Legends of the Northwest Part 7

Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath, flinging fire from his terrible talons, It sends to their enemies death, in the flash of the fatal Wakandee." [c]

[a] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.

[b] "Mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. This is the common name applied by the Dakotas to all fire arms.

[c] Lightning.

The Autumn was past and the snow lay drifted and deep on the prairies; From his teepee of ice came the foe --came the storm-breathing G.o.d of the winter.

Then roared in the groves,--on the plains, --on the ice-covered lakes and the river-- The blasts of the fierce hurricanes blown abroad from the breast of Waziya. [3]

The bear cuddled down in his den, and the elk fled away to the forest; The pheasant and gray prairie-hen made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift; The bison-herds huddled and stood in the hollows and under the hill-sides; Or rooted the snow for their food in the lee of the bluffs and the timber; And the mad winds that howled from the north, from the ice-covered seas of Waziya, Chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth to their dens in the hills of the forest.

Poor Father Menard,--he was ill; in his breast burned the fire of the fever; All in vain was the magical skill of Wicasta Wakan [61] with his rattle; Into soft child-like slumber he fell, and awoke in the land of the blessed-- To the holy applause of "Well done!"

and the harps in the hands of the angels.

Long he carried the cross, and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.

In the land of the heathen he died, meekly following the voice of his Master, One mourner alone by his side --Ta-te-psin's compa.s.sionate daughter.

She wailed the dead father with tears, and his bones by her kindred she buried.

Then winter followed winter.

The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father; And three weary winters she dreamed of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen; In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed on the breast of the broad Mississippi, And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed on the maid in the midst of her slumber.

She lacked not admirers; the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee-- At her couch in the midst of the night, --but she never extinguished the flambeau.

The son of Chief Wazi-kute --a fearless and eagle plumed warrior-- Long sighed for Winona, and he --was the pride of the band of Isantees.

Three times, in the night, at her bed, had the brave held the torch of the lover, [75]And thrice had she covered her head and rejected the handsome Tamdoka. [a]

[a] Tah-mdo-kah--literally the buck deer.

'Twas Summer. The merry voiced birds trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow; And abroad on the prairies the herds cropped the gra.s.s in the land of the lilies,-- And sweet was the odor of rose wide-wafted from hillside and heather; In the leaf-shaded lap of repose lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer; And low was the murmur of brooks and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha; [76]

And asleep in the eddies and nooks lay the broods of maga [60] and the mallard.

'Twas the moon of Wasunpa. [71]

The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-tha-ga, And abroad o'er the beautiful land walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty-- Twin sisters, with bountiful hand, wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.

An-pe-tu-wee [70] walked in the west --to his lodge in the midst of the mountains, And the war eagle flew to her nest in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit. [a]

And now at the end of the day, by the sh.o.r.e of the Beautiful Island, [b]

A score of fair maidens and gay made joy in the midst of the waters.

Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair, and limbed like the fair Aphrodite, They played in the waters, and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,-- Loud-laughing like loons on the lake when the moon is a round s.h.i.+eld of silver, And the songs of the whippowils wake on the sh.o.r.e in the midst of the maples.

[a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island--Wanagi-wita just below the Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.

[b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island "Wi-ta Waste"--the Beautiful Island.

But hark!--on the river a song, --strange voices commingled in chorus; On the current a boat swept along with DuLuth and his hardy companions; To the stroke of their paddles they sung, and this the refrain that they chanted:

"Dans mon chemin j'ai recontre Deux cavaliers bien montees.

Lon, lon, laridon daine, Lon, lon, laridon dai."

"Deux cavaliers bien montees; L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.

Lon, lon, laridon daine, Lon, lon, laridon dai." [a]

Like the red, dappled deer in the glade, alarmed by the footsteps of hunters, Discovered, disordered, dismayed, the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters, And scampered away to the shade, and peered from the screen of the lindens.

[a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French _voyageurs_.

A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth, and a dauntless in danger, And straight to Kathaga he ran, and boldly advanced to the warriors, Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand, and gazing amazed on the strangers; And straightway he offered his hand unto Wazi-kute, the Itancan.

To the Lodge of the Stranger were led DuLuth and his hardy companions; Robes of beaver and bison were spread, and the Peace pipe [23] was smoked with the Frenchman.

There was dancing and feasting at night, and joy at the presents he lavished.

All the maidens were wild with delight with the flaming red robes and the ribbons, With the beads and the trinkets untold, and the fair, bearded face of the giver; And glad were they all to behold the friends from the Land of the Sunrise.

But one stood apart from the rest --the queenly and peerless Winona, Intently regarding the guest --hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons, Whom the White Chief beholding admired, and straightway he spread on her shoulders A lily-red robe and attired, with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.

The red lilies bloomed in her face, and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver, And forth from her teepee apace she brought him the robe and the missal Of the father--poor Rene Menard; and related the tale of the "Black Robe."

She spoke of the sacred regard he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas; That she buried his bones with her kin, in the mound by the Cave of the Council; That she treasured and wrapt in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book-- "Till his brothers should come from the East --from the land of the far Hochelaga, To smoke with the braves at the feast, on the sh.o.r.es of the Loud-laughing Waters. [76]

For the "Black Robe" spake much of his youth and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise; It was then as a dream, now in truth, I behold them, and not in a vision."

But more spake her blushes, I ween, and her eyes full of language unspoken, As she turned with the grace of a queen, and carried her gifts to the teepee.

Far away from his beautiful France --from his home in the city of Lyons, A n.o.ble youth full of romance, with a Norman heart big with adventure, In the new world a wanderer, by chance, DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.

But afar by the vale of the Rhone, the winding and musical river, And the vine-covered hills of the Saone, the heart of the wanderer lingered,-- 'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees, and the fair fields of corn and of clover That rippled and waved in the breeze, while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms For there, where the impetuous Rhone, leaping down from the Switzerland mountains, And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saone, meeting, kiss and commingle together, Down-winding by vineyards and leas, by the orchards of fig trees and olives, To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas of the glorious Greeks and the Romans; Aye, there, on the vine covered sh.o.r.e, 'mid the mulberry trees and the olives, Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore, with her hair like a wheat field at harvest, All rippled and tossed by the breeze, and her cheeks like the glow of the morning, Far away o'er the emerald seas, ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows, Or the red-clover fields when the bees, singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.

Wherever he wandered --alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests, Or cruising the rivers unknown to the land of the Crees or Dakotas-- His heart lingered still on the Rhone, 'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards, Fast-fettered and bound by the zone that girdled the robes of his darling.

Till the red Harvest Moon [71]

he remained in the vale of the swift Mississippi.

The esteem of the warriors he gained, and the love of the dark eyed Winona.

He joined in the sports and the chase; with the hunters he followed the bison, And swift were his feet in the race when the red elk they ran on the prairies.

At the Game of the Plum-stones [77] he played and he won from the skillfulest players; A feast to Wa'tanka [78] he made, and he danced at the feast of Heyoka. [16]

With the flash and the roar of his gun he astonished the fearless Dakotas; They called it the "Maza Wakan"

--the mighty, mysterious metal.

"'Tis a brother," they said, "of the fire in the talons of dreadful Wakinyan, [32]

When he flaps his huge wings in his ire, and shoots his red shafts at Unktehee." [69]

The Itancan, [74] tall Wazi-kute, appointed a day for the races.

From the red stake that stood by his tee, on the southerly side of the Ha-ha To a stake at the Lake of the Loons [79]

--a league and return--was the distance.

On the crest of the hills red batons marked the course for the feet of the runners.

They gathered from near and afar, to the races and dancing and feasting.

Five hundred tall warriors were there from Kapoza [6] and far off Keoza; [8]

Remnica, [a] too, furnished a share of the legions that thronged to the races, And a bountiful feast was prepared by the diligent hands of the women, And gaily the mult.i.tudes fared in the generous tees of Kathaga.

The chief of the mystical clan appointed a feast to Unktehee-- The mystic "Wacipee Wakan" [b]-- at the end of the day and the races.

A band of sworn brothers are they, and the secrets of each one are sacred.

And death to the lips that betray is the doom of the swarthy avengers, And the son of tall Wazi-kute was the chief of the mystical order.

[a] p.r.o.nounced Ray mne chah--the village of the Mountains situate where Red Wing now stands.

[b] Sacred Dance--The Medicine dance--See description infra.

On an arm of an oak hangs the prize for the swiftest and strongest of runners-- A blanket as red as the skies, when the flames sweep the plains in October.

And beside it a strong, polished bow, and a quiver of iron tipped arrows, Which Kapoza's tall chief will bestow on the fleet-footed second that follows.

A score of swift-runners are there from the several bands of the nation; And now for the race they prepare, and among them fleet-footed Tamdoka.

With the oil of the buck and the bear their sinewy limbs are anointed, For fleet are the feet of the deer and strong are the limbs of the bruin, And long is the course and severe for the swiftest and strongest of runners.

Hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums, and the Babel of tongues and confusion!

From his teepee the tall chieftain comes, and Duluth brings a prize for the runners-- A keen hunting-knife from the Seine, horn-handled and mounted with silver.

The runners are ranged on the plain, and the Chief waves a flag as a signal, And away like the gray wolves they fly --like the wolves on the trail of the red deer; O'er the hills and the prairie they vie, and strain their strong limbs to the utmost, While high on the hills hangs a cloud of warriors and maidens and mothers, To behold the swift runners, and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.