Part 2 (2/2)

THE WITCH E-ISH-SO-OOLTH

Long, long ago, in the gloom of deep and silent woods there lived a witch or evil chehah. The Indians called her E-ish-so-oolth. So tall was she that, stalking through the forest, her head would brush the lower branches of the giant fir.

She dwelt in a huge lodge, the walls of which were built of cedar logs as thick as men are high. This evil chehah was the dread of young and old alike, for all believed that boys and girls and even men and women, who left their homes, not to return again, were taken to her lodge, there to be devoured at leisure. Therefore mothers often said, when children misbehaved, ”Be good or I will call E-ish-so-oolth.”

One day some Keeh-hin village children paddled from their home and landed on a nearby sh.o.r.e. Then something happened causing one to cry, and all the others scolding, threatened to call E-ish-so-oolth.

The threat had no effect and the child cried on, till one in teasing spirit called loudly, ”E-ish-so-oolth! E-ish-so-oolth! Oh come E-ish-so-oolth!”

Then forth from the woods a figure stalked, a tall gaunt form of terrible aspect. She leaned upon a gnarled and knotty stick and scanning the beach with cruel eyes she cried, ”Who called me by my name E-ish-so-oolth?”

The children screamed and tried to run away; the chehah laughed one awful fiendish laugh, then caught them one by one with her lean hands. With the sticky gum of Douglas fir, she sealed their little jet black eyes so that they could not see which way led left or right, and threw them in the basket on her back, starting for home along the lonely forest trail.

As I have said, E-ish-so-oolth was tall, and many times bent her head to pa.s.s beneath low and spreading branches, and so it happened when stooping under a tree which brushed the basket top, four little hands gripped tightly hold of a kindly branch and held on fast.

When E-ish-so-oolth had gone on further not missing the two children, they clambered down, and partly freed their eyes from the vile pitch, running for home as fast as they could go. To their mothers they told the story, and how their playmates of that very morning, were now perchance within the witch's lodge, and no help to save them from a b.l.o.o.d.y fate. Then all the mothers of the kidnapped girls chanted the weird and doleful death lament. Four days and nights the dismal song was heard, beyond the blue wood smoke of Indian fires.

Weeks of mourning pa.s.sed, and all but one were comforted, but she sat all alone, and every morning she squatted on the sea gra.s.s at the sh.o.r.e, chanting that drear and mournful song.

THE BIRTH OF EUT-LE-TEN

Early one morning as she sat and cried, her tears flowed down and formed a little pool, a very little pool among the gra.s.s, the lank sea gra.s.s stems on which she crouched. Surprised, she saw a movement in the sand, the pool of tears was being changed into a child, a very little child, so small that when the mother picked up a mussel sh.e.l.l, she could cradle the small form within its pearly curve. Gently she carried it to her dark lodge, and set it in a safe and quiet place.

Next day within the sh.e.l.l, there lay a wonder-child, in face and form most beautiful.

The little creature grew so fast that every day his mother went out to find new sh.e.l.ls and larger sh.e.l.ls in which to cradle him. She called him by the name of Eut-le-ten, and in all the village there was none so fair; in wisdom and in beauty none excelled. The child was observing beyond his years, and felt deepest sorrow at his mother's constant weeping. One day he inquired in tender tones, full of love and sympathy. ”My Mother, tell me why you cry so much; why unconsoled you chant the death lament?”

Then the mother drawing him to her side told him of the tragedy which had befallen his sister. ”The chehah came and carried off my girl, carried away your little sister to the woods, the dark and gloomy woods, and since that day her shadow has not crossed my mournful path,” she said.

Then up spake Eut-le-ten and bravely said, ”My Mother, I will seek your daughter, my little sister. I will save her from that awful fate you fear. Direct me now upon the lonesome road the dread witch took and I will seek her out.”

And the mother knowing him to be a spirit-child, rejoiced and blessed his errand. They next sought out the little ones who saved themselves by clinging to the low branched tree, and from them they learned the trail the old witch took. Then sallied forth brave Eut-le-ten alone, off to give battle to E-ish-so-oolth.

THE QUEST

[Ill.u.s.tration: BRUs.h.i.+NG THE HEMLOCK BOUGHS, HE WALKED STEALTHILY]

Eut-le-ten started with no arms but his courage, to face the dread witch who had spirited away the children. The trail lay long, unknown and untrodden, save by the timber wolf, panther and black bear. It was feared by the Indians for dangers most dreadful--the greatest of all the chehah E-ish-so-oolth. He broke through dense shalal, fringing the green woods, making the sh.o.r.e line all but impenetrable.

Into the thick woods, under the silvery spruce, brus.h.i.+ng the hemlock boughs he walked stealthily. Salmon berry thickets impeded his progress, scratched his round limbs with the thorns on their canes.

He pa.s.sed white helebore, so tall and so handsome. He saw how the black bear had fed on swamp lily, tramping the glossy leaves into the black mud. He spurned the devil's club with berries so red and with poisonous thorns on stem and on leaf. Such was the trail as it led him far inland, inland away from his home by the sea. At last by a cool stream, the path lay before him. Hard by the stream a lodge was erected, a house of such size the boy stood dumbfounded, and he knew that this must be the dwelling of the children's dread captor.

Night time had come, the shadows had fallen and Eut-le-ten was tired with the long weary trail. Should he proceed or wait until morning?

He climbed a tree which grew by the water, and hid in the branches to keep vigil, there to crave strength from the Saghalie spirit, the Hyas Tyee who dwells in the heavens, to grant him the strength, the wisdom, the courage to kill the dread witch. The night was long and the vigil lone, soundless except for the night hawk on wing, or the howl of the wolf in the quest of the red deer, or the splash of the salmon in the stream underneath.

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