Chapter 1

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FOLK-LORE

AND

LEGENDS

NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN

W. W. GIBBINGS 18 BURY ST., LONDON, W.C. 1890

FOLK-LORE AND LEGENDS

_NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN_

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME.

"_These dainty little books._"--STANDARD.

FOLK-LORE AND LEGENDS.

_FIRST SERIES._

1. GERMAN. 2. ORIENTAL. 3. SCOTLAND. 4. IRELAND.

_SECOND SERIES._

1. ENGLAND. 2. SCANDINAVIAN. 3. RUSSIAN. 4. NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN.

"_They transport us into a romantic world._"--TIMES.

PREFATORY NOTE.

It might have been expected that the Indians of North America would have many Folklore tales to tell, and in this volume I have endeavoured to present such of them as seemed to me to best illustrate the primitive character and beliefs of the people. The belief, and the language in which it is clothed, are often very beautiful. Fantastic imagination, magnanimity, moral sentiment, tender feeling, and humour are discovered in a degree which may astonish many who have been apt to imagine that advanced civilisation has much to do with the possession of such qualities. I know of nothing that throws so much light upon Indian character as their Folk-tales.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Moowis, 1

The Girl who Married the Pine-tree, 9

A Legend of Manabozho, 11

Pauppukkeewis, 15

The Discovery of the Upper World, 33

The Boy who Snared the Sun, 37

The Maid in the Box, 41

The Spirits and the Lovers, 45

The Wonderful Rod, 54

The Funeral Fire, 56

The Legend of O-na-wut-a-qut-o, 63

Manabozho in the Fish's Stomach, 69

The Sun and the Moon, 72

The Snail and the Beaver, 75

The Strange Guests, 79

Manabozho and his Toe, 88

The Girl who Became a Bird, 90

The Undying Head, 92

The Old Chippeway, 113

Mukumik! Mukumik! Mukumik!, 116

The Swing by the Lake, 119

The Fire Plume, 123

The Journey to the Island of Souls, 129

Machinitou, the Evil Spirit, 134

The Woman of Stone, 144

The Maiden who Loved a Fish, 147

The Lone Lightning, 151

Aggo-dah-gauda, 154

Piqua, 158

The Evil Maker, 177

Manabozho the Wolf, 179

The Man-fish, 186

MOOWIS.

In a large village there lived a noted belle, or Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa, who was the admiration of all the young hunters and warriors. She was particularly admired by a young man who, from his good figure and the care he took in his dress, was called the Beau-Man, or Ma-mon-dá-gin-in-e. This young man had a friend and companion whom he made his confidant.

"Come," said he one day, in a sportive mood, "let us go a-courting to her who is so handsome, perhaps she may fancy one of us."

She would, however, listen to neither of them; and when the handsome young man rallied her on the coldness of her air, and made an effort to overcome her indifference, she repulsed him with the greatest contempt, and the young man retired confused and abashed. His sense of pride was deeply wounded, and he was the more piqued because he had been thus treated in the presence of others, and this affair had been noised about in the village, and became the talk of every lodge circle. He was, besides, a very sensitive man, and the incident so preyed upon him that he became moody and at last took to his bed. For days he would lie without uttering a word, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, and taking little or no food. From this state no efforts could rouse him. He felt abashed and dishonoured even in the presence of his own relatives, and no persuasions could induce him to rise, so that when the family prepared to take down the lodge to remove he still kept his bed, and they were compelled to lift it from above his head and leave him upon his skin couch. It was a time of general removal and breaking up of the camp, for it was only a winter hunting-camp, and as the season of the hunt was now over, and spring began to appear, his friends all moved off as by one impulse to the place of their summer village, and in a short time all were gone, and he was left alone. The last person to leave him was his boon companion and cousin, who had been, like him, an admirer of the forest belle. The hunter disregarded even his voice, and as soon as his steps died away on the creaking snow the stillness and solitude of the wilderness reigned around.

As soon as all were gone, and he could no longer, by listening, hear the remotest sound of the departing camp, the Beau-Man arose.

Now this young man had for a friend a powerful guardian spirit or personal manito, and he resolved, with this spirit's aid, to use his utmost power to punish and humble the girl, for she was noted in her tribe for her coquetry, and had treated many young men, who were every way her equals, as she had treated this lover. He resolved on a singular stratagem by way of revenge.

He walked over the deserted camp and gathered up all the cast-off bits of soiled cloth, clippings of finery, and old clothing and ornaments, which had either been left there as not worth carrying away, or forgotten. These he carefully picked out of the snow, into which some of them had been trodden, and collected in one place. These gaudy and soiled stuffs he restored to their original beauty, and made of them a coat and leggings, which he trimmed with beads, and finished and decorated after the best fashion of his tribe. He then made a pair of moccasins and garnished them with beads, a bow and arrows, and a frontlet and feathers for the head. Having done this he searched about for cast-out bones of animals, pieces of skin, clippings of dried meat, and even dirt. Having cemented all this together he filled the clothes with it, pressed the mass firmly in, and fashioned it, externally, in all respects like a tall and well-shaped man. He put a bow and arrows in its hands, and the frontlet on its head. Having finished it he brought it to life, and the image stood forth in the most favoured lineaments of his fellows. Such was the origin of Moowis, or the Dirt-and-Rag Man.

"Follow me," said the Beau-Man, "and I will direct you how you shall act."

Moowis was, indeed, a very sightly person, and as the Beau-Man led him into the new encampment where the girl dwelt, the many colours of his clothes, the profusion of his ornaments, his manly deportment, his animated countenance, drew all eyes to him. He was hospitably received, both old and young showing him great attention. The chief invited him to his lodge, and he was there treated to the moose's hump and the finest venison.

No one was better pleased with the handsome stranger than Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa. She fell in love with him at first sight, and he was an invited guest at the lodge of her mother the very first evening of his arrival. The Beau-Man went with him, for it was under his patronage that he had been introduced, and, in truth, he had another motive in accompanying him, for he had not yet wholly subdued his feelings of admiration for the object against whom he had, nevertheless, exerted all his necromantic power, and he held himself ready to take advantage of any favourable turn which he secretly hoped the visit might take in relation to himself. No such opportunity, however, arose. Moowis attracted the chief attention, every eye and heart was alert to entertain him. In this effort on the part of his entertainers they had well-nigh brought about his destruction by dissolving him into his original elements of rags, snow, and dirt, for he was assigned the most prominent place near the fire, where he was exposed to a heat that he could by no means endure. However, he warded this calamity off by placing a boy between him and the fire; he shifted his position frequently, and evaded, by dexterous manoeuvres and timely remarks, the pressing invitation of his host to sit and enjoy the warmth. He so managed these excuses as not only to conceal his dread of immediate dissolution, but to secure the further approbation of the fair forest girl, who was filled with admiration of one who had so brave a spirit to endure the paralysing effects of cold.

The visit proved that the rejected lover had well calculated the effects of his plan. He withdrew from the lodge, and Moowis triumphed. Before the Beau-Man left he saw him cross the lodge to the coveted _abinos_, or bridegroom's seat. The dart which Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa had so often delighted in sending to the hearts of her admirers she was at length fated to receive. She had married an image.

As the morning began to break the stranger arose, adjusted his warrior's plumes, and took his forest weapons to depart.

"I must go," said he, "for I have important work to do, and there are many hills and streams between me and the object of my journey."

"I will go with you," said Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa.

"The journey is too long," replied her husband, "and you are ill able to encounter the perils of the way."

"It is not so long but that I will go," answered his wife, "and there are no dangers I will not share with you."

Moowis returned to the lodge of his master, and told him what had occurred. For a moment pity took possession of the young man's heart. He regretted that she whom he so loved should thus have thrown herself away upon an image, a shadow, when she might have been the mistress of the best lodge in the camp.

"It is her own folly," he said; "she has turned a deaf ear to the counsels of prudence. She must submit to her fate."

The same morning Moowis set forth, and his wife followed him at a distance. The way was rough and intricate, and she found that she could not keep up with him, he walked so quickly. She struggled hard and obstinately to overtake him, but Moowis had been for some time out of sight when the sun rose and commenced upon his snow-formed body the work of dissolution. He began to melt away and fall to pieces. As Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa followed in his track she found piece after piece of his clothing in the path. She first found his mittens, then his moccasins, then his leggings, then his coat, and after that other parts of his garments. As the heat unbound them the clothes also returned to their filthy condition. Over rocks, through wind-falls, across marshes, Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa pursued him she loved. The path turned aside in all directions. Rags, bones, leather, beads, feathers, and soiled ribbons she found, but caught no sight of Moowis. She spent the day in wandering, and when evening came she was still alone. The snow having now melted, she had completely lost her husband's track, and she wandered about uncertain which way to go and in a state of perfect despair. At length with bitter cries she lamented her fate.

"Moowis, Moowis," she cried, "nin ge won e win ig, ne won e win ig!"--"Moowis, Moowis, you have led me astray, you are leading me astray!"

With this cry she wandered in the woods.

The cry of the lost Ma-mon-dá-go-Kwa is sometimes repeated by the village girls who have made of it a song--

Moowis! Moowis! Forest rover, Where art thou? Ah! my bravest, gayest lover, Guide me now.

Moowis! Moowis! Ah! believe me, List my moan: Do not, do not, brave heart, leave me All alone.

Moowis! Moowis! Footprints vanished! Whither wend I? Fated, lost, detested, banished Must I die!

Moowis! Moowis! Whither goest thou, Eye-bright lover? Ah! thou ravenous bird that knowest, I see thee hover,

Circling, circling As I wander, And at last When I fall thou then wilt come And feed upon my breast.

THE GIRL WHO MARRIED THE PINE-TREE.

Upon the side of a certain mountain grew some pines, under the shade of which the Puckwudjinies, or sprites, were accustomed to sport at times. Now it happened that in the neighbourhood of these trees was a lodge in which dwelt a beautiful girl and her father and mother. One day a man came to the lodge of the father, and seeing the girl he loved her, and said--

"Give me Leelinau for my wife," and the old man consented.

Now it happened that the girl did not like her lover, so she escaped from the lodge and went and hid herself, and as the sun was setting she came to the pine-trees, and leaning against one of them she lamented her hard fate. On a sudden she heard a voice, which seemed to come from the tree, saying--

"Be my wife, maiden, beautiful Leelinau, beautiful Leelinau."

The girl was astonished, not knowing whence the voice could have come. She listened again, and the words were repeated, evidently by the tree against which she leaned. Then the maid consented to be the wife of the pine-tree.

Meanwhile her parents had missed her, and had sent out parties to see if she could be found, but she was nowhere.

Time passed on, but Leelinau never returned to her home. Hunters who have been crossing the mountain, and have come to the trees at sunset, say that they have seen a beautiful girl there in company with a handsome youth, who vanished as they approached.

A LEGEND OF MANABOZHO.

Manabozho made the land. The occasion of his doing so was this.

One day he went out hunting with two wolves. After the first day's hunt one of the wolves left him and went to the left, but the other continuing with Manabozho he adopted him for his son. The lakes were in those days peopled by spirits with whom Manabozho and his son went to war. They destroyed all the spirits in one lake, and then went on hunting. They were not, however, very successful, for every deer the wolf chased fled to another of the lakes and escaped from them. It chanced that one day Manabozho started a deer, and the wolf gave chase. The animal fled to the lake, which was covered with ice, and the wolf pursued it. At the moment when the wolf had come up to the prey the ice broke, and both fell in, when the spirits, catching them, at once devoured them.

Manabozho went up and down the lake-shore weeping and lamenting. While he was thus distressed he heard a voice proceeding from the depths of the lake.

"Manabozho," cried the voice, "why do you weep?"

Manabozho answered--

"Have I not cause to do so? I have lost my son, who has sunk in the waters of the lake."

"You will never see him more," replied the voice; "the spirits have eaten him."

Then Manabozho wept the more when he heard this sad news.

"Would," said he, "I might meet those who have thus cruelly treated me in eating my son. They should feel the power of Manabozho, who would be revenged."

The voice informed him that he might meet the spirits by repairing to a certain place, to which the spirits would come to sun themselves. Manabozho went there accordingly, and, concealing himself, saw the spirits, who appeared in all manner of forms, as snakes, bears, and other things. Manabozho, however, did not escape the notice of one of the two chiefs of the spirits, and one of the band who wore the shape of a very large snake was sent by them to examine what the strange object was.

Manabozho saw the spirit coming, and assumed the appearance of a stump. The snake coming up wrapped itself around the trunk and squeezed it with all its strength, so that Manabozho was on the point of crying out when the snake uncoiled itself. The relief was, however, only for a moment. Again the snake wound itself around him and gave him this time even a more severe hug than before. Manabozho restrained himself and did not suffer a cry to escape him, and the snake, now satisfied that the stump was what it appeared to be, glided off to its companions. The chiefs of the spirits were not, however, satisfied, so they sent a bear to try what he could make of the stump. The bear came up to Manabozho and hugged, and bit, and clawed him till he could hardly forbear screaming with the pain it caused him. The thought of his son and of the vengeance he wished to take on the spirits, however, restrained him, and the bear at last retreated to its fellows.

"It is nothing," it said; "it is really a stump."

Then the spirits were reassured, and, having sunned themselves, lay down and went to sleep. Seeing this, Manabozho assumed his natural shape, and stealing upon them with his bow and arrows, slew the chiefs of the spirits. In doing this he awoke the others, who, seeing their chiefs dead, turned upon Manabozho, who fled. Then the spirits pursued him in the shape of a vast flood of water. Hearing it behind him the fugitive ran as fast as he could to the hills, but each one became gradually submerged, so that Manabozho was at last driven to the top of the highest mountain. Here the waters still surrounding him and gathering in height, Manabozho climbed the highest pine-tree he could find. The waters still rose. Then Manabozho prayed that the tree would grow, and it did so. Still the waters rose. Manabozho prayed again that the tree would grow, and it did so, but not so much as before. Still the waters rose, and Manabozho was up to his chin in the flood, when he prayed again, and the tree grew, but less than on either of the former occasions. Manabozho looked round on the waters, and saw many animals swimming about seeking land. Amongst them he saw a beaver, an otter, and a musk-rat. Then he cried to them, saying--

"My brothers, come to me. We must have some earth, or we shall all die."

So they came to him and consulted as to what had best be done, and it was agreed that they should dive down and see if they could not bring up some of the earth from below.

The beaver dived first, but was drowned before he reached the bottom. Then the otter went. He came within sight of the earth, but then his senses failed him before he could get a bite of it. The musk-rat followed. He sank to the bottom, and bit the earth. Then he lost his senses and came floating up to the top of the water. Manabozho awaited the reappearance of the three, and as they came up to the surface he drew them to him. He examined their claws, but found nothing. Then he looked in their mouths and found the beaver's and the otter's empty. In the musk-rat's, however, he found a little earth. This Manabozho took in his hands and rubbed till it was a fine dust. Then he dried it in the sun, and, when it was quite light, he blew it all round him over the water, and the dry land appeared.

Thus Manabozho made the land.

PAUPPUKKEEWIS.

A man of large stature and great activity of mind and body 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 as soon as his mind was made up he set out, he knew not whither, in search of habitations. No obstacles diverted him from his purpose. Prairies, rivers, woods, and storms did not daunt his courage or turn him back. After travelling 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 he found no other traces of men. Pursuing his journey he found more recent marks of the same kind, and later on he came to fresh traces of human beings, first their footsteps, and then the wood they had cut lying in heaps.

Continuing on he emerged towards dusk from the forest, and beheld at a distance a large village of high lodges, standing on rising ground. He said to himself--

"I will arrive there at a run."

Off he started with all his speed, and on coming to the first lodge he jumped over it. Those within saw something pass over the top, and then they heard a thump on the ground.

"What is that?" they all said.

One came out to see, and, finding a stranger, invited him in. He found himself in the presence of an old chief and several men who were seated in the lodge. Meat was set before him, after which the chief asked him where he was going and what his name was. He answered he was in search of adventures, and that his name was Pauppukkeewis (grasshopper). The eyes of all were fixed upon him.

"Pauppukkeewis!" said one to another, and the laugh went round.

Pauppukkeewis made but a short stay in the village. He was not easy there. The place gave him no opportunity to display his powers.

"I will be off," he said, and taking with him a young man who had formed a strong attachment for him and who might serve him as a mesh-in-au-wa (official who bears the pipe), he set out once more on his travels. The two travelled together, and when the young man was fatigued with walking Pauppukkeewis would show him a few tricks, such as leaping over trees, and turning round on one leg till he made the dust fly in a cloud around him. In this manner he very much amused his companion, though at times his performance somewhat alarmed him.

One day they came to a large village, where they were well received. The people told them that there were a number of manitoes who lived some distance away and who killed all who came to their lodge.

The people had made many attempts to extirpate these manitoes, but the war parties that went out for this purpose were always unsuccessful.

"I will go and see them," said Pauppukkeewis.

The chief of the village warned him of the danger he would run, but finding him resolved, said--

"Well, if you will go, since you are my guest, I will send twenty warriors with you."

Pauppukkeewis thanked him for this. Twenty young men offered themselves for the expedition. They went forward, and in a short time descried the lodge of the manitoes. Pauppukkeewis placed his friend and the warriors near him so that they might see all that passed, and then he went alone into the lodge. When he entered he found five horrible-looking manitoes eating. These were the father and four sons. Their appearance was hideous. Their eyes were set low in their heads as if the manitoes were half starved. They offered Pauppukkeewis part of their meat, but he refused it.

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

"Nothing," answered Pauppukkeewis.

At this they all stared at him.

"Do you not wish to wrestle?" they all asked.

"Yes," replied he.

A hideous smile passed over their faces.

"You go," said the others to their eldest brother.

Pauppukkeewis and his antagonist were soon clinched in each other's arms. He knew the manitoes' object,--they wanted his flesh,--but he was prepared for them.

"Haw, haw!" they cried, and the dust and dry leaves flew about the wrestlers as if driven by a strong wind.

The manito was strong, but Pauppukkeewis soon found he could master him. He tripped him up, and threw him with a giant's force head foremost on a stone, and he fell insensible.

The brothers stepped up in quick succession, but Pauppukkeewis put his tricks in full play, and soon all the four lay bleeding on the ground. The old manito got frightened, and ran for his life. Pauppukkeewis pursued him for sport. Sometimes he was before him, sometimes over his head. Now he would give him a kick, now a push, now a trip, till the manito was quite exhausted. Meanwhile Pauppukkeewis's friend and the warriors came up, crying--

"Ha, ha, a! Ha, ha, a! Pauppukkeewis is driving him before him."

At length Pauppukkeewis threw the manito to the ground with such force that he lay senseless, and the warriors, carrying him off, laid him with the bodies of his sons, and set fire to the whole, consuming them to ashes.