."

He was not, however, to be put off so easily. Turn
ing his canoe as if about to go back, he suddenly
cried out with a loud and terrified voice :

" What is that behind you ?"

The serpents, thrown off their guard, instantly
turned their heads, and he in a moment glided past
them.

" Well," said he, quietly, after he had got by,
" how do you like my movement ?"

He then took up his bow and arrows, and with de
liberate aim shot every one of them, easily, for the

*

228 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

serpents were fixed to one spot, and could not even
turn around. They were of an enormous length, and
of a bright color.

Having thus Escaped the sentinel serpents, Mana-
bozho pushed on in his canoe until he came to a part
of the lake called Pitch-water, as whatever touched
it was sure to stick fast. But Manabozho was pre
pared with his oil, and rubbing his canoe freely from
end to end, he slipped through with ease, and he was
the first person who had ever succeeded in passing
through the Pitch- water.

" There is nothing like a little oil to help one
through pitch-water," said Manabozho to himself.

Now in view of land, he could see the lodge of the
Shining Manito, high upon a distant hill.

Putting his clubs and arrows in order, just at the
dawn of day Manabozho began his attack, yelling
and shouting, and beating his drum, and calling out
in triple voices :

" Surround him ! surround him ! run up ! run
up !" making it appear that he had many followers.
He advanced, shouting aloud :

" It was you that killed my grandfather," and shot
off a whole forest of arrows.

The Pearl Feather appeared on the height, blazing
like the sun, and paid back the discharges of Mana
bozho with a tempest of bolts, which rattled like the
hail.
*

THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 229

All day long the fight was kept up, and Mana-
bozho had fired all of his arrows but three, without
effect ; for the Shining Manito was clothed in pure
wampum. It was only by immense leaps to right
and left that Manabozho could save his head .from
the sturdy blows which fell about him on eveiy side,
like pine-trees, from the hands of the Manito. He
was badly bruised, and at his very wit's end, when a
large wood-pecker flew past and lit on a tree. It
was a bird he had known on the prairie, near his
grandmother's lodge.

" Manabozho," called out the wood-pecker, " your
enemy has a weak point ; shoot at the lock of hair on
the crown of his head."

He shot his first arrow and only drew blood in a
few drops. The Manito made one or two unsteady
steps, but recovered himself. He began to parley,
but Manabozho, now that he had discovered a way to
reach him, was in no humor to trifle, and he let slip
another arrow, which brought the Shining Manito
to his knees. And -now, having the crown of his
head within good range, Manabozho sent in his third
arrow, which laid the Manito out upon the ground,
stark dead.

Manabozho lifted up a huge war-cry, beat his
drum, took the scalp of the Manito as his trophy,
and calling the wood-pecker to come and receive a re
ward for the timely hint he had given him, he rubbed

230 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

the blood of the Shining Manito on the wood-peck
er's head, the feathers of which are red to this day.
Full of his victory, Manabozho returned home, beat
ing his war-drum furiously, and shouting aloud his
songs of triumph. His grandmother was on the
shore ready to welcome him with the war-dance,
which she performed with wonderful skill for one so
far advanced in years.

The heart of Manabozho swelled within him. He
was fairly on fire, and an unconquerable desire for fur
ther adventures seized upon him. He had destroyed
the powerful Pearl Feather, killed his serpents, and
escaped all his wiles and charms. He had prevailed
in a great land fight, his next trophy should be from
the water.

He tried his prowess as a fisherman, and with such
success that he captured a fish so monstrous in size
and so rich in fat that with the oil Manabozho was
able to form a small lake. To this, being generously
disposed, and having a cunning purpose of his own
to answer, he invited all the birds and beasts of his
acquaintance ; and he made the order in which
they partook of the banquet the measure of their fat
ness for all time to come. As fast as they arrived he
told them to plunge in and help themselves.

The first to make his appearance was the bear,
who took a long and steady draught ; then came the
deer, the opossum, and such others of the family as

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF- MAKEtf. 231

are noted for their comfortable case. The moose and
bison were slack in their cups, and the partridge, al
ways lean in flesh, looked on till*the supply was
nearly gone. There was not a drop left by the time
the hare and the marti* appeared on the shore of the
lake, and they are, in consequence, the slenderest of
all creatures.

When this ceremony was over, Manabozho sug
gested to his friends, the assembled birds and ani
mals, that the occasion was proper for a little merry
making ; and taking up his drum, he cried out :

" New songs from the South, come, brothers,
dance \"

He directed them, to make the sport more mirth
ful, that they should shut their eyes and pass around
him in a circle. Again he beat his drum and cried
out :

"New songs 'from the South, come, brothers,
dance !"

They all fell in and commenced their rounds.
Whenever Manabozho, as he stood in the circle, saw
a fat fowl which he fancied, pass by him, he adroitly
wrung its neck and slipped it in his girdle, at the
same time beating his drum and singing at the top
of his lungs,. to drown the noise of the fluttering, and
crying out in a tone of admiration :

" That 'B the way, my brothers ; that 's the way I"

At last a small duck, of the diver family, thinking

232 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

there was something wrong, opened one eye and saw

what Manahozho was doing. Giving a spring, and

. •
crying :

" Ha-ha-a ! Manabozho is killing us !" he made
for the water.

Manabozho, quite vexed that the creature should
have played the spy upon his house-keeping, followed
him, and just as the diver-duck was getting into the
water, gave him a kick, which is the reason that
the diver's tail-feathers are few, his back flattened,
and his legs straightened out, so that when he gets
on land he makes a poor figure in walking.

Meantime, the other birds, having no ambition to
be thrust in Manabozho's girdle, flew off, and the
animals scampered into the woods.

Manabozho stretching himself at ease in the shade
along the side of the prairie, thought what he should
do next. He concluded that he would travel and see
new countries; and having once made up his mind, in
less than three days, such was his length of limb and
the immensity of his stride, he had walked over the
entire continent, looked into every lodge by the way,
and with such nicety of observation, that he was able
to inform his good old grandmother what each family
had for a dinner at a given hour.

By way of relief to these grand doings, Manabozho
was disposed to vary his experiences by bestowing a
little time upon the sports of the woods. He had

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 233

heard reported great feats in hunting, and he had a
desire to try his power in that way. Besides that, it
was a slight consideration that he had devoured all
the game within reach of the lodge; and so, one
evening, as he was walking along the shore of the
great lake, weary and hungry, he encountered a great
magician in the form of an old wolf, with six young
ones, coming toward him.

The wolf no sooner caught sight of him than he
told his whelps, who were close about his side, to keep
out of the way of Manabozho; "For I know," he
said, " that it is that mischievous fellow whom we see
yonder."

The young wolves were in the act of running off,
when Manabozho cried out, " My grandchildren,
where are you going? Stop and I will go with you. I
wish to have a little chat with your excellent father."

Saying which he advanced and greeted the old
wolf, expressing himself as delighted at seeing him
looking so well. " Whither do you journey ?" he
asked.

"We are looking for a good hunting-ground to
pass the winter," the <old wolf answered. " What
brings you here ?"

" 1 was looking for you/' said Manabozho. " For
I have a passion for the chase, brother. I always ad
mired your family; are you willing to change me into
a wolf ?"

234 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

The wolf gave him a favorable answer, and he was
forthwith changed into a wolf.

" Well, that will do/' said Manabozho ; then
looking at his tail, he added, " Oh ! could you
oblige me by making my tail a little longer and
more bushy."

" Certainly/' said the old wolf ; and he gave Mana
bozho such a length and spread of tail, that it was
constantly getting between his legs, and it was so
heavy that it was as much as he could do to find
strength to carry it. But having asked for it, he was
ashamed to say a word; and -they all started off in
company, dashing up a ravine.

After getting into the woods for some distance,
they fell in with the tracks of moose. The young
ones scampered off in pursuit," the old wolf and Mana
bozho following at their leisure.

" Well," said the old wolf, by way of opening dis
course, "who do you think is the fastest of the boys?
Can you tell by the jumps they take?"

"Why," he replied, "that one that takes such
long jumps, he is the fastest to be sure."

"Ha! ha! you are mistaken," said the old wolf.
" He makes a good start, but he will be the first to
tire out; this one, who appears to be behind, will be
the one to kill the game.'"

By this time they had come to the spot where the
boys had started in chase. One had dropped wha*

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIE F-M AKEB. 235

seemed to be a small medicine-sack, which he carried
for the use of the hunting-party.

" Take that, Mariabozho," said the old wolf.

" Esa," he replied, " what will I do with a dirty
dog-skin?"

The old wolf took it up; it was a beautiful rebe.

" Oh, I will carry it now/' cried Manabozho.

" Oh, no," said the old wolf, who had exerted his
magical powers, " it is a robe of pearls. Corne along \"
And away sped the old wolf at a great rate of speed.

" Not so fast," called Manabozho after him ; and
then he added to himself as he panted after, " Oh,
this tail !"

Coming to a place where the rnoose had lain down,
they saw that the young wolves had made a fresh
start after their prey.

" Why," said the old wolf, " this moose is poor. I
know Tby the traces; for I can always tell whether
they are fat or not."

A little further on, one of the young wolves, in
dashing at the moose, had broken a tooth on a tree.

" Manabozho," said the old wolf, " one of your
grandchildren has shot at the game. Take his ar
row; there it is."

"No," replied Manabozho; "what will I do with a
dirty dog's tooth?"

The old. wolf took it up, and behold it was a beau
tiful silver arrow.

236 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

When they at last overtook them, they found that
the youngsters had killed a very fat moose. Mana-
bozho was very hungry; but the old wolf just then
again exerted his magical powers, and Manabozho saw
nothing but the bones picked quite clean. He thought
to himself, "Just as I expected; dirty, greedy fellows.
If it had not been for this log at my back, I should
have been in time to have got a mouthful:" and he

%

cursed the bushy tail which he carried, to the bottom
of his heart. He; however, sat down without saying
a word.

At length the old wolf spoke to one of the young
ones, saying :

" Give some meat to your grandfather/'

One of them obeyed, and coming near to Manabo
zho, he presented him the other end of his own bushy
tail, which was nicely seasoned with burs, gathered
in the course of the hunt. *

Manabozho jumped up and called out :

" You dog, now that your stomach is full, do you
think I am going to eat you to get at my dinner ?
Get you gone into some other place."

Saying which Manabozho, in his anger, walked off
by himself.

" Come back, brother," cried the wolf. " You are
losing your eyes." 0

Manabozho turned back.

" You do the child injustice. Look there !" and

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 23Y

behold, a heap of fresh, ruddy meat, was lying on the
spot, already prepared.

Manabozho, at the view of so much good provision,
put on a smiling face.

" Amazement !" he said ; " how fine the meat is !"

" Yes," replied the old wolf, " it is always so with
us ; we know our work, and always get the best. It
is not a long tail that makes the hunter."

Manabozho bit his lip.

They now fixed their winter quarters. The young
sters went out in search of game, and they soon
brought in a large supply. One day, during the ab
sence of the young hunters, the old wolf amused him
self in cracking the large bones of a moose.

" Manabozho," said he, " cover your head with the
robe, and do not look at me while I am busy with
these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye."

He did as he was bid ; but looking through a rent
that was in the robe, he saw what the other was
about. . Just at that moment a piece flew off and hit
him on the eye. He cried out :

" Tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog ?"

The wolf answered — " You must have been look
ing at me."

" No, no," retorted Manabozho, " why should I
want to look at you ?"

" Manabozho/' said the old wolf, " you must have
been looking or you would not have got hurt."

238 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" No, no," he replied again, " I was not. I will
repay the saucy wolf this mischief," he thought to
himself.

So the next day, taking up a bone to obtain the
marrow, he said to the wolf :

" Brother, cover your head and do not look at
ine, for I very much fear a piece may fly in your
eye."

The wolf did so ; and Manabozho, taking the large
leg-bone of the moose, first looking to see if the wolf
was well covered, hit him a blow with all his might.
The wolf jumped up, cried out, and fell prostrate
from the effects of the blow.

" Why," said he, when he came to a little and
was able to sit up, " why do you strike me so ?"

" Strike you ?" said Manabozho, with well-feigned
surprise, " no ; you must have been looking at mu"

" No," answered the wolf, " I say I have not."

But Manabozho insisted, and as the old wolf 7«is
no great master of tricky argument, he was obliged
to give it up.

Shortly after this the old wolf suggested to Mana
bozho that he should go out and try his luck in hurt
ing by himself.

When he chose to put his mmd upon it he was
quite expert, and this time he succeeded in killing a
fine fat moose, which he thought he would take aside
slyly, and devour alone, having prepared to tell the

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 239

old wolf a pretty story on his return, to account fot
liis failure to bring any thing with him.

He was very hungry, and he sat down to eat ; but
as he never could go to work in .a straight-forward
way, he immediately fell into great doubts as to the
proper point at which to begin.

" Well," said he, " I do not know where to com
mence. At the head ? No. People will laugh, and
say — i He ate him backward/ "

He went to the side. " No," said he, " they will
say I ate him sideways."

He then went to the hind-quarter. " No, that
will not do, either ; they will say I ate him forward.
I will begin here, say what they will."

He took a delicate piece from the small of the
back, and was just on the point of putting it to his
mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking noise.
He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the mor
sel to his mouth the second time, when the tree
creaked again.

"Why," he exclaimed, " I can not eat when I
hear such a noise. Stop, stop 1" he said to the tree.
He put it down, exclaiming—-" I can not eat with
such a noise ;" and starting away he climbed the
tree, and was pulling at the limb which had offended
him, when his fore-paw was caught between the
branches so that he could not free himself.

While thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves ad-

240 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

vancing through the wood in the direction of his
meat. He suspected them to be the old wolf and
his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not
make them out.

" Go the other way, go the other way j" he cried
out ; " what would you come to get here ?"

The wolves stopped for a while and talked among
themselves, and said :

" Manabozho must have something there, or he
would not tell us to go another way."

" I be<nn to know him," said an old wolf, " and all

O / '

his tricks. Let us go forward and see."

They came on, and finding the moose, they soon
made away with it. Manabozho looked wistfully on
to see them eat till they were fully satisfied, when
they scampered off in high spirits.

A heavy blast of wind opened the branches and re
leased Manabozho, who found that the wolves had
left nothing but the bare bones. He made for home,
where, when he related his mishap, the old wolf, tak
ing him by the fore-paw, condoled with him deeply
on his ill-luck. A tear even started to his eye as he
added :

" My brother, this should teach us not to meddle
with points of ceremony when we have good meat to
eat."

The winter having by this time drawn fairly to a
close, on a bright morning in the early spring, the old

THE MISCHIEF-MAKER 241

wolf addressed Manabozho : " My brother, I am
obliged to leave you; and although I have sometimes
been merry at your expense, I will show that I care
for your comfort. I shall leave one of the boys be
hind me to be your hunter, and to keep you company
through the long summer afternoons."

The old wolf galloped ofTwith his five young ones;
and as they disappeared" from view, Manabozho was
disenchanted in a moment, and returned to his mor
tal shape.

Although he had been sometimes vexed and im
posed upon, he had, altogether, passed a pleasant
winter with the cunning old wolf, and now that he
was gone, Manabozho was downcast and low in spirit.
But as the days grew brighter he recovered by de
grees his air of cheerful confidence, and was ready
to try his hand upon any new adventure that might
occur to him. The old spirit of mischief was still
alive within him.

The young wolf who had been left with him was a
good hunter, and never failed to keep the lodge well
supplied with meat. One day Manabozho addressed
him as follows :

" My grandson, I had a dream last night, and it
does not portend good. It is of the large lake which
lies in that direction. You must be careful to always
go across it, whether the ice seem strong or not.
Never go around it, for there are enemies on the

11

242 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

further shore who lie in wait for you. The ice is
always safe."

Now Manabozho knew well that the ice was thin
ning every day under the warm sun, but he could not
stay himself from playing a trick upon the young
wolf.

In the evening when he came to the lake, after a
long day's travel in quest of game, the young wolf,
confiding in his grandfather, said, "Hwooh! the ice
does look thin, but Ncsho says it is sound;" and he
trotted upon the glassy plain.

He had not got half way across when the ice snap
ped, and with a mournful cry, the young wolf fell in
and was immediately seized by the water-serpents,
who knew that it was ManaMzho's grandson, and
were thirsting for revenge upon him for the death of
their relations in the war upon Pearl Feather.

Manabozho heard the young wolf's cry as he sat in
his lodge; he knew what had happened; and, from
that moment, he was deprived of the greater part of
his magical power.

He returned, scarcely more than an ordinary mor
tal, to his former place of dwelling, whence his
grandmother had departed no one knew Cither. He
married the arrow-maker's daughter, and became the
father of several children, and very poor. He, was
scarcely able to procure the means of living. His
lodge was pitched in a remote part of the country,

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 243

where lie could get no game. It was winter, and he
had not the common comforts of life. He said to his
wife one day, " I will go out a walking and see if I
can not find some lodges."

After walking some time he saw a lodge at a dis
tance. The children were playing at the door. When
they saw him approaching they ran in and told their
parents that Manabozho was coming.

It was the residence of the large red-headed wood
pecker. He came to the door and asked Manabozho
to enter. This invitation was promptly accepted.

After some time, the woodpecker, who was a
magician, said to his wife :

" Have you nothing to give Manabozho ? he must
be hungry."

She answered, " 'No."

" He ought not to go without his supper," said the
woodpecker. " I will see what I can do."

In the center of the lodge stood a large tamarack-
tree. Upon this the woodpecker flew, and com
menced going up; turning his head on each side of
the tree, and every now and then driving in his bill.
At last he pulled something out of the tree and
threw it down; when, behold, a fine fat raccoon lay
on the ground. He drew out six or seven more. He
then descended, and told his wife to prepare them.

" Manabozho," he said, " this is the only thing we
eat; what else can we give you ?"

244 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

*

" It is very good/' replied Manabozho.

They smoked their pipes and conversed with each
other.

After eating, Manabozho got ready to go home;
when the woodpecker said to his wife, " Give him
the other raccoons to take home for his children."
' In the act of leaving the lodge, Manabozho, on
purpose, dropped one of his mittens, which was soon
after observed upon the ground.

" Bun," said the woodpecker to his eldest son,
"and give it to him; but mind that you do not give
it into his hand; throw it at him, for there is no
knowing him, he acts so curiously."

The boy did as he was directed.

" Grandfather," said he to Manabozho, as he came
up to him, " you have left one of your mittens; here
it is."

" Yes," he said, affecting to be ignorant of the cir
cumstance, " it is so; but don't throw it, you will
soil it on the snow."

The lad, however, threw it, and was about to re
turn, when Manabozho cried out, " Bakah! Bakah!
stop — stop; is that all you eat ? Do you eat nothing
else with your raccoon ? tell me!"

" Yes, that is all," answered the young Wood
pecker; " we have nothing else."

" Tell your father," continued Manabozho, " to
come and visit me, and* let him bring a sack. I

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 245

will give him what he shall eat with his raccoon-
meat."

When the young one returned and reported this
message to his father, the old woodpecker turned up

his nose at the invitation. " I wonder," he said.

3 *

" what he thinks he has got, poor fellow!"

He was bound, however, to answer the proffer of
hospitality, and he went accordingly, taking along a
cedar-sack, to pay a visit to Manabozho.

Manabozho received the old fbd-headed wood
pecker with great ceremony. He had stood at the
door awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he came in
sight Manabozho commenced, while he was yet far
off, bowing and opening wide his arms, in token of
welcome; all of which the woodpecker returned in due
form, by ducking his bill, and hopping to right
and left, upon the ground, extending his wings to
their full length and fluttering them back to his
breast.

When the woodpecker at last reached the lodge,
Manabozho made various remarks upon the weather,
the appearance of the country, and especially on the
scarcity of game.

"Bat we," he added, "we always have enough.
Come in, and you shall not go away hungry, my no
ble bird !"

Manabozho had always prided* himself on being
able to give as good as he had received ; and to be up

246 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

with the woodpecker, he had shifted his lodge so as
to inclose a large dry tamarack-tree.

" What can I give you," said he to the wood
pecker ; " but as we eat so shall you eat."

With this he hopped forward, and, jumping on the
tamarack-tree, he attempted to climb it just as he
had seen the woodpecker do in his own lodge. He
turned his head first on one side, then on the other,
in the manner of the bird, meanwhile striving to go
up, and as often slipping down. Ever and anon he
would strike the tree with his nose^ as if it had been
a bill, and draw back, but he pulled out no raccoons ;
and he dashed his nose so often against the trunk
that at last the blood began to flow, and he tumbled
down senseless upon the ground.

The woodpecker started up with his drum and
rattle to restore him, and by beating them violently
he succeeded in bringing him to.

As soon as he came to his senses, Manabozho be
gan to lay the blame of his failure upon his wife,
saying to his guest :

" JSTemesho, it is this woman-relation of yours — she
is the cause of my not succeeding. She has made
me a worthless fellow. Before I took her I also could
get raccoons."

The woodpecker said nothing, but flying on the
tree he drew out several fine raccoons.

" Here," said he, " this is the way we do !" and

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 247

left him in disdain, carrying his bill high in the air,
and stepping over the door-sill as if it were not wor
thy to be touched by his toes.

After this visit, Manabozho was sitting in the
lodge one day with his head down. He heard the
wind whistling around it, and thought that by
attentively listening he could hear the voice of
some one speaking to him. It seemed to say to
him : .

" Great chief, why are you sorrowful ? Am not I
your friend — your guardian spirit ?"

Manabozho immediately took up his rattle, and
without rising from the ground where he was sitting,
began to sing the chant which has at every close the
refrain of, " Wha lay le aw."

When he had dwelt for a long time on this pecu
liar chant, which he had been used to sing in all his
times of trouble, he laid his rattle aside and deter
mined to fast. For this purpose he went to a cave
which faced the setting sun, and built a very small
fire, near which he lay down, first telling his wife that
neither she nor the children must come near him till
he had finished his fast.

%

At the end of seven days he came back to the
lodge, pale and thin, looking like a spirit himself, and
as if he had seen spirits. His wife had in the mean
time dug through the snow and got a few of the root
called truffles. These she boiled and set before him.

248 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

and this was all the food they had or seemed likely
to obtain.

When he had finished his light repast, Manabozho
took up his station in the door to see what would
happen. As he stood thus, holding in his hand his
large bow, with a quiver well filled with arrows, a
deer glided past along the far edge of the prairie, but
it was miles away, and no shaft that Manabozho
could shoot would be able to touch it.

Presently a cry came down the air, and looking up
he beheld a great flight of birds, but they were so far
up in the sky that he would have lost his arrows in a
vain attempt among the clouds.

Still he stood watchful, and confident that some
turn of luck was about to occur, when there came
near to the lodge two hunters, who bore between
them on poles upon their shoulders, a bear, and it
was so fine and fat a bear that it was as much as the
two hunters could do with all their strength to carry it.

As they came to the lodge-door, one of the hunters
asked if Manabozho lived thereabout.

" He is here," answered Manabozho.

" I have often heard of you," said the first hunter,
" and I was curious to see you. But you have lost
your magical power. Do you know whether any of
it is left ?"

Manabozho answered that he was himself in tho
dark on the subject.

MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 249

" Suppose you make a trial/7 said the hunter.

" What shall I do ?" asked Manabozho.

" There is my friend/' said the hunter, pointing to
his companion,, " who with me owns this hear which
we are carrying home. Suppose you see if you can
change him into a piece of rock."

" Very well/' said Manabozho ; and he had scarcely
spoken before the other hunter became a rock.

" Now change him back again/' said the first
hunter.

" That I can't do/' Manabozho answered ; " there
my power ends."

The hunter looked at the rock with a bewildered
face.

" What shall I do ?" he asked. " This bear I can
never carry alone, and it was agreed between my
friend there and myself, that we should not divide it
till we reached home. Can't you change my friend
tack, Manabozho ?"

" I would like to oblige you," answered Manabo
zho, " but it is utterly out of my power."

With this, looking again at the rock with a sad
and bewildered face, and then casting a sorrowful
glance at the bear, which lay by the door of the lodge,
the hunter took his leave, bewailing bitterly at heart
the loss of his friend and his bear.

He was scarcely out of sight when Manabozho sent
the children to get red willow sticks. Of these he

11*

250 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

cut off as many pieces, of equal length, as would
serve to invite his friends among the beasts and birds
to a feast. A red stick was sent to each one, not for
getting the woodpecker and his family.

When they arrived they were astonished to see
such an abundance of meat prepared for them at
such a time of scarcity. Manabozho understood
their glance, and was proud of a chance to make
such a display.

" Akewazi," he said to the oldest of the party,
" the weather is very cold, and the snow lasts a long
time ; we can kill nothing now but small squirrels,
and they are all black ; and I have sent for you to
help rne eat some of them."

The woodpecker was the first to try a mouthful
of the bear's meat, but he had no sooner began to
taste it than it changed into a dry powder, and set
him coughing. It appeared as bitter as ashes.

The moose was affected in the same way, and it
brought on such a dry cough as to shake every bone
in his body.

One by one, each in turn joined the company of
coughers, except Manabozho and his family, to whom
the bear's meat proved very savory.

But the visitors had too high a sense of what was
due to decorum and good manners to say any thing.
The meat looked very fine, and being keenly set and
strongly tempted by its promising look, they thought

THE MISCHIEF-MAKER. 251

they would try more of it. The more they ate the
faster they coughed, and the louder became the up
roar, until Manabozho, exerting the magical gift
which newfound he retained, changed them all into
squirrels ; and to this day the squirrel suffers from
the same dry cough which was brought on by at
tempting to sup off, of Manabozho's ashen bear's
meat.

And ever after this transformation, when Manabo-
zho lacked provisions for his family he would hunt
the squirrel, a supply of which never failed him, so
that he was always sure to have a number of his
friends present, in this shape, at the banquet.

The rock into which he changed the hunter, and
£0 became possessed of the bear, and thus laid the
foundations of his good fortune, ever after remained
by his lodge-door, and it was called the Grame-Bag
of Manabozho, the Mischief-Maker.

XIX.

LEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTEK,

LEELINAU was the favorite daughter of a
hunter, who lived on the lake shore near the
base of the lofty highlands, called Kaug Wudjoo.

From her earliest youth she was observed to be
thoughtful and retiring. She passed much of her
time in solitude, and seemed- ever to prefer the com
panionship of her own shadow to the ^ society of
the lodge-circle.

Whenever she could leave her father's lodge she
would fly to remote haunts and recesses in the woods,
or sit in lonely reverie upon some high promontory
of rock overlooking the lake. In such places she
would often, with her face turned upward, linger
long in contemplation of the air, as if she were in
voking her guardian spirit, and beseeching him to
lighten her sadness.

But amid all the leafy haunts, none drew her steps
toward it so often as a forest of pines, on the open
shore, called Manitowok, or the Sacred Wood. It

LEELINATJ, THE LOST DAUGHTEK.

253

was one of those hallowed places which is the resort
of the little wild men of the woods, and of the turtle
spirits or fairies which delight in romantic scenes.
Owing to this circumstance, its green retirement was
seldom visited by Indians, who feared to fall under
the influence of its mischievous inhabitants.

And whenever they were compelled by stress of
weather to make a landing on this part of the coast,
they never failed to leave an offering of tobacco, or
some other token, to show that they desired to stand
well wifch the proprietors of the fairy ground.

To this sacred spot Leelinau had made her way at
an early age, gathering strange flowers and plants,
which she would bring home to her parents, and re
late to them all the haps and mishaps that had oc
curred in her rambles.

Although they discountenanced her frequent visits
to the place, they were not able to restrain them, for
she was of so gentle and delicate a temper that they
feared to thwart her.

Her attachment to the fairy wood, therefore, grew
with her years. If shev wished to solicit her spirits to
procure* pleasant dreams, or any other maiden favor,
Leelinau repaired to the Manitowok. If her father
remained abroad in the hunt later than usual, and it
was feared that he had been overwhelmed by the
tempest, or had met with some other mischance, Lee
linau offered uj her prayers for safety at the Manito-

254 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

wok. It was there that she fasted, mused, and
strolled.

She at length became so engrossed by the fairy
pines that her parents began to suspect that some
evil spirit had enticed her to its haunts, and had cast
upon her a charm which she had not the power to
resist.

This belief was confirmed when, one day, her
mother, who had secretly followed her, overheard her
murmuring to some unknown and invisible compan
ion, appeals like these :

" Spirit of the dancing leaves !" whispered Leeli-
nau, " hear a throbbing heart in its sadness. Spirit
of the foaming stream ! visit thou my nightly pillow,
shedding over it silver dreams of mountain brook and
pebbly rivulet. Spirit of the starry night ! lead my
foot-prints to the blushing mis-kodeed, or where the
burning passion-flower shines with carmine hue.
Spirit of the greenwood plume !" she concluded, turn
ing with passionate gaze to the beautiful young pines
which stood waving their green beauty over her head,
" shed on me, on Leelinau the sad, thy leafy fra
grance, such as spring unfolds from sweetest flowers,
or hearts that to each other show their inmost grief.
Spirits ! hear, 0 hear a maiden's prayer !"

Day by day, these strange communings with un
seen beings drew away the heart of Leelinau more
and more from the simple duties of the lodge, and

LEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTER. 255

she walked among her people, melancholy and silent,
like a spirit who had visited them from another land.

The pastimes which engaged the frolic moments
of her young companions, passed by her as little triv
ial pageants in which she had no concern.

When the girls of the neighboring lodges assembled
to play at the favorite female game of pappus-e-ko-
waun, or the block and string, before the lodge-door,
Leelinau would sit vacantly by, or enter so feebly
into the spirit of the play as to show that it was irk
some to her.

Again, in the evening, when the young people
formed a ring around the lodge, and the piepeend-
jigun, or leather and bone, passed rapidly from one
to the other, she either handed it along without at
tempting to play, or if she took a part, it was with no
effort to succeed.

The time of the corn-gathering had coine, and the
young people of the tribe were assembled in the field,
busy in plucking the ripened maize. One of the girls,
noted for her beauty, had found a red ear, and every
one congratulated her that a brave admirer was on
his way to her father's lodge. She blushed, and
hiding the trophy in her bosom, she thanked the
Good Spirit that it was a red ear, and not a crooked,
that she had found.

Presently it chanced that one who was there among
the young men, espied in the hands of Lselinau, who

256 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

had plucked it indifferently, one of the crooked kind,
and at once the word " Wa-ge-min !" was shouted
aloud through the field, and the whole circle was set
in a roar.

" The thief is in the corn-field !" exclaimed the
young man, lagoo by name, and famous in the trihe
for his mirthful powers of story-telling ; "see you not
the old man stooping as he enters the field ? See
you not signs that he crouched as he crept in the
dark ? Is it not plain by this mark on the stalk that
he was heavily bent in his back ? Old man ! be
nimble, or some one will take thee while thou art
taking the ear."

These questions lagoo accompanied with the action
of one bowed with age stealthily entering the corn
field. He went on :

" See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear.
Nushka ! He seems for a moment to tremble.
Walker, be nimble ! Hooh ! It is plain the old man
is the thief."

He turned suddenly where she sat in the circle,
pensively regarding the crooked ear which she held
in her hand, and exclaimed :

" Leelinau, the old man is thine !"

Laughter rung merrily through the corn-field, but
Leelinau, casting down upon the ground the crooked
ear of maize, walked pensively away.

The next morning the eldest son of a neighboring

LEELINAU, THE LOST DAUGHTER.

25'

chief called at her father's lodge. He was quite ad
vanced in years; but he enjoyed such renown in bat
tle, and his name was so famous in the hunt, that
the parents accepted him as a suitor for their daugh
ter. They hoped that his shining qualities would
draw brack the thoughts of Leelinau from that spirit-
land whither she seemed to have wholly directed her
affections.

It was this chief's son whom lagoo had pictured
as the corn-taker, but, without objecting to his age, or
giving any other reason, Leelinau firmly declined his
proposals. The parents ascribed the young daugh
ter's hesitancy to maiden fear, and paying no further
heed to her refusal, a day was fixed for the inarriagvi-
visit to the lodge.

The young warrior came to the lodge-door, ai^d
Leelinau refused to see him; informing her parents,
at the same time, that she would never consent to the
match.

It had been her custom to pass many of her hours
in her favorite place of retirement, under a broad-
topped young pine, whose leaves whispered in every
wind that blew; but most of all in that gentle mur
mur of the air at the evening hour, dear to lovers,
when the twilight steals on.

Thither she now repaired, and, while reclining pen
sively against the young pine-tree, she fancied that
she heard a voice addressing her. At first it was

258 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

scarcely more than a sigh; presently it grew more
clear, and she heard it distinctly whisper —

" Maiden! think me hot a tree; hut thine own
d<?ar lover; fond to be with thee in my tall and
blooming strength, with the bright green nodding
plume that waves above thee. Thou art leaning on
my breast, Leelinau; lean forever there and be at
peace. Fly from men who are false and cruel, and quit
the tumult of their dusty strife, for this quiet, lonely
shade. Over thee I my arms will fling, fairer than
the lodge's roof. I will breathe a perfume like that
of flowers over thy happy evening rest. In my bark
canoe I'll waft thee o'er the waters of the sky-blue
lake. I will deck the folds of thy mantle with the
sun's last rays. Come, and on the mountain free rove
a fairy bright with me!"

Leelinau drunk in with eager ear these magical
words. Her heart was fixed. No warrior's son should
clasp her hand. She listened in the hope to hear the
airy voice speak more; but it only repeated, " Again!
again!" and entirely ceased.

On the eve of the day fixed for her marriage, Lee
linau decked herself in her best garments. She
arranged her hair according to the fashion of her
tribe, and put on all of her* maiden ornaments in
beautiful array. With a smile, she presented herself
before her parents.

" I am going," she said, " to meet my little lover,

THE LOST DAUGHTER. 259

the chieftain of the Green Plume, who is waiting for
me at the Spirit Grove."

Her face was radiant with joy, and the parents,
taking what she had said as her own fanciful way of
expressing acquiescence in their plans, wished hei
good fortune in the happy meeting.

;t I am going," she continued, addressing her
mother as they left the lodge, " I am going from one
who has watched my infancy and guarded my youth ;
who has given me medicine when I was sick, and
prepared my food when I was well. I am going from
a father who has ranged the forest to procure the
choicest skins for my dress, and kept his lodge sup
plied with the best spoil of the chase. I am going
from a lodge which has been my shelter "from the
storms of winter, and my shield from the heats of
summer. Farewell, my parents, farewell !"

So saying, she sped faster than any could follow her
to the margin of the fairy wood, and in a moment was
lost to sight.

As she had often thus withdrawn herself from the
lodge, the parents were not in fear, but confidently
awaited her return. Hour chased hour, as the clouds
of evening rolled up in the west; darkness came on,
but no daughter returned. With torches they hast
ened to the wood, and although they lit up every dark
recess and leafy gloom, their search was in vain.
Leelinau was nowhere to be seen. They called

260 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

aloud, in lament, upon her name, but she answered
not.

Suns rose and set, but nevermore in their light did
the bereaved parents eyes behold the lost form of
their beloved child. Their daughter was lost indeed.
Whither she had vanished no mortal tongue could
tell; although it chanced that a company of fisher
men, who were spearing fish near the Spirit Grove,
descried something that seemed to resemble a female
figure standing on the shore. As the evening was
mild and the waters calm, they cautiously pulled
their canoe toward land, but the slight ripple of their
oars excited alarm. The figure fled in haste, but
they could recognize in the shape and dress as she
ascended the bank, the lost daughter, and they saw
the green plumes of her fairy-lover waving over his
forehead as he glided lightly through the forest of
young pines.

XX.

YlIK WINTER-SPIRIT AND HIS VISITOR.

AN old man was sitting alone in his lodge by the
side of a frozen stream. It was the close of
winter, and his fire was almost out. He appeared
very old and very desolate. His locks were white with
age, and he trembled in every joint. Day after day
passed in solitude, and he heard nothing but the
sounds of the tempest, sweeping before it the new-
fallen snow?

One day as his fire was just dying, a handsome
young man approached and entered his dwelling. His
cheeks were red with the blood of youth; his eyes
sparkled with life, and a smile played upon his lips,
He walked with a light and quick step. His fore
head was bound with a wreath of sweet grass, in
place of the warrior's frontlet, and he carried a bunch
of flowers in his hand

"Ah! my son/' said the old man, " I am happy to
see you. Come in. Come, tell me of your adven
tures, and what strange lands you have been to see.

262 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Let us pass the night together. I will tell you of my
prowess and exploits, and what I can perform. You
shall do the same, and we will amuse ourselves."

He then drew from his sack a curiously-wrought
antique pipe, and having filled it with tobacco, ren
dered mild by an admixture of certain dried leaves,
he handed it to bis guest. When this ceremony
was attended to, they began to4 speak.

" I blow my breath," said the old man, " and the
streams stand still. The water becomes stiff and
hard as clear stone."

" I breathe," said the young man, " and flowers
spring up all over the plains."

" I shake my locks," retorted the old man, " and
snow covers the land. The leaves fall from the trees
at my command, and my breath blows them away.
The birds rise from the water and fly fit a distant
land. The animals hide themselves from the glance
of my eye, and the very ground where I walk be
comes as hard as flint."

" I shake my ringlets," rejoined the young man,
" and warm showers of soft rain fall upon the earth.
The plants lift up their heads out of the ground like
the eyes of children glistening with delight. My
voice recalls the birds. The warmth of my breath
unlocks the streams. Music fills the groves wherever
I walk, and all nature welcomes my approach/"

At length the sun begun to rise. A gentle warmth

THE WINTER-SPIRIT AND HIS VISITOR. 263

came over the place. The tongue of the old man
became silent. The robin and the blue-bird began
to sing on the top of the lodge. The stream began
to murmur by the door, and the fragrance of growing
herbs and flowers came softly on the vernal breeze.

Daylight fully revealed to the young man the char
acter of his entertainer. When he looked upon him
he had the visage of Peboan, the icy old Winter-
Spirit. Streams began to flow from his eyes. As the
sun increapd he grew less and less in stature, and
presently he had melted completely away. Nothing
remained on the place of his lodge-fire but the mis-
kodeed, a small white flower with a pink border,
which the young visitor, Seegwun, the Spirit of
Spring, placed in the wreath upon his brow, as his
first trophy in the North.

XXI.

THE FIRE-PLUME.

WASSAMO was living with his parWtts on the
shore of a large bay, far out in the north-east.

One day, when the season had commenced for fish
to be plenty, the mother of Wassamo said to him,
" My son, I wish you would go to yonder point and
see if you can not procure me some fish; and ask your
cousin to accompany you."

He did so. They set out, and in the course of the
afternoon they arrived at the fishing-ground.

The cousin, being the elder, attended to the nets,
and they encamped near by, using the bark of the
birch for a lodge to shelter them through the night.

They lit a fire, and while they sat conversing with
each other, the moon arose. Not a breath of wind
disturbed the smooth surface of the lake. Not a
cloud was seen. Wassamo looked out on the water
toward their nets, and he saw that the little black
spots, which were no other than the floats, dotting
the lake, had disappeared.

THE FIRE-PLUME. 265

" Cousin/' lie said, "let us visit our nets; perhaps
we are fortunate."

When they drew up the nets they were rejoiced
to see the meshes shining white, all over, with the
glittering prey. They landed in fine spirits, and put
away their canoe in safety from the winds.

" Wassamo," said the cousin, " you cook that we
may eat."

Wassamo set about the work at once, and soon had
his great kettle swung upon its branch, while the
cousin lay at his ease upon the other side of the
fire.

" Cousin," said Wassamo, " tell me stories or sing
me some love-songs."

The cousin obeyed, and sung his plaintive songs;
or he would frequently break off in the midst of a
mournful chant, and begin to recite a mirthful story,
and then in the midst of Wassamo's laughter he
would return to the plaintive ditty— just as it suited
his fancy ; for the cousin was gay of spirit, and
shifted his humor faster than the fleecy clouds
that appeared and disappeared in the night-sky over
their heads. In this changeful pastime the cousin
ran his length, and then he fell away, murmuring
parts of his song or story, into a silvery sleep; with
the moon gliding through the branches and gilding
his face.

Wassamo in the mean while had lost the sound of
12

266 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

his cousin's voice in the rich simmer of the kettle;
and when its music pleased his ear the most, as an
nouncing that the fish were handsomely cooked, he
lifted the kettle from the fire. He spoke to his
cousin, but he received no answer.

He went on with his housekeeping alone, and took
the wooden ladle and skimmed the kettle neatly, for
the fish were very plump and fat. Wassamo had a
torch of twisted bark in one hand to give light, and
when he came to take out the fish, there was no one
to have charge of the torch.

The cousin was so happy in his sleep, with the sil
ver moon kissing his cheeks, as though she were en
amored 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 mur
mured, 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 Was
samo there appeared to be two persons at no great
distance.

THE FIRE-PLUME. 267

" Cousin," said Wassamo, " some person is near us.
I hear a laugh; awake and let us look out I"
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 un
moved, smiling, in the calm light of the moon. Was
samo started up alone, and glided toward the strange
females.

As he approached them he was more and more en
raptured 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 obserfed were
in the bowl. The fire flickered, and made light and

268 THE INDIAN FAIRS' BOOK.

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 an
swer 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 an
swer 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

THE FIRE-PLUME. 269

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 rny 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 re
quire blood for blood. Oh ! my cousin, whither aro
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, run
ning 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 de
clared all that he knew.

Some said, "He has killed him in the dark."
Others said, "It is impossible; they were like broth
ers; they would have fallen for ea*ch 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 ]eaf on every tree was

270 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 Was
samo. 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 as
sembled 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 fea
tures, 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 pityf 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 hoar. He

THE FIKE-PLUME. 271

said that he was not afraid to die; for he was inno
cent 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
"!ife. 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 cous
in ?" he kept saying to himself.

Meanwhile, when Wassamo fell senseless before
the two young women in the wood, he lost all knowl
edge 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.

272 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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.1 *

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 ad
dressed 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 fish
ing-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
foi 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

THE FIRE-PLUME. 273

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 :
c c 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 Was
samo, " Son-in-law, I am in want of tobacco. None
grows about this dry place of mine. You shall re-

274 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

turn 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 alogether led an easy life; for they were not at
the trouble to hunt or clothe themselves; and when
ever 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 peo
ple 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 sum
mer 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 til]

THE FIRE -PLUME. 275

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 'ahroad and do you a mischief. Try and amuse
yourself. VThat 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 thundei
•^as heard, and instantly, not only the Old Spirit hut
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 reappear
ance occurred at every tempest.

" You are surprised," said the Old Spirit, " to see
as 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 even
ing meal. We are not afraid of him, not in the least."

Just then it chanced to thunder again, and Was-
samo observed that his father-in-law made extraor
dinary dispatch to conceal himself, although no
stranger, at all resembling in any way the Island
Spirit, was in view.

276 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 'tlie travelers who passed by the window at the side
of the lodge where they made their requests for com
fortable weather and an easy journey.

These were often mingled with loud complainings,
such as "Ho! how the sand jumps about!" " Take
away that hill 1" " 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 firsfc day of spring shone
into the lodge, the whole family arose and went about
the affairs of the day as though they had been slum-

THE FIRE-PLUME. 277

bering 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 re
warded. 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 disap
pears 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 niy 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/7

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."

278 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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
forih 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 vil
lage. 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

THE FIRE-PLUME. 279

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
h*e 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 t]ftat 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

280 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

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 pros-
perous with all the country.

The cousin of Wassamo recovered heart, and sang
once more his sad or mirthful chants, just as the hu
mor 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 ««istonishment 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
stories 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

THE FIRE-PLUME. 281

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 plen
tiful 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 out
side 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

282 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

their journey. Wassamo told him that it could not
be; that only spirits could exertrthe 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 re
turn.

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 Was
samo and his wife had disappeard, 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 to
bacco-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.

THE FIRE-PLUME. 283

Meanwhile he had a word of advice for his son-in-
law Wassamo. " My son/' said he; " some of these
Manitos 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, how
ever, 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 arc expected to come are so powerful
that tltey 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 answerecl 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

284 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

shaking the lodge with his deep-throated hail of wel
come 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 sev
eral whirlwinds, which were in the hahit of raging
about in the neighboring country. And following
this one, glided in a sweet-spoken, gentle-faced little
Spirit, who was understood to represents 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 fel
low; 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.

" Brothers," he said, " 1 have invited you to par
take with me of the offerings made by the mortals
on earth, which have been brought by our relation/'
pointing to Wassamo. " Brothers, you see their

THE FIRE-PLUME. 285

wishes and desires plainly set forth here/' laying his
hand upon the figured moose-skins. " The offering
is worthy of our consideration. Brothers, I see noth
ing on my part to hinder our granting their requests;
they do not appear to be unreasonable. Brothers,
the offer is gratifying. It is tobacco — an article
which we have lacked until we scarcely knew how to
use our pipes. Shall we grant their requests ? One
thing more I would say. Brothers, it is this : There
is my son-in law; he is mortal. I wish to detain him
with me, and it is with us jointly to make him one
of us."

"Hoke! hoke!" ran through the whole company of
Spirits, and "Hoke! hoke!" they cried again. And
it was understood that the petitioners were to have
all they asked, and that Wassamo was thenceforward
fairly accepted as a member of the great family of
Spirits.

As a wedding-gift, the Old Spirit asked his son-in-
law to make one request, which should be promptly
granted.

" Let there be no sand-squalls among my father's
people for three months to come/' said Wassamo.

" So shall it be," answered the old Sand-Spirit.

The tobacco was now divided in equal shares
among the company. They filled their pipes — and
huge pipes they were — and such clouds they blew,
that they rushed forth out of the lodge and brought

286 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

on night, in all the country round about, several
hours before its time.

After a while passed in silence, the Spirits rose up,
and bearing off their tobacco-sacks, they went smok
ing through the country, and losing themselves in
their own fog, till a late hour in the morning, when
all of their pipes being burned out, each departed on
his own business.

The very next day the old Sand-Spirit, who was
very much pleased with the turn affairs had taken
at his entertainment, addressed Wassamo :. " Son-in-
law, I have made up my mind to allow you another
holiday as an acknowledgment of the handsome man
ner in which you acquitted yourself of your embassy.
You may visit your parents and relatives once more,
to tell them that their wishes are granted, and to
take your leave of them forever. You can never,
after, visit them again."

Wassamo at once set out, reached his people, and
was heartily welcomed.

They asked for his wife, and Wassamo informed
them that she had tarried at home to look after a
son, a fine little Sand-Spirit, who had been born to
them since his return.

Having delivered all of his messages and passed a
happy time, Wassamo said, " I must now bid you all
farewell forever."

His parents and friends raised their voices in loud

THE FIRE-PLUME. 287

lamentation; they clung to him, and as a special
favor, which he could now grant, being himself a
spirit, he allowed them to accompany him to the
sand-hanks.

They all seated themselves to watch his last fare
well. The day was mild ; the sky clear, not a cloud
appearing to dim the heavens, nor a breath of wind
to ruffle the tranquil waters. A perfect silence fell
upon the company. They gazed with eager eyes
fastened on Wassamo, as he waded out into the
water, waving his hands. They saw him descend,
more and more, into the depths. They beheld the
waves close over his head, and a loud and piercing
wail went up which rent the sky.

They looked again; a red name, as if the sun had
glanced on a billow, lighted the spot for an instant;
but the Feather of Flames, Wassamo of the Fire-
Plume, had disappeared from home and kindred, and
the familiar paths of his youth, forever.

XXII.

WEEOIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF.

IN a lonely forest, there once lived a man and his
wife, who had a son. The father went forth every
day, according to the custom of the Indians, to hunt
for food to supply his family.

One day, while he was absent, his wife, on gokig out
of the lodge, looked toward the lake that was near,
and she saw a very large man walking on the water,
and coming fast toward the lodge. He was already
so near that she could not, if she had wished to,
escape by flight. She thought to herself, " What
shall I say to the monster ?"

As he advanced rapidly, she ran in, and taking the
hand of her son, a boy of three or four years old, she
led him out. Speaking very loud, " See, my son,"
she said, " your grandfather;" and then added, in a
tone of appeal and supplication, " he will have pity
on us."

The giant approached and said, with a loud ha! ha!
"Yes, my son;" and added, addressing the woman,
" Have you any thing to eat ?"

WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF. 289

By good luck the lodge was well supplied with
meats of various kinds; the woman thought to please
him by handing him these, which were savory and
carefully prepared. But i^e pushed them away in
disgust, saying, "I smell nre;" and, not waiting to
be invited, he seized upon the carcass of a deer
which lay by the door, and dispatched it almost with
out stopping to take breath.

When the hunter came home he was surprised to
see the monster, he was so very frightful. He had
again brought a deer, which he had no sooner put
down than the cannibal seized it, tore it in pieces,
and. devoured it as though he had been fasting for M
week. The hunter looked on in fear and astonish
ment, and in a whisper he told his wife that he was
afraid for their lives, as this monster was one whom
Indians call Weeridigoes. He did not even dare to
speak to him, nor did the cannibal say a word, but as
soon as he had finished his meal, he stretched himself
down and fell asleep.

In the evening the Weendigo told the people that
he should go out a hunting; and he strided away to
ward the North. Toward morning he returned, all
besmeared with blood, but he did not make known
where he had been nor of what kind of game he had
been in quest; although the hunter and his wife had
dreadful suspicions of the sport in which he had been
engaged. Withal his hunger did not seem to be

13

290 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

staid, for he took up the deer which the hunter had
brought in, and devoured it eagerly, leaving the fam
ily to make their meal of the dried meats which had
been reserved in the lodge,

In this manner the Weendigo and the hunters
family lived for some time, and it surprised them that
the monster never attempted their lives; although he
never slept at night, but always went out and re
turned, by the break of day, stained with blood, and
looking very wild and famished. When there was no
deer to be had wherewith to finish his repast, he said
nothing. In truth he was always still and gloomy,
and he seldom spoke to any of them; when he did,
his discourse was chiefly addressed to the boy.

One evening, after he had thus sojourned with
them for many weeks, he informed the hunter that
the time had now arrived for him to take his leave,
but that before doing so, he would give him a charm
that would bring good luck to his lodge. He pre
sented to him two arrows, and thanking the hunter
and his wife for their kindness, the Weendigo de
parted, saying, as he left them, that he had all the
world to travel over.

The hunter and his wife werfc happy when he was
gone, for they had looked every moment to have been
devoured by him. He tried the arrows, and they
never failed 1 o bring down whatever they were aimed
at.

WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF. 291

They had lived on, prosperous and contented, for a
year, when, one day, the hunter being absent, his
wife on going out of the lodge, saw something like a
black cloud approaching. •

She looked until it came near, when she perceived
that it was another Weendigo or Giant Cannibal.
Kemembering the good conduct of the other, she had
no fear of this one, and asked him to look into the
lodge.

He did so ; and finding after he had glared
around, that there was no food at hand, he grew very
wroth, and, being sorely disappointed, he took the
lodge and threw it to the winds. He seemed hardly
at first to notice the woman in his anger; but pres
ently he cast a fierce glance upon her, and seizing her
by the waist, in spite of her cries and entreaties, he
bore her off. To the little son, who ran to and fro
lamenting, he paid no heed.

At night-fall, when the hunter returned from the
forest, he was amazed. His lodge was gone, and he
saw his son sitting near the spot where it had stood,
shedding tears. The son pointed in the direction the
Weendigo had taken, and as the father hurried along
he found the remains of his wife strewn upon the
ground.

The hunter blackened his face, and vowed in his
heart that he wofcld have revenge. He built another
lodge, and gathering together the bones of his

292 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

wife, he placed them in the hollow pa/t of a dry
tree.

He left his boy to take care of the lodge while he
was absent, hunting and roaming about from*place to
place, striving to forget his misfortune, and searching
for the wicked Weendigo.

He had been gone but a little while one morning,
when his son shot his arrows out through the top of
the lodge, and running out to look for them, he could
find them nowhere. The boy had been trying his
luck, and he was puzzled that he had shot his shafts
entirely out of sight.

His father made h;m more arrows, and when he
was again left alone, he shot one of them out; but
although he looked as sharply as he could toward the
spot where it fell, and ran thither at once, he could
not find it.

He shot another, which was lost in the same way;
and returning to the lodge to replenish his quiver, he
happened to espy one of the lucky arrows, which the
first Weendigo had given to his father, hanging upon
the side of the lodge. He reached up, and having
secured it, he shot it out at the opening, and imme
diately running out to find where it fell, he was sur
prised to see a beautiful boy just in the act of taking
it up, and hurrying away with it to a large tree,
where he disappeared.

The hun^r's son followed, and having come to

WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF? 293

the tree, he beheld the face of the boy looking out
through an opening in the hollow part.

"Ha! ha!" he said, "my friend, come out and
play with me;" and he urged the boy till he con
sented. They played and shot their arrows by
turns.

Suddenly the young boy said, " Your father is
coming. We must stop. Promise me that you will
not tell him/'

The hunter's son promised, and the other disap
peared in the tree.

When the hunter returned from the chase, his son
sat demurely by the fire. In the course of the even
ing he asked his father to make him a new bow; and
when he was questioned as to the use he could find
for two bows, he answered that one might break or
get lost.

The father pleased at his son's diligence in the
practice of the bow, made him the two weapons; and
the next day, as soon as his father had gone away,
the boy ran to the hollow tree, and invited his little
friend to come out and play; at the same time pre
senting to him the new bow. They went and played
in the lodge together, and in their sport they raised
the ashes all over it.

Suddenly again the youngest said, " Your father is
coming, I must leave."

He again exacted a promise of secresy, and went

294 THE INDIAN FAIBYBOOK.

back to his tree. The eldest took his seat near the
fire.

When the hunter came in he was surprised to see
the ashes scattered about. " Why, my son/' he said,
"you must have played very hard to day to raise
such a dust all alone."

" Yes," the boy answered, " I was very lonesome,
and I ran round and round — that is the cause of it."

The next day the hunter made ready for the chase
as usual. The boy said, " Father, try and hunt all
day, and see what you can kill."

He had no sooner set out than the boy called his
friend, and they played and chased each other round
the lodge. • They had great delight in each other's
company, and made merry by the hour. The hunter
was again returning, and came to a rising ground,
which caught the winds as they passed, and he heard
his son laughing and making a noise, but the sounds
as they reached him on the hill-top, seemed as if
they arose from two persons playing.

At the same time the younger boy stopped, and
after saying " Your father is coming," he stole away,
under cover of the high grass, to his hollow tree,
which was not far off.

The hunter, on entering, found his son sitting by
the fire, very quiet and unconcerned, although he saw
that all the articles of the lodge were lying thrown
about in all directions.

WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF. 295

« Why, my son," he said " you must play very
hard every day; and what is it that you do, all alone,
to throw the lodge in such confusion ?"

The boy again had his excuse. " Father," he an
swered, " I play in this manner : I chase and drag my
blanket around the lodge, and that is the reason you
see the ashes spread about."

Th« hunter was not satisfied until his son had
shown him how he played with the blanket, which he
di.l so adroitly as to set his father laughing, and at
last drive him out of the lodge with the great clouds
of ashes that he raised.

The next morning the boy renewed his request that
his father should be absent all day, and see if he
could not kill two deer. The hunter thought this a
strange desire on the part of his son, but as he had
always humored the boy, he went into the forest as
usual, bent on accomplishing his wish, if he could.

As soon as he was out of sight, his son hastened to
his young companion at the tree, and they continued
their sports.

The father on nearing his home in the evening, as
he reached the rising ground, again heard the sounds
of play and laughter; and as the wind brought them
straight to his ear, he was now certain that there
were two voices.

The boy from the tree had no more than time to
escape, when the hunter entered, and found his son,
sitting as usual, near the fire. When he cast his eyes

296 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

around, lie saw that the lodge was in greater confu
sion than before. " My son/' he said, " you must be
very foolish when alone to play so. But, tell*me, my
son; I heard two voices, I am sure;" and he looked
closely on the prints of the footsteps in the ashes.
" True," he continued, " here is the print of a foot
which is smaller than my son's;" and he was now sat
isfied that his suspicions were well founded, and that
some very young person had been the companion of
his son.

The boy could not now refuse to tell his father
what had happened.

" Father," he said, "I found a boy in the hollow
of that tree, near the lodge, where you placed my
mother's bones."

Strange thoughts came over the mind of the
hunter; did his wife live again in this beautiful
child ?

Fearful of disturbing the dead, he did not dare to
visit the place where he had deposited her remains.

He, however, engaged his son to entice the boy to
a dead tree, by the edge of a wood, where they could
kill many flying-squirrels by setting it on fire. He
said that he would conceal himself near by, and take
the boy.

The next day the hunter accordingly went into the
woods, and his son, calling the boy from the tree,
urged him to go with him to kill the squirrels. The
boy objected that his father was near, but he was at

WEENDIGOES AND THE BONE-DWARF. 297

length prevailed on to go, and after they had fired
the tree, and while they were busy killing or taking
the squirrels, the hunter suddenly made his appear
ance, and clasped the strange boy in his arms. He
cried out, " Kago, kago, don't, don't. You will tear
my clothes !" for he was clad Jn a fine apparel, which
shone as if it had been made of a beautiful trans
parent skin. The father reassured him by every
means in his power.

By constant kindness and gentle words the boy was
reconciled to remain with them* but chiefly by the
presence of his young friend, the hunter's son, to
whom he was fondly attached. The children were
never parted from each other; and when the hunter
looked upon the strange boy, he seemed to see living
in him the better spirit of his lost wife. He was
thankful to the Great Spirit for this act of goodness,
and in his heart he felt assured that in time the boy
would show great virtue, and in some way avenge him
on the wicked Weendigo who had destroyed the com
panion of his lodge.

The hunter grew at ease in his spirit, and gave all
of the time he could spare from the chase to the
society of the two children ; but, what affected him
the most, both of his sons, although they were well-
formed and beautiful, grew no more in stature, but
remained children still. Every day they resembled
each other more and more, and they never ceased to
13*

298 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

sport and divert themselves in the innocent ways jf
childhood.

One day the hunter had gone ahroad with his bow
and arrows, leaving, at the request of the strange
boy, one of the two shafts which the friendly Ween-
digo had given to him, Behind in the lodge.

When he returned, what were his surprise and joy
to see stretched dead by his lodge-door, the black
giant who had slain his wife. He had been stricken
down by the magic shaft in the hands of the little
stranger from the tree; and ever after the boy, or the
Bone-Dwarf as he was called, was the guardian and
good genius of the lodge, and no evil spirit, giant, or
Weendigo, dared approach it to mar their peace.

XXIII.

THE BIRD LOVER.

IN a region of country where the forest and the
prairie strived which should be the most beauti
ful — the open plain, with its free sunshine and winds
and flowers, or the close wood, with its delicious
twilight-walks artd enamored haunts — there lived a
wicked manito in the disguise of an old Indian.

Although the country furnished an abundance of
game, and whatever else a good heart could wish for,
it was the study of this wicked genius to destroy
such as fell into his hands. He made use of all his
arts to decoy men into his power, for the purpose of
killing fthem. The country had been once thickly
peopled, but this Mudjee Monedo had so thinned it
by his cruel practices, that he now lived almost soli
tary in the wilderness.

The secret of his success lay in his great speed.
He had the power to assume the shape of any four-
footed creature, and it was his custom to challenge
such as he sought to destroy, to run with him. He

SOO THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

had a beaten path on which he ran, leading aiouncl
a large lake, and he always ran around this circle so
that the starting and the winning-post was the same.
Whoever failed as e^ry one had, yielded up his life
at this post; and although he ran every day, no man
was ever known to beat this evil genius; for whenever
he was pressed hard, he changed himself into a fox,
wolf, deer, or other swift-footed animal, and was thus
able to leave his competitor behind.

The whole country was in dread of this same Mud-
jee Monedo, and yet the young men were constantly
running with him; for if they refused, he called them
cowards, which was a reproach they could not bear.
They would rather die than be called cowards.

To keep up his sport, the manito made light of
these deadly foot-matches, and instead of assuming
a braggart air, and going about in a boastful way,
with the blood of such as he had overcome, upon his
hands, he adopted very pleasing manners, and visited
the lodges around the country as any other sweet-
tempered and harmless old Indian might. *

His secret object in these friendly visits was to
learn whether the young boys were getting old
enough to run with him; he kept a very sharp eye
upon their growth, and the day he thought them
ready, he did not fail to challenge them to a trial on
his racing-ground.

There was not a family in all that beautiful region

THE BIRD LOVER. 301

which had not in this way been visited and thinned
out; and the manito had quite naturally come to be
held in abhorrence by all the Indian mothers in the
country.

It happened that there lived near him a poor
widow woman, whose husband and seven sons he had
made way with ; and she was now living wi^h. an only
daughter, and a son of ten or twelve years old.

This widow was very poor and feeble, and she suf
fered so much for lack of food and other comforts of
the lodge, that she would have been glad to die, but for
her daughter and her little son. The Mudjee Monedo
had already visited her lodge to observe whether the
boy was sufficiently grown to be challenged to the
race; and so crafty in his approaches and so soft in
his manners was the monedo, that the mother feared
that he would yet decoy the son and make way with
him as he had done with his^ father and his seven
brothers, in spite of all her struggles to save him.

And yet she strove with ah1 her might to strengthen
her son in every good course. She taught him, as best
she could, what was becoming for the wise hunter
and the brave warrior. She remembered and set be
fore him all that she could recall of the skill and the
craft of his father and his brothers who^were lost.

The widow woman also instructed her daughter in
whatever could make her useful as a wife; and in the
leisure-time of the lodge, she gave her lessons in the

302 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

art of working with the quills of porcupine, and
bestowed on her such other accomplishments as
should make her an ornament and a blessing to her
husband's household. The daughter, Minda by
name, was kind and obedient to her mother, and
never failed in her duty. Their lodge stood high
up on thQ banks of a lake, which gave them a wide
prospect of country, embellished with groves and
open fields, which waved with the blue light of their
long grass, and made, at all hours of sun and moon,
a cheerful scene to look upon.

Across this beautiful prairie, Minda had one morn
ing made her way to gather dry limbs for their fire;
for she disdained no labor of the lodge. And while
enjoying the sweetness of the air and the green
beauty of the woods, she strolled far away.

She had come to a bank, painted with flowers of
every hue, and was reclining on its fragrant couch,
when a bird, of red and deep-blue plumage softly
blended, alighted on a branch near by, and began to
pour forth its carol. It was a bird of strange char
acter, such as she had never before seen. Its first
note was so delicious to the ear of Minda, and it so
pierced to her young heart, that she listened as she
had never before to any mortal or heavenly sound. It
seemed like the human voice, forbidden to speak, and
uttering its language through this wild wood-chant
with a mournful melody, as if it bewailed the lack of

THE BIRD LOVER. 303

•

the power or the right to make itself more plainl} in*
telligible.

The voice of the bird rose and fell, and circled
round and round, but whithersoever floated or spread
out its notes, they seemed ever to have their center
where Minda sat; and she looked with sad eyes into
the sad eyes of the mournful bird, that sat in his red
and deep-blue plumage just opposite to the flowery
bank.

The poor bird strove more and more with his voice,
and seemed ever more and more anxiously to address
his notes of lament to Minda's ear, till at last she
could not refrain from saying, " What aileth thee, sad
bird ?"

As if he had but waited to be spoken to, the bird
left his branch, and alighting upon the bank, smiled on
Minda, and, shaking his shining plumage, answered :

" I am bound in this condition until a maiden shall
accept me in marriage. I have wandered these
groves and sung to ma^ny and many of the Indian
girls, but none ever heeded my voice till you. Will
you be mine?" he added, and poured forth a flood of
melody which sparkled and spread itself with its sweet
murmurs over all the scene, and fairly entranced the
young Minda, who sat silent, as if she feared to break
the charm by speech.

The bird, approaching nearer, asked her, if she
Loved him, to get her mother's consent to their mar-

304 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

riage. " I shall be free then," said the bird, "and
you shaE know me as I am."

Miuda lingered, and listened to the sweet voice of
the bird in its own forest notes, or filling each pause
with gentle human discourse; questioning her as to
her home, her family, and the little incidents of her
daily life.

She returned to the lodge later than usual, but she
was too timid to speak to her mother of that which the
bird had charged her. She returned again and again
to the fragrant haunt in the wood; and everyday she
listened to the song and the discourse of her bird ad
mirer with more pleasure, and he every day besought
her to speak to her mother of the marriage. This
she could not, however, muster heart and courage tc
do.

At last the widow began herself to have a suspi
cion that her daughter's heart was in the wood, from
her long delays in returning, and the little success
she had in gathering the fire-branches for which she
went in search.

In answer to her mother's questions, Minda re
vealed the truth, and made known her lover's re
quest. The mother, considering the lonely and des
titute condition of her little household, gave her con
sent.

The daughter, with light steps, hastened with the
news to the wood. The bird lover of course heard

THE BIRD LOVER. 305

it with delight, and fluttered through the air in
happy circles, and poured forth a song of joy which
thrilled Minda to the heart.

He said that he would come to the lodge at sun
set, and immediately took wing, while Minda hung
fondly upon his flight, till he was lost far away in the
blue sky.

With the twilight the bird lover, whose name was
Monedowa, appeared at the door of the lodge, as a
hunter, with a red plume and a mantle of blue upon
his shoulders.

He addressed the widow as his friend, and she di
rected him to sit down beside her daughter, and they
were regarded as man and wife.

Early on the following morning, he asked for the
bow and arrows of those who had been slain by the
wicked manito, and went out a-hunting. As soon as
he had got out of sight of the lodge, he changed him
self into the wood-bird, as he had been before his
marriage, and took his flight through the air.

Although game was scarce in the neighborhood of
the widow's lodge, Monedowa returned at evening, in
his character of a hunter, with two deer. This was
his daily practice, and the widow's family never more
lacked for food.

It was noticed, however, that Monedowa himself
ate but little, and that of a peculiar kind of meat,
flavored with berries, which, with other circumstances,

806 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

convinced them that he was not as the Indian people
around him.

In a few days his mother-in-law told him that the
manito would come to pay them a visit, to see how
the young man, her son, prospered.

Monedowa answered that he should on that day be
absent. When the time arrived, he flew upon a tall
tree, overlooking the lodge, and took his station there
as the wicked manito passed in.

The mudjee monedo cast sharp glances at the scaf
folds so well laden with meat, and as soon as he had
entered, he said, " Why, who is it that is furnishing
you with meat so plentifully?"

" No one," she answered, " but my son; he is just
beginning to kill deer."

" No, no," he retorted; " some one is living with
you."

" Kaween, no indeed," replied the widow; "you
are only making sport of my hapless condition. Who
do you think would come and trouble themselves
about me?"

" Very well," answered the manito, " I will go; but
on such a day I will again visit you, and see who it is
that furnishes the meat, and whether it is your son
or not."

He had no sooner left the lodge and got. out of
sight, than the son-in-law made his appearance with
two IT ore deer. On being made acquainted with the

THE BIRD LOVEE. 307

conduct of the manito, " Very well," he said, " I will
be at home the next time, to see him."

Both the mother and the wife urged Monedowa to
be aware of the manito. They made known to him
ail 91 his cruel courses, and assured him that no
man could escape from his power.

"No matter," said Monedowa; "if he invites me
to the race-ground, I will not be backward. What
follows, may teach him, my mother, to show pity on
the vanquished, and not to trample on the widow and
thohe who are without fathers."

When the day of the visit of the manito arrived,
Monedowa told his wife to prepare certain pieces of
meat, which he pointed out to her, together with two
or three buds of the birch-tree, which he requested
her to put in the pot. He directed also that the
manito should be hospitably received, as if he had
been just the kind-hearted old Indian he professed to
be. Monedowa then dressed himself as a warrior,
embellishing his visage with tints of red, to show that
he was prepared for either war or peace.

As soon as the mudjee monedo arrived, he eyed this
strange warrior whom he had never seen before; but
he dissembled, as usual, and, with a gentle laugh,
said to the widow, " Did I not tell you that some one
was staying with you, for I knew your son was too
young to hunt."

The widow excused herself by saying that she did

308 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

not think it necessary to tell him, inasmuch as he
was a manito, and must have known before he
asked.

The manito was very pleasant with Monedowa,
and after much other discourse, in a gentle-spoken
voice, he invited him to the racing-ground, saying it
was a manly amusement, that he would have an ex
cellent chance to meet there with other warriors, and
that he should himself be pleased to run with him.

Monedowa would have excused himself, saying
that he knew nothing of running.

" Why," replied the mudjee monedo, trembling in
every limb as he spoke, " don't you see how old I
look, while you are young and full of life. We must
at least run a little to amuse others."

" Be it so, then/' replied Monedowa. " I will
oblige you. I will go in the morning."

Pleased with his crafty success, the manito would
have now taken his leave, but 'he was pressed to re
main and partake of their hospitality. The meal
was immediately prepared. But one dish was used.

Monedowa partook of it first, to show his guest that
he need not. fear, saying at the same time, " It is a
feast, and as we seldom meet, we must eat all that is
placed on the dish, as a mark of gratitude to the
Great Spirit for permitting me to kill animals, and
for the pleasure of seeing you, and partaking of it
with you."

THE BIRD LOVER. 309

They ate and talked, on this and that, until they
had nearly dispatched the meal, when the manito
took up the dish and drank off the broth at a breath.
On setting it down he immediately turned his head
and commenced coughing with great violence. The
old body in which he had disguised himself was well-
nigh shaken in pieces, for he had, as Monedowa ex
pected, swallowed a grain of the birch-bud, and this,
which relished to himself as being of the bird nature,
greatly distressed the old manito, who partook of the
character of an animal, or four-footed thing.

He was at last put to such confusion of face by
his constant coughing, that he was enforced to leave,
saying, or ratherriiccoughing as he left the lodge, that
he should look for the young man at the racing-
ground in the morning.

When the morning came, Monedowa was early
astir, oiling his limbs and enameling his breast and
arms with red and blue, resembling the plumage in
which he had first appeared to Minda. Upon his brow
he placed a tuft of feathers of the same shining tints.

By his invitation his wife, Minda, the mother and
aer young son, attended Monedowa to the manito's
racing-ground.

The lodge of the manito stood upon a high ground,
and near it stretched out a long row of other lodges,
said to be possessed by wicked kindred of his, who
shared in the spoils of his cruelty.

310 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

As soon as the young hunter and his party ap
proached, the inmates appeared at their lodge-doors
and cried out :

" We are visited."

At this cry, the mudjee monedo came 'forth and
descended with his companions to the starting-post on
the plain. From this the course could be seen, wind
ing in a long girdle about the lake ; and as they were
now all assembled, the olc^ manito began to speak of
the race, belted himself up and pointed to the post,
which was an upright pillar of stone.

" But before we start," said the manito, " I wish it
to be understood that when men run with me I make*
a wager, and I expect them to amde by it — life
against life."

" Very well — be it so," answered Monedowa. " We
shall see whose head is to be dashed against the
stone."

" We shall," rejoined the mudjee monedo. " I am.
very old, but I shall try and make a run."

" Very well," again rejoined Monedowa ; " I hope
we shall both stand to our bargain."

" Good !" said the old manito ; and he at the same
time cast a sly glance at the young hunter, and rolled
his eyes toward where stood the pillar of stone.

" I am ready," said Monedowa.

The starting shout was given, and they set off at
high speed, the manito leading, and Monedowa press-

THE BIRD LOVER. 311

ing closely after. As he closed upon him, the old
manito began to show his power, and changing him
self into a fox he passed the young hunter with ease,
and went leisurely along.

Monedowa now, with a glance upward, took the
shape of the strange bird of red and deep-blue
plumage, and with one flight, lighting at some dis
tance ahead of the manito, resumed his mortal shape.

When the mudjee monedo espied his competitor
before him, " Whoa ! whoa !" he exclaimed ; " this is
strange ;" and he immediately changed himself into
a wolf, and sped past Monedowa.

As he galloped by, Monedowa heard a noise from
his throat, and he knew that he was still in distress
from the birch-bud which he had swallowed at his
mother-in-law's lodge.

Monedowa again took wing, and, shooting into the
air, he descended suddenly with great swiftness, and
took the path far ahead of the olcUmanito.

As he passed the wolf he whispered in his ear :

" My friend, is this the extent of your speed ?"

The manito began to be troubled with bad forebod
ings, for, on looking ahead, he saw the young hunter
in his own manly form, running along at leisure. The
mudjee monedo, seeing the necessity of more speed,
now passed Monedowa in the shape of a deer.

They wei e now far around the circle of the lake,
and fast closing in upon the starting-post, when

312 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Monedowa, putting on his red and blue plumage,
glided along the air and alighted upon the track far
in advance.

To ovdttake him, the old manito assumed the shape
of the buffalo ; and he pushed on with such long gal
lops that he was again the foremost on the course.
The buffalo was the last change he could make, and
it was in this form that he had most frequently con
quered.

The young hunter, once more a bird, in the act of
passing the manito, saw his tongue lolling from his
mouth with fatigue.

" My friend," said Monedowa, " is this all your
speed ?"

The manito made no answer. Monedowa had re
sumed his character of a hunter, and was within a
run of the winning-post, when the wicked manito had
nearly overtaken him.

" Bakah ! bakah 1 nejee !" he called out to Mone
dowa ; " stop, my friend, I wish to talk to you."

Monedowa laughed aloud as he replied :

" I will speak to yo?i at the starting-post. When
men run with me I make a wager, and I expect them
to abide by it — life against life."

One more flight as the blue bird with red wings,
and Monedowa was so near to the goal that he could
easily reach it in his mortal shape. Shining in
beauty, his face lighted up like the sky, with tinted

THE BIRD LOVER. 313

arms and bosom gleaming in the sun. and the parti
colored plume on his brow waving in the wind. Mo
nedowa, cheered by a joyful shout from his own peo
ple, leaped to the post.

The manito came on with fear in his face.

" My friend/7 he said, " spare my life ;" and then
added, in a low voice, as if he would not that the
others should hear it, " Give me to live." And he be
gan to move off as if the request had been granted.

" As you have done to others," replied Monedowa,
" so shall it be done to you."

And seizing the wicked manito, he dashed him
against the pillar o£ stone. His kindred, who were
looking on in horror, raised a cry of fear and fled away
in a body to some distant land, whence they have
never returned.

The widow's family left the scene, and when they
had all come out into the open fields, they walked on
together until they had reached the fragrant bank
and the evergreen wood, where the daughter had first
encountered her bird lover.

Monedowa turning to her, said :

" My mother, here we must part. Your daughter
and myself must now leave you. The Good Spirit,
moved with pity, has allowed me to be your friend.
I have done that for which I was sent. I am per
mitted to take with me the one whom I love. I have

found your daughter ever kind, gentle and just. She
14

314 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

shall be my companion. The blessing of the Good
Spirit be ever with you. Farewell, rny mother — my
brother, farewell."

While the widow woman was still lost in wonder at
these words, Monedowa, and Minda his wife, changed
at the same moment, rose into the air, as beautiful
birds, clothed in shining colors of red and blue.

They caroled together as they flew, and their songs
were happy, and falling, falling, like clear drops, as
they rose, and rose, and winged their way far upward,
a delicious peace came into the mind of the poor
widow woman, and she returned to her lodge deeply
thankful at heart for all the goodness that had been
shown to her by the Master of Life.

From that day forth she never knew want, and her
young son proved a comfort to her lodge, and the
tuneful carol of Monedowa and Minda, as it fell from
heaven, was a music always, go whither she would,
sounding peace and joy in her ear.

XXIV.

BOKWEWA, THE HUMPBACK.

T) OKWEWA -and his brother lived in a far-off
-U part of the country. By such as had knowledge
of them, Bokwewa, the elder, although deformed and
feeble of person, was considered a manito, who had
assumed the mortal shape; while his younger brother,
Kwasynd, manly in appearance, active, and strong,
partook of the nature of the present race of beings.

They lived off the path, in a wild, lonesome place,
far retired from neighbors, and, undisturbed by cares,
they passed their time, content and happy. The
days glided by serenely as the river that flowed by
their lodge.

Owing to his lack of strength, Bokwewa never en
gaged in the chase, but gave his attention entirely to
the affairs of the lodge. In the long winter evenings
he passed the time in telling his brother stories of the
giants, spirits, weendigoes, and fairies of the elder
age, when they had the exclusive charge of the world.
He also at times taught -his brother the manner in

316 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

which game should be pursued, pointed out to him
the ways of the different beasts and birds of the
chase, and assigned the seasons at which they could
be hunted with most success.

For a while the brother was eager to learn, and
keenly attended to his duties as the provider of the
lodge; but at length he grew weary of their tranquil
life, and began to have a desire to show himself among
men. He became restive in their retirement, and
was seized with a longing to visit remote places.

One day, Kwasynd told his brother that he should.
leave him; that he wished to visit the habitations of
men, and to procure a wife.

Bokwewa objected; but his brother overruled all
that he said, and in spite of every remonstrance, he
departed on his travels.

He traveled for a long time. At length he fell in
with the footseps of men. They were moving by
encampments, for he saw, at several spots, the poles
where they had passed. It was winter; and com
ing to a place where one of their company had died,
he found upon a scaffold, lying at length in the cold
blue air, the body of a beautiful young woman. " She
shall be my wife!" exclaimed Kwasynd.

He lifted her up, and bearing her in his arms, he
returned to his brother. " Brother," he said, " can
not you restore ]^er to life? Oh, do me that favor !"

He looked upon the beautiful female with a long-

THE HUMPBACK. 317

ing gaze; but she lay as cold and silent as when he
had found her upon the scaffold.

" I will try/' said Bokwewa.

These words had been scarcely breathed, when the
young woman rose up, opened her eyes, and looked
upon Bokwewa with a smile, as if she had known him
before.

To Kwasynd she paid no heed whatever ; but pres
ently Bokwewa, seeing how she lingered in her gaze
upon himself, said to her, " Sister, that is your hus
band," pointing to Kwasynd.

She listened to his voice, and crossing the lodge,
she sat by Kwasynd, and they were man and wife.

For a long time they alNived contentedly together.
Bokwewa was very kind to his brother, and sought to
render his days happy. He was ever within the
lodge, seeking to have it in readiness against the re
turn of Kwasynd from the hunt. And by following
his directions, which were those of one deeply skilled
in the chase, Kwasynd always succeeded in returning
with a good store of meat.

But the charge of the two -brothers was greatly
lightened by the presence of the spirit- wife; for with
out labor of the hand, she ordered the lodge, and as
she willed, every thing took its place, and was at
once in proper array. The wish of her heart seemed
to control whatever she looked upon, and it obeyed
her desire.

318 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

But it was still more to the surprise of her hus
band Kwasynd that she never partook of food, nor
shared in any way the longings and appetites of a
mortal creature. She had never been seen arranging
her hair, like other females, or at work upon her gar
ments, and yet they were ever seemly, and without,
blemish or disorder.

Behold her at any hour, she was ever beautiful,
and she seemed to need no ornament, nor nourish
ment, nor other aid, .to give grace or strength to her
looks.

Kwasynd, when the first wonder of her ways had
passed, payed little heed to her discourse ; he was'
engrossed with the hunt, and chose rather to be
abroad, pursuing the wild game, or in the lodge, en
joying its savory spoil, than the society of his spirit-
wife.

But Bokwewa watched closely every word that fell
from her lips, and often forgot, like her, all mortal
appetite and care of the body, in conferring with her,
and noting what she had to say of spirits and fairies,
of stars, and streams that never ceased to flow, and
the delight 01 the happy hunting-grounds, and the
groves of the blessed.

One day Kwasynd had gone out as usual, and
Bokwewa was sitting in the lodge, on the opposite
side to his brother's wife, when she suddenly ex
claimed :

THE HUMPBACK. 319

" I must leave you," as a tall young man, whose
face was like the sun in its brightness, entered, and
taking her by the hand he led her to the door.

She made no resistance, but turning as she left th*:
lodge, she cast upon Bokwewa a smile of kind regard,
and was at once, with her companion, gone from his
view.

He ran to the door and glanced about. He saw
nothing ; but looking far off in the sky, he thought
that he could discover, at a great distance, a shining
track, and the dim figures of two who were vanishing
in heaven.

When his brother returned, Bokwewa related all
to him exactly as it had happened.

The face of Kwasynd changed, and was dark as the
night. For several days he would not taste food.
Sometimes he would fall to weeping for a long time,
and now only it seemed that he remembered how gen-
AQ and beautiful had been the ways of her who was
lost. At last he said that he would go in search of
her. .

Bokwewa tried to dissuade him from it ; but he
would not be turned aside from his purpose.

"Since you are resolved," said Bokwewa, "listen
to m^ advice. You will have to go South. It is a
long distance to the present abiding-place of your
wife, and there are so many charms and temptations
by the way that I fear you will be led astray and for-

320 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

get your errand. For the people whom you will see
in the country through which you have to pass, do
nothing but amuse themselves. They are very idle,
gay and effeminate, and I fear that they will lead you
astray. Tour path is beset with dangers. I will
mention one or two things which you must be on your
guard against.

" In the course of your journey you will come to a
large grape-vine lying across your path. You must
not even taste its fruity for it is poisonous. Step over
it. It is a snake. You will next come to something
that looks like bear's fat, of which you are so fond.
Touch it not, or you will be overcome by the soft hab
its of the idle people. It is frog's eggs. These are
snares laid by the way for you."

Kwasynd promised that he would observe the ad
vice and bidding his brother farewell, he set out.
After traveling a long time he came to the enchanted
grape-vine. It looked so tempting, with its swelling
purple clusters, that he forgot his brother's warning,
and tasted the fruit. He went on till he came to the
frog's eggs. They so much resembled delicious bear's
fat that Kwasynd tasted them. He still went on.

At length he came to a wide plain. As he emerged
from the forest the sun was falling in the west, and
it cast its scarlet and golden shades far over the
country. The air was perfectly calm, and the whole
prospect had the air of an enchanted land. Fruits

321

flowers, and delicate blossoins; lured the eye and
delighted the senses.

At a distance he beheld a large village, swarming
with people, and as he drew near he discovered
women beating corn in silver mortars.

When they saw Kwasynd approaching, they cried
out :

" Bokwewa's brother has come to see us."

Throngs of men and women, in bright apparel,
hurried out to meet him.

He was soon, having already yielded to temptation
by the way, overcome by their fair looks and soft
speeches, and he was not long afterward seen beating
corn with the women, having entirely abandoned all
further quest for his lost wife.

Meantime, Bokwewa, alone in the lodge, often mus
ing upon the discourse of the spirit-wife, who was
gone, waited patiently his brother's return. After the
lapse of several years, when no tidings could be had,
he set out in search of him, and he arrived in safety
among the soft and idle people of the South. He
met the same allurements by the way, and they
gathered around him on his coming as they had
around his brother Kwasynd ; but Bokwewa was
proof against their flattery. He only grieved in his
heart that any should yield.

He shed tears of pity to see that his brother had
laid aside the . arms of a hunter, and that he wa?

322" THE INDIAN FAlkY BOOK.

beating corn with the women, indifferent to the fate
and the fortune of his lost wife.

Bokwewa ascertained that his brother's wife had
passed on to a country beyond.

After deliberating for a time, and spending several
days in a severe fast, he set out in the direction
where he saw that a light shone from the sky.

It was far off, but Bokwewa had a stout heart; and
strong in the faith that he was now on the broad path
toward the happy land, he pressed forward: For
many days he traveled without encountering any
thing unusual. And now plains of vast extent, and
rich in waving grass, began to pass before his eyes.
He saw many beautiful groves, and heard the songs
of countless birds.

At length he began to fail in strength for lack of
food ; when he suddenly reached a high ground.
From this he caught the first glimpse of the other
land. But it appeared to be still far off, and all the
country between, partly vailed in silvery mists, glit
tered with lakes and streams of water. As he press
ed on, Bokwewa came in sight of innumerable herds
of stately deer, moose, and other animals which
walked near his path, and they appeared to have no
fear of man.

And now again as he wound about in his course,
and faced the north once more, he beheld, coming to
ward him, an immense number of men, women, and

THE HUMPBACK. 323

children, pressing forward in the direction of the
shining land.

In this vast throng Bokwewa beheld persons of
every age, from the little infant, the sweet and lovely
penaisee, or younger son, to the feeble, gray old man,
stooping under the burden of his years.

All whom Bokwewa met, of every name and de
gree, were heavily laden with pipes, weapons, bows-,
arrows, kettles and other wares and implements.

One man stopped him, and complained of the
weary load he was carrying. Another offered him a
kettle; another his bow and arrows; but he declined
all, and, free of foot, hastened on.

And now he met women wiio were carrying their
basket-work, and painted paddles, and little boys,
wifh their embellished war-clubs and bows and ar
rows, the gift of their friends.

With this mighty throng, Bokwewa was borne
along for two days and nights, when he arrived at a
country so still and shining, and JG beautiful in its
woods and groves and plains, that he knew it was
here that he should find the lost spirit-wife.

He had scarcely entered this fair country, with a
sense of home and the return to things familiar
strong upon him, when there appeared before him the
lost spirit-wife herself, who, taking him by the hand,
gave him welcome, saying, " My brother, I am glad
to see you Welcome! welcome! You are now in
your native land !"

XXV.

THE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RI7ER.

A FAMOUS hunter who lived in a remote part of
the North had a fair wife and two sons, whc
were left in the lodge every day while he went out in
quest of the animals whose flesh was their principal
support.

Game was very abundant in those days, and his la
bors in the chase were well rewarded. They lived a
long distance from any other lodge, and it was seldom
that they saw any other faces than those of their own
household.

The two sons were still too young to follow their
father in the hunt, and they were in the habit of di
verting themselves within reach of the lodge.

While thus engaged, they began to take note that
a young man visited the lodge during their father's
absence, and that these visits were constantly re
newed.

At length the elder of the two said to his mother :

" My mother, who is this tall young man that

THE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER. 325

comes here so often during our father's absence ?
Does he wish to see him ? Shall I tell him when he
comes back this evening ?"

" Naubesah, you little fool/' said the mother,
" mind your bow and arrows, and do not be afraid to
enter the forest in search of birds and squirrels, with
your little brother. It is not manly to be ever about
the lodge. Nor will you become a warrior if you tell
all the little things that you see and hear to your
father. Say not a word to him."

The boys obeyed, but as they grew older and still
noticed the visits of the stranger, they resolved to
speak again to their mother.

They now told her that they meant to make known
to their father all that they had witnessed, for they
frequently saw this young man passing through the
woods, and he did not walk in the path, nor did he
carry any thing to eat. If he had any message to de
liver at their lodge, why did he not give it to their
father ? for they had observed thtit messages were
always addressed to men, and not to women.

When her sons spoke thus to her, the mother was
greatly vexed.

" I will kill you," she said, " if you speak of it."

In fear they for a time held their peace, but still
taking note that the stranger came so often and by
stealth to the lodge, they resolved at last to speak
with their father.

326 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

Accordingly one day, when they were out in the
^oods, learning to follow the chase, they told him all
that they had seen.

The face of the father grew dark. He was still foi
a while, and when at length he looked up —

" It is ftone !" he said. " Do you, my children,
tarry here until the hour of the falling of the sun,
then come to the lodge and you will find me."

The father left them at a slow pace, and they re
mained sporting away their time till the hour for
their return had come.

When they reached the lodge the mother was not
there. They dared not to ask their father whither
she had gone, and from that day forth her name was
never spoken again in the lodge.

In course of time the two boys had grown to be
men, and although the mother was never more seen
in the lodge, in charge of her household tasks, nor on
the path in the forest, nor by the river side, she still
lingered, ever and ever, near the lodge.

Changed, but the same, with ghastly looks and arms
that were withered, she appeared to her sons as they
returned from the hunt, in the twilight, in the close
of the day.

At night she darkly unlatched the lodge-door and
glided in, and bent over them as they sought to sleep.
Oftenest it was her bare brow, white, and bony, and
bodyless, that they saw floating in the air, and mak-

THE CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER. 327

ing a mock of them in the wild paths of the forest, 01
in the midnight darkness of the lodge.

She was a terror to all their lives, and she made
every spot where they had seen her; hideous to the
living eye; so that after being long buffeted and be
set, they at last resolved, together with their father,
now stricken in years, to leave the country.

They began a journey toward the South. After
traveling many days along the shore of a great lake,
they passed around a craggy bluff, and came upon a
scene where there was a rough fall of waters, and a
river issuing forth from the lake.

They had no sooner come in sight of this fall of
water, than they heard a rolling sound behind them,
and looking back, they beheld the skull of a woman
rolling along the beach. It seemed to be pursuing
them, and it came on with great speed; when, be
hold, from out of the woods hard by, appeared a head
less body, which made for the beach with the utmost
dispatch.

The skull too advanced toward it, and when they
looked again, lo ! they had united, and were making
all haste to coine up with the hunter and his two
sons. They now might well be in extreme fear, for
they knew not how to escape her.

At this moment, one of them looked out and saw
a stately crane sitting on a rock in the middle of the
rapids. They called out to the bird, " See, grand-

328 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

father, we are persecuted. Come and take us-acr^s
the falls that we may escape her."

The crane so addressed was of extraordinary size,
and had arrived at a great old age, and, as might be
expected, he sat, when first descried by the two sons,
in a state of profound thought, revolving his long ex
perience of life there in the midst of the most vio
lent eddies.

When he heard himself appealed to, the crane
stretched forth his neck with great deliberation, and
lifting himself slowly by his wings, he flew across to
their assistance.

" Be careful," said the old crane, " that you do
not touch the crown of my head. I am bald from
age and long service, and very tender at that spot.
Should you be so unlucky as to lay a hand upon it, I
shall not be able to avoid throwing you both in the
rapids."

They paid strict heed to his directions, and were
soon safely landed on the other shore of the river.
He returned and carried the father in the same way*
and then took his place once more where he had been
first seen in the very midst of the eddies of the stream.

But the woman," who had by this time reached the
shore, cried out, " Come, my grandfather, and carry
rne over, for I have lost my children, and I am sorely
distressed."

The aged bird obeyed her summons, and flew to

THE*CRANE THAT CROSSED THE RIVER. 329

her side. He carefully repeated the warning that she
was not to touch the crown of his head; and he was
so anxious that she should take it to heart, that he
went over it a second and a third time, word by word.
He hegged her to bear in mind that she should re
spect his old age, if there was any sense of virtue
left in her.

She promised to obey; but they were no sooner
fairly embarked in the stream, than she stealthily
sought to disregard the warning she had received..
Instantly the crane cast her into the* rapids, and
shook his wings as if to free himself of all acquaint
ance with her.

" There," said he, as she sunk in the stream,

•

" you would ever do what was forbidden. In life, as
you sought those you should have avoided, so now
you shall be avoided by those who should seek you.
Go, and be henceforth Addum Kum Maig \"

The woman disappeared,. was straightway carried
by the rapid currents far out into the waters, and in
the wide wilderness of shoreless depths, without com
panion or solace, was lost forever.

The family of the hunter, grateful for his generous
help, adopted the bird as their family emblem or
mark, and under the guardianship of the Crane that
Crossed the Kiver, they prospered, with days of plenty
and nights of peace.

XXVI.

WUNZH. THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN.

IN time past — we can not tell exactly how many/
many years ago — a poor Indian was living, with
his wife and children, in a heautiful part of the
country. He was not only poor, but he had the mis
fortune to be inexpert in procuring food for his fam
ily, and his children were all too young to give him
assistance.

Although of a lowly condition and straitened in
his circumstances, he was a man of kind and con
tented disposition. He was always thankful to the
Great Spirit for every thing he received. He even
stood in the door of his lodge to bless the birds that
flew past in the summer evenings; although, if he had
been of a complaining temper, he might have re
pined that they were not rather spread upon the
table for his evening meal.

The same gracious and sweet disposition was in
herited by his eldest son, who had now arrived at the
proper age to undertake the ceremony of the fast, to
learn what kind of a spirit would be his guide and
guardian through life.

THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN. 331

Wunzh, for this was his name, had been an obedi
ent boy from his infancy — pensive, thoughtful, and
gentle — so that he was beloved by the whole family.

As soon as the first buds of spring appeared, and the
delicious fragrance of the young year began to sweeten
the air, his father, with the help of his younger broth
ers, built for Wunzh the customary little lodge, at a
retired spot at some distance from their own, where
lie would not be disturbed during the solemn rite.

To prepare himself, Wunzh sought to clear his
heart of every evil thought, and to think of nothing
that was not good, and beautiful, and kindly.

That he might store his mind with pleasant ideas
for his dreams, for the first few days he amused him
self by walking in the woods and over the mountains,
examining the early plants and flowers.

As he rambled far and wide, through the wild
country, he felt a strong desire to know how the
plants and herbs and berries grew, without any aid
from man, and why it was that some kinds were good
to eat, and that others were possessed of medicinal
or poisonous power.

After he had become too languid to walk about,
and confined himself strictly to the lodge, he re
called these thoughts, and turning them in his mind,
he wished he could dream of something that would
prove a benefit to his father and family, and to all
others of his fellow-creatures.

332 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

" True/' thought Wurizh, " the Great Spirit made
all things, and it is to him that we owe our lives.
Could he not make it easier for us to get our food,
than by hunting animals and taking fish? I must
try to find this out in' my visions/'

On the third day Wunzh became weak and faint,
and kept his bed. Suddenly he fancied, as he lay
thus, that a bright light came in at the lodge door,
and ere he was aware, he saw a handsome young
man, with a complexion of the softest and purest
white, coming down from the sky, and advancing to
ward him.

The beautiful stranger was richly and gayly dressed,
having on a great many garments of green and yel
low colors, but differing in* their deeper or lighter
shades. He had a plume of waving feathers on his
head, and all his motions were graceful, and re
minded Wunzh of the deep green of the summer
grass, and the clear amber of the summer sky, and
the gentle blowing of the summer wind. Beautiful
as the stranger was, he paused on a little mound of
earth, just before the door of the lodge.

" I am sent to you, my friend," said this celestial
visitor, in a voice most soft and musical to listen to,
" I am sent to you by that Great Spirit who made all
things in the sky, and on the earth. He has seen and
knows your motives in fasting. He sees that it is
from a kind and benevolent wish to do good to your

TEE FATHER OF INDIA* CORN. 333

people, and to procure a benefit for them ; that you
do not seek for strength in war, or the praise of the
men of the bloody hand. I am sent to instruct you
and to show you how you can do your kindred good."

He then told the young man to arise, and to pre
pare to wrestle with him, as it was only by this means
that he could hope to succeed in his wishes.

Wunzh knew how wea'k he was from fasting, but
the voice of the stranger was cheery, and put such a
courage in his heart, that he promptly sprang up, de
termined to die rather than fail. Brave Wunzh! if you
ever accomplish any thing, it will be through the power
of the resolve that spake within you at that moment.

He began the trial, and after a long-sustained
struggle he was almost overpowered, when the beau
tiful stranger said :

" My friend, it is enough for once, I will come again
to try you ;" and smiling on him, he returned through
the air .in the same direction in which he had come.

The next day, although he saw how sweetly the
wild-flowers bloomed upon the slopes, and the birds
warbled from the woodland, he longed to see the ce
lestial visitor, and to hear his voice.

To his great joy he reappeared at the same hour,
toward the going down of the sun, and re-challenged
Wunzh to a trial of strength.

The brave Wunzh felt that his strength of body
was even less than on the day before, but the cour-

334 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

age of his mind seemed to grow. Observing this, and
how Wunzh put his whole heart in the struggle, the
stranger again spoke to him in the words he used be
fore, adding :

" To-morrow will be your last trial. Be strong,
my friend, for this is the only way in which you can
overcome me and obtain the boon you seek."

The light which shone after him as he left Wunzh
was brighter than before.

On the third day he came again and renewed the
struggle. Very faint in body was poor Wunzh, but
he was stronger at heart than ever, and determined
to prevail now or perish. He put forth his utmost
powers, and after a contest more severe than either
of the others, the stranger ceased his efforts, and de
clared himself conquered.

For the first time he entered Wunzh's little fast
ing-lodge, and sitting down beside the youth, he be
gan to deliver his instructions to him and to inform
him in what manner he should proceed to take ad
vantage of his victory.

" You have won your desire of the Great Spirit,"
said the beautiful stranger. " You have wrestled
manfully. To-morrow will be the seventh day of
your fasting. Your father will give you food to
strengthen you, and as it is the last day of trial you
will prevail. I know this, and now tell you what you
must do to benefit your family and your people. To-

THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN. 335

morrow/' 'he repeated, " I shall meet you and wrestle
with you for the last time. As soon as you have pre
vailed against me, you will strip off my garments and
throw me down, clean the earth of roots and weeds,
make it soft, and bury me in the spot. When you
have done this, leave my body in the earth, and do
not disturb it, but come at times to visit the place, to
see whether I have come to life, and above all be
careful to never let the grass or weeds grow upon my
grave. Once a month cover me with fresh earth. If
you follow these my instructions you will accomplish
your object of doing good to your fellow-Creatures by
teaching them the knowledge I now teach you."

He then shook Wunzh by the hand and disap
peared, but he was gone so soon that Wunzh could
not tell what direction he took.

In the morning, Wunzh's father came to his lodge
with some slight refreshments, saying :

" My son, you have fasted long enough. If the
Great Spirit will favor you, he will do it now. It is
seven days since you liave tasted food, and you must
not sacrifice your life. The Master of Life does not
require that."

" My father," replied Wunzh, " wait till the sun
goes down. I have a particular reason for extending
my fast to that hour."

" Very well," said the old man, " I shall wait till
the hour arrives, and you shall be inclined to eat."

336 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

At his usual hour of appearing, the beautiful
sky-visitor returned, and the trial of strength was re
newed. Although he had not availed himself of his
father's offer of food, Wunzh felt that new strength
had been given him. His heart was mighty within
him to achieve some great purpose. Courage was
like the eagle that spreads his wings within the tree-
top for a great flight, within the bosom of the brave
Wunzh.

He grasped his angel challenger with supernatural
strength, threw him down, and, mindful of his own
instructions," tore from him his beautiful garments
and plume, and finding him dead, he immediately
buried him on the spot, using all the precautions he
had been told of, and very confident was Wunzh, all
the time, that his friend would again come to life.

Wunzh now returned to his father's lodge, where
he was warmly welcomed, for as it had been ap
pointed to him during the days of his fasting to walk
apart with Heaven, he was not permitted to see any
human face save that of his father, the representative
to the little household upon earth of the Good Father
who is in Heaven.

Wunzh partoo^: sparingly of the meal that had
been prepared for him, and once more mingled in
the cares and sports of the family. But he never for
a moment forgot the grave of his friend. He care
fully visited it throughout the spring, and weeded

THE FATHER OF INDIAN CORN. 337

out the grass, and kept the ground in a soft and pli-
unt state ; and sometimes, when the brave Wunzh
fh ought of his friend that was gone from his sight,
he dropped a tear upon the earth where he lay.

Watching and tending, and moistening the earth
with his tears, it was not long before Wunzh saw the
tops of green plumes coming through the ground ;
and the more faithful he was in obeying his instruc
tions in keeping the ground in order, and in cherish
ing the memory of his departed friend, the faster
• they grew. He was, however, careful to conceal the
charge of the earth which he had from his father.

Days and weeks had passed in this way ; the sum
mer was drawing toward a close, when one day, after
a long absence in hunting, Wunzh invited his father
to follow him to the quiet and lonesome spot of his
former fast.

The little fasting-lodge had been removed, and the
weeds kept from growing on the circle where it had
stood ; but in its place rose a tall and graceful plant,
surmounted with nodding plumes and stately leaves,
and golden clusters. There was in its aspect and
bearing the deep green of the summer grass, the clear
amber of the summer sky, and the gentle blowing of
the summer wind.

" It is my friend !" shouted Wunzh, " it is the
friend of all mankind. It is Mondawmin : it is our
Indian Corn ! We need no longer rely on hunting

15

338 THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.

alone, for as long as this gift is cherished and taken
care of, the ground itself will give us a living."

He then pulled an ear.

" See, my father," said he, " this is what I fasted
for. The Great Spirit has listened to my voice, and
sent us something new, and henceforth our people will
not alone depend upon the chase or upon the waters."

Wunzh then communicated to his father the in
structions given to him by the stranger. He told him
that the broad husks must be torn away, as he had
pulled off the garments in his wrestling, and having
.done this, he directed him how the ear must be held
before the fire till the outer skin became brown— as
he complexion of his angel friend had been tinted by
the sun — while all the milk was retained in the grain.

The whole family, in high spirits, and deeply grate
ful to the Merciful Master who gave it, assisted in a
feast on the newly-grown ears of corn.

So came that mighty blessing into the world, and
we owe all of those beautiful fields of healthful grain
to the dreain of the brave boy Wunzh.

THE END.

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