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XIV.
PICTURE-WRITING.

IN those days said Hiawatha,

Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,
The achievements of the warriors,
The adventures of the hunters,
All the wisdom of the Medas,
All the craft of the Wasenos,

All the marvellous dreams and visions
Of the Josakeeds, the Prophets!

"Great men die and are forgotten,
Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish in the cars that hear them,
Do not reach the generations
That, as yet unborn, are waiting
In the great, mysterious darkness
Of the speechless days that shall be!
"On the grave-posts of our fathers
Are no signs, no figures painted;
Who are in those graves we know not,
Only know they are our fathers,
Of what kith they are and kindred,
From what old, ancestral Totem,
Be it Eagle, Bear, or Beaver,
They descended, this we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.

Face to face we speak together,
But we cannot speak when absent
Cannot send our voices from us
To the friends that dwell afar off;
Cannot send a secret message.
But the bearer learns our secret,
May pervert it, may betray it,
May reveal it unto others.

Thus said Hiawatha, walking
In the solitary forest,
Pondering, musing in the forest,
On the welfare of his people.

From his pouch he took his colours,
Took his paints of different colours,
On the smooth bark of a birch-tree
Painted many shapes and figures,
Wonderful and mystic figures,
And each figure had a meaning.
Each some word or thought suggested.
Gitche Manito the Mighty,

He, the Master of Life, was painted
As an egg, with points projecting
To the four winds of the heavens.
Everywhere is the Great Spirit,
Was the meaning of this syinbol.
Mitche Manito the Mighty.
He the dreadful Spirit of Evil,
As a serpent was depicted,
As Kenabeek, the great serpent.
Very crafty, very cunning,

Is the creeping Spirit of Evil,
Was the meaning of this symbol.

Life and Death he drew in circles,

Life was white, but Death was darkened;
Sun and moon and stars he painted,
Man and beast, and fish and reptile,
Forests, mountains, lakes, and rivers.
For the earth he drew a straight line,
For the sky a bow above it;
White the space between for day-time,
Filled with little stars for night-time;
On the left a point for sunrise,
On the right a point for sunset,
On the top a point for noon-tide,
And for rain and cloudy weather
Waving lines descending from it.
Footprints pointing towards a wigwam

Were a sign of invitation,
Were a sign of guests assembling;
Bloody hands with palms uplifted
Were a symbol of destruction,
Were a hostile sign and symbol.

All these things did Hiawatha
Show unto his wondering people,
And interpreted their meaning,
And he said: "Behold, your grave-posts
Have no mark, no sign, no symbol.
Go and paint them all with figures;
Each one with its household symbol,
With its own ancestral Totem,

So that those who follow after
May distinguish them and know them."
And they painted on the grave-posts
Of the graves yet unforgotten,
Each his own ancestral Totem,
Each the symbol of his household;
Figures of the Bear and Remdeer,
Of the Turtle, Crane, and Beaver,
Each inverted as a token
That the owner was departed,
That the chief who bore the symbol,
Lay beneath in dust and ashes.

And the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,
The Wabenos, the Magicians,
And the Medicine-men, the Medas,
Painted upon bark and deer-skin
Figures for the songs they chanted,
For each song a separate symbol,
Figures mystical and awful,
Figures strange and brightly coloured;
And each figure had its meaning,
Each some magic song suggested.

The Great Spirit, the Creator, Flashing light through all the heaven, The Great Serpent, the Kenabeek, With his bloody crest erected, Creeping, looking into heaven; In the sky, the sun that listens, And the moon eclipsed and dying. Owl and eagle, crane and hen-hawk, And the cormorant, bird of magie; Headless men that walk the heavens, Bodies lying pierced with arrows, Bloody hands of death uplifted, Flags on graves, and great war-captains Grasping both the earth and heaven!

Such as these the shapes they painted On the birch-bark and the deer-skin; Songs of war and songs of hunting, Songs of medicine, and of magic, All were written in these figures, For each figure had its meaning, Each its separate song recorded.

Nor forgotten was the Love-Song, The most subtle of all medicines, The most potent spell of magic,

Dangerous more than war or hunting! Thus the Love-Song was recorded, Symbol and interpretation.

.

First a human figure standing,
Painted in the brightest scarlet:
'Tis the lover, the musician,
And the meaning is, "My painting-
Makes me powerful over others."

Then the figure seated, singing,
Playing on a drum of magic,
And the interpretation, "Listen!
Tis my voice you hear, my singing!"
Then the saine red figure seated
In the shelter of a wigwam,
And the meaning of the symbol,
"I will come and sit beside you
In the mystery of my passion!"

Then two figures, man and woman,
Standing hand in hand together,
With their hands so clasped together
That they seem in one united,
And the words thus represented
Are, "I see your heart within yon.
And your cheeks are red with blushes!"

Next the maiden on an island,

In the centre of an island;

And the song this shape suggested

Was, "Though you were at a distance,
Were upon some far-off island,

Such the spell I cast upon you,
Such the magic power of passion,

I could straightway draw you to me!"
Then the figure of the maiden
Sleeping, and the lover near her
Whispering to her in her slumbers,
Saying, "Though you were far from me
In the land of Sleep and Silence,

Still the voice of love would reach you!"
And the last of all the figures
Was a heart within a circle;
Drawn within a magic circle;
And the image had this meaning:
"Naked lies your heart before me,
To your naked heart I whisper!"
Thus it was that Hiawatha,
In his wisdom, taught the people
All the mysteries of painting,
All the art of Picture-Writing,

On the smooth bark of the birch-tree,
On the white skin of the reindeer,
On the grave-posts of the village.

XV.

HIAWATHA'S LAMENTATION.

IN those days the Evil Spirits,
All the Manitos of mischief,
Fearing Hiawatha's wisdom,
And his love for Chibiabos,
Jealous of their faithful friendship,
And their noble words and actions,
Made at length a league against them,
To molest them and destroy them.
Hiawatha, wise and wary,

Often said to Chibiabos,
"O my brother! do not leave me,
Lest the Evil Spirits harm you!"
Chibiabos, young and heedless,
Laughing shook his coal-black tresses,
Answered ever sweet and childlike,
"Do not fear for me, O brother!
Harm and evil come not near me!"
Once when Peboan, the Winter,
Roofed with ice the Big-Sea-Water,
When the snow-flakes hurling downward,
Hissed among the withered oak-leaves,
Changed the pine-trees into wigwams,
Covered all the earth with silence,

Armed with arrows, shod with snow-shoes
Heeding not his brother's warning,
Fearing not the Evil Spirits,
Forth to hunt the deer with antlers
All alone went Chibiabos.

Right across the Big-Sea Water
Sprang with speed the deer before him.
With the wind and snow he followed,
O'er the treacherous ice he followed,
Wild with all the fierce commotion,
And the rapture of the hunting.

But beneath, the Evil Spirits
Lay in ambush, waiting for him,

Broke the treacherous ice beneath him,
Dragged him downward to the bottom,
Buried in the sand his body.
Unktahee, the god of water,
He the god of the Dacotahs,

Drowned him in the deep abysses,
Of the lake of Gitche Gumee.

From the headlands Hiawatha

Sent forth such a wail of anguish,

Such a fearful lamentation,

That the bison paused to listen,

And the wolves howled from the prairies,
And the thunder in the distagge
Woe and

wered "Balawa!"

Then his face with black he painted,
With his robe his head he covered,
In his wigwam sat lamenting,
Seven long weeks he sat lamenting,
Uttering still his moan of sorrow:

"He is dead, the sweet musician!
He the sweetest of all singers,
He has gone from us for ever,
He has moved a little nearer
To the Master of all music,
To the Master of all singing!
O my brother, Chibiabos!"

And the melancholy fir-trees
Waved their dark green fans above him,
Waved their purple cones above him,
Sighing with him to console him,
Mingling with his lamentation

Their complaining, their lamenting.
Came the Spring, and all the forest
Looked in vain for Chibiabos;

Sighed the rivulet, Sebowisha,
Sighed the rushes in the meadow.

From the tree-tops sang the blue-bird,
Sang the blue-bird, the Owaissa,
Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweet musician!"
From the wigwam sang the robin,
Sang the robin, the Opechee,

Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweetest singer!"

And at night through all the forest
Went the whippoorwill complaining,
Wailing went the Wawonaissa,
"Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweet musician,
He the sweetest of all singers!"

Then the medicine-men, the Medas,
The magicians, the Wabenos,
And the Jossakeeds, the prophets,
Came to visit Hiawatha;

Built a Sacred Lodge beside him,
To appease him, to console him,
Walked in silent, grave procession
Bearing each a pouch of healing,
Skin of beaver, lynx, or otter,
Filled with magic roots and simples,
Filled with very potent medicines.

When he heard their steps approaching, Hiawatha ceased lamenting,

Called no more on Chibiabos;

Naught he questioned, naught he answered,
But his mournful head uncovered,
From his face the mourning colours
Washed he slowly and in silence,
Slowly and in silence followed
Onward to the Sacred Wigwam.
There a magic drink they gave him,
Made of Nahma-wusk, the spearmint,
And Wabeno-wust, the yarrow,
Roots of power, and herbs of healing;
Beat their drums, and shook their rattles;
Chanted singly and in chorus,

Mystic songs like these, they chanted.

I myself, myself! behold me!

Tis the great Grey Eagle talking;

Come, ye white crows, come and hear him The loud-speaking thunder helps me;

All the unseen spirits help me;

I can hear their voices calling,
All around the sky I hear them!
I can blow you strong, my brother,
I can heal you, Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus,
"Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus.

Friends of mine are all the serpents,
Hear me shake my skin of hen-hawk!
Mahng, the white loon. I can kill him;
I can shoot your heart and kill it!
I can blow you strong, my brother!
I can heal you, Hiawatha!”

Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus,
"Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus,
I myself, myself! the prophet!

When I speak the wigwam trembles,
Shakes the Sacred Lodge with terror,
Hands unseen begin to shake it!
When I walk, the sky I tread on
Bends and makes a noise beneath me
I can blow you strong, my brother!
Rise and speak, O Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus, "Wa-ha-way!" the mystic chorus. Then they shook their medicine-pouches, O'er the head of Hiawatha,

Danced their medicine-dance around him;
And upstarting wild and haggard,
Like a man from dreams awakened,
He was healed of all his madness.
As the clouds are swept from heaven,
Straightway from his brain departed
All his moody melancholy;

As the ice is swept from rivers,
Straightway from his heart departed
All his sorrow and affliction.

Then they summoned Chibiabos
From his grave beneath the waters,
From the sands of Gitche Gumee
Summoned Hiawatha's brother.
And so mighty was the magic
Of that cry and invocation,
That he heard it as he lay there
Underneath the Big-Sea-Water;
From the sand he rose and listened,
Heard the music and the singing,
Came, obedient to the summons.
To the doorway of the wigwam,
But to enter they forbade him.

Through a chink a coal they gave him,
Through the door a burning fire-brand;
Ruler in the Land of Spirits,

Ruler, o'er the dead, they made him,
Telling him a fire to kindle

For all those that died thereafter,

Camp-fires for their night encampments
On their solitary journey

To the kingdom of Poneinah,

To the land of the Hereafter.

From the village of his childhood,
From the homes of those who knew him,
Passing sHent through the forest,
Like a smoke-wreath wafted sideways,
Slowly vanished Chibiabos!

Where he passed, the branches moved not,
Where he trod, the grasses bent not,
And the fallen leaves of last year
Made no sound beneath his footsteps.

Four whole days he journeyed onward
Down the pathway of the dead men;
On the dead-man's strawberry feasted,
Crossed the melancholy river,
On the swinging log he crossed it,
Came unto the Lake of Silver,
In the Stone Canoe was carried

To the Islands of the Blessed,

To the land of ghosts and shadows.
On that journey, moving slowly,
Many weary spirits saw he,
Panting under heavy burdens,

Laden with war-clubs, bows and arrows,
Robes of fur, and pots and kettles,
And with food that friends had given,
For that solitary journey.

"Ah! why do the living," said they,
"Lay such heavy burdens on us!
Better were it to go naked,
Better were it to go fasting,
Than to bear such heavy burdens
On our long and weary journey!"
Forth then issued Hiawatha,

Wandered eastward, wandered westward,
Teaching men the use of simples,
And the antidotes for poisons,
And the cure of all diseases.

Thus was first made known to mortals
All the mystery of Medamin,

All the sacred art of healing,

XVI.

PAU-PUK-KEEWIS.

You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,
He, the handsome Yenadizze,
Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,
Vexed the village with disturbance;
You shall hear of all his mischief,
And his flight from Hiawatha,
And his wondrous transmigrations,
And the end of his adventures.

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water
Stood the lodge of Pau-Pak-Keewis.
It was he who in his frenzy
Whirled these drifting sunds together,
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,
When among the guests assembled,
He so merrily and madly

Danced at Hiawatha's wedding,

Danced the Beggar's Dance to please them.
Now, in search of new adventures,

From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Came with speed into the village,
Found the young men all assembled
In the lodge of old lagoo,
Listening to his monstrous stories,
To his wonderful adventures.

He was telling them the story
Of Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker,
How he made a hole in heaven,
How he climbed up into heaven,
And let out the Summer-weather,
The perpetual, pleasant Summer!
How the otter first essayed it;
How the Beaver, Lynx, and Badger,
Tried in turn the great achievement,
From the summit of the mountain
Smote their fists against the heavens,
Smote against the sky their foreheads,
Cracked the sky, but could not break it;
How the Wolverine, uprising,
Made him ready for the encounter.
Bent his knees down, like a squirrel,
Drew his arms back, like a cricket.

"Once he leaped," said old lagoo,
"Once he leaped, and lo! above him
Bent the sky, as ice in rivers
When the waters rise beneath it;
Twice he leaped, and lo! above him
Cracked the sky, as ice in rivers
When the freshet is at highest!

Thrice he leaped, and lo! above him
Broke the shattered sky asunder,

And he disappeared within it,
And Ojeeg, the Fisher Weasel,
With a bound went in behind him!
"Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis,
As he entered at the doorway;
"I am tired of all this talking,
Tired of old Iagoo's stories,
Tired of Hiawatha's wisdom.
Here is something to amuse you.
Better than this endless talking."

Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin,
Forth he drew, with solemn manner,
All the game of Bowl and Counters,
Pugasaing, with thirteen pieces,
White on one side were they painted,
And vermilion on the other:
Two Kenabeeks or great serpents,
Two Ininewug or wedge-men,
One great war-club, Pugamaugun,
And one slender fish, the Keego.
Four round pieces, Ozawabeeks,
And three Sheshebwug or ducklings
All were made of bone and painted,
All except the Ozawabeeks:

These were brass, on one side burnished,
And were black upon the other.

In a wooden bowl he placed them,
Shook and jostled them together,

Threw them on the ground before him,
Thus exclain:ing and explaining:
"Red side up are all the pleces,
And one great Kenabeek standing
On the bright side of a brass piece,
On a burnished Ozawabeek;
Thirteen tens and eight are counted."
Then again he shook the pieces,
Shook and jostled them together,
Threw them on the ground before him,
Still exclaiming and explaining:
"White are both the great Kenabeeks.
White the Inine wug, the wedge-men,
Red are all the other pieces:
Five tens and an eight are counted."

Thus he taught the game of hazard,
Thus displayed it and explained it,
Running through its various chances,
Various changes, various meanings:
Twenty curious eyes stared at him,
Full of eagerness stared at him.

Many games," said old lagoo,
"Many games of skill and hazard,
Have I seen in different nations.
Have I played in different countries.
He who plays with old Iagoo
Must have very nimble fingers;
Though you think yourself so skilful,
I can beat you, Pau-Puk-Keewis,
I can even give you lessons

In your game of Bowl and Counters!"
So they sat and played together,
All the old men and the young men,
Played for dresses, weapons, wampum,
Played till midnight, played till morning,
Played until the Yenadizze,

Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Kecwis,
Of their treasures had despoiled them,
Of the best of all their dresses,
Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,
Belts of wampum, crests of feathers,
Warlike weapons, pipes and pouches,
Twenty eyes glared wildly at him,
Like the eyes of wolves glared at him.
Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis:
"In my wigwam I am lonely,
In my wanderings and adventures
I have need of a companion,
Fain would have a Meshinauwa,
An attendant and pipe-bearer.
I will venture all these winnings,
All these garments heaped about me,
All this wampum, all these feathers,
On a single throw will venture

All against the young man yonder!"
"Twas a youth of sixteen summers,
"Twas a nephew of lagoo;
Face-in-a-Mist, the people called him.
As the fire burns in a pipe-head
Dusky red beneath the ashes,
So beneath his shaggy eyebrows
Glowed the eyes of old lagoo.

Ugh!" he answered very fiercely;

"Ugh!" they answered, all and each one.
Seized the wooden bowl the old man,
Closely in his bony fingers
Clutched the fatal bowl, Onagon,
Shook it fiercely and with fury,
Made the pieces ring together

As he threw them down before him.

Red were both the great Kenabecks,
Red the Ininewug, the wedge-men,
Red the Sheshebwug, the ducklings,
Black the four brass Ozawabeeks,
White alone the fish, the Keego;
Only five the pieces counted!

Then the smiling Pau-Puk-Keewis
Shook the bowl and threw the pieces;
Lightly in the air he tossed them.
And they fell about him scattered;
Dark and bright the Ozawabecks,
Red and white the other pieces,
And upright among the others

One Ininewug was standing,
Even as crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis
Stood alone among the players,
Saying, Five tens! mine the game is?
Twenty eyes glared at him fiercely,
Like the eyes of wolves glared at him,
As he turned and left the wigwam,
Followed by his Meshinauwa.
By the nephew of lagoo,

By the tall and graceful stripling,
Bearing in his arms the winnings.
Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,
Belts of wampum, pipes, and weapons.
Carry them," said Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Pointing with his fan of feathers,
To my wigwam far to eastward,
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo!"

Hot and red with smoke and gambling
Were the eyes of Pan-Puk-Keewis,
As he came forth to the freshness
Of the pleasant summer morning.
All the birds were singing gaily,
All the streamlets flowing swiftly,
And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Sang with pleasure as the birds sing.
Beat with triumph like the streamlets,
As he wandered through the village,
In the early grey of morning,

With his fan of turkey-feathers,

With his plumes and tufts of swan's-down,
Till he reached the farthest wigwam,
Reached the lodge of Hiawatha.

Silent was it and deserted;
No one met him at the doorway,
No one came to bid him welcome:
But the birds were singing round it,
In and out and round the doorway.
Hopping, singing, fiuttering, feeding,
And aloft upon the ridge-pole
Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
Sat with fiery eyes, and, screaming,
Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis.
"All are gone, the lodge is empty!"
Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis,
In his heart resolving mischief;

Gone is wary Hiawatha,
Gone the silly Laughing Water,
Gone Nokomis, the old woman,
And the lodge is left unguarded!"

By the neck he seized the raven,
Whirled it round him like a rattle,
Like a medicine-pouch he shook it,
Strangled Kahgahgee, the raven,
From the ridge-pole of the wigwam
Left its lifeless body hanging,
As an insult to its master,
As a taunt to Hiawatha.

With a stealthy step he entered,
Round the lodge in wild disorder

Threw the household things about him,

Piled together in confusion

Bowls of wood and earthen kettles,

Robes of buffalo and beaver,

Skins of otter, lynx, and ermine,
As an insult to Nokomis,

As a taunt to Minnehaha.

Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Whistling, singing, through the forest,
Whistling gaily io the squirrels,
Who from hollow boughs above him
Dropped their acorn-shells upon him,
Singing gaily to the wood-birds,
Who from out the leafy darkness
Answered with a song as merry.

Then he climbed the rocky headlands,
Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee,
Perched himself upon their summit,
Waiting full of mirth and mischief
The return of Hiawatha.

Stretched upon his back he lay there;
Far below him plashed the waters,
Plashed and washed the dreamy waters
Far above him swam the heavens,

Swam the diz F, dreamy heavens: Round him hovered, fluttered, rustled, Hiawat, v's Bo'mtain chickens, Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him, Atmost brushed him with their pinions. And he killed them as he lay there, Slaughtered them by tens and twenties, Threw their bodies down the headland, Threw them on the beach below him, Till at length Kayo hk, the sea-gull, Ferched upon a crag above them, Shouted: It is Pau-Puk-Keewis! He is slaying us by hundreds! Send a message to our brother, Tidings send to Hiawatha!"

XVII.

THE HUNTING OF PAU-PUK-KEEWIS.

FULL of wrath was Hiawatha
When he came into the village.
Found the people in confusion,
Heard of all the misdemenours,
All the malice and the mischief,
Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis.

Hard his breath came through his nostrils,
Through his teeth he buzzed and muttered
Words of anger and resentment,
Hot and humming, like a hornet.

I will slay this Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Slay this mischief-maker!" said he,
Not so long and wide the world is,
Not so rude and rough the way is,
That my wrath shall not attain him,
That my vengeance shall not reach him!"
Then in swift pursuit departed
Hiawatha and the hunters

On the trail of Pan-Puk-Keewis,
Through the forest, where he passed it,
To the headlands where he rested;
But they found not Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Only in the trampled grasses,
In the whortleberry bushes,
Found the couch where he had rested,
Found the impress of his body.

From the lowlands far beneath them,
From the Muskoday, the meadow,
Pau-Puk-Keewis, turning backward,
Made a gesture of defiance,
Made a gesture of derision;
And aloud cried Hiawatha,
From the summit of the mountain:

Not so long and wide the world is,
Not so rude and rough the way is,
But my wrath shall overtake you!"
And my vengeance shall attain you!"
Over rock and over river.
Through bush, and brake, and forest,
Ran the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis;
Like an antelope he bounded,
Till he came unto a streamlet
In the middle of the forest,
To a streamlet still and tranquil,
That had overflowed its margin,
To a dam made by the beavers,
To a pond of quiet water,

Where knee-deep the trees were standing,
Where the water-lilies floated,
Where the rushes waved and whispered.
On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis
On the dam of trunks and branches,
Through whose chinks the water spouted,
O'er whose summit flowed the streamlet.
From the bottom rose a beaver,
Looked with two great eyes of wonder,
Eyes that seemed to ask a question,
At the stranger. Pan-Puk-Keewis.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,
O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet,
Flowed the bright and silvery water,
And he spake unto the beaver,

With a smile he spake in this wise:

O my friend Ahmeck, the beaver,
Cool and pleasant is the water;
Let me dive into the water.
Let me rest there in your lodges;
Change me, too, into a beaver!"

Cautiously replied the beaver.
With reserve he thus made answer:
Let me first consult the others,
Let me ask the other beavers."
Down he sank into the water,
Heavily sauk he, as a stone sinks,
Down among the leaves and branches,
Brown and matted at the bottom.

On the dam stood Pau-Pak-Keewis, O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet, Spouted through the chinks below him, Dashed upon the stones beneath him, Spread serene and calin before him, And the sunshine and the shadows Fell in flocks and gleams upon him, Fell in little shining patches, Through the waving, rustling branches, From the bottom rose the beavers, Silently above the surface Rose one head and then another, Till the pond seemed full of beavers, Full of black and shining faces.

To the beavers Pau-Pak-Keewis Spake entreating, said in this wise: "Very pleasant is your dwelling, O my friends! and safe from danger; Can you not, with all your cunning, All your wisdom and contrivance, Change me, too, into a beaver?" "Yes!" replied Ahmeek, the beaver, He the King of all the beavers, "Let yourself slide down among us, Down into the tranquil water."

Down into the pond among them
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis;
Black became his shirt of deer-skin,
Black his moccasins and leggings,
In a broad black tail behind him
Spread his fox-tails and his fringes;
He was changed into a beaver.

་་

"Make me large," said Pan-Puk-Keewis, "Make me large, and make me larger, Larger than the other beavers." "Yes," the beaver chief responded, "When our lodge below you enter, In our wigwam we will inake you Ten times larger than the others."

Thus into the clear, brown water
Silently sank Pau-Púk - Keewis;
Found the bottom covered over
With the trunks of trees and branches,
Hoards of food against the winter,
Piles and heaps against the famine,
Found the lodge with open doorway,
Leading into spacious chambers.

Here they made him large, and larger,
Made him largest of the beavers."
Ten times larger than the others.
"You shall be our ruler," said they;
"Chief and king of all the beavers."

But not long had Pau-Puk-Keewis
Sat in state among the beavers,
When there came a voice of warning
From the watchman at his station
In the water-flags and lilies,
Saying, "Here is Hiawatha!
Hiawatha with his hunters!"

Then they heard a cry above them,
Heard a shouting and a tramping,
Heard a crashing and a rushing,
And the water round and o'er them
Sank and sucked away in eddies,
And they knew their dam was broken.
On the lodge's roof the hunters
Leaped, and broke it all asunder;
Streamed the sunshine through the crevice,
Sprang the beavers through the doorway,

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