Legends of the Northwest Part 17

Many days they sought and found not.

Then to Panther spoke the Raven: "She is in the Land of Spirits-- Surely in the Land of Spirits.

High at midnight I beheld her-- Like a flying star beheld her-- To the waves of Gitchee Gumee, Downward flashing through the ether.

Thus she flashed that I might see her, See and know my mother's spirit; Thus she pointed to the waters, And beneath them lies her body, In the wigwam of the spirits-- In the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs." [1024]

Then spoke Panther to the Raven: "On the tall cliff by the waters Wait and watch with Waub-omee-mee.

If the Sea-Gull hear the wailing Of her infant she will answer."

On the tall cliff by the waters So the Raven watched and waited; All the day he watched and waited, But the hungry infant slumbered, Slumbered by the side of Raven, Till the pines' gigantic shadows Stretched and pointed to Waubu-Nong--[1021]

To the far off land of Sunrise; Then the wee one woke and famished, Made a long and piteous wailing.

From afar where sky and waters Meet in misty haze and mingle, Straight toward the rocky highland, Straight as flies die feathered arrow, Straight to Raven and the infant Swiftly flew a snow white sea-gull.-- Flew and touched the earth a woman.

And behold, the long-lost mother Caught her wailing child and nursed her, Sang a lullaby and nursed her.

Thrice was wound a chain of silver Round her waist and strongly fastened.

Far away into the waters-- To the wigwam of the spirits,-- To the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs,-- Stretched the magic chain of silver.

Spoke the mother to the Raven: "O my son--my brave young hunter, Feed my tender little orphan; Be a father to my orphan; Be a mother to my orphan,-- For the Crafty Red Fox robbed us,-- Robbed the Sea-Gull of her husband, Robbed the infant of her mother.

From this cliff the treacherous woman Headlong into Gitchee Gumee Plunged the mother of my orphan.

Then a Nebe-naw-baig caught me,-- Chief of all the Nebe-naw-baigs-- Took me to his shining wigwam, In the cavern of the waters, Deep beneath the might waters.

All below is burnished copper, All above is burnished silver Gemmed with amethyst and agates.

As his wife the Spirit holds me; By this silver chain he holds me.

When my little one is famished, When with long and piteous wailing Cries the orphan for her mother, Hither bring her, O my Raven; I will hear her,--I will answer.

Now the Nebe-naw-baig calls me,-- Pulls the chain,--I must obey him."

Thus she spoke and in the twinkling Of a star the spirit-woman Changed into a snow-white sea-gull, Spread her wings and o'er the waters Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished.

Then in secret to the Panther Raven told his tale of wonder.

Sad and sullen was the hunter; Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger; All the old love came upon him, And the new love was a hatred.

Hateful to his heart was Red Fox, But he kept from her the secret-- Kept his knowledge of the murder.

Vain was she and very haughty---

Oge-ma-kwa [1025] of the wigwam.

All in vain her fond caresses On the Panther now she lavished; When she smiled his face was sullen, When she laughed he frowned upon her; In her net of raven tresses Now no more she held him tangled.

Now through all her fair disguises Panther saw an evil spirit, Saw the false heart of the woman.

On the tall cliff o'er the waters Raven sat with Waub-omee-mee, Sat and watched again and waited, Till the wee one faint and famished, Made a long and piteous wailing.

Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull From afar where sky and waters Meet in misty haze and mingle, Straight toward the rocky highland, Straight as flies the feathered arrow, Straight to Raven and the infant, With the silver chain around her, Flew and touched the earth a woman.

In her arms she caught her infant-- Caught the wailing Waub-omee-mee, Sang a lullaby and nursed her.

Sprang the Panther from the thicket-- Sprang and broke the chain of silver!

With his tomahawk he broke it.

Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull-- From the Water-Spirit freed her, From the Chief of Nebe-naw-baigs.

Very angry was the Spirit; When he drew the chain of silver, Drew and found that it was broken, Found that he had lost the woman, Very angry was the Spirit.

Then he raged beneath the waters, Raged and smote the mighty waters, Till the big sea boiled and bubbled, Till the white-haired, bounding billows Roared around the rocky head-lands, Roared and plashed upon the shingle.

To the wigwam happy Panther, As when first he wooed and won her, Led his wife--as young and handsome.

For the waves of Gitchee Gumee Washed away the frost and wrinkles, And the Spirits by their magic Made her young and fair forever.

In the wigwam sat the Red Fox, Sat and sang a song of triumph, For she little dreamed of danger, Till the haughty hunter entered, Followed by the happy mother, Holding in her arms her infant.

Then the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull-- Saw the dead a living woman, One wild cry she gave despairing, One wild cry as of a demon.

Up she sprang and from the wigwam To the tall cliff flew in terror; Frantic sprang upon the margin, Frantic plunged into the water, Headlong plunged into the waters.

Dead she tossed upon the billows; For the Nebe-naw-baigs knew her, Knew the crafty, wicked woman, And they cast her from the waters, Spurned her from their shining wigwams; Far away upon the shingle With the roaring waves they cast her.

There upon her bloated body Fed the cawing crows and ravens, Fed the hungry wolves and foxes.

On the sh.o.r.e of Gitchee Gumee, Ever young and ever handsome, Long and happy lived the Sea-Gull, Long and happy with the Panther.

Evermore the happy hunter Loved the mother of his children.

Like a red star many winters Blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-sh.o.r.e.

O'er the Bridge of Souls together [1026]

Walked the Sea-Gull and the Panther.

To the far-off Sunny Islands-- To the Summer-Land of Spirits, Where no more the happy hunter Feels the fangs of frost or famine, Or the keen blasts of Kewaydin.

Where no pain or sorrow enters, And no crafty, wicked woman, Sea-Gull journeyed with her husband.

There she rules his lodge forever, And the twain are very happy, On the far-off Sunny Islands, In the Summer-Land of Spirits.

On the rocks of Gitchee Gumee-- On the Pictured Rocks--the Legend Long ago was traced and written, Pictured by the Water Spirits; But the storms of many winters Have bedimmed the pictured story, So that none can read the legend But the Jossakeeds, the prophets. [1027]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRYSTAL BAY, LAKE MINNETONKA.]

MINNETONKA

Note: The Dakota name for this beautiful lake is _Me-ne-a-tan-ka_--Broad Water. By dropping the a before tanka, we have changed the name to _Big Water_.

I sit once more on breezy sh.o.r.e, at sunset in this glorious June.

I hear the dip of gleaming oar. I list the singer's merry tune.

Beneath my feet the waters beat and ripple on the polished stones.

The squirrel chatters from his seat: the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.

The pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake!

The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.

The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep; The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.

The crimsoned west glows like the breast of _Rhuddin_ [a]

when he pipes in May, As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.

[a] The Welsh name for the robin.

In amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep; The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.

The rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea; Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea.

From bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes, And clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats.

The twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the sh.o.r.es; The merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,-- These tell the tale. On hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair; Along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air.

'Tis well. Of yore from isle and sh.o.r.e the smoke of Indian teepees [a] rose; The hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose.

The moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase; The nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the gra.s.s.

The dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe, Swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue.

In yonder tree the great _Wanm-dee_ [b] securely built her s.p.a.cious nest; The blast that swept the land-locked sea [c]