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IV
Out of
childhood into manhood
Now had grown my Hiawatha,
Skilled in all the craft of hunters,
Learned in
all the lore of old men,
In all youthful sports and
pastimes,
In all manly arts and labors.
Swift of
foot was Hiawatha;
He could shoot an arrow from him,
And run forward with such fleetness,
That the
arrow fell behind him!
Strong of arm was Hiawatha;
He could shoot ten arrows upward,
Shoot them
with such strength and swiftness,
That the tenth had
left the bow-string
Ere the first to earth had
fallen!
He had mittens, Minjekahwun,
Magic
mittens made of deer-skin;
When upon his hands he
wore them,
He could smite the rocks asunder,
He
could grind them into powder.
He had moccasins
enchanted,
Magic moccasins of deer-skin;
When he
bound them round his ankles,
When upon his feet he
tied them,
At each stride a mile he measured!
Much he questioned old Nokomis
Of his father
Mudjekeewis;
Learned from her the fatal secret
Of the beauty of his mother,
Of the falsehood of his
father;
And his heart was hot within him,
Like a
living coal his heart was.
Then he said to old
Nokomis,
"I will go to Mudjekeewis,
See how
fares it with my father,
At the doorways of the
West-Wind,
At the portals of the Sunset!"
From
his lodge went Hiawatha,
Dressed for travel, armed
for hunting;
Dressed in deer-skin shirt and
leggings,
Richly wrought with quills and wampum;
On his head his eagle-feathers,
Round his waist his
belt of wampum,
In his hand his bow of ash-wood,
Strung with sinews of the reindeer;
In his quiver
oaken arrows,
Tipped with jasper, winged with
feathers;
With his mittens, Minjekahwun,
With
his moccasins enchanted.
Warning said the old
Nokomis,
"Go not forth, O Hiawatha!
To the
kingdom of the West-Wind,
To the realms of
Mudjekeewis,
Lest he harm you with his magic,
Lest he kill you with his cunning!"
But the fearless
Hiawatha
Heeded not her woman's warning;
Forth
he strode into the forest,
At each stride a mile he
measured;
Lurid seemed the sky above him,
Lurid
seemed the earth beneath him,
Hot and close the air
around him,
Filled with smoke and fiery vapors,
As of burning woods and prairies,
For his heart was
hot within him,
Like a living coal his heart was.
So he journeyed westward, westward,
Left the
fleetest deer behind him,
Left the antelope and
bison;
Crossed the rushing Esconaba,
Crossed the
mighty Mississippi,
Passed the Mountains of the
Prairie,
Passed the land of Crows and Foxes,
Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet,
Came unto the
Rocky Mountains,
To the kingdom of the West-Wind,
Where upon the gusty summits
Sat the ancient
Mudjekeewis,
Ruler of the winds of heaven.
Filled
with awe was Hiawatha
At the aspect of his father.
On the air about him wildly
Tossed and streamed
his cloudy tresses,
Gleamed like drifting snow his
tresses,
Glared like Ishkoodah, the comet,
Like
the star with fiery tresses.
Filled with joy was
Mudjekeewis
When he looked on Hiawatha,
Saw his
youth rise up before him
In the face of Hiawatha,
Saw the beauty of Wenonah
From the grave rise up
before him.
"Welcome!" said he, "Hiawatha,
To the
kingdom of the West-Wind
Long have I been waiting
for you
Youth is lovely, age is lonely,
Youth is
fiery, age is frosty;
You bring back the days
departed,
You bring back my youth of passion,
And the beautiful Wenonah!"
Many days they talked
together,
Questioned, listened, waited, answered;
Much the mighty Mudjekeewis
Boasted of his
ancient prowess,
Of his perilous adventures,
His
indomitable courage,
His invulnerable body.
Patiently sat Hiawatha,
Listening to his father's
boasting;
With a smile he sat and listened,
Uttered neither threat nor menace,
Neither word nor
look betrayed him,
But his heart was hot within him,
Like a living coal his heart was.
Then he said,
"O Mudjekeewis,
Is there nothing that can harm you?
Nothing that you are afraid of?"
And the mighty
Mudjekeewis,
Grand and gracious in his boasting,
Answered, saying, "There is nothing,
Nothing but the
black rock yonder,
Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!"
And he looked at Hiawatha
With a wise look and
benignant,
With a countenance paternal,
Looked
with pride upon the beauty
Of his tall and graceful
figure,
Saying, "O my Hiawatha!
Is there anything
can harm you?
Anything you are afraid of?"
But
the wary Hiawatha
Paused awhile, as if uncertain,
Held his peace, as if resolving,
And then
answered, "There is nothing,
Nothing but the bulrush
yonder,
Nothing but the great Apukwa!"
And as
Mudjekeewis, rising,
Stretched his hand to pluck the
bulrush,
Hiawatha cried in terror,
Cried in
well-dissembled terror,
"Kago! kago! do not touch
it!"
"Ah, kaween!" said Mudjekeewis,
"No indeed,
I will not touch it!"
Then they talked of other
matters;
First of Hiawatha's brothers,
First of
Wabun, of the East-Wind,
Of the South-Wind,
Shawondasee,
Of the North, Kabibonokka;
Then of
Hiawatha's mother,
Of the beautiful Wenonah,
Of
her birth upon the meadow,
Of her death, as old
Nokomis
Had remembered and related.
And he cried,
"O Mudjekeewis,
It was you who killed Wenonah,
Took her young life and her beauty,
Broke the Lily
of the Prairie,
Trampled it beneath your footsteps;
You confess it! you confess it!"
And the mighty
Mudjekeewis
Tossed upon the wind his tresses,
Bowed his hoary head in anguish,
With a silent nod
assented.
Then up started Hiawatha,
And with
threatening look and gesture
Laid his hand upon the
black rock,
On the fatal Wawbeek laid it,
With
his mittens, Minjekahwun,
Rent the jutting crag
asunder,
Smote and crushed it into fragments,
Hurled them madly at his father,
The remorseful
Mudjekeewis,
For his heart was hot within him,
Like a living coal his heart was.
But the ruler of
the West-Wind
Blew the fragments backward from him,
With the breathing of his nostrils,
With the
tempest of his anger,
Blew them back at his
assailant;
Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,
Dragged it with its roots and fibres
From the margin
of the meadow,
From its ooze the giant bulrush;
Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!
Then began the deadly
conflict,
Hand to hand among the mountains;
From
his eyry screamed the eagle,
The Keneu, the great
war-eagle,
Sat upon the crags around them,
Wheeling flapped his wings above them.
Like a tall
tree in the tempest
Bent and lashed the giant
bulrush;
And in masses huge and heavy
Crashing
fell the fatal Wawbeek;
Till the earth shook with
the tumult
And confusion of the battle,
And the
air was full of shoutings,
And the thunder of the
mountains,
Starting, answered, "Baim-wawa!"
Back
retreated Mudjekeewis,
Rushing westward o'er the
mountains,
Stumbling westward down the mountains,
Three whole days retreated fighting,
Still
pursued by Hiawatha
To the doorways of the
West-Wind,
To the portals of the Sunset,
To the
earth's remotest border,
Where into the empty spaces
Sinks the sun, as a flamingo
Drops into her nest
at nightfall
In the melancholy marshes.
"Hold!"
at length cried Mudjekeewis,
"Hold, my son, my
Hiawatha!
'T is impossible to kill me,
For you
cannot kill the immortal
I have put you to this
trial,
But to know and prove your courage;
Now
receive the prize of valor!
"Go back to your home and
people,
Live among them, toil among them,
Cleanse the earth from all that harms it,
Clear the
fishing-grounds and rivers,
Slay all monsters and
magicians,
All the Wendigoes, the giants,
All the
serpents, the Kenabeeks,
As I slew the Mishe-Mokwa,
Slew the Great Bear of the mountains.
"And at
last when Death draws near you,
When the awful eyes
of Pauguk
Glare upon you in the darkness,
I will
share my kingdom with you,
Ruler shall you be
thenceforward
Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
Of the home-wind, the Keewaydin."
Thus was fought
that famous battle
In the dreadful days of
Shah-shah,
In the days long since departed,
In
the kingdom of the West-Wind.
Still the hunter sees
its traces
Scattered far o'er hill and valley;
Sees the giant bulrush growing
By the ponds and
water-courses,
Sees the masses of the Wawbeek
Lying still in every valley.
Homeward now went
Hiawatha;
Pleasant was the landscape round him,
Pleasant was the air above him,
For the bitterness
of anger
Had departed wholly from him,
From his
brain the thought of vengeance,
From his heart the
burning fever.
Only once his pace he slackened,
Only once he paused or halted,
Paused to purchase
heads of arrows
Of the ancient Arrow-maker,
In
the land of the Dacotahs,
Where the Falls of
Minnehaha
Flash and gleam among the oak-trees,
Laugh and leap into the valley.
There the ancient
Arrow-maker
Made his arrow-heads of sandstone,
Arrow-heads of chalcedony,
Arrow-heads of flint and
jasper,
Smoothed and sharpened at the edges,
Hard and polished, keen and costly.
With him dwelt
his dark-eyed daughter,
Wayward as the Minnehaha,
With her moods of shade and sunshine,
Eyes that
smiled and frowned alternate,
Feet as rapid as the
river,
Tresses flowing like the water,
And as
musical a laughter:
And he named her from the river,
From the water-fall he named her,
Minnehaha,
Laughing Water.
Was it then for heads of arrows,
Arrow-heads of chalcedony,
Arrow-heads of flint and
jasper,
That my Hiawatha halted
In the land of
the Dacotahs?
Was it not to see the maiden,
See
the face of Laughing Water
Peeping from behind the
curtain,
Hear the rustling of her garments
From
behind the waving curtain,
As one sees the Minnehaha
Gleaming, glancing through the branches,
As one
hears the Laughing Water
From behind its screen of
branches?
Who shall say what thoughts and visions
Fill the fiery brains of young men?
Who shall say
what dreams of beauty
Filled the heart of Hiawatha?
All he told to old Nokomis,
When he reached the
lodge at sunset,
Was the meeting with his father,
Was his fight with Mudjekeewis;
Not a word he
said of arrows,
Not a word of Laughing Water.
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