The next test they put him to was the trial of speed. He was challenged to the race ground, and began his career with one whom he thought to be a man; but every thing was enchanted here, for he soon discovered that his competitor was a large black bear. The animal outran him, tore up the ground, and sported before him, and put out its large claws as if to frighten him. He thought of his little guardian spirit in the belt, and wishing to have the swiftness of the Kakake, i.e. sparrow hawk, he found himself rising from the ground, and with the speed of this bird he outwent his rival, and won the race, while the bear came up exhausted and lolling out his tongue. His friend the Mudjékewis stood ready, with his war-club, at the goal, and the moment the bear came up, dispatched him. He then turned to the assembly, who had wished his friend and brother's death, and after reproaching them, he lifted up his club and began to slay them on every side. They fell in heaps on all sides; but it was plain to be seen, the moment they fell, that they were not men, but animals—foxes, wolves, tigers, lynxes, and other kinds, lay thick around the Mudjékewis.
Still the villagers were not satisfied. They thought the trial of frost, had not been fairly accomplished, and wished it repeated. He agreed to repeat it, but being fatigued with the race, he undid his guardian belt, and laying it under his head, fell asleep. When he awoke, he felt refreshed, and feeling strong in his own strength, he went forward to renew the trial on the ice, but quite forgot the belt, nor did it at all occur to him when he awoke, or when he lay down to repeat the trial. About midnight his limbs became stiff, the blood soon ceased to circulate, and he was found in the morning, a stiff corpse. The victors took him up and carried him to the village, where the loudest tumult of victorious joy was made, and they cut the body into a thousand pieces, that each one might eat a piece.
The Mudjékewis bemoaned his fate, but his wife was inconsolable. She lay in a state of partial distraction, in the lodge. As she lay here, she thought she heard some one groaning. It was repeated through the night, and in the morning, she carefully scanned the place, and running her fingers through the grass, she discovered the secret belt, on the spot where her husband had last reposed. “Aubishin!” cried the belt—that is, untie me, or unloose me. Looking carefully, she found the small seam which enclosed the tiny little animal. It cried out the more earnestly “Aubishin!” and when she had carefully ripped the seams, she beheld, to her surprise, a minute, naked little beast, smaller than the smallest new born mouse, without any vestige of hair, except at the tip of its tail, it could crawl a few inches, but reposed from fatigue. It then went forward again. At each movement it would pupowee, that is to say, shake itself, like a dog, and at each shake it became larger. This it continued until it acquired the strength and size of a middle sized dog, when it ran off.
The mysterious dog ran to the lodges, about the village, looking for the bones of his friend, which he carried to a secret place, and as fast as he found them arranged all in their natural order. At length he had formed all the skeleton complete, except the heel bone of one foot. It so happened that two sisters were out of the camp, according to custom, at the time the body was cut up, and this heel was sent out to them. The dog hunted every lodge, and being satisfied that it was not to be found in the camp, he sought it outside of it, and found the lodge of the two sisters. The younger sister was pleased to see him, and admired and patted the pretty dog, but the elder sat mumbling the very heel-bone he was seeking, and was surly and sour, and repelled the dog, although he looked most wistfully up in her face, while she sucked the bone from one side of her mouth to the other. At last she held it in such a manner that it made her cheek stick out, when the dog, by a quick spring, seized the cheek, and tore cheek and bone away and fled.
He now completed the skeleton, and placing himself before it, uttered a hollow, low, long-drawn-out-howl, when the bones came compactly together. He then modulated his howl, when the bones knit together and became tense. The third howl brought sinews upon them, and the fourth, flesh. He then turned his head upwards, looking into the sky, and gave a howl, which caused every one in the village to startle, and the ground itself to tremble, at which the breath entered into his body, and he first breathed and then arose. “Hy kow!” I have overslept myself, he exclaimed, “I will be too late for the trial.” “Trial!” said the dog, “I told you never to let me be separate from your body, you have neglected this. You were defeated, and your frozen body cut into a thousand pieces, and scattered over the village, but my skill has restored you. Now I will declare myself to you, and show who and what I am!”
He then began to PUPOWEE, or shake himself, and at every shake, he grew. His body became heavy and massy, his legs thick and long, with big clumsy ends, or feet. He still shook himself, and rose and swelled. A long snout grew from his head, and two great shining teeth out of his mouth. His skin remained as it was, naked, and only a tuft of hair grew on his tail. He rose up above the trees. He was enormous. “I should fill the earth,” said he, “were I to exert my utmost power, and all there is on the earth would not satisfy me to eat. Neither could it fatten me or do me good. I should want more. It were useless, therefore, and the gift I have, I will bestow on you. The animals shall henceforth be your food. They were not designed to feed on man, neither shall they hereafter do it, but shall feed him, and he only shall prey on beasts. But you will respect me, and not eat my kind.”
[The preceding is a traditionary tale of Maidosegee, an aged and respected hunter, of Sault-ste-Mairie, who was the ruling chief of the band of Chippewas at those falls, and the progenitor of the present line of ruling chiefs. It is preserved through the Johnston family, where he was a frequent guest, prior to 1810, and was happy to while away many of his winter's evenings, in return for the ready hospitalities which were sure to await him at the house of the Indian's friend.]
MÄSH-KWA-SHA-KWONG,
OR
THE TRADITIONARY STORY OF THE RED HEAD AND HIS TWO SONS.
BY NABINOI, AN AGED ODJIBWA CHIEF.
Mash-kwa-sha-kwong, was a first rate hunter, and he loved the chase exceedingly, and pursued it with unceasing vigilance. One day, on his return home, arriving at his lodge, he was informed by his two sons, who were but small then, that they were very lonesome, because their mother was in the habit of daily leaving them alone, and this occurred so soon as he started upon his daily chase. This circumstance was not unknown to Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong, but he seemed fully aware of it; he took his boys in his arms and kissed them, and told them that their mother behaved improperly and was acting the part of a wicked and faithless woman. But Mäsh-kwa-sha-kwong behaved towards his wife as if ignorant of her vile course. One morning rising very early, he told his sons to take courage, and that they must not be lonesome, he also strictly enjoined them not to absent