Part 3

"Here," said be, "this is the way we do!" and left in disdain, carrying his bill high in the air and stepping over the door-sill as if it were not worthy to be touched by his toes.

After this visit, Manabozbo was sitting in the lodge one day with his head down. He heard the wind whistling around it, and thought that by attentively listening he could hear the voice of some one speaking to him. It seemed to say to him:

"Great chief, why are you sorrowful? Am not I your friend--your guardian spirit?"

Manabozbo immediately took up his rattle, and without rising from the ground where he was sitting, began to sing the chant which has at every close the refrain of, "Wha lay le aw."

When he had dwelt for a long time on this peculiar chant, which he had been used to sing in all his times of trouble, he laid his rattle aside and determined to fast. For this purpose he went to a cave which faced the setting sun and built a very small fire, near which he lay down, first telling his wife that neither she nor the children must come near him till he had finished his i fast.

At the end of seven days he came back to the lodge, pale and thin, looking like a spirit himself, and as if he had seen spirits. His wife had in the meantime dug | through the snow and got a few of the roots called truffles. These she boiled and set before him, and this was all the food they had or seemed likely to obtain.

When he had finished his light repast, Manabozho took up his station in the door to see what would happen. As he stood thus, holding in his hand his large bow, with a quiver well filled with arrows, a deer glided past along the far edge of the prairie; but it was miles away, and no shaft that Manabozho could shoot would be able to touch it.

Presently a cry come down the air, and looking up he beheld a great flight of birds; but they were so far up in the sky that he would have lost his arrows in a vain attempt among the clouds.

Still he stood watchful and confident that some turn of luck was about to occur, when there came near to the lodge two hunters, who bore between them on poles, a bear; and it was so fine and fat a bear that it was as much as the two hunters could do with all their strength to carry it.

As they came to the lodge-door, one of the hunters asked if Manabozho lived thereabout.

"He is here," answered Manabozho.

"I have often heard of you," said the first hunter, "and I was curions to see you. But you have lost your magical power. Do you know whether any of it is left?"

Manabozho answered that he was himself in the dark on the subject.

"Suppose you make a trial," said the hunter.

"What shall I do?" asked Manabozho.

"There is my friend," said the hunter, pointing to his companion, "who with me owns this bear which we are carrying home. Suppose you see if you can change him into a piece of rock."

"Very well," said Manabozho; and he had scarcely spoken before the other hunter became a rock.

"Now change him hack again," said the first hunter.

"That I can't do," Manabozho answered; "there my power ends."

The hunter looked at the rock with a bewildered face.

"What shall I do?" he asked. "This bear I can never carry alone, and it was agreed between my friend there and myself, that we should not divide it till we reached home. Can't you change my friend hack, Manabozho?"

"I would like to oblige you," answered Manabozho, "but it is utterly out of my power."

With this, looking again at the rock with a sad and bewildered face, and then casting a sorrowful glance at the bear, which lay by the door of the lodge, the hunter took his leave, bewailing bitterly at heart the loss of his friend and his bear.

He was scarcely out of sight when Manabozho sent the children to get red willow sticks. Of these he cut off as many pieces of equal length as would serve to invite his friends among the beasts and birds to a feast. A red stick was sent to each one, not forgetting the woodpecker and his family.

"When they arrived they were astonished to see such an abundance of meat prepared for them at such a time of scarcity. Manabozho understood their glance and was proud of a chance to make such a display.

"Akewazi," he said to the oldest of the party, "the weather is very cold, and the snow lasts a long time; we can kill nothing now but small squirrels, and they are all black. I have sent for you to help me eat some of them."

The woodpecker was the first to try a mouthful of the bear's meat, but he had no sooner begun to taste it than it changed into a dry powder and set him coughing. It appeared as bitter as ashes.

The moose was affected in the same way, and it brought on such a dry cough as to shake every bone in his body.

One by one, each in turn joined the company of coughers, except Manabozho and his family, to whom the bear's meat proved very savory.

But the visitors had too high a sense of what was due to decorum and good manners to say anything. The meat looked very fine, and being keenly set and strongly tempted by its promising look, they thought they would try more of it. The more they ate the faster they coughed and the louder became the uproar, until Mana-bozho, exerting the magical gift which he found he retained, changed them all into squirrels; and to this day the squirrel sutlers from the same dry cough which was brought on by attempting to sup off of Manabozho's ashen bear's meat.

And even after this transformation, when Mana-bozho lacked provisions for his family, he would hunt the squirrel, a supply of which never failed him, so that he was always sure to have a number of his friends present, in this shape, at the banquet.

The rock into which he changed the hunter, thus becoming possessed of the bear, and laying the foundations of his good fortune, ever after remained by his lodge-door, and it was called the Game-Bag of Mana-bozho, the Mischief-Maker.

III. THE RED SWAN

|THREE brothers were left destitute at an early age by the death of their parents. The eldest was not yet able to provide fully for their support, but he did all that he could in hunting; and with this aid, and the stock of provisions already laid by in the lodge, they managed to keep along. They had no neighbors to lend them a helping hand, for the father had withdrawn many years before from the body of the tribe and had lived ever since in a solitary place. The lads had no idea that there was a human being near them. They did not even know who their parents had been; for at the time of their death, the eldest was too young to remember it.

Forlorn as they were, they nevertheless kept a good heart, made use of every chance and in course of time acquired a knowledge of hunting and the pursuit of game. The eldest became expert in the craft of the forest, and he was very successful in procuring food. He was noted for his skill in killing buffalo, elk, and moose; and he instructed his brothers, so that each should become a master over a particular animal which was assigned to him.

After they had become able to hunt and to take care of themselves, the elder proposed to leave them and to go in search of the world, promising to return and bring them wives as soon as he could procure them. In this intention he was over-ruled by his brothers, who said that they could not part with him.

Jeekewis, the second, was loud in disapproval of the scheme, saying: "What will you do with those you propose to get? We have lived so long by ourselves, we can still do without them." This counsel prevailed, and for a time the three brothers continued together.

One day they each agreed to kill a male of that kind of animal which each was most expert in hunting, for the purpose of making quivers from the skins. When these quivers were prepared, they were straightway filled with arrows; for the brothers all had a presentiment that something was about to happen which called upon them to be ready.

Soon after they hunted on a wager to see who should come in first with game. This one was to have the privilege of acting as entertainer to the others, but they were to shoot no other beast or bird than such as each was in the habit of killing.

They set out on different paths. Maidwa, the youngest, had not gone far before he saw a bear, an animal he was not to kill, according to the agreement. He, however, followed him closely, and driving an arrow through and through him, brought him to the ground.

Then Maidwa commenced skinning him, when suddenly something red tinged the air all around him. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was perhaps deceived; but rub as hard as he would, the red hue still crimsoned the air, and tinged with its delicate splendor every object that he looked on--the tree-tops, the river that flowed, and the deer that glided away along the edge of the forest.

As he stood musing on this fairy spectacle, a strange noise came to his ear from a distance. At first it seemed like a human voice. Following the sound, he reached the shore of a lake. Floating at a distance upon its waters sat a most beautiful Red Swan, whose plumage glittered in the sun. When it lifted up its neck, it uttered the peculiar tone he had heard. He was within long bow-shot, and, drawing the arrow to his ear, he took careful aim and discharged the shaft. It had no effect. The beautiful bird sat proudly on the water still pouring forth its peculiar chant, still spreading the radiance of its plumage far and wide, and lighting up the whole world with its ruby splendors.

Maidwa shot again and again, till his quiver was empty, for he longed to possess so glorious a creature. But the swan, untouched, did not even spread its wings to fly. Circling round and round, it stretched its long neck and dipped its bill into the water, as if indifferent to mortal shafts.

Maidwa ran home, and bringing all the arrows in the lodge, shot them away. He then stood with his bow dropped at his side, lost in wonder, gazing at the beautiful bird.

While standing thus, with a heart beating more and more eagerly every moment for the possession of this fair swan, Maidwa remembered the saying of his elder brother, that in their dead father's medicine-sack were three magic arrows; but his brother had not told Maidwa that their father, on his death-bed, had especially bequeathed the arrows to his youngest son, Maidwa, from whom they had been wrongfully kept. The thought of the magic arrows put heart in Maidwa, and he hastened with all speed to procure them.

At any other time he would have shrunk from opening his father's medicine-sack, but something prompted him to believe that there was no wrong in it now, and snatching the arrows forth, he ran back, not staying to restore the other contents to the sack but leaving them scattered, here and there, about the lodge.

He feared that the swan must by this time have taken wing; but as he emerged from the wood, he found to his great delight the air as rosy as ever, and there sat the glorious Red Swan in her own serene and beautiful way.

With trembling hand he shot the first of his magic shafts; it grazed a wing. The second came closer, and cut away a few of the bright red feathers, which fluttered and fell like flakes of fire in the water. The third, which he carefully aimed and drew home upon the string with all his force, made the lucky hit, and passed through the neck of the bird a little above the breast.

"She is mine," cried Maidwa, but to his great surprise, instead of drooping its neck and drifting to the shore, the Red Swan flapped its wings, rose slowly, and flew off with a majestic motion toward the falling sun.

Maidwa, that he might meet his brothers with a good face, rescued two of the magic arrows from the water. And although the third was borne off, he had a hope yet to recover that one, too, and to be master of the swan. He was noted for his speed; for he would shoot an arrow and then run so fast that the arrow always fell behind him. He now set off at his best speed of foot.

"I can run fast," he thought, "and I can get up with the swan sometime or other."

He sped on over hills and prairies toward the west, and was only going to take one more run and then seek a place to sleep for the night, when, suddenly, he heard noises at a distance, like the murmur of waters against the shore. As he went on, he heard voices, and presently he saw people, some of whom were busy felling trees, the strokes of their labor echoing through the woods. He passed on, and when he emerged from the forest, the sun was just falling below the edge of the sky.

He was bent on success in pursuit of the swan, whose red track he marked well far westward till she was lost to sight. Meanwhile he would tarry for the night and procure something to eat, as he had fasted since he had left home.

At a distance, on rising ground, he could see the lodges of a large village. He went toward it and soon heard the voice of the watchman, who was set on a height to overlook the place and give notice of the approach of friends or foes. "We are visited," he cried, and a loud halloo indicated that all had heard it.

When Maidwa advanced, the watchman pointed to the lodge of the chief. "It is there you must go in," he said, and left him.

"Come in, come in," said the chief; "take a seat there," pointing to the side of the lodge where his daughter sat. "It is there you must sit."

They gave him something to eat, and very few questions were put to him, because he was a stranger; it was only when he spoke that the others answered.

"Daughter," said the chief, as soon as the night had set in, "take out son-in-law's moccasins and see if they be torn; if so, mend them for him and bring in his bundle."

Maidwa thought it strange that he should be so warmly received, and instantly married against his own wishes, although he could not help noticing that the chief's daughter was pretty.

It was some time before she would take the moccasins which he had laid off. It displeased him to see her loth to do so; and when at last she did reach them, he snatched them from her hand and hung them up himself. He lay down and thought of the swan, and made up his mind to be off with the dawn. He wakened early, and finding the chief's daughter looking forth at the door, he spoke to her, but she gave no answer. He touched her lightly.

"What do you want?" she said, and turned her face away from him.

"Tell me," said Maidwa, "what time the swan passed. I am following it; come out, and point the way."

"Do you think you can overtake it?" she said.

"Yes," he answered.

"Naubesah--fool!" retorted the chief's pretty daughter.

She went out, however, and pointed in the direction he should go. The young man paced slowly along till the sun arose, when he commenced traveling at his accustomed speed. He passed the day in running, and although he could not see the Red Swan anywhere on the horizon, he thought that he discerned a faint red light far over in the west.

When night came, he was pleased to find himself near another village. When still at a distance he heard the watchman crying out, "We are visited," and soon the men of the village stood out to see the stranger.

He was again told to enter the lodge of the chief, and his reception was in every respect the same as on the previous night; except that this young woman was more beautiful than the first, and that she entertained him very kindly. Although urged to stay with them, the mind of Maidwa was fixed on the object of his journey.

Before daybreak he asked the young woman at what time the Red Swan passed, and to point out the way. She marked against the sky with her finger the course it had taken, and told him that it had passed yesterday when the sun was between midday and its falling-place.

Maidwa again set out rather slowly, but when the sun had risen, he tried his speed by shooting an arrow ahead and running after it; it fell behind him, and he knew that he had lost nothing of his quickness of foot.

Nothing remarkable happened through the day, and he went on leisurely. Some time after dark, as he was peering around the country for shelter, he saw a light emitted from a small low lodge. He went up to it very slyly, and, peeping through the door, he discovered an old man alone, with his head down upon his breast, warming his back before the fire.

Maidwa thought that the old man did not know that he was standing near the door; but in this he was mistaken, for, without turning his eyes to look at him, the old man said:

"Walk in, my grandchild; take a seat opposite to me, and take off your things and dry them, for you must be fatigued. I will prepare you something to eat; you shall have something very delicate."

Maidwa accepted this kind invitation and entered the lodge. The old man then remarked, as if in mere course of conversation:

"My kettle with water stands near the fire." Immediately a small earthen pot with legs appeared by the fire. He then took one grain of corn, also one of whortleberry, and put them in the pot.

Maidwa was very hungry, and seeing the limited scale of the old man's housekeeping, he thought his chance for a supper was slight. The old man had promised him something very delicate, and he seemed likely to keep his word. But Maidwa looked on silently, and did not change his face any more than if the greatest banquet that was ever spread had been going forward.

The pot soon boiled, whereupon the old man said in a very quiet way:

"The pot will stand at a distance from the fire."

The pot removed itself, and the old man added to Maidwa:

"My grandchild, feed yourself," handing him at the same time a dish and ladle of the same ware as the pot itself.

The young man, whose hunger was very great, helped himself to all that was in the pot. He felt ashamed to think that he had done so, but before he could speak the old man said:

"Eat, my grandchild; eat, eat!" and soon after he again said--"Help yourself from the pot."

Maidwa was surprised, on dipping in his ladle, to see that the pot was full; and although he emptied it a second time, it was still again filled and refilled till his hunger was entirely satisfied. The old man then observed, without raising his voice:

"The pot will return to its corner," and the pot took itself off to its accustomed place in an out-of-the-way corner of the lodge.

Maidwa observed that the old man was about to address him, and took an attitude which showed that he was prepared to listen.

"Keep on, my grandchild," said the old man; "you will surely gain that which you seek. To tell you more I am not permitted; but go on as you have begun and you will not be disappointed. To-morrow you will again reach one of my fellow old men, but it is the one you will see after him who will tell you all, and the manner in which you must proceed to accomplish your journey. Often has this Red Swan passed, and those who have followed it have never returned; but you must be firm in your resolution, and be prepared for all that may happen."

"So will it be," answered Maidwa; and they both lay down to sleep.

Early in the morning the old man ordered his magic kettle to prepare breakfast, so that his guest might eat before leaving. As Maidwa passed out, the old man gave him a blessing with his parting advice.

Maidwa set forth in better spirits than at any time since he had started; and night again found him in company with another old man who also had a frisky little kettle which hurried up to the fire before it was spoken to, bustled about and set supper briskly before Maidwa, and then frisked away again, without waiting for orders. This old man entertained him kindly and also carefully directed him on his way in the morning.

He traveled with a light heart, as he now expected to meet the one who was to give him directions how to proceed to get the Red Swan.

Toward night-fall Maidwa reached the lodge of the third old man. Before coming to the door he heard him saying:

"Grandchild, come in." And going in promptly he felt quite at home.

The old man prepared him something to eat, acting as the other magicians had done; and his kettle was of the same size, and looked as if it were an own brother of the two others which had feasted him, except that this kettle, in coming and going about its household duties, would make a passing remark or sing a little tune for itself.

The old man waited until Maidwa had fully satisfied his hunger before he addressed him:

"Young man, the errand you are bound on is beset with trials and difficulties. Numbers have passed with the same purpose as that which now prompts you, but they never returned. Be careful, and if your guardian spirits are powerful, you may succeed. This Red Swan you are following is the daughter of a magician who has abundance of everything, but only this one child, whom he values more than the sacred arrows. In former times he wore a cap of wampum, which was attached to his scalp; but powerful Indians, warriors of a distant chief, came and told him that their chief's daughter was on the brink of the grave, and that she herself requested his wampum-cap, which she was confident would save her life. 'If I can only see it,' she said, 'I will recover.' It was for this cap they had come, and after long solicitation the magician at length consented to part with it, in hope that it would restore to health the dying maiden, although when he took it off to hand it to the messengers it left the crown of his head bare and bloody. Years have passed since, and his head has not healed. The coming of the warriors to procure the cap for the sick maiden was a cheat, and they are now constantly making sport of the unhappy scalp--dancing it about from village to village--and on every insult it receives the poor old chief to whom it belongs groans with pain. Those who hold it are too powerful for the magician, and many have sacrificed themselves to recover it for him, but without success. The Red Swan has enticed many a young man, as she has you, to enlist them to procure the scalp, and whoever is so fortunate as to succeed, it is understood, will receive the Red Swan as his reward. In the morning you will proceed on your way, and toward evening you will come to this magician's lodge. You will know it by the groans which you will hear far over the prairie as you approach. He will ask you in. You will see no one but himself. He will question you much as to your dreams and the strength of your guardian spirits. If he is satisfied with your answers, he will urge you to attempt the recovery of his scalp. He will show you the course to take, and if you feel inclined, as I see that you shall, go forward, my son, with a strong heart; persevere, and I have a presentiment that you will succeed."

Maidwa answered, "I will try."

Betimes in the morning he set off on his journey, after having eaten from the magic kettle, which sang a sort of farewell chant on its way from the fireplace to its station in the corner.

Toward evening as he crossed a prairie, Maidwa heard groans from a distant lodge, which were only interrupted by a voice from a person whom he could not see, calling to him aloud:

"Come in! come in!"

As the young man entered the lodge, the magician heaved a great groan from the very bottom of his chest, and Maidwa saw that the crown of his head was all bare and bloody.

"Sit down, sit down," he said, "while I prepare you something to eat. You see how poor I am. I have to attend to all my own wants, with no other servant than that poor little kettle in the corner. Kettle, we will have something to eat, if you please."

"In a moment," the kettle spoke up from the corner.

"You will oblige me by making all the despatch you can," said the magician, in a very humble tone, still addressing the kettle.

"Have patience," replied the kettle, "and I will be with you presently."