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XVI
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-Puk-Keewis.
It was he who in
his frenzy
Whirled these drifting sands 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 Iagoo,
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 Iagoo,
"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 exclaiming and explaining:
"Red
side up are all the pieces,
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
Ininewug, 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 Iagoo,
"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-Keewis,
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!"
`T was a youth of
sixteen summers,
`T was a nephew of Iagoo;
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
Iagoo.
"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
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-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 Ozawabeeks,
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 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
gambling
Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis
As he
came forth to the freshness
Of the pleasant Summer
morning.
All the birds were singing gayly,
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 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-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
gayly to the squirrels,
Who from hollow boughs above
him
Dropped their acorn-shells upon him,
Singing
gayly 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
splashed the waters,
Plashed and washed the dreamy
waters;
Far above him swam the heavens,
Swam the
dizzy, dreamy heavens;
Round him hovered, fluttered,
rustled
Hiawatha'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!"
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