As the fire burns in a pipe-headDusky red beneath the ashes,So beneath his shaggy eyebrowsGlowed the eyes of old Iagoo."Ugh!" he answered very fiercely;"Ugh!" they answered all and each one.
Seized the wooden bowl the old man,Closely in his bony fingersClutched the fatal bowl, Onagon,Shook it fiercely and with fury,Made the pieces ring togetherAs he threw them down before him.
Red were both the great Kenabeeks,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-KeewisShook the bowl and threw the pieces;Lightly in the air he tossed them,And they fell about him scattered;Dark and bright the Ozawabeeks,Red and white the other pieces,And upright among the othersOne Ininewug was standing,Even as crafty Pau-Puk-KeewisStood 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 Iagoo,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 gamblingWere the eyes of Pau-Puk-KeewisAs he came forth to the freshnessOf the pleasant Summer morning.All the birds were singing gayly,All the streamlets flowing swiftly,And the heart of Pau-Puk-KeewisSang with pleasure as the birds sing,Beat with triumph like the streamlets,As he wandered through the village,In the early gray 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, fluttering, feeding,And aloft upon the ridge-poleKahgahgee, 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 wigwamLeft 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 disorderThrew the household things about him,Piled together in confusionBowls 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 gayly to the squirrels,Who from hollow boughs above himDropped their acorn-shells upon him,Singing gayly to the wood birds,Who from out the leafy darknessAnswered 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 mischiefThe return of Hiawatha.
Stretched upon his back he lay there;Far below him splashed the waters,Plashed and washed the dreamy waters;Far above him swam the heavens,Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens;Round him hovered, fluttered, rustledHiawatha's mountain chickens,Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him,Almost 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 Kayoshk, the sea-gull,Perched 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 HiawathaWhen he came into the village,Found the people in confusion,Heard of all the misdemeanors,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 mutteredWords 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 departedHiawatha and the huntersOn the trail of Pau-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 mountains:"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 streamletIn 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 the beaver,Looked with two great eyes of wonder,Eyes that seemed to ask a question,At the stranger, Pau-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 Ahmeek, 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 sank he, as a stone sinks,Down among the leaves and branches,Brown and matted at the bottom.
On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet,Spouted through the chinks below him,Dashed upon the stones beneath him,Spread serene and calm before him,And the sunshine and the shadowsFell in flecks and gleams upon him,Fell in little shining patches,Through the waving, rustling branches.
From the bottom rose the beavers,Silently above the surfaceRose one head and then another,Till the pond seemed full of beavers,Full of black and shining faces.
To the beavers Pau-Puk-KeewisSpake 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 themSilently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis;Black became his shirt of deer-skin,Black his moccasins and leggings,In a broad black tail behind himSpread his fox-tails and his fringes;He was changed into a beaver.