Part 10

I am going to tell you now what happened long ago. Some Indians were camping with their children near a lake And one fair morning started off to hunt the wary moose, The children left alone in camp, as is the Indian way. On that same day a little lad who scarce could walk unhelped, Tottered and crawled away from camp until he lost the path And passed the cold and bitter night afar out in the bush. When morning dawned he thought he saw his mother drawing near And, rushing to her side, he held her fast in firm embrace. This was a she-bear, shaggy, great and strong as oxen twain. She seized the lad and bore him off and fed him in her den. When the old folk returned to camp they sought the boy in vain.

For ten full days, all day and night, they sought the boy in vain. At last they broke up camp and, sorrowing, went back unto their town. All winter long the baby lay warmed by the sleeping bear And drawing nourishment at need forth from her milky teats-- A wonder this, and quite unlike the usual way of bears. But this one was a wizard bear who wished to keep the lad. When spring-time came, the wizard of the little Indian town Took twenty men and started off to seek the long-lost lad. He had found out by secret arts the way to his abode. When they arrived, the furious bear rushed forth in anger dire But met her death by magic shot, and thus the boy was saved; He ran away, but soon was caught and to his kind restored, But during many years that lad was wild as any bear. P.

FOOTNOTES:

[51] I am going to tell you of what happened long ago.

VII

THE WIZARD AND THE CHRISTIAN PRIEST

[_Abenaki_]

_Askua ali wigiidit waʿkasimigʾzowak Salaʾki agua ni wijiganun kigamʾwinno._[52]

A priest of God came to an Indian town And settled there to teach the people truth, Which some received and others spurned with scorn. Some hostile Mohawks fell upon that town, Killing the folk, all save the Priest and one, An Indian of many magic gifts.

Late in the afternoon of that same day The Mohawks reached their village with these two: The holy Priest and Wizard skilled in craft. The Mohawks held a council by the fire Discussing how to torture best the twain, So as to see their frenzy, and enjoy With gloating satisfaction every pain. They all agreed to heat two earthen pots On fiery coals unto the whitest heat; Then place these pots upon the head of each And watch them dance about till life was spent.

With merry whoop they started up the fires; Began at once to heat the torture pots. Soon, when they thought the glow was great enough, They first of all laid hands upon the Priest. Then he who had been taken with the Priest At once brought all his magic arts to bear, And burst his bonds asunder with a yell That curdled every heart among the foe. The Wizard cried in Indian tongue: “_Nda Awâni niûna ndelima-- Magahôûnana_,” which means: “My friends, We shall not torture any one (to-day).” And then he leapt upon the fiery coals And danced and danced, until his feet did fry And sizzle hot like bacon in a pan. Then all the Indians were full of fear. But when to crown the horror of the whole They saw the wizard put the glowing pot On his own head and leap about in glee, They all took flight in terror to the woods. Then spake the Wizard: “Father, now escape.”

When they had reached all safe and sound their home, The Priest said to the Wizard: “O my son, Thou shouldst repent and turn thee from thine art Unto God’s ways and ever keep the Faith.” Then quoth the Wizard laughing: “Father mine, Had I repented and mine art eschewed, Then were we both of us dead men this day.”[53] P.

FOOTNOTES:

[52] A priest came to where some families were camping.

[53] This song is very interesting, as indicating a survival of the old Indian faith in their magicians as superior to Christian power. It is quite like the many indications in Italian tales, relating to witches, in which the sorcerer conquers the priest.--C. G. L.

VIII

WIZARD WARFARE

[_Abenaki_]

_Noñwat nd-odananok Mʾsalok mdaulinʾwak._[54]

Long, long years ago When wizards were not few There happened near our town A war of which I’ll tell. One day a wizard wise Sought counsel from the gods, And entered in the hut They knew as _petegwîgun_-- A round-house made of bark, With opening above; No door nor window there Save only at the top Through which the wizard climbed, And, lying there in trance, Saw all the foemen’s wiles. Then, singing magic songs, Forth from that hut he came And ordered all the tribe To rise and meet the foe, The cruel Mohawk foe, Encamped not far away. So all the Indian braves Embarked in their canoes, Went down one stream, then up Another, paddling soft, Avoiding any sound. At last they saw a smoke Arising far away. Then spake the wizard thus: “Do ye all wait me here And I will go and spy The numbers of the foe, Taking with me but one; Another Indian brave Who hath the magic gift.” These wizards then withdrew Into a thicket’s shade, Whence suddenly emerged In beaver’s guise the one, In muskrat form his friend. When they drew very near The island where the foe, The cruel Iroquois, Were feasting on a moose, The beaver and the rat Dived deep beneath the stream, Causing that sudden plash Which even to this day Makes many a hunter jump. Among the Iroquois Another wizard sat And when he heard the plash Quoth he: “The foe is there, The fierce Abenakis.” Then, grasping in his hand, The legbone of a moose, He flung it straight and far To where the muskrat swam And struck him on the head. The beaver seized his friend And drew him ’neath the stream And held him till he drowned, In order that his pains And struggle for his life Should not alarm the foe. The Iroquois then rose And danced around the fire Thinking in hideous glee Of how when morrow came They’d torture all their foes.

They then lay down to sleep. At once the beaver swam To shore to their canoes And gnawed with his sharp teeth Great holes in the birch bark Of which these craft were made. The wizard beaver then Swam back to his own folk To whom he said: “Arise, Come, quickly hunt them out.” The fierce Abenakis Came stealthily and still And landed on the isle Where lay the Iroquois. Then, whooping with the cry Of war which chills the soul, The fierce Abenakis Awoke the Iroquois Who, paralyzed with fright, Rushed straight to their canoes Which sank in mid-stream all-- The work of wizard teeth.

Then the Abenakis Swooped down with horrid cries And then slew all their foes Save only two. I’ll tell What ’twas they did to them. Of all their slaughtered foes They first cut off the heads And stuck them up on stakes All over that fair isle. Then to their prisoners Whom they had saved alive, They gave a little thought. So first they bound them fast Then pried with cruel sticks Their mouths till open wide; Cut off their lower lips, Showing the grinning teeth, Then severing half their ears And half their noses too, They said to them in scorn: “_Kdihleba nda mina Ni nojimigahakw_:” “We warn you now, my friends, Do not attempt again To come against us here.” This was the way they marked The prisoners in old days.

Then they gave them food Enough to give them life Upon the journey home, In order that these maimed And harshly usèd foes Should tell the Iroquois In northern forest far That the Abenakis Were mightier than they.

That island to this day Is called the Place of Skulls, Wdupsek in our tongue. P.

FOOTNOTES:

[54] Long ago there were many wizards in our town.

IX

THE WIZARD’S HUNTING

[_Abenaki_]

_Noñwat mʾzi mʾdaulinowak nadialoldowak._[55]

In ancient days when wizard power was great There were two mighty men who knew these arts And understood full well unholy skill. Once on a time it chanced that these great twain Did quarrel for a certain hunting ground. The one had set up deadfalls in the paths Where run the timid deer, all ignorant Of man, and man’s desire to slaughter them. The other wizard straightway came along And, ruthless, snapped these deadfalls every one, To irritate his fellow wizard’s heart. Twice did the mischief-maker do this deed, Till, finally, the injured man bethought Him that he must consult the secret powers How he should catch and punish well the foe. So crawling into _petegwîgun′s_ shade-- This was the magic round-house where the gods Give wisdom unto man--he lay in trance Until he saw a cruel wolverine, Which he at once knew well to be the foe. Then, leaping from the house of magic arts, He followed fast the trail of Wolverine Who was the evil-hearted enemy. This mischief-making wizard straightway knew That he was being followed, so he changed Himself into a hooting, snowy owl That wakes the echoes of the forest night. Thus he escaped and forthwith went again And full of glee the other’s deadfalls broke. At last the injured wizard in despair Went to consult his uncle in the glade Where hang the alders drooping by the stream. “O Uncle, aid me in my direst need And find for me this rascal foe,” he cried, “Who changes into every living thing, And thus escapes my burning righteous wrath.” His uncle was a wizard full of power, So he at once departed for a time And then, returning, said: “I’ve found thy foe, He lives within thy shanty in the woods, He’s taken his abode within the cracks Where thou hast sewn the bark upon thy roof.” “How then shall I be able to outwit A foe so wily and so full of skill?” The nephew asked. The uncle told him all. And then the injured wizard went his way Unto his barken shanty in the woods.

When he was sitting by the fire that night An evil bat of monstrous size flew forth From underneath the shanty’s sloping roof. Straightway the wizard seized and held the bat So close unto the glowing fiery coals That all his filthy, vermin-reeking hair Was clean consumed--then let him fly away, Feeling that vengeance had been wreaked full well. No more thereafter was there mischief wrought And all his hunting met with fortune fair. Then later in the year the wizard came Home to the village laden down with spoils And trophies of the chase, and there he saw A man he knew with skin all scarred and burned. Quoth this one to the wizard: “O my friend I have been duly punished for my sin. Do thou now heal me quickly and forgive That I have caused thee trouble in the chase.” The wizard then took pity on his foe And healed his burns and made him whole again. P.

FOOTNOTES:

[55] Long ago all the wizards used to hunt.

X

SIX SHORT TALES OF WITCHCRAFT

[_Passamaquoddy_]

_Kʾchi Joe Benoit mʾdeaulin Kʾchi kʾnokwchil pohégunul._[56]

Old Joe Benoit, a friend of mine, Was full of all unholy skill and power. He quarrelled with a man who like himself, Was wizard and a guileful, crafty foe. A giant turtle’s form Joe Benoit took; The other changed himself into a snake; The twain then met and fought in combat dire Within the waters of a little lake Which since that time has ever borne the name Of Neʿseyik, which means “the muddy lake,” Because their strife had stirred up all the soil And weeds, and roiled the waters of that pool. Joe Benoit slew his foe, the giant snake.

* * * * *

Old Lacote was a wizard made a trap, A deadfall trap for bear off in the woods. When he had set the trap all fast and firm, He crawled within to test the prop-stick stout. But by the magic arts of wizard foe Through old Sabatis’ guile who owed him hate, The prop-stick fell and let the great bear-trap Drop full upon old Lacote’s head and back. His son was there and dragged the old man forth. But Lacote knew to whom he owed ill-luck.

* * * * *

When I was fifteen years I saw a man Who had become a demon of the wood, A Miʿkumwess with power to change his size And art to sink into the rocky soil Up to his ankle-joints or knees as though ’twere sand. I saw myself the tracks where he had sunk Into a soil all full of rocks and roots.

* * * * *

My father was a wizard and had power To call unto his partner miles away. I’ve often heard him singing in the night All low and weird, and when the morning dawned, He’d tell me what his partner’s luck had been. I never knew his magic skill to fail.

* * * * *

My brother told me, many years ago, Some wizards had a quarrel, and they slew One of their number, took his corpse away And ate it on the isle of Grand Manan, Sitting upon a ledge above the sea.

* * * * *

Two men were hunting on an inland lake When suddenly they heard a fearful whoop As of a man in agony, who ran Adown the lake along the farther shore. They went out in their barque and there they saw Him come right up to where their shanty lay. Returning to the shore they begged him then: “Pray stay and eat,” but he, with accents wild, Cried: “Nay, I may not stop in this warm place. I must away, away unto the North, Where ice and snow shall cool my bounding blood.” This man was a Kiwaʿkw, a demon ghoul, Ice-giant--of that race which loves to prey Upon the tender flesh of man and babe. P.

FOOTNOTES:

[56] Old Joe Benoit the wizard changed himself to a great turtle.

XI

A DELAWARE YOUTH AND HIS UNCLE

[_Delaware_]

_Weekwaum lawee kohpee Weekena withkeelno wauk wʾsheetha._[57]

Afar in the midst of the forest Dwelt a youth and his uncle, His uncle of many summers. Once on a time the old man Was sick unto death with an illness Whose cause was unknown to himself And his nephew, his fond loving nephew. So, thinking the light of his being Was soon to go out, the old uncle Called to his bedside the young man To hear his last words of affection. The loving nephew grievèd, Grieved in the depths of his heart, Then thought to himself: “My dear uncle, At least shall not die on bare earth. I’ll make for him now a great basket And line it with soft, downy feathers. So shall he die in all comfort.” He worked all the night at the basket And then, when the morrow dawned, Presented his work to his uncle Who wept tears of gladness and said: “Dear nephew--how great is thy kindness!” The old man then lay in the basket And to him came a vision of dread; He stretched forth his hand to his nephew, A gesture to draw his attention, And then told the youth of his vision. Quoth: “Some one is coming at midnight From whom thou shalt shrink with great trembling, But fear not, take courage, my nephew, Although he shall come to our wigwam At midnight when all things are sleeping.”

That night, long after their supper, The youth sat him down by the fire, On the further side of the fire,[58] And waited to see what was coming. Then all of a sudden a creature Too awful to tell of was with him, A wizard of hideous presence Who dropped through the smoke-hole a-shrieking: “Give up to me, youth, thine old uncle I wish to devour his lean flesh.” The youth gave not way to his terror But leapt to his feet and said boldly: “Foul being, mine uncle remains here And ne’er shall be eaten by thee.” Howled the wizard, the cannibal wizard: “When I come here once more have him ready, Rash lad, or thou dearly shalt rue it.”

Thought the youth in his heart: “He is awful. It must be that my uncle shall leave me. I will journey afar toward the sunset If perchance I may find there some people Who shall aid me in this my dire need.” Then the young man took leave of his uncle And said to him: “Fear not, beloved, I go to seek aid for thy sickness, Soon I’ll return to thy side.”

After journeying days through the forest He passed a small curious wigwam From which came a lad who addressed him: “Hail, stranger, how fareth thine uncle?” The youth was amazed beyond measure That one who appeared but an infant Should know all about his affairs, But he passed on in silence and wonder. Soon after he came to a wigwam Near which stood a great, kindly wizard, Who saw from the face of the traveller That he was in fear for his uncle.

Then when he heard how the nephew Had met with the terrible being, He said: “This in truth is Muttóntoe, Muttóntoe, the spirit of evil, Who yearns for the flesh of thy kinsman. But fear not, my lad, I will aid thee, I’ll tell thee the way to o’ercome him.”

When the nephew had heard all the wisdom And learned how to conquer Muttóntoe, He went back at once to his uncle. Then after they’d eaten that evening, He swept up the dirt from the wigwam And placed in his own bed the uncle. Then _he_ lay himself in the basket, Where he felt himself filled full of magic And power to conquer Muttóntoe. At the dead hour of midnight Once more in the midst of the wigwam The monster dropped down through the smoke-hole. “Awake, lad,” quoth he, “I’m Muttóntoe. Bring forth thine old uncle, I want him.” Then out from the basket the nephew Stept boldly, all covered with feathers. A terrible sight to Muttóntoe, Who leapt with a shriek through the smoke-hole And never returned to that wigwam, Where the youth and his uncle, still living, Dwell happily in the dark forest. P.

FOOTNOTES:

[57] In a wigwam in the forest dwelt a youth and his uncle.

[58] The fire is in the middle of the wigwam.

XII

THE DANCE OF OLD AGE

[_Passamaquoddy_]

_Piʾche uskichinwi utenesizek._[59]

All in the early time In an inland village Many Indians lived, Of two of them I’ll tell: One was a handsome man, Young, brave, a great hunter; The other, a beautiful girl.

What might be her name?-- Malikakusquess? Or Kaliwahdasi? I do not remember Which of the two it was. But she was very proud, Fierce as she was fair, And through and through revengeful. And, what was worst of all, She was an awful witch, Seven witches in one, Like seven devils united But this she hid from all; Only the Wʾnagʾmeswuk, The singular silent spirits, Who are ever flitting around us, Knew of this terrible secret.

She wanted the youth to wed her, But he at that time was busy, Very busy in getting ready To go on his autumn hunt, Which would last far into the winter; And he had no time for wooing, As he very plainly told her.

Truly he must have spoken Very plainly indeed; For her heart shrunk up in anger Until ’twas hard as a flint With sharply cutting edges, And thus she cut in reply: “You may go afar to the North, You may go if you like on your hunt But you never will return The same as when you departed; Remember me when the change Comes over you in the forest.”

He gave no heed to her words, He cared not for her, nor feared her, So he went away with his brother, And for many days together They hunted in the North, Hunted the deer and moose; The girl was all forgotten.

But one day when deep in the woods, And very far in the North, In the mid winter gloom, The youth went raging mad, For the witch had struck him sore, Though far and far away, Struck him with sorcery.

The elder brother with him Was a brave among the braves, A fierce and terrible man Who had no dream of fear: And as he could do naught else He did the most desperate deed Which the wildest of the warriors Among the Wabanaki Has ever dared to do; For he went down to the river At midnight and alone, And sang the terrible song Which calls the Wîwilmekw, The Demon of the Worm, Even to devils a terror.

_Nil nʾwikwima Wîwilmekw Nil nʾwikwima chipinaʿkwsit Nit besq weshʾmʾwit Nil npechikinapin nekmomeswelas_

“I call on the Wîwilmekw, I call on the Terrible One, On the One with the Horns, I dare him to appear!”

It came in all its horrors, Its eyes were like deep red fire, Its horns rose sharp and high. It asked him, what he would have? He answered that his brother Had lost himself in madness, And he fain would cure the youth.

“I will give you what you want,” Answered the Wîwilmekw, “If you are not afraid.”

“I have no fear at all,” The Indian replied, “Of anything that lives.”

“Hast thou no fear of me?” The Demon Worm inquired.

“No more of thee than I Have of the Michihant, Who is the Devil of all.”

“If you dare take me by My horns,” the fiend replied, “And scrape them with your knife, And lay the scrapings by, Then you may have your wish.”

In truth this Indian was As savage, wild and brave, As was the Devil himself; He had great need indeed To be all that he was; For the Wîwilmekw, Most terrible to see, Grew fiercer than before, Yet the man drew out his knife And boldly scraped away, Until the Demon said: “Now hold! You have enough.”

“And now go seek your camp, Put half the scrapings then Into a cup half full Of water from the spring, And bid your brother drink!” “And with the other half?” The Indian inquired. “Keep that till you return, Then give it to the girl Who made the trouble--she Needs medicine as well.”

So the man returned to camp And made his brother well. And when the hunt was o’er They turned them to their home.

There they arrived at night; A great festivity Was stirring all the town, Torches were everywhere, And everywhere the scent Of _mskîkwul wʾli-mhaskil_, Which is the perfumed grass Burning intensely sweet.