Part 6

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.”

The ants ran hastily into Hawk’s skull, and fed upon his brain.

“Now,” added Mosique, “my dear Little Birds, you know I have lived in my wigwam for a long time. I have never troubled any one, and no one has troubled me. This is the first one who ever came to disturb me. Here he lies. Tell your leader, the great Woodpecker, my worst enemy,[34] what I say. I have never talked so much before in all my life; but do you tell him that if he ever comes to try to destroy my wigwam, I will serve him the same as that Hawk. I do not wish to defy him myself, but you can tell him for me.”

The Little Birds sewed leaves together, placed the Honorable Mosique on them, raised him high in air, and sang songs of rejoicing over him:--

“K’mūs’m S’n nāhā kisi nāhāhāt ō-usell ennīt kīlon wecki w’litt hassūl tīgiqu’,” or “our Grandfather Wood Worm has killed Hūhuss. This is what makes us so happy.”

Then they flew up almost to the sky, came down again, left Mosique in his wigwam and presented him with a tiny Wīsūwīgesisl, or Little Yellow Bird,--one of their best singers,--to be his comrade and musician.

Every morning she sings: “Ētuch ūlināgusk tīke ūspesswin!” (Oh, what a lovely, bright morning! Awake, all ye who sleep!)

This delighted Mosique.

Time passed, and the Raven fancied the looks of Mosique’s Singer, with her bright yellow feathers shining like gold. He said: “There is but one way to get the beautiful Singer, and that is to kill Mosique.

“But that is well-nigh impossible. While he is in his wigwam, no living creature can destroy him. There is but one way to kill him; but it is a sure way, I never knew it to fail. I have a piece of punk which my grandfather, the White Otter, gave me, that will do the work.”

So next morning, it being very windy, he went to the foot of the big tree where Mosique lived, put the punk close against the tree, set it on fire, and it soon blazed up. Now this was sure death to Mosique.

(Here part of the story seems to be missing, telling how the Worm escaped this “sure death,” but I have been unable to recover it, in spite of all my efforts.--A. L. A.)

Mosique, in his rage, gathered together all the Little Birds, and told his sad story to them.

“That White Bird,” said he, “has not treated me right; but I will have my revenge. I want you to take me where he lives.”

“We will take you to his wigwam, Grandpa,” said the Little Birds. So they sewed the leaves together again,[35] and placing Mosique on them, flew off with him. They soon reached the residence of Raven. Mosique had with him a lot of “tebequenignel,” or Indian birch-bark torches. The Little Birds set him down within a few feet of the tall spruce-tree where the Raven lived. Now the Raven is an early riser, and goes to bed equally early; so, as soon as it was dark, Mosique crawled up the tree, and soon came to Raven’s door. He slipped in without being seen or heard, and bound Raven while he slept. Then he easily made his way down again, lighted his torches, and soon had the tree in flames. When the fire reached the Raven, he awaked and cried out: “Oh, Mosique, have pity on me, and untie me!” but Mosique heeded him not.

These bark torches always make a dense smoke, which soon blackened the Raven. As the flames drew nearer, the cords which bound the Raven were burned away, or snapped asunder, and he escaped uninjured. But his beauty was gone forever. Up to this time, he was a snow-white bird; but ever since he has been as black as charcoal, down to this very day.

THE END.

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_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications._

FAR FROM TO-DAY.

A Volume of Stories.

BY GERTRUDE HALL,

_16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00_.

These stories are marked with originality and power. The titles are as follows: viz., Tristiane, The Sons of Philemon, Servirol, Sylvanus, Theodolind, Shepherds.

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A STRANGE CAREER.

LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF JOHN GLADWYN JEBB.

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FOOTNOTES: