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In olden days a great
flood came upon earth, and all the people were destroyed except
Wie-sah-ke-chack and a few animals. They were on a raft. It was
terrible. After a long time of it, Wie-sah-ke-chack said to the animals:
“Which of you will go down and see if you can find the earth. Bring me a
little and I will make a new world.”
The little water-rat tried, but he could not go far enough down; so the
beaver offered to go; and, after tying a long string to one of his feet,
he sprang off the raft and down into the water. The string quivered, and
at last stopped. “Our brother is dead.” So they pulled up the beaver,
and sure enough he was dead, but in his paws he held a little earth.
This Wie-sah-ke-chack took and, blowing into the beaver’s face, he came
to life again. Then Wie-sah-ke-chack made a small ball of the earth, and
kept blowing on it, and it grew larger and larger, till it was so large
that he thought it was large enough for them to live on, so he asked the
wolf to go and see; but the wolf came back and said that it was not half
large enough, so he kept blowing and the earth growing, and the second
time the wolf went; but no, it was not large enough. The third time the
wolf went to see, he never came back, so from that they knew that the
world was big enough for all to live on. That is the beginning- of the
world. Many years after—I don’t know how many, but long enough for the
people to increase—Wie-sah-ke-chack was walking along one day singing
his song—he always carried his song on his back—when he saw a man
sitting on a log, taking out his eyes and throwing them up in the air.
He stood and looked with astonishment at this wonderful thing. He then
shewed himself and asked what his bi other was doing.
“Oh,” said the man, “my head was aching, and this is the way I cure
myself.”
“Oh, please show me, too.”
“Remember,” said the man, after shewing Wie-sah-ke-chack how to do the
trick, “only do it when your head really aches; if you do it when it
does not, you will lose your eyes.”
He promised faithfully, so they parted, and Wie-sah-ke-chack was all
impatience to try the new remedy. At last he got a headache and then
joy; he could throw his eyes up in the air. “How much better I feel now"
said he, after playing a long time with his eyes. Then he went on his
journey again, but still longing to try again. At last he could not
resist the temptation, and, sitting down, exclaimed: "'What a headache I
have; how ill I feel—ail make believe. So out came his eyes, aui for
several times they dropped into the sockets safely. At last they fell on
the ground and were snapped up by a white fox, who had been watching
him. How Wie-sah-ke-chack cried and lamented the loss of his eyes, when
suddenly he felt a sharp prick on his poor empty eye-sockets. “Who is
trying to hurt me, now that I have lost my eyes? If I catch him I will
kill him."
Then the pricking still went on, till he was perfectly frantic. At last
he caught the white fox by his leg and held him up and threatened to
pull him to pieces. The fox prayed him to let him go, “for," said the
fox, “I will take you to a place where you can get some pitch and make
eyes for yourself."
Wie-sah-ke-chack would not let the fox go, but tied him with a cord, so
the fox led him to an old pine tree; and there he found good white pitch
and made eyes for himself; but his eye-lids were always red, and that is
the reason why old people get red eyes from Wie-sah-ke-chack.
After his eyes were restored, he went on and saw a beaver lying asleep,
and he ran and caught him by the tail, and put his fire-bag on a
tree-limb overhanging the water, and forgot it there. The beaver he tied
to his back and went to make a fire and cook the beaver. Presently the
beaver gave him such a slap with his tail, and then another, that
Wie-sah-ke-chack was glad to let him go. “Now, where is my fire-bag?” So
he went back to where he had found the beaver, and there, in the water,
was the bag. How was he to get it? At last the beaver got there, and
laughed at him. “Look up, you stupid, and see where it is; but you won’t
make a fire for me to-day.”
So Wie-sah-ke-chack had to go hungry. He pulled in his belt. He was so
famished, and he was walking on very sadly when he came across a
beautiful deer. “Now, here is my meat.” Then, calling to the deer, he
said: “Good day, brother; let us play a while, and do you pretend I am
going to shoot you, but I’ll only pretend.”
So the deer began to run up and down, tossing his beautiful head and
springing in the air; the arrows would fall short, and Wie-sah-ke-chack
would pretend to be vexed. At last he aimed at the deer’s heart and shot
at his poor brother and killed him. Now what a feast he would have ! So,
skinning the deer and getting the fire ready and cutting the choicest
bits and putting them on lapola sticks to broil before the fire, he did
not know if he had better sleep first or wash first, so he said he would
sleep after the feast. So he went to the water-side, and, bathing
himself carefully and combing his hair, at length he was ready, and how
good the meat smelt ! So, going to two pine trees that were growing out
of one stem, he got between them and told them to squeeze him till his
appetite was better. The trees began to squeeze him gently, but firmly.
Now, this good smell of cooking had brought all the animals to the
feast, and they began, without ceremony, to eat the feast. “Stop! Stop!
That is my feast. Here, let me go!” but the trees held him fast, and in
his anger he broke ail the branches he could reach and threw them at the
animals. At last everything was eaten, and the bones picked clean, and
the fire put out, and the uninvited guests dispersed, when the trees let
him loose. These trees are called Wie-sah-ke-chack trees, as they
punished him for his greediness. Now he fumed and raged, but to no
purpose. Going along, he found a man who was hunting, but this hunting
was new to Wie-sah-ke-chack. The man had a number of little men who
hunted for him, and they had killed a large deer. He opened a large sack
and called the little men to come back, and they all stepped into the
sack, and he shut it up. Now, Wie-sah-ke-chack stepped out and said: u
Good day, brother. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I am just hunting.”
“And what have you in your bag?”
“I have my little men, and they hunt for me.”
“Oh, how I wish I could have some hunters, too.” “Well,” said the
stranger, “I'd be glad to give you some; but when you are hunting, don’t
let the little men go out of eight, or you will lose them.” So, giving
Wie-sah-ke-chack some men and picking up the deer, the stranger
disappeared.
How happy was our friend, and he strode off into the woods, quite happy.
Presently he came into a large open glade, and there he saw a deer
grazing, so opening the sack, he let the little men out, and they ran
and shot the deer. He was so busy with the deer that he forgot to call
the little men back, and they disappeared, and he was inconsolable. So
he cooked his deer and ate it; and the next day, shouldering bis sack,
off he went.
The birds had ail assembled before winter. They had called a meeting,
and after the meeting they were to have a dance; but there was no one to
sing for them, when suddenly they saw Wie-sah-ke-chack coming. What
calling and shouting! “Come here, Wie-sah-ke-chack; how glad we are to
see you, for we are going to have a big dance to-night, and we want you
to sing for us.”
“Hey!” cried he; "why, you have nothing ready for your dance.”
“Well, what must we do?”
“First of all,” said he, “you must build a big lodge, and put a division
in the middle of it, and by and by the fat birds must dance on one side
and the lean ones on the other, and then I must paint you.”
So they were all busy, and after the lodge was made, they came to be
painted. Out of the sack the paints came, and the swan was the first to
get ready, so Wie-sah-ke-chack painted him all white, with black feet
and nose. How beautiful he looked. Then the wood-duck, with all his
lovely colours on. It was a rare sight to see these painted birds. Well,
when they were all ready the fat birds went to one side and the lean to
the other, and then they were told to shut their eyes while they danced.
Such fine songs Wie-sah-ke-chack sung! I have forgotten them now, so I
can’t tell you how they went. By and by the noise of the dancing became
less and less, and at last La Pooldo, the little water-hen, opened her
eyes—and what should she see but Wie-sah-ke-chack killing her people and
throwing them outside—only the fat ones, of course. So she got near the
door and then shouted, “Wie-sah-ke-chack is killing us!” and as she ran
out of the door he stepped on her back and almost broke it, and that is
why the water-hen is now so clumsy when she walks. Then the dance broke
up, and the birds that were left flew away. Now, there was a fine beach
there—a long stretch of lovely white sand—and Wie-sah-ke-chack thought
he would make his feast there, so he buried the birds, with their legs
sticking up, and built a big fire over them. Then he lay down and slept,
and when he awakened he went to bathe and refresh himself. What a fine
appetite he had, and how he would enjoy himself after all the hard work!
So, scraping the ashes away, he pulled up the first bird, and only legs
came up—no body at all. Well, the fire must have been too hot. Then he
tried the next bird, and the same thing happened; so he ran along,
pulling up his feast, but nothing but legs came. Then he knew his feast
had been stolen from him. It seems that the foxes had come down and
eaten all the birds up whilst he slept, and then stuck the legs back
again so as to deceive Wie-sah-ke-chack.
There are other adventures, but they are not clear in my mind, so I will
not write them. The legend is that the person who can tell all about the
adventures of Wie-sah-ke-chack will live to be very old. So I leave my
story, with great reluctance, owing to my inability to remember more,
and having to face a short life in consequence.
These stories lose so much in the writing. |
