Part 3

On and on the canoe bore them over the surface of the lake further than they had ever gone before. At last they came to an island upon which stood one stark pine, and far up near the top of it was a nest. "Look, my son, in that nest the eagles have their eggs. Do you climb up and get them for me."

Still in silence Panigwun landed and began to climb the tree, but before he had more than reached the first branches the pine shot up to enormous height. Panigwun felt himself being carried further and further from the earth and toward the sky. From far below he heard the magician's voice: "Rise, oh, eagles, and take the victim I have brought you. Ye are the king of the birds and it is proper you should receive offerings." Then, striking his canoe upon its side he shot rapidly away over the lake.

Two enormous eagles rose and circled about Panigwun; their wings beat the air with a sound like thunder and they shrieked fiercely. For a moment the boy closed his eyes, dizzy with the height from the ground and the noise; then gathering his courage and commending himself to his guardian spirit, he drew his knife and flourished it.

"The eagle is the king of birds," he cried, "but man is the king of the eagles. I am the master and you are the servants. Take me upon your wings and carry me to the magician's island."

For a moment the eagles hesitated. Then they drew together so that their wings crossed. Panigwun stepped upon them, and away they soared, so fast that the wind sang past his ears, and they landed at the island before the canoe had come in sight.

When the magician found that Panigwun had returned to the island his face grew pale, and his heart quaked within him. "This boy will prove too much for me," he thought. "His guardian spirit is very powerful. But my magic shall still conquer him."

The next morning he said to Panigwun, "To-day I have planned a little hunting expedition. We will go together, and when you land I will accompany you, that there may be no danger of my forgetting you." Panigwun looked at him with a scorn he did not try to hide. "Then you will not take me to see my little brother to-day?"

"No," answered the magician harshly, and he turned away in the direction of the canoe. The boy followed him, and away they sped together toward the hunting grounds that Mishosha had chosen.

They landed and drew up the canoe and started off together. The magician kept looking up toward the sky and muttering to himself. They went on and on until many miles lay behind them, and at nightfall they reached a lodge in the midst of a wilderness. "It is here we spend the night," said the magician.

They made a fire and cooked their supper, and after they had eaten they took off their moccasins and leggings and laid them near the fire. Then they rolled them in their blankets and lay down for the night. The magician waited until he was sure from Panigwun's breathing that he was asleep. Then he arose very quietly and crept over to where Panigwun had left his moccasins and leggings. He took one of each and threw them in the fire, and then by his magic he caused the weather to turn cold, and a deep snow to cover the ground. Having done this he rolled himself in his blanket again and fell into a deep sleep. All night the snow fell and the wind howled across the plains, heaping the snow in deep drifts.

When Panigwun awoke the next morning Mishosha was already up, and was tying on his leggings. "Make haste," he said to the boy, "for it is morning and we have far to travel."

The boy arose and looked for his moccasins and leggings, but he could find only one of each where the night before he had left two. The magician watched him with a malicious look. At length he said, "Are you looking for your other legging and moccasin? I fear you will not find them. I smelled something burning in the night, and this is the month when fire draws things into itself."

Then Panigwun knew that the magician had burned them. He said nothing, but sat down and drew his hood over his head and communed with his guardian spirit. After a time he arose and took a charred piece of wood, and blackened his foot and leg with it for as far up as the legging would have covered him. Then he told the magician he was ready.

Outside the cold was bitter. A keen wind drove the sleet into their faces so that they were almost blinded. They stumbled on through the drifts, and every now and then Mishosha looked around expecting to see Panigwun overcome with the cold. But his guardian had heard him and the black upon his leg was as warm as though it were his moccasin and legging that he wore.

Toward the end of the day the magician in despair led the way back to the canoe. "This boy's guardian spirit is too powerful," he said to himself. "Nevertheless I will still find some way to destroy him."

When they reached the island the elder girl could not hide her joy at seeing Panigwun had returned. Mishosha looked from one to the other suspiciously, but said nothing. He had begun to fear Panigwun as well as to hate him.

The next morning it was Panigwun's turn. He came early to the magician's lodge. "Grandfather," he said, looking him boldly in the face, "every day I have gone with you without question. Now the time has come when you must redeem your promise and take me to see my little brother."

The magician dared not refuse, so the two entered the canoe and sped away toward the mainland. When they landed, Panigwun went up to the lodge in advance of the magician. He approached it noiselessly and looked in. The little boy was seated there busily re-feathering one of his father's arrows. The crackling of a twig made him look up, and there was the face of his brother looking in. He sprang up with a loud cry of joy, scattering the arrows around him. The magician was still far behind, and in a few hurried words Panigwun told the little brother of a plan by which he hoped they might escape from the power of Mishosha. They then went down to meet the magician.

"Here is my brother," said Panigwun; "and now we will take him back to the island with us."

Mishosha cast a glance of hate at the two, but he dared not refuse. They went back to the canoe together, but the magician was slower than the two boys. They reached the beach first and sprang into the canoe. Panigwun slapped it upon the side and cried "CHEMANN POLL." Immediately they shot away in the direction of the island, leaving Mishosha behind them.

Panigwun was very proud of his exploit.

As he drew the canoe upon the shore the girl who had aided him before appeared beside him.

"What have you done, and where is Mishosha?" she asked. She did not deign to glance at the younger brother, who on his part gazed at her with admiration.

Panigwun told her how he had tricked the magician, and had escaped from him in the magic canoe. Instead of being pleased the girl was filled with terror.

"You cannot escape from him as easily as that," she cried. "The canoe will not allow itself to be tied, and his power over it is so great that at any moment he can cause it to return to him wherever he may be."

When Panigwun heard that he sat down by the canoe and laid his hand upon it. "I will hold it," he said. "Then let Mishosha call as he will; it shall not slip away."

The girl shook her head doubtfully, but she went away to the lodge and returned with food, that Panigwun might not go hungry while guarding the canoe. All evening he sat there and on into the night, with the little brother, who would not leave him, by his side.

Presently the little brother fell asleep, and after a while, in spite of himself Panigwun began to nod. His hold upon the canoe loosened, and at last his head sunk upon his breast, and he too slept heavily.

When he awoke it was morning and the magician stood beside him looking at him with an evil glance. Panigwun sprang to his feet. "So you are here, grandfather!" he cried. "This island makes one forgetful. I had forgotten that we had left you behind us, but to-day I would have remembered and would have returned for you."

The magician said nothing, but motioned him to take his brother up to the lodge.

Panigwun thought, "After all, I need not fear this magician so much. It is my turn now, and we will see what I can do."

With this idea he said one morning, "Grandfather, I enjoyed our last hunting expedition so much that I would like to take another."

The magician looked at him suspiciously, but he could not refuse to go. They stepped into the canoe, and soon they were speeding over the waters of the lake toward a distant hunting ground.

When they landed, Panigwun took the lead. He led the way back from the water on and on, over plains and through unbroken forests. At night he stopped and said, "Here we will build a shelter, and in the morning we will return."

Soon they had woven together some boughs and saplings, and had made a fire, and after they had eaten they rolled themselves in their blankets and lay down, but this time Panigwun took the precaution of keeping on his moccasins and leggings. In the middle of the night he arose, and bent over Mishosha to make sure that he was asleep. When he was certain of this he took both of the magician's leggings and moccasins and threw them in the fire. He called upon his guardian spirit to send a deep snow, and then he lay down and went to sleep.

The magician was awakened the next morning by the piercing cold; he shivered in his blanket, and the teeth chattered in his head. He arose and looked for his moccasins and leggings. They were not where he had left them, and as he sought for them in vain a terrible fear came upon him. He looked at the boy beseechingly.

"Are you looking for your leggings and moccasins, grandfather," asked Panigwun. "You know this is the month when fire attracts. I very much fear they have been drawn into it and burned."

The magician made no answer but his legs failed under him.

Panigwun opened the door. "Come, grandfather," he said. "It is time for us to start."

He stepped out into the cold and Mishosha followed him, dragging his feet heavily. If it had been cold before, it was ten times more so now. The wind cut like a knife, and the sleet was like whips across their faces. Panigwun strode along bravely, and Mishosha stumbled after him, shuddering in the wind. Twice he stumbled in the snow, but he struggled up again, and still followed. But at last he could go no further. The cold seemed to strike from his feet up through all his limbs. His arms stiffened to branches; his gray hair turned to blowing boughs. Panigwun hearing no longer any sound behind him turned and looked. The magician had disappeared; in his place the boy saw only a stark gray sycamore tree, its branches rattling and moaning in the wind.

So ended the life of Mishosha, the magician of the lake. But Panigwun returned to the island where his brother and the two girls were awaiting him. Great was their rejoicing when they heard the magician was dead, and for many years they all lived there happily together.

In time the two brothers married the girls, and then it was not long before the voices of children sounded in their lodges. The magic canoe still remained and often it sped to and fro across the waters, bearing the brothers or their families, and still obedient to the magic words, CHEMANN POLL.

HAAMDAANEE AND THE WISE GAZELLE

(_From Zanzibar Tales_)

THERE was once upon a time a man named Haamdaanee, who was very poor. He had no clothes but rags, and nothing to eat but the food that was given him in charity.

One day when he was searching about in the dust heap for stray grains of millet, he found a small piece of money. It seemed a fortune to the poor man, and he carefully tied it up in one corner of his rags that he might not lose it.

For a long time he could not decide what to buy with it, but one day when he was again scratching in the dust heap, a man came by with a cage full of gazelles which he wished to sell.

"Merchant," called Haamdaanee, "how much do you ask for your gazelles?"

"They are different prices," answered the merchant. "Some are very large and fine, and for those I ask a good price, but one is a weakling, and it I would sell for almost nothing."

Some men were passing by and they began to laugh. "Have you come into a fortune, Haamdaanee," they cried out, "and are you trying to spend it." Then they said to the merchant, "Do not waste your time on that man. He is so poor that he has to scratch about in the dust heaps to find enough to keep him alive."

Haamdaanee untied the corner of his rags and held out the piece of money. "Here, merchant," he said, "take this and give me one of your gazelles."

The men were very much surprised to see the money. Then they said, "You are very foolish, Haamdaanee. You get a piece of money nobody knows how nor where, and then instead of buying for yourself a good meal you spend it for a gazelle which will also need food."

Haamdaanee, however, paid no attention to their jeers. He took the gazelle, and the merchant took his money, glad to have sold an animal that was so weak and small it seemed as though it would die at any rate.

Haamdaanee carried the little animal home with him to the hovel where he lived, and made a bed for it in one corner, but there was little he could give it to eat. If there had not been enough for one there was still less for two. However, he was not sorry he had bought it. It was company for him and he loved it as though it were his daughter.

One day when Haamdaanee was preparing to go out to the dust heap, the gazelle said to him, "Master, why do you not open the door and let me run out in the forest to find food for myself? If you will do this I will return to you in the evening, and you will only have had one to feed instead of two."

Haamdaanee was wonder-struck at hearing the gazelle speaking. "How is this?" he cried. "You can talk, and yet you are only a little animal I bought with a piece of money from the dust heap."

"That is true," said the gazelle, "but I am not an ordinary animal. I am very wise. Let me out every day so that I may run about, and I may find some way of helping your fortunes. I will always come back to you, for you bought me and you are my master."

The little gazelle spoke so sweetly that Haamdaanee opened the door as it wished, and immediately it ran away and into the deep forest, and was lost to sight. Then Haamdaanee was very sad. He thought, "That was a foolish thing to do. I will never see my gazelle again, and it was such a pretty, gentle little thing."

However, when he returned to his hovel that evening he found the little animal already there. "Master," it said, "I feasted well in the forest to-day, but I saw and heard nothing that would help your fortunes. But courage! To-morrow I will go out again, and who knows what may happen."

So the next morning Haamdaanee again opened the door for the gazelle, and after this he let it out every day, and it remained away until evening, when it came running home again.

But one day when the gazelle went into the forest the food it liked was very scarce, and it wandered on further than it had ever gone before. After a while it began to dig up roots with its sharp little hoofs. Presently it struck something hard, and when it turned it out from the earth it proved to be an enormous diamond.

The gazelle was delighted. It rolled the diamond up in leaves and took it in its mouth to carry it home to Haamdaanee. But then it began to think. "What could my master do with a diamond like this? No one would ever believe I had found it in the forest; if he showed it to people they would certainly think he had stolen it, and he would be beaten or taken before the judges. No, I must do something better than that with the stone."

The wise little animal thought for a while, and then with the diamond still in its mouth, it bounded away through the forest.

It ran on and on for three days and nights without stopping, until it came to a city where a great king lived. This king had a daughter who was so beautiful that the fame of her had spread everywhere; even Haamdaanee and his gazelle had heard of her.

The little animal went straight into the city and through the streets to the palace, and up the steps and into the room where the king was sitting with all his councilors about him. There it bent its fore knees and touched its forehead to the ground three times in token of respect.

"What is this animal, and where does it come from?" asked the king.

No one could tell him anything about it, but the gazelle itself answered.

"Oh, great king, I am a messenger from my master the Prince Daaraaee," it said, "and I have come from far away, a three days and three nights' journey through the forest."

"And what is the message your master sends?" asked the king.

"He wishes you to give him your beautiful daughter for a wife, and he sends you a small gift. It is but a poor thing, and scarce worth the sending, but it was as much as I could carry."

The gazelle then unwrapped the leaves from the diamond and presented it to the king. All were wonder-struck when they saw the size and brightness of the diamond. It was worth a kingdom.

"Your master must be very rich and powerful," said the king. "Has he many more jewels like this?"

"That is nothing to what he has in his treasure house," answered the gazelle.

"And he wishes the hand of my daughter?"

"Yes, your majesty."

The king was delighted at the idea of having such a rich man for a son-in-law, and promised that Prince Daaraaee should have the hand of the princess.

The gazelle then made ready to leave, but first the king fed it with rice and milk, and hung a golden collar about its neck.

"In ten days' time I will return with my master. Be ready to receive him and his escort at that time," said the gazelle, and then it bounded away and was lost to sight in the forest.

Now all this time Haamdaanee had been mourning his gazelle as lost. Five days had passed without its returning. The sixth day he was sitting very mournfully on the dust heap when he felt something brush against him. He looked around, and what was his joy to see his little gazelle beside him. He stroked and caressed it, and then he saw the golden collar around its neck.

"What means this golden collar? And where have you been," asked Haamdaanee.

"I have been far away at the palace of a king," exclaimed the gazelle. "It was he who gave me this collar, and more than that, he promised that you should have his beautiful daughter for a wife."

At first Haamdaanee could not believe what the gazelle told him, but when he had heard the whole story he was filled with terror. "You told the king I was a great prince," he said, "and when he sees me in my rags and filth I will be beaten and driven out into the forest to die."

"Do not be afraid, master," answered the gazelle. "Only do as I tell you and you will be received with great honor, and have a princess as your wife."

At last he persuaded Haamdaanee to come with him, and they set out together through the forest. They went on and on until they were within a day's journey of the king's palace, and then the gazelle stopped. "Master," said he, "do you now strip off your rags and hide them. Bathe in the stream, and as you bathe be careful to knock yourself against the stones so that you will show bruises. Then lie down beside the stream, and when I return from the city with an escort do nothing but groan and cry, 'Oh, those robbers! Those cruel and wicked robbers.'"

Haamdaanee stripped off his rags and stepped into the stream, and while he was still bathing and bruising himself the gazelle bounded away to the palace of the king. It rushed into the room where the king was and fell before him, breathless and apparently exhausted. "Oh, my master! My poor master!" it cried.

The king in great anxiety asked what had happened to the prince.

The gazelle told him that he and his master had come a long way through the forest in safety, and were within a day's journey of the city when they had been set upon by robbers. The robbers had stolen everything; they had stripped the Prince Daaraaee of all his magnificent clothes and jewels, and had beaten him and left him for dead on the banks of a stream. The Prince's escort had been carried away captive. "And I alone escaped," said the gazelle, "for I am so small they did not notice me. But oh, my poor master! If he is not already dead he must soon perish unless help is sent to him."

The king immediately commanded that a strong escort should set out to help the prince. He himself went with them, and a horse was loaded with magnificent robes for Prince Daaraaee to put on. They started out, and the gazelle ran along to show them the way.

When they reached the banks of the stream there lay Haamdaanee groaning, and bruised black and blue as though he had been beaten. They raised him up and clothed him in the magnificent robes they had brought, but all he would say was, "Oh, those robbers! Those cruel, wicked robbers!"

They put him on a great black horse and took him back to the palace of the king, and when so dressed and mounted he appeared a very handsome man indeed. The king was delighted with him, and the princess was no less so, and soon the marriage was celebrated with great feasting and rejoicing.

For awhile Haamdaanee lived with his wife at the palace of the king, and he was so happy, and everything was so fine, that he could hardly believe in his good fortune. But after a time the princess began to ask her husband when they were to return to his own country. She longed to see his magnificent palace and all the treasures it contained.

Haamdaanee took the gazelle aside and said to it, "What are we to do now? I am surely ruined. The princess wishes to see the palace I have told her of, and I have no place to take her but the wretched hovel that will not even shelter us from the weather."

"Do not be afraid, master," answered the gazelle. "I will manage everything for you. Only let me go, and do you tell the princess you have sent me home to prepare for your reception. I will get a palace for you, and when I have it I will return and let you know."

Haamdaanee did as the gazelle bade him. The princess was told that the little animal was to set out immediately and would put all in order at the palace, so she was willing to wait a while longer before seeing her husband's treasures.

The gazelle at once started out on its journeyings. It ran on and on for several days, and then it came to another city even handsomer than that of the king, but when it entered the streets everything was silent and deserted. There was not a soul to be seen. The little animal went through one street after another and at last it came to a palace, and that too was silent and deserted. It knocked with its hard hoof, and after a long time the door opened a crack and an old, old woman looked out. As soon as she saw the gazelle she seemed frightened to death.

"How have you come here?" she cried. "Do you not know that this city belongs to a terrible snake with three heads, and that he eats every living thing? He has eaten all the people of the city except myself and he only left me alive that I might cook his meals and sweep his house. If he finds you here he will surely kill you."

"I am too tired to go farther," said the gazelle, "and I am so small that I can easily hide in a corner where the snake will not find me. Do but let me in to rest for a while. The snake need never know it."

For a time the old woman refused but the gazelle talked so sweetly that after a time she consented and allowed the little animal to slip through the crack of the door and into the house.