Part 12 (2/2)

In the meantime the orphan boy went to the sh.o.r.es of the lake, where he found no one. Then he suspected the old woman, and, having returned to the lodge, told the hunter, while she was out getting wood, all he had heard and seen. The man, when he had heard the story, painted his face black, and placed his spear upside down in the earth, and requested the Great Spirit to send lightning, thunder, and rain, in the hope that the body of his wife might arise from the water. He then began to fast, and told the boy to take the child and play upon the lake sh.o.r.e.

Meanwhile this is what had happened to the wife. After she had plunged into the lake, she found herself in the hold of a water-tiger, who drew her to the bottom. There she found a lodge, and all things in it as if arranged for her reception, and she became the water-tiger's wife.

Whilst the orphan boy and the child were playing on the sh.o.r.e of the lake one day, the boy began to throw pebbles into the water, when suddenly a gull arose from the centre of the lake, and flew towards the land. When it had arrived there, it took human shape, and the boy recognised that it was the lost mother. She had a leather belt around her, and another belt of white metal. She suckled the baby, and, preparing to return to the water, said to the boy--

”Come here with the child whenever it cries, and I will nurse it.”

The boy carried the child home, and told the father what had occurred.

When the child cried again, the man went with the boy to the sh.o.r.e, and hid himself behind a clump of trees. Soon the gull made its appearance, with a long s.h.i.+ning chain attached to it. The bird came to the sh.o.r.e, a.s.sumed the mother's shape, and began to suckle the child.

The husband stood with his spear in his hand, wondering what he had best do to regain his wife. When he saw her preparing to return to the lake he rushed forward, struck the s.h.i.+ning chain with his spear, and broke it. Then he took his wife and child home. As he entered the lodge the old woman looked up, and, when she saw the wife, she dropped her head in despair. A rustling was heard in the place; the next moment the old woman leaped up, flew out of the lodge, and was never heard of more.

THE FIRE PLUME.

Wa.s.samo was living with his parents on the sh.o.r.es of a large bay on the east coast of Lake Michigan. It was at a period when nature spontaneously furnished everything that was wanted, when the Indians used skins for clothing, and flints for arrow heads. It was long before the time that the flag of the white man had first been seen in these lakes, or the sound of an iron axe had been heard. The skill of our people supplied them with weapons to kill game, with instruments to procure bark for their canoes, and they knew to dress and cook their victuals.

One day, when the season had commenced for fish to be plentiful near the sh.o.r.e of the lake, Wa.s.samo's mother said to him--

”My son, I wish you would go to yonder point, and see if you cannot procure me some fish. You may ask your cousin to accompany you.”

He did so. They set out, and, in the course of the afternoon, arrived at the fis.h.i.+ng-ground. His cousin attended to the nets, for he was grown up to manhood, but Wa.s.samo had not yet reached that age. They put their nets in the water, and encamped near them, using only a few pieces of birch-bark for a lodge to shelter them at night. They lit a fire, and, while they were conversing together, the moon arose. Not a breath of wind disturbed the smooth and bright surface of the lake.

Not a cloud was seen. Wa.s.samo looked out on the water towards their nets, and saw that almost all the floats had disappeared.

”Cousin,” he said, ”let us visit our nets. Perhaps we are fortunate.”

They did so, and were rejoiced, as they drew them up, to see the meshes white here and there with fish. They landed in good spirits, and put away their canoe in safety from the winds.

”Wa.s.samo,” said his cousin, ”you cook that we may eat.”

Wa.s.samo set about it immediately, and soon got his kettle on the flames, while his cousin was lying at his ease on the opposite side of the fire.

”Cousin,” said Wa.s.samo, ”tell me stories, or sing me some love-songs.”

The other obeyed, and sang his plaintive songs. He would frequently break off, and tell parts of stories, and would then sing again, as suited his feelings or fancy. While thus employed, he unconsciously fell asleep. Wa.s.samo had scarcely noticed it in his care to watch the kettle, and, when the fish were done, he took the kettle off. He spoke to his cousin, but received no answer. He took the wooden ladle to skim off the oil, for the fish were very fat. He had a flambeau of twisted bark in one hand to give light; but, when he came to take out the fish, he did not know how to manage to hold the light, so he took off his garters, and tied them tight round his head, and then placed the lighted flambeau above his forehead, so that it was firmly held by the bandage, and threw its light brilliantly about him. Having both hands thus at liberty, he began to take out the fish. Suddenly he heard a laugh.

”Cousin,” said he, ”some one is near us. Awake, and let us look out.”

His cousin, however, continued asleep. Again Wa.s.samo heard the laughter, and, looking, he beheld two beautiful girls.

”Awake, awake,” said he to his cousin. ”Here are two young women;” but he received no answer, for his cousin was locked in his deepest slumbers.

Wa.s.samo started up and advanced to the strange women. He was about to speak to them, when he fell senseless to the earth.

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