BOKWEWA and his brother lived in a far-off part of the country. By those who knew them, Bokwewa, the elder, although deformed and feeble of person, was considered a manito who had assumed mortal shape; while his younger brother, Kwasynd, manly in appearance, active, and strong, partook of the nature of the present race of beings.
They lived off the path, in a wild, lonesome place. Far retired from neighbors and undisturbed by cares,' they passed their time content and happy. The days glided by as serenely as the river that flowed by their lodge.
Owing to his lack of strength, Bokwewa never engaged in the chase but gave his attention entirely to the affairs of the lodge. In the long winter evenings he passed the time in telling his brother stories of the giants, spirits, weendigoes, and fairies of the older age, who in those days had the exclusive charge of the world. He also at times taught his brother the manner in which game should be pursued, pointed out to him the ways of the different beasts and birds of the chase, and assigned the seasons at which they could be hunted with most success.
For a while the brother was eager to learn and keenly attended to his duties as the provider of the lodge; but at length he grew weary of their tranquil life and began to have a desire to show himself among men. He became restive in their retirement and was seized with a longing to visit remote places.
One day Kwasynd told his brother that he should leave him; that he wished to visit the habitations of men and to procure a wife.
Bokwewa objected; but his brother overruled all that he said, and in spite of every remonstrance, he departed on his travels.
He traveled for a long time. At length he fell in with the footsteps of men. They were moving by encampments, for he saw the poles at several spots where they had passed. It was winter; and coming to a place where one of their company had died, he found upon a scatfold, lying at length in the cold blue air, the body of a beautiful young woman.
"She shall be my wife!" exclaimed Kwasynd.
He lifted her up, and bearing her in his arms, he returned to his brother.
"Brother," he said, "cannot you restore her to life? Oh, do me that favor!"
He looked upon the beautiful maiden with a longing gaze; but she lay as cold and silent as when he had found her upon the scatfold.
"I will try," said Bokwewa.
These words had been scarcely breathed, when the young woman rose up, opened her eyes, and looked upon Bokwewa with a smile, as if she had known him before.
To Kwasynd she paid no heed whatever. But presently Bokwewa, seeing how she lingered in her gaze upon himself, said to her, "Sister, that is your husband," pointing to Kwasynd.
She listened to his voice, and crossing the lodge, sat by Kwasynd, and they were man and wife.
For a long time they all lived contentedly together. Bokwewa was very kind to his brother and sought to render his days happy. He was ever within the lodge, seeking to have it in readiness against the return of Kwasynd from the hunt. And by following his directions, which were those of one deeply skilled in the chase, Kwasynd always succeeded in returning with a good store of meat.
But the charge of the two brothers was greatly lightened by the presence of the spirit-wife; for without labor of the hand she ordered the lodge, and as she willed everything took its place and was at once in proper array. The wish of her heart seemed to control whatever she looked upon, and all obeyed her desire.
But to the surprise of her husband, she never partook of food, or shared in any way the longings and appetites of a mortal creature. She was never seen arranging her hair, like other women, nor did she work upon her garments, and yet they were ever seemly and without blemish or disorder.
Behold her at any hour, she was ever beautiful, and she seemed to need no ornament, or nourishment, or other aid, to give grace or strength to her looks.
Kwasynd, when the first wonder of her ways had passed, paid little heed to her discourse; he was engrossed with the hunt, and chose to be abroad, pursuing the wild game, or when in the lodge, enjoying its savory spoil, rather than the society of his spirit-wife.
But Bokwewa watched closely every word that fell from her lips, and often in conferring with her, forgot all mortal appetite and care of the body, noting what she had to say of spirits and fairies, of stars, and streams that never ceased to flow, the delight of the happy hunting-grounds, and the groves of the blessed.
One day Kwasynd had gone out as usual, and Bokwewa was sitting in the lodge on the opposite side to his brother's wife, when a tall youth entered. His face was like the sun in its brightness, and he stood straight as a cedar tree. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the door.
The woman made no resistance, but turned as she left the lodge and cast upon Bokwewa a smile of kind regard. Then saying, "I must leave you," she was at once gone from his view, with her companion.
He ran to the door, and looking far off in the sky, thought that he could discover, at a great distance, a shining track, and the dim figures of two who were vanishing into the clouds.
When his brother returned, Bokwewa related all to him exactly as it had happened.
The face of Ivwasynd changed and was dark as the night. For several days he would not taste food. Sometimes he would fall to weeping for a long time, and now for the first time seemed to realise how gentle and beautiful had been the ways of her who was lost. At last he said that he would go in search of her.
Bokwewa tried to dissuade him from it; but he would not be turned aside from his purpose.
"Since you are resolved," said Bokwewa, "listen to my advice. You will have to go South. It is a long distance to the present abiding-place of your wife, and there are so many charms and temptations by the way that I fear you will be led astray and forget your errand. The people whom you will see in the country through which you have to pass, do nothing but amuse themselves. They are very idle, gay and effeminate, and I fear that they will lead you astray. Your path is beset with dangers. I will mention two things which you must be especially on your guard against.
"In the course of your journey you will come to a large grape-vine lying across your path. You must not even taste its fruit, for it is poisonous. Step over it. It is a snake. You will nest come to something that looks like bear's fat, of which you are so fond. Touch it not, or you will be overcome by the soft habits of the idle people. It is frog's eggs. These are snares laid by the way for you."
Kwasynd promised that he would observe the advice, and bidding his brother farewell, he set out. After traveling a long time he came to the enchanted grape-vine. It looked so tempting, with its swelling purple clusters, that he forgot his brother's warning and tried the fruit. Then he went on till he came to the frog's eggs. They so much resembled delicious bear's fat that Kwasynd tasted them. He still went on.
At length he came to a wide plain. As he emerged from the forest the sun was falling in the west, and cast its scarlet and golden shades far over the country. The air was perfectly calm, and the whole prospect had the air of an enchanted land. Fruits and flowers and delicate blossoms lured the eye and delighted the senses.
At a distance he beheld a large village, swarming with people, and as he drew near he discovered women beating corn in silver mortars.
When they saw Kwasynd approaching, they cried out:
"Bokwewa's brother has come to see us."
Throngs of men and women in bright apparel hurried out to meet him.
Having already yielded to temptation by the way, he was soon overcome by their fair looks and soft speeches; and it was not long afterward that he was seen beating corn with the women, having entirely abandoned all further quest for his lost wife.
Meantime, Bokwewa, alone in the lodge, waited patiently his brother's return. After the lapse of several years he set out in search of him, and he arrived in safety among the soft and idle people of the South. He had met the same allurements by the way, and the people gathered around him on his coming just as they had around his brother Kwasynd; but Bokwewa was proof against their flattery. He only grieved in his heart that any should yield.
He shed tears of pity to see that his brother had laid aside the arms of a hunter, and that he was beating corn with the women, indifferent to the fate and the fortune of his lost wife.
Bokwewa ascertained that she had passed on to a country beyond.
After deliberating for a time and spending several days in a severe fast, he set out in the direction in which she had gone.
It was far off, but Bokwewa had a stout heart; and strong in the faith that he was now on the broad path toward the happy land, he pressed forward. For many days he traveled without encountering anything unusual. Then plains of vast extent, rich in waving grass, began to pass before his eyes. He saw many beautiful groves and beard the songs of countless birds.
At length he began to fail in strength for lack of food; when he suddenly reached a high ground. From this he caught the first glimpse of the other land. But it appeared to be still far off, and all the country between, partly veiled in silvery mists, glittered with lakes and streams of water. As he pressed on, Bok-wewa came in sight of innumerable herds of stately deer, moose, and other animals which walked near his path, and they appeared to have no fear of man.
And now again as he wound about in his course, and faced the north once more, he beheld coming toward him an immense number of men, women, and children, pressing forward in the direction of the shining land.
In this vast throng Bokwewa beheld persons of every age, from the little infant, the sweet and lovely penaisee, or younger son, to the feeble, gray old man, stooping under the burden of his years.
All whom Bokwewa met, of every name and degree, were heavily laden with pipes, weapons, bows, arrows, kettles and other wares and implements.
One man stopped him and complained of the weary load he was carrying. Another offered him a kettle; another his bow and arrows; but he declined all, and, free of foot, hastened on.
And now he met women who were carrying their basket-work and painted paddles, and little boys with their embellished war-clubs and bows and arrows, the gifts of their friends.
With this mighty throng, Bokwewa was borne along for two days and nights, when he arrived at a country so still and shining, and so beautiful in its woods and groves and plains, that he knew it was here that he should find the lost spirit-wife.
He had scarcely entered this fair country, with a sense of home and the return to things familiar strong upon him, when there appeared before him the lost spirit-wife herself, who, taking him by the hand, gave him welcome, saying:
"My brother, I am glad to see you. Welcome! welcome! You are now in your native land! Here you shall dwell in peace and plenty all your days."
Then Bokwewa, finding himself no longer misshapen and awkward, but strong and straight, followed her into the lodge.
5314Original
ABOY remarkable for the smallness of his stature lived alone with his sister in a little lodge on a lake shore. Around their habitation were scattered many large rocks, and it had a very wild and out-of-the-way look.
The boy grew no larger as he advanced in years, and yet, small as he was, he had a big spirit of his own and loved dearly to play the master in the lodge. One day in winter he told his sister to make him a ball to play with, as he meant to have some sport along the shore on the clear ice. When she handed him the ball, his sister cautioned him not to go too.
He laughed at her and posted off in high glee, throwing his ball before him and running after it at full speed; and he went as fast as his ball. At last the ball flew to a great distance, and he after it. When he had run forward for some time, he saw what seemed four dark spots upon the ice straight before him.
When he came up to the shore he was surprised to see four large, tall men lying on the ice, spearing fish. They were four brothers, who looked exactly alike.
As the little boy-man approached them, the nearest looked up, and in his turn was surprised to see such a tiny being. Turning to his brothers, he said:
"Tia! look! see what a little fellow is here."
The three others thereupon looked up, too, and seeing these four faces, as alike as if they had been one, the little spirit or boy-man said to himself:
"Four in one! What a time they must have in choosing their hunting-shirts!"
After they had all stared for a moment at the boy, they covered their heads, intent in searching for fish. The boy thought to himself:
"These four-faces fancy that I am to be put off without notice because I am so little and they are so broad and long. They shall find out. I may find a way to teach them that I am not to be treated so lightly."
After the men were covered up, the boy-man, looking sharply about, saw that among them they had caught one large trout, which was lying just by their side. Stealing along, he slyly seized it, and placing his fingers in the gills and tossing his ball before him, he ran off at full speed.
They heard the pattering of his little steps upon the ice, and when the four looked up all together, they saw their fine trout sliding away at a great rate, as if of itself, the boy being so small that he could not be distinguished from the fish.
"See!" they cried out, "our fish is running away on the dry land!"
When they stood up they could just see, over the fish's head, that it was the boy-man who was carrying it off.
The little spirit reached the lodge, and having left the trout at the door, he told his sister to go out and bring in the fish he had brought home.
She exclaimed, "Where could you have got it? I hope you have not stolen it. '7
"Oh," he replied, "I found it on the ice. It was caught in our lake. Have we no right to a little lake of our own? I shall claim all the fish that come out of its waters."
"How," the sister asked again, "could you have got it there?"
"No matter," said the boy; "go and cook it."
It was as much as the girl could do to drag the great trout within doors. Then she cooked it, and its flavor was so delicious that she asked no more questions as to how he had come by it.
The next morning the little spirit or boy-man set off as he had the day before.
He made all sorts of sport with his ball as he frolicked along—high over his head he would toss it; straight up into the air; then far before him; and again, in mere merriment of spirit, he would send it bounding back, as if he had plenty of speed and enough to spare in running back after it. And the ball leaped and bounced about and glided through the air as if it were a live thing, enjoying the sport as much as the boy-man himself.
When he came within hail of the four large men, who were fishing there every day, he cast his ball with such force that it rolled into the ice-hole about which they were busy. The boy, standing on the shore of the lake, called out:
"Four-in-one, pray hand me my ball."
"No, indeed," they answered, setting up a grim laugh which curdled their four dark faces all at once, "we will not"; and with their fishing-spears they thrust the ball under the ice.
"Good!" said the boy-man, "we shall see."
Saying which he rushed upon the four brothers and thrust them at one push into the water. His ball bounded back to the surface, and, picking it up, he ran off, tossing it before him in his own sportive way. Outstripping it in speed, he soon reached home and remained within till the next morning.
The four brothers, rising up from the water at the same time, dripping and wroth, roared out in one voice a terrible threat of vengeance, which they promised to execute the next day. They knew the boy's speed, and that they could by no means overtake him.
Betimes in the morning, the four brothers were stirring in their lodge and getting ready to look after their revenge.
Their old mother, who lived with them, begged them not to go.
"Better," said she, "now that your clothes are dry, to think no more of the ducking, than to go and all four of you get your heads broken, as you surely will; for that boy is a monedo or he could not perform such feats as he does."
Her sons, however, paid no heed to this wise advice. Raising a great war-cry, which frightened the birds overhead nearly out of their feathers, they started for the boy's lodge among the rocks.
The little spirit or boy-man heard them roaring forth their threats as they approached, but he did not appear to be disquieted in the least. His sister as yet had heard nothing; after a while she thought she could distinguish the noise of snowshoes on the snow, at a distance, but rapidly advancing. She looked out, and seeing the four large men coming straight to their lodge she was in great fear. Running in, she exclaimed:
"He is coming, four times as strong as ever!" for | she supposed that the one man whom her brother had offended had become so angry as to make four of himself in order to wreak his vengeance.
The boy-man said, "Why do you mind them? Give me something to eat."
"How can you think of eating at such a time?" she replied.
"Do as I request you, and be quick."
She then gave the little spirit his dish, and he commenced eating.
Just then the brothers came to the door.
"See!" cried the sister, "the man with four heads!"
The brothers were about to lift the curtain at the door, when the boy-man turned his dish upside down, and immediately the door was closed with a stone. The four brothers set to work upon this and hammered with their clubs with great fury, until at length they succeeded in making a slight opening. One of the brothers presented his face at this little window and rolled his eye about at the boy-man in a very threatening way.
The little spirit, who, when he had closed the door, had returned to his meal and gone on quietly eating, took up his bow and arrow which lay by his side, and let fly the shaft. It struck the man in the head, and he fell back. The boy-man merely called out, "Number one," as he fell, and went on with his meal.
In a moment a second face, just like the first, presented itself; and as he raised his bow, his sister said to him:
"What is the use? You have killed that man already."
Little spirit fired his arrow—the man fell—he called out, "Number two," and continued his meal.
The two others of the four brothers were despatched in the same quiet way and counted off as "Number three" and "Number four."
After they were all well disposed of in this way, the boy-man directed his sister to go ont and see them. She presently ran back, saying:
"There are four of them."
"Of course," the boy-man answered, "and there always shall be four of them."
Going out himself, the boy-man raised the brothers to their feet, and giving each a push, one with his face to the East, another to the West, a third to the South, and the last to the North, he sent them off to wander about the earth; and whenever you see four men just alike, they are the four brothers whom the little spirit or boy-man despatched upon their travels.
But this was not the last display of the boy-man's power.
When spring came on, and the lake began to sparkle in the morning sun, the boy-man said to his sister: "Make me a new set of arrows and a bow." Although he provided for their support, the little spirit never performed household or hard work of any kind, and his sister obeyed.
When she had made the weapons, which, though they were very small, were beautifully wrought and of the best stuff the field and wood could furnish, she again cautioned him not to shoot into the lake.
"She thinks," said the boy-man to himself, "I can see no farther into the water than she. My sister shall learn better."
Regardless of her warnings, he on purpose discharged a shaft into the lake and waded out into the water till he got to its depth. Then he paddled about for his arrow, so as to call the attention of his sister, as if to show that he hardily braved her advice.
She hurried to the shore, calling on him to return; but instead of heeding her, he cried out:
"You of the red fins, come and swallow me!" Although his sister did not clearly understand whom her brother was addressing, she too called out: "Don't mind the foolish boy!"
The boy-man's order seemed to be best attended to, for immediately a monstrous fish came and swallowed him. Before disappearing entirely, catching a glimpse of his sister standing in despair upon the shore, the boy-man hallooed out to her:
"Me-zush-ke-zin-ance!"
She wondered what he meant. At last it occurred to her that it must be an old moccasin. She accordingly ran to the lodge, brought a moccasin, tied it to a string attached to a tree, and quickly cast it into the water.
The great fish said to the boy-man under water: "What is that floating?"
To which the boy-man replied:
"Go, take hold of it, swallow it as fast as you can; it is a great delicacy."
The fish darted toward the old shoe and swallowed it, making of it a mere mouthful.
The boy-man laughed to himself but said nothing, till the fish was fairly caught; when he took hold of the line and began to pull himself ashore in his fish-carriage.
The sister, who was watching all this time, opened wide her eyes as the huge fish came up and up upon the shore; and she opened them still more when the fish seemed to speak, and she heard from within a voice, saying, "Make haste and release me from this nasty place."
It was her brother's voice, which she was accustomed to obey; and she made haste with her knife to open a door in the side of the fish, from which the boy-man presently leaped forth. He lost no time in ordering her to cut up the fish and dry it; telling her that their spring supply of meat was now provided.
The sister now began to believe that her brother was an extraordinary boy; yet she was not altogether satisfied in her mind that he was greater than the rest of the world.
They sat one evening in the lodge, musing with each other in the dark, by the light of each other's eyes, when the sister said:
"My brother, it is strange that you, who can do so much, are no wiser than the Ko-ko, who gets all his light from the moon; which shines or not, as it pleases."
"And is not that light enough?" asked the little spirit.
"Quite enough," the sister replied. "If it would but come within the lodge and not sojourn out in the tree-tops and among the clouds."
"We will have a light of our own, sister," said the boy-man; and, casting himself upon a mat by the door, he commenced singing:
Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing,
Light me to bed and my song I will sing;
Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head,
That I may merrily go to my bed.
Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep,
That I may joyfully go to my sleep;
Come, little fire-fly, come little beast,
Come! and I'll make you to-morrow a feast.
Come, little candle, that flies as I sing,
Bright little fairy-bug, night's little king;
Come and I'll dream, as you guide me along;
Come and I'll pay you, my bug, with a song.
As the boy-man chanted this call, the fire-flies came into the lodge, first one by one, then in couples, till at last, swarming in little armies, they lighted the lodge with a thousand sparkling lamps, just as the stars were lighting the mighty hollow of the sky without.
The faces of the sister and brother shone upon each other from their opposite sides of the lodge with a kindly gleam of mutual trustfulness; and never more from that hour did a doubt of each other darken their little household.
IN time past—we cannot tell exactly how many, many years ago—a poor Indian was living with his wife and children in a beautiful part of the country. He was not only poor, but he had the misfortune to be inexpert in procuring food for his family, and his children were all too young to give him any assistance.
Although of a lowly condition and straitened in his circumstances, he was a man of kind and contented disposition. He was always thankful to the Great Spirit for everything he received. He even stood in the door of his lodge to bless the birds that flew past in the summer evenings; although, if he had been of a complaining temper, he might have repined that they were not rather spread upon the table for his evening meal.
The same gracious and sweet disposition was inherited by his eldest son, who had now arrived at the proper age to undertake the ceremony of the fast to learn what kind of a spirit would be his guide and guardian through life.
Wunzh, for this was his name, had been an obedient boy from his infancy—pensive, thoughtful, and gentle—so that he was beloved by the whole family.
As soon as the first buds of spring appeared and the delicious fragrance of the young year began to sweeten the air, his father, with the help of his younger brothers, built for Wunzh the customary little lodge at a retired spot some distance from their own, where he would not be disturbed during the solemn rite.
To prepare himself, Wunzh sought to clear his heart of every evil thought and to think of nothing that was not good, and beautiful, and kindly.
That he might store his mind with pleasant ideas for his dreams, for the first few days he amused himself by walking in the woods and over the mountains, examining the early plants and flowers.
As he rambled far and wide through the wild country, he felt a strong desire to know how the plants and herbs and berries grew, without any aid from man, and why it was that some kinds were good to eat, and that others were possessed of medicinal or poisonous power.
After he had become too languid from fasting to walk about, and confined himself strictly to the lodge, he recalled these thoughts. Turning them in his mind, he wished he could dream of something that would prove a benefit to his father and family, and to all others of his fellow-creatures.
"True," thought Wunzh, "the Great Spirit made all things, and it is to him that we owe our lives. Could he not make it easier for us to get our food than by hunting animals and taking fish? I must try to find this out in my visions."
On the third day Yfunzh became weak and faint, and lay flat in a kind of stupor. Suddenly he fancied that a bright light came in at the lodge door, and ere he was aware, he saw a handsome young man, with a complexion of the softest and purest white, coming down from the sky and advancing toward him.
The beautiful stranger was richly and gaily dressed, having on a great many garments of green and yellow colors, but differing in their deeper or lighter shades. He had a plume of waving feathers on his head, and all his motions were graceful, reminding Wunzh of the deep green of the summer grass, the clear amber of the summer sky, and the gentle blowing of the summer wind. As Wunzh gazed at his visitor, he paused on a little mound of earth just before the door of the lodge.
"I am sent to you, my friend," said this celestial visitor, in a voice most soft and musical to listen to, "I am sent to you by that Great Spirit who made all things in the sky and on the earth. He has seen and knows your motives in fasting. He sees that it is from a kind and benevolent wish to do good to your people and to procure a benefit for them; and that you do not seek for strength in war, or the praise of the men of the bloody hand. So I am sent to instruct you and to show you how you can do your kindred good."
He then told Wunzh to arise and to prepare to wrestle with him, as it was only by this means that he could hope to succeed in his desires.
Wunzh knew how weak he was from fasting, but the voice of the stranger was cheery and put such a courage in his heart, that he promptly sprang up, determined to die rather than fail.
He began the trial, and after a long-sustained struggle, was almost overpowered, when the beautiful stranger said:
"My friend, it is enough for once; I will come again to try you," and smiling on him, he returned through the air in the same direction in which he had come.
The next day, although Wunzh saw how sweetly the wild-flowers bloomed upon the slopes and the birds warbled from the woodland, he longed to see the celestial visitor and to hear his voice.
To his great joy he reappeared at the same hour, toward the going down of the sun, and re-challenged Wunzh to a trial of strength.
The brave Wunzh felt that his strength of body was even less than on the day before, but the courage of his mind seemed to grow. Observing this, and how Wunzh put his whole heart into the struggle, the stranger again spoke to him in the words he used before, adding:
"To-morrow will be your last trial. Be strong, my friend, for this is the only way in which you can overcome me and obtain the boon you seek."
The light which shone after him as he left Wunzh was brighter than before.
On the third day he came again and renewed the struggle. Very faint in body was poor Wunzh, but he was stronger at heart than ever, and determined to prevail now or perish. He put forth his utmost powers, and after a contest more severe than either of the others, the stranger ceased his efforts and declared himself conquered.
For the first time he entered Wunzh's little fasting-lodge, and sitting down beside the youth, he began to deliver his instructions to him and to inform him in what manner he should proceed to take advantage of his victory.
"You have won your desire of the Great Spirit," said the beautiful stranger. "You have wrestled manfully. To-morrow will be the seventh day of your fasting. Your father will give you food to strengthen you, and as it is the last day of trial you will prevail. I know this, and now tell you what you must do to benefit your family and your people. To-morrow," he repeated, "I shall meet you and wrestle with you for the last time. As soon as you have prevailed against me, you will strip off my garments and throw me down, clean the earth of roots and weeds, make it soft, and bury me in the spot. When you have done this, leave my body in the earth and do not disturb it, but come at times to visit the place, to see whether I have come to life, and above all be careful never to let the grass or weeds grow upon my grave. Once a month cover me with fresh earth. If you follow these my instructions you will accomplish your object of doing good to your fellow-creatures by teaching them the knowledge I now teach you."
He then shook Wunzh by the hand and disappeared, but he was gone so soon that Wunzh could not tell what direction he took.
In the morning, Wunzh's father came to his lodge with some slight refreshments, saying:
"My son, you have fasted long enough. If the Great Spirit will favor you, he will do it now. It is seven days since you have tasted food, and you must not sacrifice your life. The Master of Life does not require that."
"My father," replied Wunzh, "wait till the sun goes down. I have a particular reason for extending my fast to that hour."
"Very well," said the old man, "I shall wait till the hour arrives, and you shall be inclined to eat."
At his usual hour of appearing, the beautiful sky-visitor returned, and the trial of strength was renewed. Although he had not availed himself of his father's offer of food, Wunzh felt that new strength had been given him. His heart was mighty within him to achieve some great purpose. Within the bosom of the brave Wunzh courage was like the eagle that spreads his wings within the tree-top for a great flight.
He grasped his challenger with supernatural strength, threw him down, and, mindful of his instructions, tore away his beautiful garments and plume. Finding him dead, he immediately buried him on the spot, using all the precautions he had been told of, and very confident was Wunzh, all the time, that his friend would again come to life.
Wunzh now returned to his father's lodge, where he was warmly welcomed. For as it had been appointed to him during the days of his fasting to walk apart, he had not been permitted to see any human face save that of his father, the representative to the little household upon earth of the great Father of all people.
Wunzh partook sparingly of the meal that had been prepared for him, and once more mingled in the cares and sports of the family. But he never for a moment forgot the grave of his friend. He carefully visited it throughout the spring, weeded out the grass, and kept the ground in a soft and pliant state; and sometimes, when the brave Wunzh thought of his friend that was gone from his sight, he dropped a tear upon the earth where he lay.
Watching and tending and moistening the earth with his tears, it was not long before Wunzh saw the tops of green plumes coming through the ground; and the more faithful he was in obeying his instructions in keeping the ground in order and in cherishing the memory of his friend, the faster they grew. He was, however, careful to conceal all these things from his father.
Days and weeks had passed in this way; the summer was drawing toward a close, when one day Wunzh invited his father to follow him to the quiet and lonesome spot of his former fast.
The little fasting-lodge had been removed and the weeds kept from growing on the circle where it had stood; but in its place rose a tall and graceful plant, surmounted with nodding plumes, stately leaves, and golden clusters. There was in its aspect and bearing the deep green of the summer grass, the clear amber of the summer sky, and the gentle blowing of the summer wind.
"It is my friend!" shouted Wunzh, "it is the friend of all mankind. It is Mondawmin: it is our Indian Corn! We need no longer rely on hunting alone, for as long as this gift is cherished and taken care of, the ground itself will give us a living."
He then pulled an ear.
"See, my father," said he, "this is what I fasted for. The Great Spirit has listened to my voice and sent us something new. Henceforth our people will not alone depend upon the chase or upon the waters."
Wunzh then communicated to his father the instructions given to him by the stranger. He told him that the broad husks must be torn away, as he had pulled off the stranger's garments in his wrestling. Then he showed him how the ear must be held before the fire till the outer skin becomes brown, while all the milk is retained in the grain.
The whole family, in high spirits and deeply grateful, assisted in a feast on the newly grown ears of corn.
So came that mighty blessing into the world, and we owe all of those beautiful fields of healthful grain to the dream of the brave boy Wunzh.