In Indian Tents

Mīko was comforted, and concluded to travel and become acquainted with the world of Nature.

“K’chī Megūsawess,” the Martin, taught him the language of other animals, to enable him to keep out of danger, and Mūinsq’, Mistress Bear, Glūskap’s adopted grandmother, gave him the Law, with much good advice; for all Bears are wise, and she was wisest of them all. She said: —

“You must never speak in praise of yourself, but pay attention to all that is said to you.

“Always control your temper; and, when enraged, say, chim, chim, chim,26 over and over, as fast as you can, until your anger is over.

“The Law is: ‘Mind your own business.’

“Do this and you will be wise and wealthy.”

Mīko then started out on his travels, but had not gone far when he remembered a bird named “Laffy Latwin,”27 whose home in a tall birch-tree was his especial envy.

He said to himself: “Now is my chance to try the wings of ‘Set-cāto,’ the Flying Squirrel,” and at once he half climbed, half flew, up the tree, where he found Laffy Latwin still at home.

Laffy Latwin was always good-natured; and all the little birds as well as insects visited his abode. The little worms too would crawl up the birch-tree to see their friend. He sang the vesper song every night, as a signal to them all to go to sleep. When he sings:

“Woffy28 Latwin, Laffy Latwin, wickīūtūwit,”

he shuts his eyes for the night; and all the little birds are silent until his voice is again heard in the morning, when all awake, for they know that another day has dawned.

When Mīko, who now styled himself Set-cāto, reached the home of Laffy Latwin, he said: —

“How long have you lived in this tree?”

“Ever since your great grandfather, ‘K’chī Mūsos,’ was born in that hollow cedar-tree which you just left,” replied Laffy Latwin.

“How long do you mean to stay here?”

“As long as this tree lasts. When this one is gone, I will move to another,” replied Laffy Latwin.

But Mīko, or Set-cāto, as we must now call him, had never before been so high above the ground; and though the home of Laffy Latwin was cold and damp, he was greatly pleased with the situation, and wished to build a house for himself in the very same hole, so he said:

“My friend, you have lived here long enough. You had better move out, and let me move in.”

Laffy Latwin was troubled, yet he answered in his usual good-natured way: —

“M’Quensis [my grandchild], I cannot go. If I were to move away, all my friends would miss me. They could not hear my song as well from any other tree. Besides, you are young, and are nimbler than I; you can build your house almost anywhere.”

This opposition only made Set-cāto more desirous of carrying out his purpose. The old spirit of dominion was aroused within him, and though his great strength was gone, his teeth were unchanged. He at once began to gnaw off the limb on which Laffy Latwin’s house stood.

On a neighboring tree lived a tribe of “Ām-wessok,” or Hornets, all warriors, male and female alike. They were always in training; and their glittering armor, with its yellow stripes, shone in the sunlight like tiny sparks, as they flew among the leaves.

They had been watching the movements of Set-cāto all the morning, and when they saw that he meant mischief, the whole tribe, as one man, darted from their tree, alighting on his back, and stinging him until he fell to the ground almost dead.

The news soon spread throughout the Squirrel tribe; the flying, the gray, the striped, and the red squirrels hastened to his rescue. They held a council, and resolved that Laffy Latwin must be removed, even if they had to kill him.

They all marched to the foot of the birch-tree, but found that the only way to reach him was from the trunk of the tree. Meantime the Hornets had summoned their friends, the Black Flies, the Midges, and Mosquitoes.

When the chief of the Squirrels gave orders for the battle to begin, his followers made a rush for the tree, but only a few could go up at once; and the Bees, Flies, and Midges would strike them with sharp spears, forcing the Squirrels to retreat before they were half-way up.

Thus the battle went on until sunset. Up to this time, Laffy Latwin had been absolutely silent; he knew his situation, and saw all that was going on; but he had faith that his little warriors would defend him, so he sang his evening song as usual: —

“Woffy Latwin, Laffy Latwin, wickīūtūwit.”

Instantly both armies obeyed the call, and went to their respective wigwams to rest for the night.

Next day, the leaders decided to fight again. The Squirrel chief said to his men: “We must be more cautious and less fierce. If we can only touch Laffy Latwin before he sings ‘Woffy Latwin,’ we shall win; but if we fail to reach him before then, we may as well yield.”

Both armies fought more desperately than ever. The Flies had to sharpen their spears, and many were killed on both sides; yet the battle went on all that day.

The Squirrels found it impossible to reach the home of Laffy Latwin, and when the evening song: —

“Woffy Latwin, Laffy Latwin, wicklootoowit,”

was again heard, they agreed to retire and leave him forever in peace.

Mīko now had time for reflection; and remembered that he had already broken the Law, as given him by Mūinsq’, the old Law Maker. This was a bad beginning for getting wealthy and wise.

When his wounds were healed, he once more set out on his travels, hoping to gain from the experiences he had had as Set-cāto.

He met many of his tribe, hard at work, and content with their changed condition; but he could not rest until he reached the Witch Mountain, the home of Mawquejess, the Great Eater, of whom Mūinsq’ had told him. On reaching it, he noticed a number of narrow paths, trodden by many feet; yet seeing no one, and night coming on, he crawled into a hollow cedar which stood near a large rock, and soon fell asleep.

He was awakened by a loud purring; and he knew that “Alnūset,” the Black Cat, must be camping close by. At first Mīko was frightened; but his fear soon turned to wonder what could bring Alnūset, so near to the home of his greatest enemy; for though Chī-gau-gawk, the Great Crow, steals the game from Black Cat’s “ketīgnul,” or wooden dead-fall trap, yet Mawquejess is worse, for he watches until the wigwam is empty, then enters and eats all he can find, for his appetite is never satisfied.

Mīko’s curiosity was aroused; and, the morning being cloudy, and his lodgings very comfortable, he decided to stay where he was and watch the course of events.

Soon he saw that Alnūset had a friend with him, “Mātigwess,” the Rabbit, a hunter of the same metal; and he heard Black Cat say:

“This will be a good day for hunting. Stormy days are best for such work.”

Mātigwess replied: “I will set the trap. You can go up the mountain and hunt for big game.”

Mīko thought to himself: “I can see them from here, no matter where they go. It is growing too cold to venture out.” He watched their movements, and saw that they must be very hungry, and game scarce.

At last Alnūset came across a big Bear, at which he aimed; but the Frost had got into his bow, it snapped and broke as he bent it.

The Bear was too big for him to attack with his tomahawk, so he returned discouraged to the Big Rock.

This Rock resembled a human face, and the moss which grew on the top looked like long hair, so Mīko was not surprised to hear Alnūset address it as: “Mūs mī,” my grandfather.

“Mūs mī, if you have any pity for your grandchildren, sing one of your magic songs to call the animals together.”

At this the stony old man began to sing, and Birds, Moose, Deer, and Bear, as well as friend Mātigwess, came hurrying to hear the song.

Now Mātigwess is unlike Alnūset in that he carries two bows and three sets of arrows; and he at once began his deadly work, killing Moose, Deer, and Bear on every hand, Alnūset dragging them to his camp as quickly as he could.

The hungry and mischievous Mawquejess was watching him, and when Alnūset went for a fresh load, he would rush in and eat until he was over-full.

Mīko, from his hole in the tree, saw this thief at work; but he dared say nothing, and there were so many dead animals piled together that he thought the two hunters would never miss what Mawquejess ate.

But Mawquejess could not be content to let well enough alone. He went up to the Rock in his turn, and, imitating the voice of Alnūset, said: —

“Mūs mī, if you feel a spark of pity for your children, you will sing a song and call your animals together.”

So the old man again broke into song, and all the animals that lay dead, slain by Mātigwess, came to life and stood around the Rock, now listening to his weird song. When the song ceased, each went his way once more.

When Alnūset and Mātigwess reached the wigwam, they found all their game gone, and saw nothing but tracks and prints of large moccasins. By this they knew that this was one of the tricks of Mawquejess.

They were disgusted and depressed; but they cooked and ate what bones and bits were left from the previous day. Night coming on, they did not hear the songs of the goblins as usual, nothing but the howl of wolves following the bloody tracks.

Next morning Mātigwess, who was the more powerful in magic of the two, said to Alnūset: “I had a dream last night, and our Grandfather of the Mountain29 told me that Mawquejess had tricked him into singing, and also said: ‘Mawquejess will visit your camp to-day while you are away!’ ”

“Very well,” said Alnūset, “then he will not go away. We will fight, and kill him if we can.”

“No, do you go down the river and look to the trap,” said Mātigwess. “If there should be any danger, you will hear from me.”

So Alnūset set out at once; and Mātigwess cut down a hollow tree, the very one in which Mīko lay, and placed it on the fire for a backlog. He then put out the fire, so that there should be no smoke from the wigwam, and it might seem deserted. He also set a snare for Mawquejess, by bending down two large tree forks and fastening them in place with a twisted birch withe.

This done, he crawled into the hollow log to await the coming of Mawquejess. Poor Mīko, meantime, had taken refuge under some old roots.

They had not long to wait for Mawquejess, who was soon heard stealing cautiously along, examining everything suspiciously. He spied Mīko, and asked him where the two hunters were; but Mīko replied: “I saw them early this morning going towards the mountain.”

He did not add, as he might truthfully have done: “One of them came back, hoping to catch you.”

Mawquejess directed Mīko to keep watch, and warn him if he saw them returning. He then put his head into the wigwam, saw that the fire had gone out, and that there was only some dried meat hanging on poles; but this gave him courage to enter, for his appetite was keen this cold morning.

He found that his body was too big to go through the small door of the wigwam, so he took the hatchet which he always carries and began to chop a larger entrance. In cutting away the sticks, he cut the withes that fastened the snare, thus making it useless.

This alarmed Mātigwess, who had hoped to see him caught in the snare, and then kill him with his bow and arrow.

After working for several hours, Mawquejess got into the wigwam, seized the fattest piece of venison, and making a fire, began to cook it.

Mātigwess in the hollow log could bear the heat no longer. When his long tail began to scorch, he sprang out. Mawquejess caught him by the tail, and strove to hold him in the fire; but the tail broke off close to the body,30 and Mātigwess escaped.

He found Mīko, and sent him to tell Alnūset that Mawquejess was in the wigwam devouring everything. He was nearly maddened by the loss of his dear tail, and he sang a magic song with great energy: —

“Bem yak, bem yak, bem yak – bes’m etch kīmek ipp Sānetch.”31

This song caused a sudden snow squall, and the woods were filled with the flakes. Each flake concealed a tiny Rabbit, to whom their chief cried out: —

“Yoat elguen” (Come this way).

All the snowflakes came toward Mātigwess, and by the time Alnūset reached the wigwam, the little Rabbits were stabbing and choking Mawquejess, who began to beg for his life, when he felt them cut off his feet.

The Rabbit chief said: “Yes, he is harmless now; we will spare his life,” and turning to Alnūset, he asked what should be done with him.

Alnūset advised them to bind him with strong withes, and tie him to the corner of the wigwam, adding, loud enough for Mawquejess to hear:

“He will make good bait for our traps when we need to use him;” and Alnūset purred, with long purrs, and swinging his tail from side to side, looked out of the corners of his eyes, expecting the others to enjoy what he thought a very good joke; but Mātigwess, with the loss of his tail, was in no humor for joking.

He sang his song for the snowflakes to disappear, and the snow at once ceased to fall.

The game had all been frightened away, and nothing was to be heard but the howl of wolves.

Mātigwess was very hungry, and the young tender leaf shoots, offered by Mīko from his storehouse, did not satisfy him.

The weather had grown very cold; all the brooks were frozen over, and as the Beaver, Muskrat, and other water animals could not come out to feed, their traps were useless, therefore Alnūset’s joke fell short of the mark.

Mīko did not care for meat himself; but he suggested to the friends: “You might kill Mawquejess and catch a Wolf, with his carcass for bait.”

Mātigwess raised his tomahawk to strike; but Mawquejess cried out: —

“Don’t kill me! Take me to the lake, and cut six big holes in the ice. I may help you yet.”

His enemies thought that he might be a good fisherman; and as they knew nothing about such work, they decided to try his plan.

They put him on a toboggan, hauled him to the lake, and cut the six holes, as he ordered. Then Mawquejess began to whistle and call. Foam and bubbles could be seen through the holes in the ice, and soon Kiūnik, the Otters, poked out their heads, holding fish in their mouths.

Alnūset and Mātigwess now thought better of their foe, and when they had enough fish, they loaded the toboggan and hauled it back to the wigwam, with Mawquejess on top. They all spent a very happy evening together, and became good friends, although Mātigwess could never again have a long tail. When the weather grew warmer, Mīko grew tired of hearing them tell of their hair-breadth adventures, and escapes from witches and goblins.

He left them, congratulating himself that this time he had broken no law, quite forgetting that he had failed to “mind his own business” and had incurred the ill-will of Mawquejess.

The trees were putting forth buds, the young roots of the seedlings were sweet and tender, and Mīko, having laid off his heaviest fur coat, looked often in little pools of water left by the spring rains.

He never felt better in his life; and when he came upon a council held by m’téūlins, or animals having magic powers, he entered the circle unnoticed, feeling himself the equal of any of them.

The council had met to consider how they might destroy “K’chī Molsom,” the Great Wolf, who lived with the Great Bat, “K’chī Medsk’weges,” on a large island which none dared visit for fear of the Great Wolf. Mīko remembered the Wolf as an old enemy, and hoped to see him slain. He chattered approval to all that was said. On one occasion, all the witches met in council to see what they could do to conquer the Wolf; how they might contrive to kill him.

K’chī Quēnocktsh, the Big Turtle, made the first speech. Said he: “The only way we can kill K’chī Molsom is to dig a passage under the water to the island, then dig a big hole right under his wigwam, fill the hole with sharp sticks and stones; then we will dig out the rest of the ground. The wigwam will fall, and the Great Wolf will be dashed in pieces on the sticks and stones.”

The witches thought this idea a good one, but felt that the Wolf had such power that whoever stepped upon the island would perish.

K’chī Atōsis, the Great Snake, spoke next: “My opinion,” said he, “is that all the witches who can fly should go there some dark night, fly down the smokehole, bind him with strong withes before he can fight, and bring him out where all may enjoy seeing him put to death.”

Next spoke the Alligator: “The only way to kill the Great Wolf is to lie in wait for him on the other island. When he is hungry, he will go there to catch seals; and we will send our best warriors and capture him alive.”

Now the Wolf knew that they had evil designs upon him, and sent the Bat to watch, and to listen to what they had to say, and so was prepared for them.

The chief of the witches, a hairless bear, then said: “I have listened to all your plans, and think all good; but the first one suits me best. We will get ‘K’chī Pā-pā-kā-quā-hā,’ the Great Woodpecker, and Moskwe, the Wood Worm, to do the work.”

So all the woodpeckers and all the worms set to work to dig the passage.

The Great Wolf knew all that was going on, and sent the Bat every night to see what progress they made.

He ordered his troops, the Ants, to prepare flint and punk, Chū-gā-gā-sīq’, – yellow rotten wood found in hollow trees.32

The Ants went to work and filled the wigwam with punk, the Bat, meantime, going every few moments to watch the enemy’s progress. At last he said that they had landed on the island.

The Wolf ordered everything to be removed from the wigwam, – his bows, arrows, stone axes, spears, pipes, and the paddles of his great stone canoe, – then he took the flint and set fire to the punk inside the wigwam.

The Ants had also filled the mouth of the passage on the mainland with punk, so that all the witches who went to see the killing of K’chī Molsom might not escape but perish.

When all was ready, Woodpecker gave the signal, and the wigwam fell into the hole, to be sure; but the blaze soon filled the passage and all their hiding-places with fire and smoke.

The witches, vainly hoping to escape, ran to the mouth of the passage on the mainland, but found it also stopped with fire; and they were all burned to death.33

K’chī Molsom took all his men and his goods in his stone canoe, and went to the next island, where they built a strong wigwam and thenceforth lived, more powerful and more to be dreaded than before, fighting many battles with the spirits of the water.

WAWBĀBAN, THE NORTHERN LIGHTS

There once lived an old chief, called “M’Sūrtū,” or the Morning Star. He had an only son, so unlike all the other boys of the tribe as to distress the old chief. He would not stay with the others or play with them, but, taking his bow and arrows, would leave home, going towards the north, and stay away many days at a time.

When he came home, his relations would ask him where he had been; but he made no answer.

At last the old chief said to his wife: “The boy must be watched. I will follow him.”

So Morning Star kept in the boy’s trail, and travelled for a long time. Suddenly his eyes closed, and he could not hear. He had a strange sensation, and then knew nothing until his eyes opened in an unknown and brightly lighted land. There were neither sun, moon, nor stars; but the land was illumined by a singular light.

He saw human beings very unlike his own people. They gathered about him, and tried to talk with him; but he could not understand their language. He knew not where to go nor what to do. He was well treated by this marvellous tribe of Indians; he watched their games, and was attracted by a wonderful game of ball which seemed to change the light to all the colors of the rainbow, – colors which he had never seen before. The players all seemed to have lights on their heads, and they wore curious girdles, called “Memquon,” or Rainbow belts.

After a few days, an old man came to him, and spoke to him in his own tongue, asking if he knew where he was. He answered: “No.”

The old man then said: “You are in the land of Northern Lights. I came here many years ago. I was the only one here from the ‘Lower Country,’ as we call it; but now there is a boy who visits us every few days.”

At this, the chief inquired how the old man got there, what way he came.

The old man said: “I followed the path called ‘Ketagūswōt,’ or ‘the Spirits’ Path’ (the Milky Way).”

“That must be the same path I took,” said the chief. “Did you have a strange feeling, as if you had lost all knowledge, while you travelled?”

“Yes,” said the old man; “I could not see nor hear.”

“Then you did come by the same path. Can you tell me how I may return home again?”

The old man said: “The Chief of the Northern Lights will send you home, friend.”

“Well, can you tell me where or when I may see my son? The boy who visits you is mine.”

The old man said: “You will see him playing ball, if you watch.”

Morning Star was very glad to hear this, and a few moments later, a man went around to the wigwams, telling all to go and have a game of ball.

The old chief went with the rest; when the game began, he saw many most beautiful colors on the playground. The old man asked him if he saw his son among the players, and he said that he did. “The one with the brightest light on his head is my son.”

Then they went to the Chief of the Northern Lights, and the old man said: “The Chief of the Lower Country wishes to go home, and he also wants his son.”

The chief asked him to stay a few days longer; but he longed to go home, so the Chief of the Northern Lights called together his tribe to take leave of M’Sūrtū and his son, and ordered two great birds to carry them home. As they travelled over the Milky Way, Morning Star had the same strange sensation as before, and when he came to his senses, he found himself at his own door. His wife rejoiced to see him; for when the boy had told her that his father was safe, she had not heeded him, but feared that he was lost.

THE WOOD WORM’S STORY, SHOWING WHY THE RAVEN’S FEATHERS ARE BLACK

Long years ago, in a hollow tree dwelt Mosique, the Wood Worm. Mosique is a clever builder, and he builds wigwams for many of his neighbors. Moreover, he is a very proud old man, so that he was anything but pleased when “Hūhuss,” the Hen Hawk, came to visit him, saying: “Let me in, Mūsmī [my grandfather]. I have a little bird here for you.”

Now Mosique hated the Hawk, because only a short time before he had killed one of his best friends, little “Getchkī-kī-lāssis,” the Chickadeedee, and now he came back to taunt Mosique with the fact.

“Come, Mūsmī, let me in.”

Mosique is a skilful fighter when he is angry; but the powerful Hawk never believed that that old worm could hurt anything. His house opened just wide enough for Hūhuss to put in his head; but it opened into a large room where he kept his tools of every kind.

The Little Birds were glad to see the Hawk go to Mosique’s house, for they trusted in the Worm’s cunning.

“Come, Mūsmī, let me in. I want you to build me a good warm house. I will pay you well for it.”

“Yes,” says Mosique, “I will build a house for my grandchildren in your old skull.”

The Hawk laughed at him, and spat on him.

“You build a house in my skull, indeed,” said he. “Well, let me see what you can do,” and he poked his head a little farther in.

Mosique strapped his auger to the top of his pate, turned and twisted, and screwed himself around into Hawk’s head. He soon penetrated his skull, and Hūhuss shrieked aloud for help, but no help came. He flew up in agony; he flew so high that he almost reached the blue sky. All the birds, and all the animals, looked at him, but none knew what would become of him.

Mosique kept twisting himself around, and soon reached the Hawk’s brain. Of course, the Hawk could not endure this, and he fell heavily to the ground, carrying Mosique with him.

Then all the birds flocked together, and had a feast which lasted many days, singing songs, and dancing, and shaking hands with Mosique in token of their gratitude and joy. The Little Ants also came to attend this great feast; and after it was over, Mosique made a long speech, bidding them: “Tell all the Hawks, his brothers, his sisters, his sons, and his daughters, to insult me no more. If they do, they must share the same fate as their chief. You see him now dead. I will give his skull to our neighbors, the ants, for their wigwam, and also a part of his old carcass for food.”