Spring came, and all the birds and animals, and even the rivulets, and flowers and gra.s.ses, looked in vain for the dead Chibiabos. The bluebird sang a song of sorrow from the tree-tops; the robin echoed it from the silence of the thicket, and the whippoorwill took up the sad refrain at night and wailed it far and wide through all the woodland. "Chibiabos!

Chibiabos!" murmured every living thing, and all the echoes sighed in answer until the whole world seemed to mourn for the lost singer.

Then the wise men of the tribes--the medicine-men, the men of magic--came to Hiawatha as he sat in sorrow in his hut, and they walked before him in a grave procession to drive the sadness from his heart.

Each of them carried a pouch of healing, made of beaver-skin or lynx or otter, and filled with roots and herbs of wonderful power to cure all diseases and to drive the evil spirits of grief from the heart and from the mind. To and fro they walked, until Hiawatha uncovered his head, washed the black paint from his face, and followed the wise men to the Sacred Lodge that they had built beside his own wigwam.

There they gave to Hiawatha a marvelous drink made of spearmint and yarrow and all sorts of strange and different roots, and when he had drunk of this they began a wild and mystic dance, beating on the small drums that they carried, and shaking their pouches of healing in the face of Hiawatha. "_Hi-au-ha!_" they shouted in strange voices, "_way-ha-way!_ We can cure you, Hiawatha; we can make you strong." And they shook their medicine pouches over Hiawatha's head, and continued beating on their hollow drums, as they circled wildly around him again and again.

All at once the sorrow left Hiawatha's heart, as the ice is swept from a river in the springtime, and like a man awakening from evil dreams he felt that he was healed, and he gazed about him where the medicine-men were still dancing. They were trying to summon Chibiabos from his grave deep down in the sandy bottom of the Big-Sea-Water, for the water-G.o.d had buried him so deep that his spirit could not go into the land of dead men, but was still in his drowned body, struggling to free itself.

And the magic of the wise men was so strong that Chibiabos rose body and all, and stood on the bottom of the lake, listening to them.

Then the dead man floated to the sh.o.r.e, climbed out upon the bank and made his way swiftly and silently through the forest to the doorway of the wigwam where the medicine-men were singing. When he shook the curtain of the doorway and peered in upon them they would not let him enter, but gave him through an opening in the door a burning torch and told him to light a fire in the land of spirits, so that all who died might see it and find their way thither; and they made Chibiabos ruler in the Kingdom of the Dead. He left the doorway of the wigwam and vanished in the forest, and the wise men watched the twinkling of his torch until it disappeared. They saw that the branches did not move as he pa.s.sed, and that the dead leaves and the gra.s.s did not even bend or rustle beneath his footsteps, and they looked at one another much afraid, because such sights are not good for living men to see.

Four days Chibiabos traveled down the pathway of the dead, and for his food he ate the dead man's strawberry. He saw many other dead men struggling under heavy burdens of food and skins and wampum that their friends had given them to use in the Land of Spirits, and they groaned beneath their burdens. He pa.s.sed them all, crossed the sad, dark River of Death upon the swinging log that floats there; and at last he came to the Lake of Silver, and was carried in the Stone Canoe over the water to the Islands of the Blessed, where he rules all ghosts and shadows.

When he had disappeared in the dark forest, Hiawatha left the Sacred Lodge and wandered eastward and westward teaching men the use of roots and herbs and the cure of all disorders; and thus was first made known to the Indians the sacred knowledge of caring for the sick.

XVI

PAU-PUK-KEEWIS

YOU remember how Pau-Puk-Keewis danced the Beggar's Dance at Hiawatha's wedding, and how, in his wild leaping and whirling at the edges of the Big-Sea-Water, he tossed up the mighty sand dunes of the Nagow Wudjoo.

And you remember also, how the warriors all disliked Pau-Puk-Keewis, and called him an idler and coward, for they knew his heart was bad within him. Only the women cared for Pau-Puk-Keewis, and the women were deceived by his handsome face and his costly dresses.

One morning Pau-Puk-Keewis came in search of adventures to the village, and found all the young men gathered in the wigwam of Iagoo, listening to the wonderful stories that old Iagoo always told when any one would hear him. He was telling how Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker, climbed up to the sky and made a hole in Heaven that let out all the warm and pleasant weather of the summer months. He was describing how the Otter tried it first, and how the Beaver and the Lynx and Badger also tried it, all of them climbing to the top of the highest mountain and hitting their heads against the sky.

"They cracked it but they could not break it," said Iagoo, "and then Ojeeg the Weasel came and the Wolverine helped him to make ready for the trial. Ojeeg climbed to the top of the mountain, and the Wolverine went with him. The Wolverine crouched down like a gra.s.shopper on the mountain top, with his legs all drawn up beneath him like a squirrel or a cricket, and he leaped as hard as he was able at the sky.

"The first time he leaped," said Iagoo, "the sky bent above him as the ice in rivers when the water rises beneath it in the springtime. The second time he leaped, the sky cracked open, and he could see the light of Heaven shining through. And the third time he leaped--crash! The sky broke into bits above him and he disappeared in Heaven, followed closely by the valiant Weasel, who tumbled into Heaven after him and has been called 'The Summer-Maker' ever since."

"Hark you," cried Pau-Puk-Keewis, bursting through the open doorway of the wigwam. "I am tired of all this talk, and I am tired of Hiawatha's endless wisdom. Listen to me, and you shall learn something more interesting than old Iagoo's stories. Watch, and I will teach you all a splendid game."

From his pouch he drew forth all the pieces used in the game of Bowl and Counters. There were thirteen in all, and nine were painted white on one side and red on the other; while four were made of bra.s.s, one side polished and the other painted black. On nine of the thirteen pieces were painted pictures of men, or ducks, or serpents, and Pau-Puk-Keewis shook them all together in a wooden bowl and tossed them out, explaining that the score was counted great or little according to the way the pictures and the colors fell upon the ground. Curious eyes stared at him as he shook and tossed and counted up the pieces, until the Indians were drawn into the game one after one, and they sat there playing for prizes of weapons and fur robes and wampum through the rest of the day and through the night until the sun rose once again. By that time the clever, lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis had won everything they owned--deerskin shirts, wampum, pipes, ermine robes and all sorts of weapons, and he chuckled to himself.

Then the crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis said to them: "My wigwam is lonely, and I want a companion in my wanderings. I want a slave. I will risk all the wampum and the fur robes, everything that I have won, against the nephew of Iagoo--that young man who is standing yonder. But if I win again, he shall be my slave for life."

"Done!" cried Iagoo, his eyes glowing like coals beneath his s.h.a.ggy brows, and he seized the bowl and shook it fiercely, throwing out the pieces on the ground. Pau-Puk-Keewis counted, took the bowl and threw in his turn, and his throw was far more lucky than that of old Iagoo. "The game is mine!" cried Pau-Puk-Keewis, smiling as he rose and looked about him, and heaped all the robes and feathers and wampum and weapons in the arms of Iagoo's nephew, now a slave.

"Carry them to my wigwam yonder," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, "and wait there until I have need of you;" and he left the tent, followed by the angry glances of all the other players, who had lost all their fine furs and wampum belts and even the pipes they had been smoking.

Pau-Puk-Keewis strolled through the sunny morning singing to himself, for his new wealth made him very happy, and he soon reached the farthest wigwam of the village, which was the home of Hiawatha.

n.o.body was there. Only Kahgahgee, the raven, tied to the ridge-pole, screamed and flapped his wings, watching Pau-Puk-Keewis with glaring eyes.

"All are gone," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, thinking of new mischief as he spoke; "all are gone, and they have left the lodge for me to do with as I choose."

He seized the raven by the neck and whirled him around in the air like a rattle, until the bird was strangled, and he left Kahgahgee's dead body dangling from the ridge-pole as an insult to Hiawatha. Then he went inside and threw everything into the wildest disorder, piling together all the kettles and bowls, and all the skins and buffalo-robes that he could find as an insult to Minnehaha and to Nokomis; and he ran off through the forest, whistling and singing, much pleased with what he had done.

He climbed the rocks that overlooked the Big-Sea-Water, and rested lazily upon his back, gazing up into the sky and listening to the splash of the waves on the beaches far beneath. The sea-gulls fluttered about him in great flocks, very curious to know what he was doing, and before they could get out of his way he had killed them by tens and twenties and had thrown the dead bodies over the cliff down to the beaches. One of the sea-gulls, who was perched on a crag above, shouted out: "It is Pau-Puk-Keewis, and he is killing us by the hundred. Fly quickly and send a message to our brother! Hasten and bring the news to Hiawatha!"

XVII

THE HUNTING OF PAU-PUK-KEEWIS

WHEN Hiawatha heard of the mischief that Pau-Puk-Keewis had worked among the gulls he was very angry indeed; but when he discovered the wrecked wigwam and the dead body of the raven, and heard how Pau-Puk-Keewis had despoiled Iagoo and his friends of their robes and pipes and wampum, he swore that he would kill Pau-Puk-Keewis with his own hand.

"The world is not so wide but I will find him!" cried out Hiawatha; "the way is not so rough but I will reach him with my anger!" and with several hunters Hiawatha set out upon the trail of Pau-Puk-Keewis.

They followed it to the crags where he had killed the gulls, but by that time Pau-Puk-Keewis was far away among the lowlands, and turning back he saw his pursuers on the mountain and waved his arms to mock them.

Hiawatha shouted at him from the mountain top: "The world is not so rough and wide but I shall catch you, Pau-Puk-Keewis. Hide where you will, but I shall find you out," and Pau-Puk-Keewis sped forward like an antelope for Hiawatha's words had made him suddenly afraid.

He rushed through the forest until he came to a little stream that had overflowed its banks, and there he saw a dam made by the beavers.

Pau-Puk-Keewis stood on the dam and called, and the King of Beavers, Ahmeek, rose to the surface of the water to find out who the stranger might be.

"Ahmeek, my friend," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, "the water is very cool and pleasant. Let me dive in and stay with you awhile! Change me into a beaver like yourself, so that I may rest with you in your lodge beneath the water."

"Wait awhile," said Ahmeek, looking at him cautiously. "I must ask the other beavers," and he sank beneath the water like a stone.

Pau-Puk-Keewis thought he could hear Hiawatha and the hunters crashing through the forest, and he waded out upon the dam, calling to the beavers until one head after another popped up out of the water, and all the beavers in the pond were looking at him.

"Your dwelling is very pleasant, my friends," said Pau-Puk-Keewis in an entreating voice; "cannot you change me also into a beaver?"

"Yes," said Ahmeek, "let yourself slide down into the water and you shall become as we are."

Pau-Puk-Keewis slid down into the water and his deer-skin shirt and moccasins and leggings became black and shiny. His fringes drew together into a clump, and became a broad black tail; his teeth became sharp, and long whiskers sprouted out from his cheeks. He was changed into a beaver.

"Make me large," he said, as he swam about the pond; "make me ten times larger than the other beavers," and Ahmeek said: "Yes, when you enter our lodge beneath the water you shall be ten times as large as any one of us."

They sank down through the water, and Pau-Puk-Keewis saw great stores of food upon the bottom. They entered the lodge and came up inside of it above the surface of the water, and the lodge was divided into large rooms, with ledges on which the beavers slept. There they made Pau-Puk-Keewis ten times larger than any other beaver, and they said to him: "Thenceforth you shall rule over all the rest of us and be our king."

But Pau-Puk-Keewis had not been sitting long upon the throne of the beavers, when he heard the voice of the beaver watchman call out from among the water-lilies: "Hiawatha, Hiawatha!" There was a shout and a noise of rending branches, and the water sucked out of the beavers'

lodge and left it high and dry; their dam was broken. The hunters jumped on the roof of the lodge and broke a great hole in it, through which the sunlight streamed as the beavers scuttled away through their doorway to seek safety in deeper water. But Pau-Puk-Keewis was so big, and so puffed up with heavy feeding and the pride of being a king, that he could not crawl through the doorway with the others, but was helpless before the hunters.

Hiawatha looked through the roof and cried: "Ah, Pau-Puk-Keewis, I know you in spite of your disguise. I said that you could not escape me," and Hiawatha and his hunters beat Pau-Puk-Keewis with their heavy clubs until the beaver's skull was broken into pieces.

Six tall hunters bore the body of the beaver homeward, and it was so heavy that they had to carry it slung from poles and branches that rested on their shoulders. But within the dead body Pau-Puk-Keewis still lived, and thought and felt exactly as a man; and at last, with great effort he gathered himself together, left the beaver's body and, a.s.suming once more his own form, he vanished in the forest.

Hiawatha saw the figure as it stole away amid the shadows of the pine-trees, and with a shout he leaped to his feet and gave chase with all his hunters, who followed the flying Pau-Puk-Keewis as the rain follows the wind. The hunted man, all breathless and worn out, came to a large lake in the middle of the forest, and there he saw the wild geese that we call the brant, swimming and diving among the water-lilies and enjoying themselves upon the water.

"O my brothers," called Pau-Puk-Keewis, "change me to a brant with shining feathers and two strong wings to carry me wherever I will go, and make me ten times larger than any of you!"