Wiske·djak was travelling about looking for adventures. He never succeeded in anything he tried to do. He never did well and was always hungry. In his travels he came to Ki·we·′goma “Turn-back lake” (Dumoine lake). Now he even had no canoe, but he was a great swimmer. When he came to Ki·we·′goma, he found it even too big to swim, so he started to [3]walk around it. He wanted to hunt beaver. On one side of the lake, he came to a round, high mountain that looked like a beaver-lodge. In front of it he found deep water, just as there is in front of a beaver lodge. And a little way off shore was a little island with many grasses; just as the beaver provides a winter supply of greens for himself near his lodge, so this island he supposed to be the beaver’s winter supply and the mountain his lodge. Wiske·djak wanted to get this great beaver, but did not know how to get at him. Then he thought of draining the lake, so he went way around to the lower end and broke away the dam so that the water would run off. Soon the water began to go, and Wiske·djak lingered about, waiting for it to get low enough to get at the beaver. Pretty soon he took a nap. When he woke up, it was rather late and he hurried back to the mountain only to find that the beaver had gone. Now he thought the beaver might have escaped over the dam with the water, so he started back, and sure enough he saw the beaver going over the dam. “Now,” said he, “I lost my beaver.” He followed hard after him and had lots of trouble to keep up.

He followed him past Coulonge river and Pembroke lakes. But when the beaver reached Calumet chutes, he was afraid to go through and took to the portage. Then Wiske·djak saw him and chased him harder over the portage. When he got to the lower end, he lost sight of the beaver and started back up river (Ottawa river). When he got to the upper end of the portage, he saw fresh tracks. “Well,” said he, “there has been somebody here. I wonder if I could trace him. We might have something to eat.” Then he followed the track to the lower end of the portage where he had already been, but nobody was there. So he went back to the upper end of the portage and there saw more fresh tracks leading to the lower end. These he followed to where he had been twice before, but saw no beaver. He then discovered that they were his own tracks he had been following and gave it up. The tracks back and forth can be seen plainly to-day imprinted in the stone of Calumet portage, which the Indians call Wiske·djak tracks. After this he started off on another trip. [4]

Wiske·djak was always in trouble. One time he was going along the shore of a big lake carrying a big pail. He felt very hungry and was looking for something to eat. Pretty soon he saw a lot of clumps of high-bush cranberries and commenced to eat from one little clump to another. Then he remembered his pail. Said he, “If I could pick my pail full, I would have a good supply to last me a long while.” So he began filling his pail, and as he went on he got into some big clumps. Suddenly he saw a big Bear sitting down among some bushes, every little while rubbing his eyes and picking out his paws as though something was hurting his eyes. Wiske·djak watched him a while and thought how nice it would be to kill him. What a big supply of food he would have then to fill his pail with! So he went up to the bear and said, “Hello, Bear! What’s the matter with you?” The Bear answered, “Oh! my eyes are so sore, and I can’t see where to go. I just wish somebody would help me.” “Well, come along with me. I will help you. I know where to get some fine medicine that will fix you up all right.” “Very well,” said the bear.

Wiske·djak led him off to a big bunch of cranberries. There he gathered a lot of berries and crushed them in his hands. Then he told the Bear to open his eyes so that he could put the medicine on. “It may hurt you when I put this medicine in, but it will cure you, so don’t mind it.” Then Wiske·djak began to rub the cranberry juice into the Bear’s eyes. The Bear began to roar and tear around with the pain, making a great time. “But never mind,” said Wiske·djak. “It may hurt, but it will cure you.” In the meantime he hunted around and got two big stones, and while the Bear was blinded with the pain, began pounding him on the head with the stones. He had a hard fight all over the berry-patch, but finally succeeded and killed the Bear. Then Wiske·djak went back to where he had left his pail and got his knife. He skinned the bear and cut him up. He put some of the pieces into his pail to make a bouillon. Then he got sticks and made a fire for the cooking. Next he got some birch bark peeled off and cleaned a big space [5]near the fire, spreading the birch bark to put the meat on. He stuck the pieces of meat on sharp sticks. When they were well roasted, he spread them on the bark to cool off before eating them. He left the bear’s head for the last, then he began to eat lots of the bear’s fat and the meat. He had a great big pile of it. He sat down to enjoy his meal.

Now, just as he was ready to begin, the wind began to blow a little, and at the same time from above came a little cry, “Whun!” He looked around, because it bothered him, but could not see anything, so he started to eat again. Then the same little cry sounded again, “Whun!” and he stopped to look around, but couldn’t see anything. The third time he started to eat, the same cry sounded, and then he got up and hunted for the cause, for it bothered him and was spoiling his good time. When he looked up, he saw a tree that had been blown down, resting in the crotch of another tree over him that rubbed when the wind blew and made this noise. Said Wiske·djak, “You had better stop that noise until I get through eating. I don’t like it at all.” “Oh!” said the tree, “I have to do it. I can’t stop it.” Whenever Wiske·djak started to eat again, the wind blew a little. Then Wiske·djak climbed the tree and put his hands in between the tree and the crotch to stop the rubbing, and when the wind blew a little the space spread and closed again. It pinned his hands in the crotch and held him fast. “Let me go! Let me go!” he begged of the tree. “I must get down to my meat.” But the only answer he got was, “No,” and there he stayed.

Pretty soon when he looked down, he saw a Squirrel come and take some of his meat. He shouted for him to go away without any success. Next came the Marten, then the Fisher, then some Wildcats, then Ravens, and in fact all kinds of animals came and began to eat up his supply of meat. He tried to drive them away, but couldn’t. The more he shouted at them, the more they danced and sang and ran off mocking him. They carried away all his pieces of meat to their dens, but didn’t touch the pail of grease. By the time all the meat was gone, a little breeze arose and the tree let him go. When he got down, all was cleared away. There were not even bones enough for [6]bouillon. There was only the grease in the pail. “Well,” said he, “I’ll have grease anyway.”

The Bear’s bladder was hanging in some willow trees where he had thrown it when he had cut him up. And he went over and filled the bladder with the grease, so that he could cool it. He tied the neck of the bladder so that it would hold the grease. “Now,” said he to himself, “even if they have taken all my meat and bones, I’ll have the grease. I’ll just tie it by a string to a stick and let it float in the river until it is cool, and then I’ll make a good meal of that anyway.” So he tied the bladder of grease to a stick and let it swing in the current of the river to cool it. A Muskrat came along. “Kwe, Muskrat! Where are you going?” said Wiske·djak. “Oh! anywhere,” answered the Muskrat. “Well, then, come work for me,” said Wiske·djak. “Come, tie this bladder on your tail and swim further out in the deep water where it is cold and cool it for me. Don’t swim too fast and go easy or you might break the bladder and spill my grease.” “All right,” said the Muskrat, “I will do it for you and you will tell me how fast to go.” Then Wiske·djak tied it to his tail and the Muskrat started off with it. He made a plan meanwhile. The Muskrat swam way out. “Hold on,” said Wiske·djak, “you’re going too fast.” But the Muskrat swam farther and when he got far enough, he snapped the string with his tail, broke the bladder, and dove out of sight. The grease spread all over the water. Wiske·djak cried and ran out into the water and tried to scoop up the grease in his hands to save some of it, but it all escaped him.

When he had lost his grease, he thought of his bouillon, and went back to his pail, but when he got there, he found that the Wolverine had come and eaten it all up. Then he searched about to see if he could even find a small bone. There was not a thing left. After a while he saw a string of little ants going back and forth from under a log. “I wonder what they are doing,” thought he. “Maybe they have something hidden under there.” He followed them and looked under the log, and there were the ants eating away on the Bear’s skull, devouring the brains. “If I could get in there myself, I could get some of those brains,” said he. He tried different ways to reach in, but could not get at it. “If I could only put my head in [7]that hole, I could eat some. I wish my head was as small as a snake’s head, then I could get it in.” Then his head began to get small like a snake’s head and he poked it inside the skull and began eating a great snack. He licked the skull clean and said, “Well, I had a meal. Now, if I could only get up and out, I would be all right.” But when he tried to get his head clear of the skull, he could not, because his head had turned back to its original size and was fast inside the skull. He couldn’t see where he was going.

Then he sat down on a log, thinking what to do next. “If I knock my head against a rock, I might break my own head.” Then he thought of the Indians and started off in search of a camp to get help. He was blinded by the skull and could not see where he was going. Soon he banged against a tree. “What’s your name?” he asked of the tree. “Maple,” was the answer. “Well, I’m in high ground. I won’t find any people camping way up here.” Soon he banged against another tree. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Beech,” was the answer. “I’m still in high ground,” said he; “I must strike lower ground.” Soon he banged against another tree and asked its name. It answered, “White-pine.” “Still in high ground,” said he, “but getting lower.” The next tree he bumped against proved to be a red pine. “Still in high ground. No Indian camp here.” At last he banged against a balsam and then a spruce. “I am getting on low ground now,” said he. Pretty soon he got into ragged bush and struck a rough-bark tree. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Cedar,” said the tree. “Aha! Now I’m in low ground and may strike a camp at last.” He went on and soon got into very tight bush and struck an alder. “Aha! Now, I am close to a lake. I will soon find a camp.” Next he got tangled up in knee-high twigs. He asked them what their name was and they told him willows. He said, “Am I near a lake?” “Yes,” they answered. “Can you see people?” “Yes, up at yonder point there is a camp,” they answered. “Is it far?” he asked. “No, not far,” said they. So he went on and got into something still lower. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Grass,” was the answer. Now he walked on and got into water, deeper and deeper. “If the people would only see me, I would be all right,” said he. Next he started to swim. [8]He splashed about and made a noise to attract the people if any were about. Suddenly he remembered about the skull on his head and said, “If the people see me, they might think that I’m a bear and try to kill me.” So he swam on.

Sure enough the Indians saw him. They recognized Wiske·djak by his antics and thought he was trying to play some trick on them, so they laughed about it and quietly paddled up close to him. They pretended they thought he was a bear and made out as though they were going to kill him. Wiske·djak swam as hard as he could for his life. “Hand me my axe,” said one of the Indians, “till I kill him.” “Stand aside till I shoot him with my arrow,” said another. “Hurry up, paddle hard or we’ll lose him,” said a third. They all kept shouting and making a great pretence to get after him, all the time laughing at Wiske·djak and splashing with their paddles as though trying to keep up with him. Wiske·djak all the time struggled ahead in great fear, expecting any moment to be killed. At last he got across the lake on the other shore and his feet struck bottom. He landed on a flat rock with the Indians behind him. Suddenly he slipped and fell on his head. The bear skull cracked and fell off and left his head free. Then he saw the Indians. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” cried he. “I’m Wiske·djak.” Then he took to the bush and escaped.

Wiske·djak was always hungry. One time, in the autumn of the year, he noticed the flocks of ducks flying south and how fat they were. Then he made up his mind to try and get some for a good supply against the winter. He decided to make a big dance among the birds in the autumn and to invite all the ducks and geese to come, so that he could kill them. Then he set to work and built a big wigwam and cleaned a nice place around the outside. He built a little fire in the middle of the wigwam and fixed a nice space all around it for the dance to take place. Then he made his door of birch bark, so that the centre stick, which keeps the bark spread, extended over the ends of the bark and kept it from opening inwards. Now, everything was about ready, so he went to see a Duck and said to him, “Soon, [9]now, you will be going away south to be gone all winter and not to come back until next spring. It will be a long time before I will see you again, so I want to get up a dance for you all. You go and invite all your friends—the Ducks, the Geese and the others who go south.” “All right,” said the Duck.

So he got ready and went back to his wigwam to wait for the company. To help invite the birds, he sat down in front of it and got his drum and rattle and began singing a song of invitation.

As the ducks came flying by overhead, they heard his song and came down to join the party. He sang his song and told them, “You are going away to be gone until next spring, and I won’t see you for a long time, so I want to get up a dance for you all, before you go.” A lot of them came down and he gathered a crowd outside. Then he said, “Now, let us go inside and have our good time,” and he opened the door and they all went in. Then he fixed the small fire in the middle so that it would just give enough light to see a little. “Now,” said he, “you must obey the rule of this dance and do whatever you are told when you hear the order.” He sat down on one side of the fire near the door and they all began dancing around. They got well mixed up before long—the geese, ducks, loons, and all kinds of birds, and Ciŋgəbis3 was there too. When he got them warmed up to the dance, they all got mixed up and soon Wiske·djak said, “Now, you must all close your eyes and not open them until I give the word.” Then they obeyed and kept on dancing with their eyes closed. Then, while their eyes were closed, Wiske·djak got up and began wringing the neck of one after another. The noise of the dancing prevented them from hearing what he was doing.

Pretty soon, Ciŋgəbis began to suspect that Wiske·djak was moving around, so he danced over into a dark corner where Wiske·djak could not see him and opened one of his eyes a little to peep out. There he saw Wiske·djak going among the dancers, wringing their necks, and he called out, “Wiske·djak is killing you! Fly!” Then they opened their eyes and saw what was happening and took wing and flew away. But little [10]Ciŋgəbis was way up in the corner. When the birds rushed for the door, Ciŋgəbis got there last. Wiske·djak jumped at him and gave him a kick behind that knocked him out of shape. Then he kicked him out of the door and cried, “Now go, you little rascal.” Ciŋgəbis flew off. Ever since then he has been out of shape. His feet are so far back that he cannot walk on land. Wiske·djak did not eat the ducks he had killed after all. He was a curious lad, that Wiske·djak. (I wasn’t with him any longer. I left him there.)4

Now Wiske·djak went on after he had kicked Ciŋgəbis. He saw the flocks of birds rising in the sky and flying overhead for the south to where it is warmer. When he lost sight of them, he went back into his wigwam and looked over what birds he had killed. He wondered how he could cook them best, so they would taste good. Then he made up his mind to build a big fire outside his wigwam. When he got the fire well started, he got a stick and sharpened its point; then with this he loosened up the ground all around and under the fire. When the fire burned down, it left the sand red hot round about, and the holes too. Then, where the holes were, he stuck the fowl head-first with their feathers all on just as he had killed them, leaving their feet sticking out above the ground. Then he put on more fire to roast them well in the hot sand. He stayed up part of the night tending his fire, until he grew drowsy. “Now,” said he, “I’ll take a little sleep while my birds are cooking in the sand.” But he grew uneasy lest somebody might come while he was sleeping and steal his birds. Now Wiske·djak had the power to make anything answer him when he spoke to it, no matter what it might be. So he decided to lie down in a clear space facing the lake where people would come in a canoe if any were around. He lay down ano suo lacui adverso, resting on his knees and elbows. “Now,” declared he, “I’m going to have a little sleep. You watch and tell me when you see any [11]Indians, if they should come in a canoe. Wake me up if you see anybody.” So he went to sleep. After a while anus ejus clamavit, saying that an Indian was coming. Wiske·djak jumped up and looked around everywhere, but could not see anybody. So he lay down again and ano suo idem dixit ut antea. But just as he was going to sleep, anus iterum clamavit, saying that a canoe was approaching from around the point. Wiske·djak jumped up again and looked all around, but he could not see any canoe. He then grew angry and anum suum vehementes objurgavit and warned it not to tell any more lies, as he wanted to go to sleep. Then he lay down and fell asleep again.

Now this time there were some Indians coming around the point in a canoe and they saw the smoke from Wiske·djak’s fire on the shore of the lake. Seeing something strange-looking near the fire—they could not well make out what—they paddled near. As they drifted quietly in shore, looking sharp to see what curious creature it might be, they came quite close. One of the Indians said, “Look out, it might be Wiske·djak up to some more of his mischief.” So one of the men went ashore and said, “I’ll go see who it is and what he is doing.” Then he went up the shore to where Wiske·djak was crouching asleep and looked at him. He then found out who it was, Wiske·djak, and saw the fire burning, but couldn’t see anything cooking. But at last he examined the fire-place and saw the fowls’ legs sticking out of the sand around the fire. He stepped closer to the fire and saw that they were the legs of all kinds of ducks and geese. Then he went down to the water and told the rest of the men what he had found. Said they, “We will all go up and take Wiske·djak’s ducks and geese out of the sand and play a trick on him.” So they got out of the canoe and took their paddles. They dug up all the fowl with the paddles and twisted the legs off them. The legs they stuck back in the sand just as Wiske·djak had placed them. They then took the ducks and geese and started off as fast as possible before Wiske·djak should wake up and see them.

Pretty soon Wiske·djak did wake up, as he had slept enough. He got up and looked about. Nobody was around and things [12]looked quiet. “I guess my food is pretty well cooked by this time,” said he. Then he pulled up one of the duck legs from the sand, and ate the meat on the shank. He went all around pulling the fowls’ legs out of the sand and eating them. “They are very well done to pull off so easily. Oh, they must be nice and tender!” thought he. The only thing he noticed was that the legs came very freely from the sand. “They must be very well cooked to come out of the sand so freely.” He took a digging stick and commenced to dig them out. He commenced shovelling away the sand where one of his ducks was, but found the hole empty, and he dug all around in the sand but found they were all taken away. He could not find one bird. At last he got tired of searching and then ano suo dixit, “So I thought I left you to watch for me while I was asleep!” Et anus 5respondit, “When I was watching for you and woke you up, you were not satisfied. You gave me a scolding. So when the Indians did come, I thought I would leave you to do your own watching.”

Then Wiske·djak grew angry and planned anum suum castigare. He got wood and made another big fire. He got it burning well until there were a lot of red coals. “Now,” ano suo dixit, “I’ll give you a little punishment for letting my ducks and geese go to the Indians.” He went over to the fire and straddled his legs over the fire-place, sitting over the red coals. Anum suum paulum urere incepit ut eum castigaret, but he stood the pain the fire gave him. Soon his flesh commenced sizzling, making a sputtering noise “Tsii!” as it roasted nicely. He heard it squealing. “You can squeal all you like till you get enough of a scorching,” ano suo dixit Wiske·djak. When he thought it was burnt enough, he got up and started walking off. He started off to look for something else to do, ano suo maxime dolente.

He wandered across swamps and mountains and around lakes, suffering with his burns. All at once he came upon a little flock of partridges newly hatched, and their mother was away. “Kwe!” said Wiske·djak, “What are you doing here?” “Nothing,” said the little Partridges, “just staying here.” “Where is your mother?” asked Wiske·djak. “Away hunting,” replied they. “What’s your name?” he asked of one. Each [13]little Partridge told him its name until he came to the last, the youngest one. “What’s your name?” he demanded. “Kuckuŋge·′sįs, suddenly frightened!” answered the little Partridge. “Oh you!” said Wiske·djak, “what can you frighten?” Then he took a lump of soft mud and threw it over all the young Partridges, so that he almost covered them with the dirty mud. “What can you frighten now?” said he. Then he left and walked along until he came to a high mountain. He was getting very sore from his burns and anus 6maxime doluit. When he climbed to the top of the mountain he found a nice breeze blowing across it. He found a high rock swept by the cooling breeze. “Now,” thought he to himself, “if I can find a nice place on the highest of these rocks I can rest myself and let the cool breeze cool my burns.” So he searched around the mountain until he came to a place clear of trees where there was a great chasm below, hundreds of feet deep, with a nice cool breeze coming over. Here he lay down right on the edge where most of the breeze was. He found the wind very good. He got relief from his suffering burns. His pains had been so bad and he had walked so far that he was very tired and sleepy. Soon he was fast asleep on the brink of the cliff.

By this time the old Partridge had got home to his young and found them all covered with black mud. The old Partridge said to his young, “What has happened to you? Where did you go? Anywhere?” “No,” they answered, “nowhere.” “Well, what did this?” he asked. “Well, Wiske·djak came along to-day after you went away. He commenced asking us questions and we answered him as well as we could. He asked us our names and we all told him. But one, our youngest brother, was the last to be asked, and when he told his name Wiske·djak got angry and said, ‘What could you frighten?’ Then he got mud and threw it over us and left us in this mess.” So the old Partridge was angry. He cleaned the young ones up, washed and dried them, and gave them their food which he had brought back for them. Then he asked them which way Wiske·djak went and they showed him the direction. Then the old Partridge took the trail the little ones showed him and followed Wiske·djak across the swamps, over the mountains, and around the lakes. He tracked him to the big high mountains. He [14]kept on until he reached the high rock of the cliff, and there he saw Wiske·djak lying on the edge of the rock sleeping soundly. The old Partridge went alongside of him on the upper side of the rock, above him. He spread his wings and went right up close to Wiske·djak’s ears, and shouted, screeched, and clapped his wings. Wiske·djak woke up with a start and jumped up. He saw something above him making a terrible noise and took such a fright that he fell over the edge of the rock. “Now,” said the old Partridge, “you will know better what Kuckuŋge·′sįs is now.”

So poor Wiske·djak tumbled down the cliff, banging and sliding on his hind-quarters, and scraped all the scabs off his burns. When he fell to the bottom of the rocky cliff, he lay stunned for some time, but after a while he arose. He started to crawl away on his hands and knees. Soon he saw a lake at the bottom of the cliff. His sores pained him very badly. Thought he to himself, “There’s a nice lake; now I’ll go down there and cool myself in the water.” He started crawling toward the shore. Before he came to the edge of the water there were a lot of low willows he had to crawl through. As he went over them, he looked back where he had come and saw all his blood from the sores stuck on to the willow twigs. Then said he, “Now you young willows will be called ‘red willows’ from this time on. And when the Indians get short of tobacco they will cut you and scrape the bark off you and dry you and use you to smoke for their tobacco.” He looked up higher toward the rocks where he fell down. There he saw his scabs sticking to the rocks where he had stuck, some large, some small. Said he to the rocks, “You will hold on to these scabs. Don’t ever let go. And when the Indians are hard put to it for something to eat, you will give them some of my scabs and tell them to wash them in cold water and boil them with rabbit meat or any kind of meat or fish. It will furnish them with fine soup, those small ones. And now the biggest scabs—you can tell them that if they have any kind of oil they can oil them a little and roast them before the fire and that it will give them good nourishment when they are hard put to it for something to eat.” So from that time the Indians have used red willow bark to smoke and the “rock weed” to eat when they have needed [15]them.7 By this time anus Wiske·djaki magnopere doluit and he thought he would go into the water for a while and cool his burns.

So I had some travelling to do and I left him there, and I don’t know where he went.

One time in winter Wiske·djak was going along and fell upon an Indian’s trail. He followed the tracks of the snowshoes and soon came to a place where the Indian had set his rabbit snares. Wiske·djak saw the rabbits in the snares. He followed on and finally came to where a Lynx was caught in a snare. He thought it was a very curious looking creature. The Lynx’s eyes were bulging out from being choked in the snare, and his teeth showed. Now Wiske·djak admired the Lynx’s bulging eyes. “Don’t you think your eyes are very pretty?” he asked the Lynx. “No, not very,” answered the Lynx, because every thing living or dead had to reply when Wiske·djak asked it a question. Wiske·djak was very eager to get pretty eyes like the Lynx’s, so he made a fire and roasted the poor Lynx to get its skin off. Then Wiske·djak took out his own eyes and pulled the Lynx’s skin on over his own head, so that the bulging eyes of the Lynx fitted into his own eye sockets.

Then Wiske·djak went on his travels, very well pleased with his looks. But he found out that with the Lynx’s eyes he could only see well at night. So after a while he became dissatisfied with the new eyes, but he had thrown his own away, so he had to make the best of it. He could only travel at night on account of his new eyes. So he had to make his living on rabbits, stealing them from the Indians’ snares. They were all he could get. One day, as he was going along, he stopped and looked at his tracks. Then he discovered that his paws were big and broad and so spread out when he walked that they resembled snowshoes. They were so broad that he could walk over the snow without snowshoes. So he went on. [16]

One day he decided to watch the Indians, so he sat down on a log near a hunter’s path and waited for someone to come along. He waited all night and part of the day. Finally some Indians came along the path to visit their rabbit snares. As they passed they found the rabbits stolen from all their snares, but they did not mind it very much. Some time after, one of the Indians’ little children came along the trail and saw Wiske·djak with his big face and bulging eyes sitting on the stump. The child ran back to camp and told his parents that he saw a big wildcat with bulging eyes staring at him from a stump. Then the father of the child took his “arrow-head club,”8 and went to where the child said he saw the wildcat. Then he started clubbing Wiske·djak to kill him. The fight was getting pretty bad, when Wiske·djak cried out, “Hold on, hold on! it isn’t a lynx, it is Wiske·djak that you are pounding to death!” And Wiske·djak tore off the lynx skin, and pitched it away. Then he took to the bush. That’s the last I saw of him.

Wiske·djak never got married to a woman. But he pretended to get married. One time he dressed himself like a woman, with skirts, and tried to deceive a young man, so that he thought Wiske·djak was his wife. Wiske·djak pretended to be jealous of the man when he went away. The other people knew that it was Wiske·djak all the time and laughed to themselves and made fun of the pair. The young man lived with Wiske·djak for some time, thinking it was his wife. But the other people made fun of the young man so much that at last he left Wiske·djak. Several times he got young men to live with him as their wife, but at last they all left him and he went away by himself. He was a queer fellow, that Wiske·djak. He never got married because he would not be bothered with a woman, as he had to be travelling all the time. [17]

Ciŋgəbis was a remarkable fellow, a wonderful diver who could stay underneath the water all day if he wanted to. He was married and lived with his wife’s people. One time he had some kind of a dispute with them and they would not give in to him. So he said he would go away. As it was winter time, there was a water hole in the ice on the lake, and he went down and slid into the water and disappeared. His relatives spent all day hunting for him along the shores, thinking he might come up along the edge, but he did not. Then they went home and gave him up. In a few months, when his wife’s brothers were out on the lake in their canoe, they spied a little duck swimming a long way off, and paddled up to him. This was Ciŋgəbis. When they got near, they recognized him and asked him, “Are you not Ciŋgəbis?” “Yes,” said he. “We thought you were drowned. Are you coming back again?” “No,” said he, and fluttered his wings and sank out of sight, leaving only his bill above the water, which they could not see. This time he stayed under all day, and when night came, he left the country. His wife’s people thought he was either dead or gone.

Then Ciŋgəbis travelled to another village, where he heard there was a beautiful girl. When he saw her all dressed up in fine clothes, new and beaded, he wanted to marry her, and asked her parents for her. “Who are you?” they asked him. “I am Ciŋgəbis,” said he. “Why, we heard you were drowned,” said they. “It is not true. Here I am. I am Ciŋgəbis and alive.” “You cannot be Ciŋgəbis, because there is only one Ciŋgəbis, and we heard he was drowned. But if you are, you cannot marry the girl, because you have another wife.” Now Ciŋgəbis wanted the girl and stayed in the camp. He would not leave. So that night they put one of the girl’s brothers to sleep alongside of him, so that he could not secretly get to the wigwam where the girls slept. During the night he talked with the brother and told him that he would show them how he could stay under water if they would give him the girl. The next morning the young man told his parents about it and they talked it over. They thought it might be good for their boys to know how to stay under water, and at last gave their consent. So they gave [18]Ciŋgəbis the girl, and the next day went out on the lake to see him dive. The whole family got in the canoe and they paddled out to the middle of the lake. “Now,” said he, “let me out here.” Then he slid into the water and with his body stiff sank slowly until he was out of sight. Then he struck out under water and reached the shore where he hid under some rushes, just leaving his bill above the water. His nostrils were at the end of his bill, so he could breathe with only a bit above water. They waited for him half the day and, though the water was calm, could not see him, so they gave him up and went home. That night he came back, to their surprise.

They planned to go out again the next day and see him dive again. The next day they went out and Ciŋgəbis dove again and swam among some reeds. He got under one lying flat, and pushed it just a little above the water so that his nostrils were out of water, yet covered by the stem of the rush. There he stayed a couple of hours out of sight. When they were about to leave again, Ciŋgəbis shouted, “He! Here I am. Can you see me?” They looked all around but could not see him. Then he came up in sight and went back to the canoe. He explained how his nostrils were out at the end of his bill and how he got under the reeds and hid there. Then he explained how in the winter time he could dive through an air hole in the ice and swim to where the rushes grew up through the ice, pull down one of the stalks, and put his bill in the opening and get all the air he wanted. Said he, “I can stay there a week or a month, if I want, only I get hungry. Then I dive to the bottom and eat some little mussels and things on the bottom and come up to the hole again. In that way I can get along under the ice all winter if I like.” That is how he did.

Now, before long, his first wife’s family heard that Ciŋgəbis was alive and living with another woman. They got angry and began to conjure to bring sickness upon his new wife and her family. When his new wife and her people heard of this, they were angry at Ciŋgəbis and wanted him to go away. But he would not consent. At last he made an offer, because his mother-in-law wanted her daughter to leave him. He told them that he would give up his new wife and her family if they would succeed in getting her away from him unknown to him. [19]When they heard this, they began planning. For a whole year they thought of different plans. At last the old mother-in-law said she had a plan, and told everyone in the family to help her get up a big dance and invite all the people to come. Ciŋgəbis was very jealous of his wife and had his camp apart from the others, lest some man might take a fancy to his wife and take her away. His jealousy was known everywhere and he never let her out of sight. Knowing this, the old mother-in-law made her plan. She sent a special invitation to Ciŋgəbis and his wife and told her sons to try to get him to come. Now Ciŋgəbis suspected some trick and told his wife not to go to the dance. “If I have to go, you must stay here at home and not move away from the wigwam.”

When the night of the dance came, they got everything ready—the drum and rattles, and everybody was coming from every camp. They prepared a kind of drink out of boiled bark and herbs with tobacco juice in it, that would make people dizzy when they drank it. Ciŋgəbis did not want to go to the dance at first, but everybody coaxed him until he started. But he told his wife to stay at home and not leave for anything. Now this was just what the old woman depended on, because she knew how jealous Ciŋgəbis was. When the dance began, everybody began drinking some of the strong herb liquor and it went to their heads and made them feel good, and dizzy. The old woman told her sons to keep Ciŋgəbis well supplied with the drink and not to let him leave until late. She then waited until the dancing was well started and everybody was warmed up to it. Then she quietly slipped away when she saw that Ciŋgəbis was dancing hard and feeling good with the drink. He had almost forgotten about his wife and what might happen. The old woman went off into the woods to where there was a dead spruce stump that was full of ants. She cut off the stump and got a piece about the length of a person. The ants are asleep in the cold of night and will not rouse when disturbed. The stump she took with her to Ciŋgəbis’ wigwam and quietly called to her daughter inside. “Come, daughter, I have come to take you home away from Ciŋgəbis,” she whispered. “You get up out of bed and leave everything as it is.” “All right,” said the girl, and she packed up a few of her things and came out. [20]Then the old woman took the stump full of ants in and put it beneath the rabbitskin blanket, covered it up just like the girl’s figure sleeping there, and the two then fled to the mother’s camp.

Ciŋgəbis stayed late at the dance. He drank a great deal of the liquor and got pretty dizzy before he thought about going home. At last he left the dance and started for his wigwam. He entered quietly. “Are you asleep?” he asked of his wife. There was no answer. “Aha! that’s good,” said he. “I’ll let her sleep and then there will be no danger of her being carried away tonight, as I am very sleepy with my weariness and cannot keep awake to watch her tonight. That’s good; she is sound asleep.” And he felt her blanket and found what he thought was her figure beneath the rabbitskin. Then he lay down quietly beside her, so as not to awaken her, and pretty soon was fast asleep.

Before long some of the ants got warmed up by his body and began crawling over him. “Oh! what’s that crawling over me! Do you know what it is that is creeping over us?” he asked his wife, and gave the stump another poke with his elbow. No answer. “Well, you are asleep yet. But that’s good. There won’t be any danger of your walking about the camp attracting the other men while I am asleep. But oh! how those things bite. I wonder what they are!” Then he dozed off again and was awakened again by the ants stinging him. He managed to bear it all night, and in the morning woke up suddenly, all bitten up. He jumped up, threw off the rabbitskin blanket, and instead of his wife there lay the old rotten spruce stump swarming with ants.

Wiske·djak, “meat bird,” was a great mischief maker. He was always a roamer, always hungry. He used to visit from one [22]family of Indians to another, but he never liked to stay long with one, so soon he would move away and go near other people. He was always looking for trouble and got it too, but in spite of all he was never killed. Indeed, nobody ever wanted to kill him, even though he was causing so much mischief, because the people liked to have him around. So he never came to an end. All of Wiske·djak’s pranks were done at different times long ago, not all one after another at one time, as it might seem. He is still living somewhere, but he is very quiet now, as we don’t hear of him doing anything new nowadays.

Wi′ndigo: a man-eating creature who roams through woods devouring luckless victims. He is believed to have commenced as a hunter who became lost in the bush, and lost all his provisions and clothing. Then he preyed upon anything he could find, like an animal.

Pa·′gukʻ: a creature of bones, a skeleton, that clatters through the forest, making a great rattling and squeaking noise. When this is heard, it is understood as an omen that some friend will be lost. Pa·′gukʻ is accounted for by the story of a hunter who got starved out in the bush. Before he died he wished that his life and the strength of his flesh might be transferred to his bones. He got his wish, and his strength went into his bones when his flesh fell away. Whenever he wished, he could fly through the air as though on wings.

The constellation Ursa Major (Great Bear or Dipper) is called wədji·′g “fisher” or “black cat” (Mustela pennanti). The four main stars of the group form the body of the animal; the stars trailing behind (the handle of the dipper) represent the fisher’s [23]tail, the bend showing the bent tail of the animal. The story accounts for the presence of the fisher in the sky, relating how the various animals tried to reach the north star, but eventually froze to death. The fisher is still trying to reach it and he is the nearest, but he only keeps going round and round it (representing the revolution of the constellation about the North Star) without being able to get there.

The Northern Lights are called wa′t·e “illumination” (reduplicated wawa′t·e is “lightning” from thunder). They are caused by the waves splashing against the rocky shores of the northern seas (James bay), which produce a sort of reflected glow. The seething noise which is sometimes heard when the aurora is visible is attributed to the grinding of the rocks and gravel along the shore of the sea driven by the action of water and wind in the north.

The Indians here think that within two days after the aurora is seen they will get a heavy wind storm. They also state that wild geese require a day and a night to reach Lake Timiskaming from James bay when they migrate, thus showing the speed of the wind by comparison.

The Rainbow is called wədα′dgwanəbi·sanʻ “forms from the water,” since the phenomenon is believed to be caused by the mist from breakers on some great body of water, just as a rainbow will appear above the spray along the seashore or hanging in the mist above some waterfalls.

The Milky Way is bine′s·imi·k·αnʻ “bird’s path,” because it is by the Milky Way that the fowl and birds follow their northward or southward course in their migrations. It guides them southward in the autumn and back again in the spring. Less frequently the Milky Way is called dji·ba′imi·k·αnʻ “spirit path” over which the spirits of the dead are thought to journey. [24]

To see a white animal is a sign of bad luck to a hunter. “Once a man went hunting. After he had been travelling all day and taken a few animals, he saw a bear that was half black and half white. Then he said to himself, ‘I must not hunt any more this trip. If I do, some harm will come to my family.’ So he went home.”—“If a hunter sees an albino animal he must stop hunting or evil will befall him or some member of his family.”

To find a dwarfed animal is an omen of misfortune. “Once two men were out on a long hunting trip. Soon after they had begun trapping, they found a dwarfed beaver in one of the traps. It was not small because it was young, but they could see it was an old one, but much undersized. When the older of the two men saw this, he said, ‘We must go home at once and give up hunting because something is wrong at home.’ Although they had been gone only a short time, they turned back, and when they got home, they found that one of his sons was dead and that the family was waiting to bury him.”

To foretell what kind of animals will be killed the next day by men just before going hunting, a partridge breast bone is burnt or scorched before the fire. The shape of the scorched portion suggests, by a vague resemblance, the form of some animal.

The tips of the wings of birds that are killed for food are preserved about the camp for good luck, or, as they say, “to ask for more luck.” Some hunters also preserve the skulls of all the game they kill. “If they throw these parts of the animals away, they won’t be able to find what creatures they may look for afterward.” [25]

If blue bottle flies are killed it will bring rain.

If, in winter, rabbit’s hair is thrown into the smoke of a fire, as it rises in the heat toward the sky, it will cause snow the next day. Children are scolded when they do these things at the wrong time.

In the body of a fish are various bones which the Indians liken to different utensils and tools in the hunter’s outfit. There is a gun, spear, bow and arrow, knife, paddle, sled, snowshoe, awl, etc. This is merely a saying.

Another idea is that a “left-handed person is clever, because he fools people by the way he does things.”

The following description of the ceremony attending the eating of a bear is based on the accounts of three participants.

When a bear has been killed, the families in the neighbourhood assemble at a camp conveniently near. The hunter who has killed the bear becomes the host of the occasion, which is called mα′gwαce·‵ “feast.” Slabs of birch bark are spread upon a clear space of ground to serve as a sort of table. The carcass is then butchered, the head being cut off, including the first vertebra, the long piece of breast fat is also cut off with the head, so that the two remain together. The head with this mass of breast fat is then put into a separate cooking vessel. Then the birch bark slabs, often 12 feet long, forming the cover of some wigwam, are covered with the cut up portions of the meat. Birch bark dishes are placed for each participant on the bark, with extra dishes for the gravy. The grease from the cooking vessels is [26]then collected and put into a separate vessel to cool, so that it will be thick enough to drink. When the meat has been boiled properly, all the guests are seated at their places around the bark spread. Often they have a dance around it at this time. Before they begin to eat, the chief goes around to each guest and with a big wooden spoon, holding about a cupful and a half, gives each a spoonful of grease. Then they begin to eat.

When the feast is about half through, the chief gets up and decorates the bear’s head with bright coloured ribbons about six inches long attached to little cedar sticks about four inches long, with their ends split to hold the ribbons. These ribbon streamers are stuck into the fat and about the head. Then the head itself is impaled on a stick and, carrying this in his hand, the chief dances twice around the company, singing a tune to a burden of syllables. After this performance the chief plants the stick with the head upon it in the middle of the spread before all the guests, where it is left. Then they finish eating.

After the feast the oldest and most venerable man in the camp is presented with the head and the attached breast fat, which he may either take home or distribute over again to the company. After the feast is over the chief must go around and consume what grease is left. This is to demonstrate his capacity as a man and hearty eater. After all is over, the lower jaw bone is tied to the skull in its proper position and black stripes are painted on the skull. This is then put on the stub end of a branch of a tree facing from some prominent point toward the river or lake, near the water’s edge. Here it can be seen by passers by as a reminder of the place and occasion of the bear feast.

The Indians themselves can give little comment on the meaning or reason of this ceremony, except that it is done from respect to the bear and satisfaction in securing a bountiful supply of meat. It belongs to the variously expressed series of bear rites widespread among the northern tribes.

Once long ago a war party of Iroquois came north into this country to fight the Indians at Abitibi. On the way they captured an old woman and took her with them to guide them. [27]When they were on Abitibi river they drew near the big falls there without knowing it. The old woman was made to stay in the first canoe. When she knew they were nearing the falls she slowed up so that the flotilla of canoes became bunched. The approach to the falls is very much concealed. All of a sudden they found themselves upon the brink of the falls, and before they could help themselves they all went over. The old woman was lost with the rest in saving her people from being massacred by the Iroquois.9 [28]

Once the Goose met Nenebuc and gave him two wings. He told him that if he flapped them he could fly with them, but that he must not look downwards while he flew. So Nenebuc took the wings and began flying. When he got very far up, he wondered how high he was and looked down. Then he tumbled down and down until he fell into a big hollow stump where he couldn’t get out. Soon two girls came along with an axe to get some wood and began cutting at the hollow pine in which Nenebuc was. They cut a hole and Nenebuc kept quiet, for he was hoping they would free him. When they looked in the hole, they saw his belly and they pulled out a hair. They went back to camp and told their father, “Here is a porcupine quill we [39]found in a tree.” The old man looked at it and, laughing, said, “That’s not a porcupine quill, that’s a hair from Nenebuc’s groin!”

Nenebuc in his tracks encountered the great Bear that killed and ate the Indians—so many of them that they feared they would all be killed. So Nenebuc went to the Bear and said, “You are eating so many of the Indians that they will all be gone soon. Now I am going to make you small and harmless.” Then he made him into the Squirrel and turned the Squirrel into the Bear, and the Bear, now in Squirrel’s shape, felt so badly that he cried until his eyebrows turned grey. That is the reason why to this day squirrels have grey eyelids.

“Now,” said Nenebuc, “what will you eat?” The Bear, now a Squirrel, said he would continue to eat people, but he was so small that he could not do anything. “That is good,” said Nenebuc. “Now you can’t do any harm to the Indians. But you had better change your food. Just run up that black-spruce tree and taste the acorn seeds and then see whether you want to eat people any more. You are too small to eat people as you used to do.” So the Squirrel ran up the black-spruce tree and tasted the sweet seed of the cone. He liked it so well, it tasted so sweet, that he chose this for his food and said that he would not want anything better any more. That is his food to-day.

Wemicus had a very large family. Many of his children had married the different animals who lived in various parts of the surrounding country. By and by he had nearly all kinds of animals for his sons-in-law, and there were still a great many children left in his family. When winter came, Wemicus was unable to support his family, as there were too many of them. They were all living in one wigwam.

One day Wemicus said to his wife, “We are all very hungry. I might go and see one of our sons-in-law; he might have some [40]food.” Next morning he started out. Wemicus always tried to imitate the actions of everybody he saw. When he reached the home of his son-in-law Ninicip (Black Duck) he saw that he also had a large family. Ninicip was inside of his wigwam, and when he saw Wemicus coming, he told his wife, “You had better begin to get ready for company and boil water in the stone pail.” Then he jumped up upon the cross poles in his wigwam16 and in vas lapidum sub se17 defaecavit, telling his wife to stir up the contents of the pot. Wemicus apparently saw nothing of this. Then one of the children of Ninicip took spoons and, dipping them in the pot, said, “Soup, soup, soup, rice soup.” Wemicus tasted the soup, thought it tasted good, and decided that after this he would make soup in the same manner.

The next morning, when Wemicus started for home, he was given some rice soup to take home to his children. Before leaving the wigwam of Ninicip, however, Wemicus had purposely left behind one of his mittens. One of the children saw the mitten and Ninicip’s wife sent the child to return it, bidding him not to go too close to Wemicus but to throw him the mitten. The child did the bidding of his mother and, when the mitten was thrown to Wemicus, he said, “Ask your father to come and see me,” and he named a certain day. On the way back home Wemicus thought, “I wonder what this soup tastes like when it is cold. I must try it. My children don’t need any of it, so I might as well eat it all.” So he ate all of the soup. When he reached his wigwam he said, “Ninicip and his family are starving also. To-morrow he will come to see us and perhaps he will bring us something. We had better fix up our wigwam.” Then they fixed up the wigwam in the same manner as that of Ninicip. The next day Ninicip came and they gave him the best place. Wemicus said to his wife, “We’ll get ready to eat now. Put some water in the stone pail.” “There is no use putting any water in the pail,” answered his wife, “we have nothing to cook.” “Well, bring the pail, anyway, and get some spoons,” said Wemicus. When the water began boiling, Wemicus jumped up on the cross-poles, in vas defaecavit, all over his children and the inside of the wigwam. Then Ninicip went out. His wife [41]scolded Wemicus, saying, “You always do something like that. You must have seen someone do that.” Then Wemicus kept quiet and everything had to be cleaned up. The wife then invited Ninicip to come in again and he told her that he would fix up the meal. Igituo interum in vas defaecavit and they had good rice soup, and everyone, even Wemicus, had a good meal. The following morning Ninicip made soup for the family again and then went home. Soon Wemicus and his family were starving again and Wemicus said, “I must go and see my son-in-law, Muskrat. He lives not far away.” “All right,” said his wife and Wemicus set out. When he had almost reached Muskrat’s home, the little Muskrat children called out, “Our grandfather is coming.” Wemicus told Muskrat that he was starving and Muskrat said to his wife, “You had better make a fire in the hot sand.” So the fire was made, and Muskrat went out with a big sack made out of hide and returned with the sack full of ice, which he dumped into the hot ashes. Wemicus expected that it would explode but it only cooked nicely. Wemicus wondered what it was. Soon Muskrat said, “We are ready now,” and they took off the sand and there were a lot of nicely baked potatoes. Wemicus thought that was an easy way in which to live—just to get ice for potatoes.

Next morning Wemicus started out for home and left his mitten behind as he had done with Ninicip. Muskrat’s wife sent a child after him and told the child, “Don’t go too close to Wemicus. He’s always in mischief.” Everything happened as before. The child threw the mitten to Wemicus and Wemicus sent an invitation to Muskrat to come to his home the next day. As Wemicus went on his way he had some potatoes which Muskrat had given him for his family. Half way home he rested and thought he would eat the potatoes, as they looked very good. So he ate every one. “I am the one who works hard,” he said to himself. “My family can wait until Muskrat comes.” When he reached home he told his wife, “Muskrat is also starving. I brought nothing. Muskrat is coming tomorrow to see us.” Next day Muskrat came and they put him on the opposite side of the wigwam. Wemicus said, “We have nothing much, but, wife, make a fire in the hot sand.” The wife answered, “I suppose you saw somebody else do something. Don’t [42]you try any more mischief.” But he made his wife make the fire. He then went out and returned with the sack full of ice, which he dumped on the fire. The sack blew up all over everybody and put out the fire. Then his wife said, “I suppose you saw someone do that again.” She made another fire and Muskrat said, “Give me that bag.” He went out and brought back the sack full of ice, dumped and buried it in the fire, and, after a while, they got the potatoes. All of them had a good meal. The next morning, before Muskrat left, he got them another bag of potatoes.

Wemicus does not work, although his family is so large. Well, pretty soon the whole family was starving again. Then said Wemicus, “I must go and see Meme (pileated woodpecker), my son-in-law.” He went into the bush and when he reached Meme’s wigwam he found a large white pine in back of it. He noticed that Meme had a sharp pointed nose. He saw that Meme had not much to live on, but nevertheless Meme told his wife to get the cooking pail ready. Then Meme began climbing the pine tree, which was at the back of his wigwam, and began pecking in the trunk with his nose. Pretty soon he came down with a raccoon.18 When Wemicus saw this, he thought, “That is a great thing; I must try it.” Meme burned off the hair and cleaned the raccoon, and shared the meat on a stick to each one. Wemicus received the best part, as he was the grandfather.

The next morning they had another raccoon to eat. Then everything happened as before. Wemicus was given a raccoon to take home. He left his mitten behind, and sent an invitation to Meme to visit him the next day. On the way home Wemicus thought to himself, “I wonder how this raccoon tastes cold.” So he ate the entire raccoon. When he got home, he told his wife that Meme was starving but that he was coming to visit them the following day. They put the wigwam in order and Wemicus fixed up a big pine like that belonging to Meme and cut two pieces of wood, which he pointed and shoved into his nose to imitate Meme. When Meme came along he saw Wemicus sitting there with sticks in his nose. Wemicus told his wife, as usual, to prepare for supper, and she told him that they had nothing. When she had the water boiling in the pail, [43]Wemicus climbed up the tree and pecked upon it in imitation of Meme. He fell down, however, and drove the sticks into his head. He fell into the fire, but after a while he gained consciousness. Then Meme stepped out of the wigwam, climbed the tree, and brought down a raccoon. And then the whole family had a good supper. Next morning Meme got another raccoon and left it for the family, and then went home.

Still Wemicus did nothing and the family was again in a starving condition. Then said Wemicus, “I have some more sons-in-law and one is close. I will go and see him; he will help me until open water.19 I will go and see Skunk.” So he set out to visit Skunk. Wemicus was pretty hungry and Skunk was farther off than the rest of the sons-in-law, but he finally reached his home. Wemicus found Skunk’s water hole20 and saw a great quantity of oil in it. He knew that Skunk must have killed a great deal of game. So he went into Skunk’s wigwam and saw a great quantity of food. Skunk said, “We don’t have much. It is long since I hunted. But come outside.” There Wemicus saw a piece of ground fenced in. Skunk then produced a little birch bark horn21 and said, “What will you have?” Skunk now blew on his horn and all kinds of game came inside the enclosure. Skunk deinde pepedit and killed whatever kind Wemicus wanted. They then skinned what he killed and fried it for supper.

In the morning Skunk said to Wemicus, “I’ll give you three shots and a horn. You can make a fence for yourself. This horn will last forever, as long as you don’t lose it. If you do, it will be bad.” Then Skunk gave Wemicus three shots to be used in the future, and he did this urinando super eum to load him up three times. He did not give him any food, because he would be able to get enough for himself. Then Wemicus thought, “Now I am going to do something.” As Wemicus was on his way home he said to himself, “I wonder if it will go off!” So, just as he was passing a tree stump, pepedit at the stump and blew it up. “That’s fine, but I have only two more shots left,” said he. Later he tried the same thing and then only had one [44]left. A little while after this he saw a big pine tree, and thought he would try a shot at this. So he blew up the pine tree, and so used up all his shots.

When he reached his wigwam, he showed his wife the horn which Skunk had given him, saying, “Skunk gave me that.” Then he built a large fence of poles. He told his wife to hold the horn and stay near by, while he got a club to kill the game with. Then he blew on the horn and the fence was filled with bear, deer, and all kinds of animals. Although he had no shots left, Wemicus managed to kill one caribou, and his wife was very happy. He cut the fat from the breast of the caribou, made a fire, and got some grease from it. He then spilled the caribou grease in his water hole in order to deceive Skunk and make him believe that he had a great quantity of meat. Not long after this Skunk started out to visit Wemicus and, on his way, he passed the three stumps which Wemicus had blown up and knew that he had no more shots left. When he reached Wemicus’ water hole he said, “I guess he got one any way.” When he came to the wigwam, he found that Wemicus and his family had hardly any meat left, so he said to Wemicus, “Come out and let me see your fence.” They went out and Wemicus blew his horn, and inside the fence it became full of game. Skunk pepedit and killed all of them, and then Wemicus and his family had plenty. Skunk stayed over night and departed the next morning.

Wemicus had another son-in-law who was a man. This man’s wife, the daughter of Wemicus, had had a great many husbands, because Wemicus had put them to so many different tests that they had been all killed off except this one. He, however, had succeeded in outwitting Wemicus in every scheme that he tried on him. Wemicus and this man hunted beaver in the spring of the year by driving them all day with dogs. The man’s wife warned him before they started out to hunt, saying, “Look out for my father; he might burn your moccasins in camp. That’s what he did to my other husbands.”22 That night in camp Wemicus said, “I didn’t tell you the name of this lake. It is called ‘burnt moccasins lake.’ ” When the man [45]heard this, he thought that Wemicus was up to some sort of mischief and was going to burn his moccasins. Their moccasins were hanging up before a fire to dry and, while Wemicus was not looking, the man changed the places of Wemicus’ moccasins and his own, and then went to sleep. Soon the man awoke and saw Wemicus get up and throw his own moccasins into the fire. Wemicus then said, “Say! something is burning; it is your moccasins.” Then the man answered, “No, not mine, but yours.” So Wemicus had no moccasins, and the ground was covered with snow. After this had happened the man slept with his moccasins on.

The next morning the man started on and left Wemicus there with no shoes. Wemicus started to work. He got a big boulder, made a fire, and placed the boulder in it until it became red hot. He then wrapped his feet with spruce boughs and pushed the boulder ahead of him in order to melt the snow. In this way he managed to walk on the boughs. Then he began to sing, “Spruce is warm, spruce is warm.” When the man reached home he told his wife what had happened. “I hope Wemicus will die,” she said. A little while after this, they heard Wemicus coming along singing, “Spruce is warm, spruce is warm.” He came into the wigwam and, as he was the head man, they were obliged to get his meal ready.

The ice was getting bad by this time, so they stayed in camp a while. Soon Wemicus told his son-in-law, “We’d better go sliding.” He then went to a hill where there were some very poisonous snakes. The man’s wife warned her husband of these snakes and gave him a split stick holding a certain kind of magic tobacco, which she told him to hold in front of him so that the snakes would not hurt him. Then the two men went sliding. At the top of the hill Wemicus said, “Follow me,” for he intended to pass close by the snakes’ lair. So when they slid, Wemicus passed safely and the man held his stick with the tobacco in it in front of him, thus preventing the snakes from biting him. The man then told Wemicus that he enjoyed the sliding.

The following day Wemicus said to his son-in-law, “We had better go to another place.” When she heard this, the wife told her husband that, as it was getting summer, Wemicus had in [46]his head many poisonous lizards instead of lice. She said, “He will tell you to pick lice from his head and crack them in your teeth. But take low-bush cranberries and crack them instead.” So the man took cranberries along with him. Wemicus took his son-in-law to a valley with a great ravine in it. He said, “I wonder if anybody can jump across this?” “Surely,” said the young man, “I can.” Then the young man said, “Closer,” and the ravine narrowed and he jumped across easily. When Wemicus tried, the young man said “Widen,” and Wemicus fell into the ravine. But it did not kill him, and when he made his way to the top again, he said, “You have beaten me.” Then they went on.

They came to a place of hot sand and Wemicus said, “You must look for lice in my head.” “All right father,” replied the son-in-law. So Wemicus lay down and the man started to pick the lice. He took the cranberries from inside his shirt and each time he pretended to catch a louse, he cracked a cranberry and threw it on the ground, and so Wemicus got fooled a second time that day. Then they went home and Wemicus said to his son-in-law, “There are a whole lot of eggs on that rocky island where the gulls are. We will go get the eggs, come back, and have an egg supper.” As Wemicus was the head man, his son-in-law had to obey him.

So they started out in their canoe and soon came to the rocky island. Wemicus stayed in the canoe and told the man to go ashore and to bring the eggs back with him and fill the canoe. When the man reached the shore, Wemicus told him to go farther back on the island, saying, “That’s where the former husbands got their eggs, there are their bones.” He then started the canoe off in the water by singing, without using his paddle. Then Wemicus told the gulls to eat the man, saying to them, “I give you him to eat.” The gulls started to fly about the man, but the man had his paddle with him and he killed one of the gulls with it. He then took the gulls’ wings and fastened them on himself, filled his shirt with eggs, and started flying over the lake by the aid of the wings.

When he reached the middle of the lake, he saw Wemicus going along and singing to himself. Wemicus, looking up, saw his son-in-law but mistook him for a gull. Then the man flew [47]over him and defecated in his face, and Wemicus said, “Gull’s excrement always smells like that when they have eaten a man.” The man flew back to camp and told his wife to cook the eggs, and he told his children to play with the wings. When Wemicus reached the camp, he saw the children playing with the wings and said, “Where did you get those wings?” “From father,” was the reply. “Your father? Why, the gulls ate him!” Then he went to the wigwam and there he saw the man smoking. Then Wemicus thought it very strange how the man could have gotten home, but no one told him how it had been done. Thought he, “I must try another scheme to do away with him.”

One day Wemicus said to his son-in-law, “We’d better make two canoes of birch-bark, one for you and one for me. We’d better get bark.” So they started off for birch-bark. They cut a tree almost through and Wemicus said to his son-in-law, “You sit on that side and I’ll sit on this.” He wanted the tree to fall on him and kill him. Wemicus said, “You say, ‘Fall on my father-in-law,’ and I’ll say, ‘Fall on my son-in-law’, and whoever says it too slowly or makes a mistake will be the one on whom it will fall.” But Wemicus made the first mistake, and the tree fell on him and crushed him. However, Wemicus was a manitu23 and was not hurt. They went home with the bark and made the two canoes. After they were made, Wemicus said to his son-in-law, “Well, we’ll have a race in our two canoes, a sailing race.” Wemicus made a big bark sail, but the man did not make any, as he was afraid of upsetting. They started the race. Wemicus went very fast and the man called after him, “Oh, you are beating me.” He kept on fooling and encouraging Wemicus, until the wind upset Wemicus’ canoe and that was the end of Wemicus. When the man sailed over the spot where Wemicus had upset, he saw a big pike (ki·nų′je) there, into which Wemicus had been transformed when the canoe upset. This is the origin of the pike.

At the time of which my story speaks people were camping just as we are here. In the winter time they used birch bark [48]wigwams. All animals could then talk together. Two girls, who were very foolish, talked foolishly and were in no respect like the other girls of their tribe, made their bed out-of-doors, and slept right out under the stars. The very fact that they slept outside during the winter proves how foolish they were.

One of these girls asked the other, “With what star would you like to sleep, the white one or the red one?” The other girl answered, “I’d like to sleep with the red star.” “Oh, that’s all right,” said the first one, “I would like to sleep with the white star. He’s the younger; the red is the older.” Then the two girls fell asleep. When they awoke, they found themselves in another world, the star world. There were four of them there, the two girls and the two stars who had become men. The white star was very, very old and was grey-headed, while the younger was red-headed. He was the red star. The girls stayed a long time in this star world, and the one who had chosen the white star was very sorry, for he was so old.

There was an old woman up in this world who sat over a hole in the sky, and, whenever she moved, she showed them the hole and said, “That’s where you came from.” They looked down through and saw their people playing down below, and then the girls grew very sorry and very homesick. One evening, near sunset, the old woman moved a little way from the hole.24

The younger girl heard the noise of the mite′win down below. When it was almost daylight, the old woman sat over the hole again and the noise of mite′win stopped; it was her spirit that made the noise. She was the guardian of the mite′win.

One morning the old woman told the girls, “If you want to go down from where you came from, we will let you down, but get to work and gather roots to make a string-made rope, twisted. The two of you make coils of rope as high as your heads when you are sitting. Two coils will be enough.” The girls worked for days until they had accomplished this. They made plenty of rope and tied it to a big basket. They then got into the basket and the people of the star world lowered them down. They descended right into an Eagle’s nest, but the people above [49]thought the girls were on the ground and stopped lowering them. They were obliged to stay in the nest, because they could do nothing to help themselves.

Said one, “We’ll have to stay here until some one comes to get us.” Bear passed by. The girls cried out, “Bear, come and get us. You are going to get married sometime. Now is your chance!” Bear thought, “They are not very good-looking women.” He pretended to climb up and then said, “I can’t climb up any further.” And he went away, for the girls didn’t suit him. Next came Lynx. The girls cried out again, “Lynx, come up and get us. You will go after women some day!” Lynx answered, “I can’t, for I have no claws,” and he went away. Then an ugly-looking man, Wolverine, passed and the girls spoke to him. “Hey, Wolverine, come and get us.” Wolverine started to climb up, for he thought it a very fortunate thing to have these women and was very glad. When he reached them, they placed their hair ribbons in the nest. Then Wolverine agreed to take one girl at a time, so he took the first one down and went back for the next. Then Wolverine went away with his two wives and enjoyed himself greatly, as he was ugly and nobody else would have him. They went far into the woods, and then they sat down and began to talk. “Oh!” cried one of the girls, “I forgot my hair ribbons.” Then Wolverine said, “I will run back for it.” And he started off to get the hair ribbons. Then the girls hid and told the trees, whenever Wolverine should come back and whistle for them, to answer him by whistling. Wolverine soon returned and began to whistle for his wives, and the trees all around him whistled in answer. Wolverine, realizing that he had been tricked, gave up the search and departed very angry.

The girls continued through the woods until they came to a big marsh, late in the afternoon. There they saw a big birch bark house. Everything around the house was very clean, the poles were scraped clean of their bark and were perfectly white, while there was neither smoke nor ashes to be seen anywhere. The girls looked at this and said, “The person who lives here must be very clean; we have never seen such a clean house.” There was no dry or green wood lying around, but inside the house they saw a fire-place and plenty of hay. One girl said [50]to the other, “We’d better cut a little wood.” So they cut wood and made the fire in case the man came home late. By this time, the ice was beginning to break. Late in the evening they heard someone crying out, “Who spoiled my wigwam? Who made smoke and ashes?” The owner of the wigwam didn’t know who had done this, so he came in and looked at the two girls. He then cut all the wood. This man was Woodpecker (Meme “pileated woodpecker”). Woodpecker made a fire of the hay, which was beaver hay. It gave no smoke to stain the wigwam and burned as well as wood. He brought in two nice beavers which belonged to him, and gave one to the girls, saying, “You can have this.” He then cooked the other one for himself. He showed the girls where to sleep and since the place where they were to sleep was not near him, they knew that he would not marry either of them.

Next morning, after breakfast, he said to them, “Go! Don’t stay here. You go that way and you will find a big river. There you’ll find lots of people and maybe you’ll get married.” So the girls went on. They left Woodpecker and he is there yet. They came to the big river and beheld canoes and all kinds of people passing. First they saw White Duck (wa′bəci·p). He was a good looking man, and as he passed them in his canoe, the girls said to him, “Put us in your canoe, you are going to get married sometime.” White Duck answered, “My canoe is too small. Other people are coming; they will marry you.” And he passed on. Next came Fish Duck (azi′k), a good looking man. They cried out, “Put us in your canoe, you are going to get married anyway.” “No, my canoe is too small,” replied Fish Duck. A great many people passed, but all of them said that their canoes were too small, so the girls had to stay where they were. The people were passing to the mouth of the creek where the village of the chief was. At last came Black Duck (ni′nicip). He was also nice looking. “Come over and get us; you will get married sometime,” cried the girls. “No, My canoe is too small. Ciŋgibis is coming soon and he will marry you.” He was going to be the last person to pass. At last Ciŋgibis came along.

When they saw him, one of the girls said, “He is a very ugly man, but we will go in his canoe and, when we get to the village, [51]we’ll get rid of him.” So they called out to him, “Come over and get us; you will get married anyway.” Ciŋgibis was very glad to have two wives, so he paddled over and got the two girls. They said, “Your canoe is a very small canoe.” “Oh no,” said Ciŋgibis, “my canoe is a magic canoe. It is enough.” So the girls got into the canoe and they went down the stream. By and by one girl said, “I’m getting hungry.” “Well,” said Ciŋgibis, “not far down is a nice rock and there we will have lunch. You can pull roots for lunch.” So Ciŋgibis and the two girls went ashore and pulled roots and made a string out of them. “That’s enough,” said Ciŋgibis to one of the girls. “Tie the string to my leg and I’ll dive for something to eat. When you see the string jerk, pull me up.” They did this, and he dove into the water. When the girls saw the string jerk, they pulled him up and he brought with him a big beaver. They skinned and cooked the beaver for lunch; then Ciŋgibis and his two wives continued their journey. Soon Ciŋgibis said, “Well, we are not far from the village now. I am going to place my caribou snare.” He meant rabbit when he said caribou. So he placed his snares. He then told the girls, “At the village your sister-in-law will come down to see you. Maŋg (Loon) is the name of the chief of the village. But we won’t camp near them; we’ll camp a little to one side.” They went down the river until they came to the mouth, and at that point they saw the wigwams.

All the people yelled when they saw Ciŋgibis, for he was a great man, although he was the ugliest one among them. They cried, “Ee Ciŋgibis! He has two wives.” So they all laughed and the sister of Ciŋgibis came to shake hands with his two wives. Then Ciŋgibis pitched his wigwam. Soon a man who was a second chief came to Ciŋgibis and said, “Chief Maŋg wants to see you. He is going to have a dance tonight.” Ciŋgibis said to his wives, “Stay here and don’t go to the dance. There are too many nice-looking men there.” On account of this the two wives became angry with him. Ciŋgibis put on his best clothes and went to the dance.

By and by the wives heard drumming and fine voices singing. So they decided to go and peep in at the dancers if Ciŋgibis should not see them. They did this and peeped in through [52]the bark, and there they saw Loon singing. He was a fine-looking man with a fine voice and fine clothes. Ciŋgibis was beside Loon, looking exceedingly ugly in contrast to him. The wives said, “It is a shame that Loon is so good-looking.” They then went back to camp and put two stumps in the place where they were to sleep, covered them with blankets and ran off.

Ciŋgibis came back from the dance and, thinking that he was sleeping with his two wives, he lay down between the two stumps and fell asleep. But his two wives went to sleep with Chief Loon. By and by ants began to bite Ciŋgibis and he scolded his wives, saying, “Don’t do that.” At last he discovered the stumps and threw them out. At daybreak he went to the chief’s wigwam and there, sleeping with the Chief, he saw his two wives. “You are a dead man for this!” said Ciŋgibis.

He then went to his grandmother. “What do you want?” asked she. “I want a chisel and a flint.” “What do you want with them, grandchild? Are you going to be in mischief again?” said the grandmother. However, she gave them to him, and Ciŋgibis tied two flints to his feet and placed the chisel in the fire to make it red hot. Then he asked for some eagle feathers (but this was a wiske·djak (Canadian Jay) feather). He got them and placed them on his head. When the ice chisel became red hot, the old grandmother said, “Say, Ciŋgibis, don’t do any mischief again,” but Ciŋgibis picked up the chisel and ran away with it to the wigwam of Loon.

Loon always slept with his mouth open. When Ciŋgibis reached the wigwam, he found every one in it asleep. He shoved the chisel into Loon’s open mouth, killing him, ran off to his canoe, jumped into it, and paddled away to his snares. He did this so that no one would suspect that he had killed their chief. This is the reason why the Loon always has a black mouth—from where he was burned. Ciŋgibis found a rabbit in his snare. He placed the blood of the rabbit in some hay and tied the hay to his stomach.

When he returned to the camp, the people were mourning for Loon. Ciŋgibis came in slowly. The second chief said, “Ciŋgibis will be very sorry when he hears that Chief Loon is dead. He was his great friend. We must tell him before he arrives.” Then the people called to Ciŋgibis, “Ee Ciŋgibis, the [53]chief is dead.” “What!” said Ciŋgibis, “the chief is dead!” Then he drew out his knife and pierced the hay full of rabbit blood. The blood ran out and all the people thought that he had killed himself. Ciŋgibis then dived into the water and the people came out in their canoes to look for him. They saw the rabbit blood upon the water and gave up looking for him. After a few days, they made another chief, Goose (nixka′), since both Loon and Ciŋgibis were dead.

Ten days after this had happened, early in the morning the people heard somebody singing near the shore three times, “Who killed our chief? I am the one.” They awoke Chief Goose and he exclaimed, “I was thinking that that Ciŋgibis was in all kinds of mischief. So we must try to kill him.” Accordingly he sent all the men after him in canoes. When Ciŋgibis dived, they could only see his feathers which his grandmother had given him, but they could not catch him. Ciŋgibis said to them, “You are all spirits. Drink all this water and you will get me.” Then the Ducks and Geese drank all the lake dry and chased Ciŋgibis among the rocks, and thought that they would catch him. “No, no,” laughed Ciŋgibis, “I know some more tricks yet.” So he ran about and kicked the rocks with the flints his grandmother had given him, which were fastened to his feet, and water began flowing out and finally covered everything. The people who were pursuing him had to swim for their lives. They all became ducks. This is the origin of all the ducks. When the people left their canoes, they were obliged to swim and so they are swimming yet.

All the animals, once upon a time, were camped together—the Beaver, the Otter, the Muskrat, and the others. Their chief was Beaver. Every once in a while he would give a big feast, build a big wigwam, and invite all the men and women to come in and eat with him. He would tell them, “Well, I want to give a feast.” Then they would come in, sit around the inside of his big wigwam and pass the food around from one to the other. He would provide lots of grease in birch-bark dishes. Now, one time, when he gave one of his feasts, Beaver cut his grease [54]supply into cakes which he served around to his guests. Every time he passed a cake to a guest, pepedit. Indeed, every time he moved, pepedit, or when he would go and cut a new block of grease.25 Now every time the Beaver broke wind, the Otter laughed. He did not seem to know that this would offend the Beaver, because he was a little foolish. The other guests told the Otter, “You mustn’t laugh when Beaver does that; he is our chief.” Despite this, every time they went to a feast, castore pedente, the Otter laughed at him.

So one time the Beaver sent a man to invite all the people to another feast. He sent the messages all through the camp. Now the people told the Otter this time, “You must not come; you never keep your mouth shut; you always laugh. If you only knew enough to keep still like the rest of us, it would be all right, but you had better stay home.” “Oh well, all right,” said the Otter, “I’ll stay back.” All went to the feast except the Otter. But he asked the others, “You will have to bring my share to me, since I can’t come. Tell the chief to send me my share.” The others agreed and went to attend the feast; but they asked him, “How big a piece of grease do you want?” The Otter replied, “Bring me a piece the size of my forearm.” (The otter has a very small forearm.) When the guests arrived at the feast, the Beaver chief saw that the Otter was not with them. Said he, “Where, indeed, is Otter? I like him because he is so funny.” They informed him that the Otter had not come, but that he wanted the chief to send him a piece of grease as large as his forearm. The Beaver cut a piece that size and sent it to the Otter; that is all the Otter got. He did not get very much because he had such a short forearm. That is the end of my story.

Tcaka·bįs lived with his grandmother. One time he made a long journey and was away for quite a while. He came to where there were some giant women who were scraping frozen beaver skins, “kąc, kąc.” He returned home and told his grandmother, “I heard the giant women scraping beaver hides.” [55]“Don’t go near them,” said his grandmother. And she repeated this warning often to Tcaka·bįs.

However, one day he returned to where he had heard the giant women, and when he reached the lake, there they were, chasing beaver on the ice. When he came up, they knew him and cried out, “Ee, come on, come on, Tcaka·bįs!” So he went over to them and they said, “There is a beaver here and you must pull him up.” Tcaka·bįs was small and they thought the beaver would pull him through the hole into the ice. But he caught hold of the beaver’s tail and pulled him through all right. Then they asked him to stay with them, but he went away after he had stolen the big beaver tail, six feet long, and went back to his grandmother. When he got home, he showed her the tail, and she asked, “Did you steal it?” “No, no,” answered he. Then he made a door for their wigwam out of the tail.

Soon the giant woman came to where he lived and called. “Tcaka·bįs, you are a dead man!” They came for the purpose of eating Tcaka·bįs and his grandmother. Then the grandmother said, “I told you not to go there. Now they say you are a dead man.” But Tcaka·bįs said, “Don’t be afraid, grandmother. I will take care of you.” Then he took his witch stone26 and threw it up inside the wigwam, and the whole wigwam turned to stone except a little hole in the top for the smoke to come through. The stone was so thick that they were unable to hear the giant women pounding on the outside. Then the giant women went away and Tcaka·bįs lay inside of the wigwam in safety. But he felt a little sick, because he had eaten too much beaver fat.

Some time after this, Tcaka·bįs went back again to the giant women and found them pounding up and boiling moose bones to make soup. As he came up, one of the giant women seized him and threw him into the pot. There he stayed for a long time, boiling and circling round and round in the pot, but still he was alive. At last, when the giant women needed grease, they dipped up Tcaka·bįs with a wooden spoon and threw him outside. Then Tcaka·bįs went back to his grandmother. He was very thin, because he had been boiled so long, nothing but skin and bones. That’s the end; he was a small fellow. [56]

Aniwɔ·ye was the monster Skunk. He used to travel all over this world, trying to find the Ojibwa. He hunted them to kill them. He often took the form of a man. Whenever he would encounter people, he would approach them et pepedit towards their camp with his back to them, killing the people malo ejus odore. In those days there was no other sickness. That was the only sickness which people had to kill them.

Once upon a time in a camp where there were lots of people, hunters of a big band, they beheld the tracks of Aniwɔ·ye near one of their trails. It was winter time. When they saw these tracks, they turned back from their object because they were afraid Aniwɔ·ye would see their own tracks and follow them to camp and kill all their people. On this account they started off in every direction in order to lead Aniwɔ·ye away from the camp and so save their own people and possibly themselves. Said they, “We will go to Big Fisher lake, where the Big Fisher lives.” So they started off. But there was one old woman who could hardly see. She could not travel with them, so they had to leave her, as nobody could carry her.

Soon Aniwɔ·ye found their trails and followed them, and soon he came to the wigwam in which the people had left the old woman. He looked in the door and saw her sitting near the fire. “Where are all your people?” he asked her. “They have gone away,” she answered. “They saw Aniwɔ·ye’s track and departed. But I am too old. I can’t see, I can’t walk; so they left me here.” This poor old woman thought it was a young man who spoke to her; she did not know, indeed, that it was Aniwɔ·ye himself. Then Aniwɔ·ye spoke, “If you can’t walk, I can cure you, so that you will be as well and strong as you ever were.” So he turned his back to her et pepedit. He blew the wigwam and the old woman all to pieces.

Then Aniwɔ·ye followed on the trail of the people. When he had tracked them to Big Fisher lake, he could see right across the lake, because there was no island in the way, and there, on the other side, he saw where Big Fisher lived. The people had arrived here after a hard trip and begged Big Fisher for [57]protection from Aniwɔ·ye. So fast had they travelled that some of the old people, unable to keep up with the younger ones, had died of their efforts to hurry. Those who had reached Big Fisher’s camp kept watching for Aniwɔ·ye to appear across the lake on their tracks. At last they saw him emerge on the lake and come towards them. All the way along this pursuit, when he had found the people who had died on the march, he pulled at them to see if they were dead. Now, when Aniwɔ·ye appeared Big Fisher said to the people, “We will go to meet him. You men go ahead and I will hide behind you. So we will approach him until we get almost within his range. Do not let him see me, sed cum anum suum nobis verteret, spread apart and let me pass you to the front. While his back is turned to us, we will fix him.” They did as they were told, and the band started forward to meet Aniwɔ·ye, who also approached them slowly.

When they were near enough ut odore ejus attingerentur, Aniwɔ·ye turned slowly. When his back was toward them, et cum pediturus esset, they opened ranks and Big Fisher ran forth et prius anum Aniwɔ·yei cepit quam hie pedere posset. He pinched anum ejus dure. “Ayu!” exclaimed Aniwɔ·ye. “Ayu, ayu! Let go of me! Non iterum pedam!” But Big Fisher held on and would not let go. They struggled for some time, but Big Fisher held fast, and at last Aniwɔ·ye died because he could not discharge. He died and they were all exceedingly glad, rejoicing that he was done for. So they cut him up into small bits and scattered the bits all about. Immediately these turned into little skunks which ran off into the bush. That was the end of Aniwɔ·ye, the Monster Skunk, but there are plenty of small skunks now.

There was once a man. He was hunting. He had his own wigwam, where he lived with an old man and an old woman who called him grandchild. He did not even know his father and mother. He had never seen young people, so when he became about twenty years old, he began to think that he ought to get himself a wife. So he started out and travelled all over, [58]but could not find one. At last, one day, he took a piece of wood and tried to carve for himself a big doll. He worked hard and after a while he made it so nearly perfect that it could speak a little. It was a female, but it did not seem to be complete quite yet.

Said the doll to him, “Put me in your wigwam, cover me up, and do not look at me for three days. Be sure not to look, because if you do, I won’t be here.”

“All right,” said he; and placed his doll in his wigwam. To remove himself from the temptation of breaking her rule he went away by himself and stayed the first night. The next afternoon he came back and began wondering to himself. “If I sleep here,” thought he, “I might, indeed, be tempted to look.” The more he pondered, the more he weakened. At last, he decided to take a little look. He peeped inside the wigwam and saw a very nice-looking young girl seated there. Then, gaining control of himself, he hurried away and camped again that night alone. The third day he came back again to look at his wife. When he came near the camp, he went to the water-hole.28 There he saw a woman’s track going away from the water-hole. Thought he to himself, “Alas! my wife has gone.” He walked up to the wigwam, looked in, and found that the woman had actually gone.29

He now decided to follow her. He went to the woods, cut a piece of cedar, and made himself a bow and a lot of arrows. The next day he started—this was two days after the woman had left. Then he walked very fast, starting early in the morning. Soon he came to a small lake lying still and frozen. When he reached the edge of the ice, he shot an arrow across, then he sped so fast that he reached the other side of the lake before the arrow got there. Before noon-time he came to where a camp was located, and going up to it, beheld an old woman cooking there. “Oh, my grandchild,” said she, “don’t stand there looking in the door. Come in and eat.” So he went in. Then he asked her whether she had seen a woman pass there. She answered, “Yesterday, about noon.” And the old woman gave him a mess of corn and said, “My dear grandchild, it is very hard [59]where you are going. Many people have tried to go where your road leads; but they have never gotten there, for many creatures are seeking their lives. But I will help you.” Then she gave him a leg-bone of a lynx. “When you are in trouble, you may need this,” she told him. Then he started on, following the tracks of his woman. Every time he came to a lake, he shot an arrow across and sped before it as he had done at first. He was fast indeed.

Soon he came to another wigwam and peeped into this as he had done into the first. An old woman who was cooking inside spoke to him, as had the first, and invited him to come in and eat. Then he asked her when she had seen the woman pass by. “A little after noon time,” she replied. Now, by this, he knew that he had not gained very much. As before, he ate a little snack of corn and the old woman said to him, “Where you are going will be a very hard trip for you. Many people try it, but never succeed. They die.” And she, too, gave him a lynx bone and told him, as the other had done, that it would help him in time of need on his journey; and he started on again, doing the same at every lake, until it began to grow late in the day. He had been going so fast that he felt very tired.

By and by he came to another camp and peeped in, as before, asked the same question, and was received in the same way. After he had eaten here, the old woman gave him a squirrel’s tail to help him overcome the dangers which she warned him against. Said she, “From now on you won’t see any more camps. Walk very fast now. Soon you will see a big tree with a square trunk, which will reach very far up into the sky. Now you won’t see any trail, but look carefully around. That is where your wife climbed up. There are, indeed, steps cut into the trunk, but you will not be able to see them. To you it will look smooth.”

So he proceeded on his way and soon came to the place she had spoken about. There was the big tree, but no tracks were in sight. Around the base he saw lots of bones, bones of people who had tried to climb but had fallen down and died. He was bewildered. Then suddenly he recollected the bones the old women had given him. Taking one in each hand, like a pick, he began climbing up the great tree. At last he ascended so [60]high that the bones began to wear away. When they were so short that he could hardly use them, he looked down. He had gone so high that he could neither see the world beneath nor the end of the tree in the sky above. Now his bones were too short to help him, but he had his bow on his back. He could hardly hold on any longer, so he cried and yelled for help, but nobody could hear him. Soon he heard a spirit nearby which murmured to him, “Close your eyes and look through the tree. You will see steps to climb on.” Then he did as the voice said and perceived steps. He placed his feet in them and started running up. But now he made another mistake, he did not keep his eyes closed. When he looked, lo! he found himself back to where he had begun to climb the steps, holding on with his worn-out bones. Then he bethought himself of the squirrel’s tail, and at the same moment found himself transformed into a squirrel. He found that he could run up the great tree by tapping his tail on the trunk at each step. At last he came to a hole in the sky, in the middle of which the great tree protruded. A wide space, however, surrounded the tree, separating it from the edge of the sky. It would be necessary for him to jump across from the trunk to this edge. He made a great effort and sprang for the edge, but he just managed to catch on at the line of his waist; his upper parts, which reached above the edge, at once became human; his lower parts, extending below the edge, remained in the form of the squirrel.

Then he beheld his wife coming across the surface of this upper world toward him. Said she, “You should not have come here, because, after all your trouble, you will die anyway.” She took hold of him and made shift to raise him. Then she pulled him out after teasing him a little while. “Now,” she said to him, “we always play ball up here. There are men here whom you will meet. They are your brothers-in-law. They will want you to play ball. If they beat you in the game, they will kill you; but if you beat them, you will survive.”

Then she led him away to a village, where they saw a lot of great White Bears. This was the great White Bear’s home and his family. Now the old Bear arranged a contest for the stranger. Said he, “You take this ball and go around the edge of this world, running. One of these Bears will race with you, [61]to see who gets back here first.” So they started. The Bear took the ball in his mouth and, as soon as he started running, the man jumped upon his back and shook his ears, which made the Bear drop the ball. Then he threw the ball ahead. In this way, repeating the trick, they went around the world, and the man succeeded in getting back first. When he reached the starting point, the Bears said, “You seem to be a pretty good man; but there are still more tricks for you to perform. If you win, you can stay.”

And they all went out together and came to a big rock. One of the White Bears tried to move this rock, and with a great effort he succeeded in moving it a little. “Now, you try,” said they, “and if you can’t move it, you are a dead man.” Then the man took his bow and arrow and shot it at the rock. The rock immediately broke into fragments. “Indeed, you are a great man, our brother-in-law, and can stay here and hunt and live with us,” said the old White Bear. Then the old Bear told him, after a while, that he had better go and hunt, or he would grow lonesome in his new life. By this time they had grown to like him very much.

One afternoon, late, he started off to hunt. Everything that he met seemed strange to him in this new world. Soon he came to a lake with a little ice on it, and when he walked out he beheld tracks of some animal. Soon he came to a place where a big wooden mallet lay on the ice. He thought to himself that somebody had lost this mallet. Then he took it by the handle and hammered on the ice. Immediately the hammer fell through. Up from the hole in the ice a red otter emerged. He killed the red otter. Then he went on with the hammer to another place. There he tried again, and this time got a blue otter. He tried again at another place and got a black otter, which was like the otters of this world. So, taking his load of otters, he went home to display what he thought was a pretty good hunt. He carried his game in a bag of leather. When he got to his wigwam, he shoved his bag in the entrance ahead of him, so that his wife could open it and see what he had brought.30 Thought she to herself, when she saw the game-bag, [62]“I wonder if he will show himself to be a good hunter.” She saw some blood on the bag. Opening it, she beheld the otters, Now the man had made a mistake, for these were tame otters and belonged to the Bears. She went out crying to her people, “This man has killed our otters!” When the old White Bear heard about the news, he said to his family, “We should have told this man about our otters, because he didn’t know. On this account it is all right.” He said no more, because he was afraid of the magic possessed by his new son-in-law.

The Ayas·e family was a large family. They lived in a camp. Very often they used to go picking berries, for their country was a rocky country where berries abounded. Very often some of the berry-pickers would get lost and never be found again. It was thought that some creature made a prey of them and ate them.

One time one of the Ayas·e men was travelling. On his way he came across a kind of cabin of rock, from the top of which smoke was rising and in front of which a number of human skulls hung in the opening. Now this Ayas·e managed to enter. By being very careful and not touching the skulls, he gained the inside of the rock house without making any noise. These skulls were put there to rattle when anybody tried to pass. When Ayas·e got inside, he beheld two old blind women. As soon as they became aware of his presence, one of them said, “We had better begin to cook something and we will find out if Ayas·e is passing here.” Now these old women had some grease in a bark dish and one of them put some of the grease in a cooking pail. When she did this, Ayas·e pulled it out with his hand and ate it. Then she took the spoon to taste her grease, but found it gone. So she put another lump in the dish. Ayas·e took this, and when she started to dip it up, it, too, was gone. This happened three or four times. At last the old woman said, “Ayas·e must have passed; somebody told us that Ayas·e was going to pass. He must have passed now.” Then she took a stick which she used to poke the fire with and began feeling all around, poking in the corners of the [63]wigwam to find if Ayas·e were there. Every time she came near poking him, he moved to another part of the wigwam, so she could not reach him. Pretty soon she touched him with the poker and then he took off his coat of fisher-skin which he was wearing and threw in into the door-way. The old women jumped up and when they felt the fur coat they thought it was Ayas·e trying to escape through the door. Now these old women had a sharp pointed bone at each elbow. With this pointed bone they began stabbing the fur coat in their haste to kill Ayas·e, and pretty soon in their blind fury they fell to stabbing each other, each one thinking she was stabbing Ayas·e. They killed each other. One of the old women said before she died, “I believe you hit me by mistake.” It was too late; they both died.

Now Ayas·e in the wigwam sat down and looked at them a long time. Then he dragged them outside and looked at them a long time. All around the wigwam he saw the men’s and women’s bones, the bones of the victims of these two old blind women. Then he knew that all of his lost people had been killed by the old women and eaten. They were cannibals in the shape of monster bats, large enough to kill and eat people. Then Ayas·e took their bodies and cut them up into small pieces. These he threw into the air and they sailed off, transformed into small bats as we see them to-day. I did not see any more.

The Fisher (mustela pennanti) was living somewhere in this world. Nobody knows where. Now in those times they had no summer. It was winter, winter all the time. They knew that summer existed somewhere, but it never came to them, although they wanted it very much.

Now, once upon a time a man captured some little birds which are called ni·bənis·e “summer (guardian) birds.” He tied them in bundles and kept them with him all the time. That was the reason why it was continually winter, for so long as he held these birds, they could not bring summer to the [64]North Country. The people pondered very much how to go about freeing these birds from the creature who kept them. At last somebody discovered where this creature lived, and they decided that some one would go and try to free the Summer-birds. Now the Fresh-water Herring lived in the same wigwam with the man who kept the Summer-birds.

The Fisher at last decided to go and free the birds, so that summer would come. He travelled a long while and reached the wigwam where the captor and the Herring lived. When he went in, he found the Herring alone. He captured the Herring and put some pitch on his mouth, so that he could not cry out. Then Fisher took the bundles of birds and tried to break the bindings, so that he could free them. Using his teeth at last he tore open the bundles and the Summer-birds flew free into the air. Then the pitch broke from the Herring’s mouth and he cried out, “Fisher breaks the bundle! The Summer-birds! Fisher breaks the bundles with his teeth! The Summer-birds!” Two or three times he cried out, until their captor heard him. Then he came up running, but when he arrived, the Fisher and the Summer-birds were already far away.

The Fisher ran very fast to save himself. His pursuer had a bow and arrow with which he was going to kill him, but the Fisher sprang into the sky and climbed way up, with the hunter following behind him, still trying to shoot him with his bow and arrow. All he succeeded in shooting, however, was his tail, which is broken where it was wounded.32 Although they chased him continually, they never got him.

Once in the autumn of the year, when the birds were ready to fly to the south for the winter, a young Loon was unable to fly far enough to go with the rest of the birds. So he said to his mother, “I cannot go back south with you, as I am not strong enough. But I will stay here all winter in this place, and in the spring, when you come back, I will meet you here at this very spot. When you come back and find me here, it will be on a misty morning.” So they all flew away to the south, and [65]the young Loon was left behind for the winter. The mother was very sad because she had to leave him and because he was not strong enough to go with them.

In the spring time, when the ice is breaking up in the lake, and it becomes misty, the Indians say, “The Loon is coming back from her winter sojourn in the South.”

At that time there were two people living who got married and had some daughters and sons. These grew up and married. One of the sons married and had children, two sons. The grandfather of these died. Then the father and mother died, and left the children with only their grandmother to look after them. At this time they were big enough to shoot bows and arrows and to go in a canoe with their grandmother to set the night lines33 for fish. They lived only by fishing, because the grandmother was too old to do anything else.

So these two boys used to play around, shooting bows and arrows for fun, just as the Ojibwa boys do now. They used to play near a lake. Then their grandmother would say to them, “Don’t swim in that lake. There is a big pike in there and he might swallow you.” The older boy believed his grandmother, but the younger did not. So one day, while they were playing, the younger boy by mistake shot his arrow out in the lake. He could see it floating on the surface, so he took off his clothes to swim to it. But his brother said, “You know what grandmother told you. The big pike might swallow you.” But the boy started to swim nevertheless, saying, “Koga′miko” (“swallowed in the water”) with each stroke that his arms took. When he called this out, the big pike came and swallowed him.

Figure 1. Night set-line.

His brother began crying and ran back to his grandmother in the wigwam, saying, “My little brother is koga′miko, ‘swallowed in the water’.” Then his grandmother began crying and the two were crying together. Soon after this they again [66]set their night lines. When they looked toward the lake, three days later, they saw the float sticks together and the boy said, “We have a fish.” But the grandmother cried and would not look toward the lake where her grandson had died. But soon she went along in the canoe, crying, and pulled in the line. At the end was a very large fish, and they could see that his stomach was full of something. He was so large that they could scarcely pull him into the canoe. However, they managed to get him in and then they paddled to the shore and dragged the fish to a place where they could conveniently clean it. They cut his belly, which was distended, and out jumped the younger brother. “I’m scalded with the intestines! (Nin­babe′nəs,)”34 he cried. “I’m scalded. I’ve been here three [67]days.” He was already beginning to be digested. The grandmother was very glad to get her grandson back again. That is the end.

There was a time when Lynx had two wives, the one a Rabbit and the other a Marten. The three lived in a wigwam. At this time Lynx drove beaver during the winter time.35 Rabbit was a very good hunter. But Lynx this winter had very poor luck and they became very hungry. Lynx beat his wives because they couldn’t find the beaver. He said to them, “If you don’t get some beaver for me, I’ll eat both of you.” At this they became very much frightened. So Rabbit went to a beaver place, and putting a stick in the hole, she felt a beaver in it. Then Rabbit went home and told Marten, and they both were glad to get a beaver and save their lives. Then they both went back to the hole. While Rabbit was pulling the beaver out of the hole and had hold of his hind quarters, Lynx came along and tickled Rabbit, so that she let go and the beaver escaped. Lynx was bent on mischief. He said, “If you don’t get some beaver, I’ll kill you tonight.”

Rabbit and Marten went home and burrowed a tunnel in the snow, inside the wigwam. Then they both went into a hole to hide and closed the hole behind them. When Lynx reached home, he was unable to find his wives, but he knew they were somewhere near. So he began to pull up testes suos in se and then he began dancing.36 He said to himself, “When they hear this funny thing, they will laugh.” Pretty soon Marten laughed, and Lynx, digging her out of the hole, killed and ate her. Soon he grew hungry and tried the same trick. But Rabbit was very much afraid and would not laugh. Lynx kept on doing this for some time and finally gave it up. He sat near the fire and cut his belly open, taking out some of his intestines which he roasted and ate. At last, when he had eaten all his intestines, he came to his heart. When he pulled at this, “Huk, huk”! it made a noise. At last he jerked and pulled [68]at it so hard that he died. This is the end. But all the grandchildren of Lynx have testicles as they are to-day.

Once upon a time, on a small island in Lake Timagami, some people went ashore, and one of the women left her baby in a cradle-board on a rock, while she went a short distance off. When she came back, the baby was gone; it had been taken by a big manitu (magic) seal who lived in a rock and he had taken the child inside with him. The child’s father was also a manitu, so he began burrowing and digging into the rock for his baby and he dug a channel. This hole is there yet. When he reached the baby, it was dead, and the seal was gone. It had dived and crossed two miles under water to Seal island and gone into a big rock there. He dove and followed, as he was mi·te·′ and came to the big rock where the seal had gone in. With his chisel he split the rock, but the seal escaped. The rock is there yet, split down the centre.

At the time of which my story speaks Lynx and Fisher had the same sharp nose and face. Fisher used to jump right through a big boulder as high as a man whenever he wanted to. One day he told Lynx to try to beat him and jump through. So Lynx tried to do it and smashed his face flat, as it is now. He went away very sore. Soon he met Rabbit. “Kwe, kwe,” Lynx asked Rabbit, “where are you going?” Rabbit answered, “I am going to the short flat-faced country.” Lynx did not understand the joke, and he let Rabbit pass.

Lynx went on and came to a stream into whose waters he looked, and saw some flints. He tried to reach some to pick them up and beheld himself in the water. He discovered how ugly he was. “I’m so ugly. That is what Rabbit meant when he met me. I’ll fix him.” So he went back, struck Rabbit’s trail, and followed him. So he followed the trail until it went into a hole in the snow under a bush. Lynx looked in and saw Rabbit sitting there, reading. He asked Rabbit, “Has anybody [69]been passing here lately Hee!” Rabbit made no answer. Lynx asked this question twice and at last Rabbit spoke, “Tsc, tsc, it’s Sunday to-day.” Lynx asked the same question again and received the same reply. Then Rabbit said, “Why don’t you go around and find his track?”. When Lynx went around, Rabbit ran out and off. When Lynx saw him run, he chased him and caught him.

“Can you talk English?” said Lynx. “Yes,” answered Rabbit. “Well, can’t you talk white?” “Yes,” answered Rabbit. “Well, if you don’t talk white, I’ll kill you.” So Rabbit had to talk white. “Well, what do you call ‘fire’ in English.” “Wayaʻkabi·′te” (people sitting around a fire), answered Rabbit. “How do they say ‘axe’ there?” “Me′ma­towes‵iŋg” (“noise of chopping”). “What do you call knife?” asked Lynx. “Taya′tacki·‵wəgis·e” (“sliced meat”), answered Rabbit. “You are a liar”, said Lynx. “Ki·niŋgwa‵zəm, you are a liar.” And he killed Rabbit.

There was once a boy who used to set his snares for his living. One day he saw a track where the snow was melted, and after a while he decided to set his snares there and catch the animal that made the tracks. So he set his snare and went away. That track was the sun’s track, and when the sun came by next day, it got caught. The sun didn’t rise the next day and there was steady darkness. The people began to be puzzled. “Where did you set your snare?” they asked him. He told them, and they went to look. There they saw the sun caught, but no one could go near enough to loosen it A number of animals tried to do this, but they all got burned. At last the Beaver-mouse managed to cut it with his teeth and freed it. But his teeth got burned with the heat, and so they are brown to this day, but the sun is here and we have the daylight.

There were a number of people camping, and one man was camping by himself. He was a young man and he tried to get [70]his neighbour’s daughter to marry him, but she wouldn’t have him, saying that he was not good enough. And so the young man went back and forth trying to get a wife.

Then the people went away to another place to camp, as it was getting spring, but the young man stayed back. He was full of mite·′win.37 He planned to have revenge upon the girl who would not have him. He collected omne excrementum quod invenire potuit and made it into the shape of a man. He was determined to settle with the girls who had refused him, for he was full of revenge. When he had made the man alive, he sent him to where the girls were camping. The new creature was frozen nice and hard, he was nice-looking, and he could talk.

And so Homo excrementi came, early in the morning, crunching through the snow to where the girls were in camp. When they saw him coming, they cried, “Somebody’s coming. Make a fire.” And when he reached the camp every one received him in fine style, as he was such a nice fellow. “Where do you come from? Who is your father?” they asked him. “Hump-back,” said he. “Who is your mother?” “Flat-set excrementum,” answered he. But the old people did not understand him. He was unable to stay near the fire long, for fear he would melt. They wished him to stay at the camp, but he couldn’t, so he hurried away.

Then one of the girls who had refused the young man in marriage followed him and he led her a long chase. She began to feel it grow warmer (it was April) and soon she found one of his mittens and later his hat. At last it became so warm that she came to the place where he had melted altogether et ibi erat agger excrementi. When she examined the hat, internum ejus excrementi illitum invenit. So she went back home saying, “Good for him, he’s melted. I’m glad he is melted.” She couldn’t catch him anyway, so she was angry.

So young girls should not try always to get a nice-looking man, but take the man selected for them. The old people tell them this story for a lesson, lest they lose a good man, though not so handsome, to get a “stinker.” [71]

A man was one time walking along and came to a lake which he wanted to cross. But he had no canoe, and so he walked along the shore until he saw a big Snake lying in the water with his head on the shore. “Will you carry me across?” asked the hunter. “Yes,” answered the Snake. “But it looks cloudy and I am afraid of the lightning, so you must tell me if it thunders while we are crossing.” The hunter got on the Snake’s back and they started to swim across the lake. As they went along, thunder began rumbling, “kαx kαx,” and the lightning flashed. “Mah, mah, listen!” said the Snake in fear. “I hear something.” Just as they reached the shore, when the hunter could leap to safety, a stroke of lightning hit the Snake and broke him into numberless pieces, which began swimming about and finally came to land. The great Snake was not killed, but his pieces turned into small snakes which we see all about to-day.

The Muskrat, Beaver, Dog, and some Ojibwa were companions and hunters. They were real people who could talk to one another. They started out one day and came to a small lake and there they saw Beaver houses and families. It was early in the winter. They said, “That’s a good lake to drive the beaver, as it’s all rocky and they can’t escape. The season is right, so we will come tomorrow with dogs.” The Beavers were in their houses and they saw the Indians, but they couldn’t hear the talking. The Muskrat heard, however, and went to the Beaver and told them. “You must look out for yourselves, uncles. Those Indians say you are very easy to catch.” Now the Muskrat had stayed outside the Indians’ wigwam and listened to what they were saying, until his feet got so cold that he could stay no longer. So that this was all that he had heard to tell his uncle the Beaver.

The next morning the Indians came to the lake and broke the Beaver’s houses, and the big Beaver told the young ones, “When you see a dog passing, whistle.” So the young Beavers went to different places under the ice and when they saw a dog [72]passing, they whistled and all were thus caught and killed by the men. But the big Beaver didn’t whistle, and he escaped. The Indians said, “Where’s the big Beaver?” Then they went back and had a big feast on those they had caught. In those days people used to cut a flat bone from the hind foot of the beaver and throw it into the water, so that the dogs wouldn’t get it. These hunters, however, made a mistake and forgot to save that bone. They lost it.38

So the Indians had their feast, and when they threw the bones into the water, one of the little Beavers came back to life and went back to his parents. He said to them, “I had a fine time, father. They hung me over the fire, and I danced for them.” Shortly all the Beavers came back, but one of them said, “I’m very sick, father. They didn’t use me right.” This was the Beaver whose bone from his hind foot the hunters had lost. He was very sore and disgusted and showed his father the fresh mark of his foot where the flat bone was lost, when they asked him what was the matter. The Beavers did not like this and they became angry. So nowadays the Indians tell the young boys neither to talk about the Beavers, nor the prospects of a hunt before attacking a beaver colony, lest the Muskrat hear them and tell the Beaver. And also, when the hunting dogs suddenly go off from camp and run over the ice, the hunters say the dogs hear the beavers whistling.

There were two men living in a camp with two women and the rest of the band. On a cold day in winter one of the men said he was going to track a moose, and left on his snowshoes. He said he would be back by night. He was gone all day and by night he had not returned, so his wife began to think that possibly he had shot a moose, but, as he had taken his axe with him, he might have cut himself in some way. They waited until morning and then, taking up his trail, they tracked him to where he had shot a moose and farther on to where he had skinned it. The meat was there, but the skin was gone. Looking [73]around they saw a fire not far off. When they reached the fire they discovered that the hunter had rolled himself up in the green hide to sleep, and during the night it had frozen around him and he had been unable to get out. They thawed out the skin and all went back to camp.

Once there were a man and his wife living in a bark wigwam. The wife grew very fond of another man et voluit copulare cum eo sine cognitione mariti sui. They finally hit upon a plan. She cut a small hole in the bark near her bedding ut ille cum ea nocte copulare posset. She slept near the hole et omne bene factum est, sed maritus tandem invenit quid fieret. So one night he ordered his wife to change places with him when they slept, et cum venisset amator, maritus penem ejus abscidit per orificium positum. Tunc membrum virile cepit, without telling his wife what had happened, and went off on a moose hunt. He killed a moose and took its intestine end [described like an appendix], secuit penem in fragmenta, mixed these with fat, and made a smoked sausage out of the whole.39 Then he went home and gave it to his wife to eat. When she had eaten it, he said, “Nunc edisti penem amatoris tui.”

Once a hunter was so quick of foot that when he shot his arrow at a beaver plunging into the lake from the shore, he would run down, catch the beaver by the tail before the arrow got to it, and hold it until the arrow struck. He was a fast runner, indeed.

There once was a hunter who lived in a camp. The summer had been very dry and the whole country was on fire. He stayed in his camp, however, although the smoke was so thick that no one could see any distance. One day he saw seven deer walking along, each holding the other’s tail in its mouth. The [74]leader alone could see, and he was guiding the others. So he killed the leader and then took hold of the second deer’s nose, and so lead them all to his camp alive, where he butchered them.

There was a conjurer (mi·te′w),40 whose name was Gitcikwe′we (“buzzing noise”), his wife Pi·dje′ʻkwe41 and their children, camping at a lake in a wigwam. There was a large lake to the west of where they were camping full of islands. It was a long portage from the wigwam to this lake.

One evening, while Gitcikwe′we was sitting in his wigwam, he became very much frightened. He saw nothing in particular that frightened him, but on account of his mi·te′w feeling he became afraid and knew that something was coming. At dusk he gathered up his blankets and jumped into his canoe with his family, and they floated on the lake beside the camp, all night long. When he went back to the wigwam in the morning, he found that a Windigo42 had been there and had smashed his wigwam.

Then the family started to take the portage which led across to the big lake containing the islands. When Gitcikwe′we took the portage, he sent his wife and children ahead and told them to hurry on as fast as they could, while he would follow behind with the canoe. He said, “When you hear ‘Meat bird’ (Wiske·djak43) flying above you, that means ‘Hurry’, for the Windigo is coming behind to catch you. That will be your warning.” They reached the other end of the portage and got into the canoe and paddled out to one of the islands to a place where the end of the portage, from which they had just come out, was lost to view. They were safe there, as the Windigo, having no canoe, could not cross. After Gitcikwe′we put up his camp, he said to his wife, “I am not yet satisfied. I must beat that Windigo, because he will bother us all winter, and then we will starve, for I cannot hunt while staying at camp all the time, watching out for you and the children.” [75]

Then he made his mi·te′o wigwam with its seven poles and covered it with bark.44 He went into it and it began to work and move, while a band of spirits could be heard singing inside.45 Then Windigo came there and Gitcikwe′we said to his wife, “We will clinch him and take him away out west where he came from.” When he clinched him, the conjuring wigwam shook and made a noise like thunder, and the children fainted from fright, for they knew their father was inside. When they recovered consciousness, everything was still in the wigwam, and their father had gone out west, taking his captive with him. A little while after this the wigwam started to move again and Gitcikwe′we was back again from his trip out west. He said to his family, “We will be all right now. I took him back west. He is very sick from his fright but he will stay there now.”

There was another mi·te′ Indian one day’s journey from where Gitcikwe′we was camping. This Indian was so full of mi·te′ also that, while he was asleep, he heard Windigo passing overhead with a great moaning noise as if he were in pain. No other people heard it except this man, because they were not mi·te′.

Next morning Gitcikwe′we awoke and found that it was a fine day with no wind to bother, and the whole family was happy to think of passing another winter. Shortly after they had gotten up, they heard a great noise of shouting in the direction of the end of the portage from where they had come and which was just lost to view. When Gitcikwe′we heard this, he loaded his flint lock gun to shoot Windigo, for he thought he had come back and was making the noise and concluded that that was the only way to get rid of him. He and his wife got into the canoe for this purpose. When they turned the point, they saw a young man standing right in the portage. It was Gitcikwe′we’s wife’s nephew. He had left his canoe at the other end of the portage, as it was so long to carry it, and he was expecting his aunt to take him across in her canoe. So he got into the canoe and the three of them returned to camp.46 [76]

Obabika lake is called Ma′nitu Pi·pa′gi·, “Spirit Echo.” On the eastern shore of this lake is a great rock where a Manitu is believed to live. Whenever anyone makes a noise in the vicinity, the Manitu becomes angry and growls. His plaints, the Indians believe, can be clearly heard when he is offended. The Ojibwa never go near there when they can avoid it; and they seldom throw a stone in the lake, splash their paddles, or shoot their guns near its shores.

“The Iroquois used to come here to fight the Ojibwa because the Americans had driven them from their homes in the States and the Iroquois had to seek new countries beyond the settlements in the North. In their excursions, when they got far from home, they cut and painted pictures in the rocks on river or lake shores, so that their friends, if they ever penetrated so far, would know that their own people had been there before them. The characters of these pictures would tell what had happened, so that if the advance party never returned to their people, some record would at least be left behind of their journey.”47

The Ojibwa attributed nearly all pictographs to the Iroquois. On Lady Evelyn lake are a number of such figures, showing animals and men in canoes.

At that time there were people living, four in number: a woman, a young baby who could hardly walk, and two sons who were grown-up men. Their father had died and the family lived together in a wigwam. It was winter and the sons had two rabbit snares’ trails, one to the east and the other to the north, and they went to different lines on different days. The mother would attend to the snares and leave the baby, wrapped in a rabbit skin blanket, alone in the camp, while the two sons [77]would hunt and look around for game, having only bows and arrows.

When they came home in the evening, they would sometimes bring with them spruce partridge and other kinds of partridge. Their mother used to bring home partridges also, but she had no bow or arrows, and the men wondered how she did it, because she often brought home as many as ten birds. They could not understand how she was able to do better than they, so they asked her, “What did you do it with?” They never went with their mother to where she had her snares, but they were continually asking her how she caught the partridges. She answered, “I cut a pole, put a string there on the end, and catch them by the neck, since I have no bow.” But they didn’t believe her, as they often saw arrow wounds in the partridges’ breasts. They looked at these wounds and said, “Somebody must have shot them for you. Was it not the Iroquois?” “No,” answered the mother, “I caught them with a pole snare and poked them with a stick in order to bloat them with blood, so they will make more bouillon.” But still they didn’t believe her and they said to each other, “Mother doesn’t like to tell us. Some Iroquois, I guess, are going to kill us. We’ll fool our mother and these Iroquois. When we go to bed, we’ll sleep with our baby.”

So that night they said to their mother, “We want to sleep with our brother the baby, on his side of the wigwam.” They dried their moccasins, put them on, and also put on rabbit skin blankets, for they were preparing to run out during the night. They had discovered a place the day before where trees had fallen down and snow had covered them, thus making a tunnel. So that night they rolled their little brother up in a blanket and left early in the night, unknown to their mother. When they left, the Iroquois were getting closer. The mother awoke and cried out, “Madja′wαk they are going!” She did this to help the Iroquois find them. The Iroquois followed them on snowshoes, but the sons made a great number of branch trails in order to deceive them.

The three finally reached their windfall tunnel and there they stayed and waited for the Iroquois. At daylight the Iroquois took up the trail and followed until they finally reached them. [78]The three in the cave could hear the Iroquois talking above them. One of the Iroquois dug a hole in the snow above the tunnel and peeped down to see if the three were there. As one by one the Iroquois looked through the hole, the sons shot them, the arrow falling back through the hole so that they could use it again. They killed nearly all of them, and at last no more Iroquois faces appeared above the hole, but the sons could hear crying. Finally they decided to come out, and one of the sons went out first to look around, but he could see no one. They then started back to the wigwam, following the Iroquois tracks, but they only saw two trails. One of the sons went a little ahead and the other followed behind with the baby.

When they reached their wigwam, they found it smashed to pieces and the poles flattened out. Their mother was killed and the Iroquois had cut off her breasts and made babiche strings48 of it. These two Iroquois who were left had made a tripod of sticks and had wound the skin all the way around it. Then they had gone and were never seen again. The mother had agreed with the Iroquois that they were not to kill her if she didn’t tell her sons of their whereabouts.

It is not proper to tell stories in summer, lest one die; but, if stories are told, they must be told for ten successive evenings in order to prevent the evil.

In order to foretell the sex of the child about to be born, the first vertebra of a moose or deer may be used. The appearance of one side of this bone resembles a man’s face, while the other resembles a woman’s. The seeker for information may place this bone on top of his head and let it drop to the ground. Whichever face turns upward like a die indicates the sex of the child. This bone is called uta′backo‵k·e “back neck-bone”. [79]

A little device to bring rain: suck the flat side of a green leaf until it snaps, or slap one hand with the palm of the other, holding the leaf in the fist of the first.

Northern Lights: Wase′tibik·an, “light of night.”

Bine·′s·i·wi·mi·′k·‵an, “birds’ path”. This is the Milky Way, which is believed to be the guide to the birds in their spring and autumn migrations.

Wətα′gwanobi·‵s·an “mist from the water” (?). This is the rainbow, which is thought to be caused by mist generated in the air by waves of some great sea.

(The Matachewan Indians of Montreal river call the rainbow Ani′miki·unujea‵bi “thunder’s legging string”!)

The whippoorwill (wa′hone·‵s·i) is very rarely heard in Bear island, although the bird frequents some parts of the lake. Its cry is considered an omen of ill fortune or of death. Another idea connected with the whippoorwill’s cry is that it is the signal cry of the Iroquois (Ma′djina‵dowes·i “bad Iroquois,” referring to the tribes of the League as distinct from those of Caughnawaga) and that it indicates the proximity of enemies.

When robins (gwi·′ckwe) sing noticeably during the day it is a sign of coming rain. The toad’s (omα′k·αki) song in the daytime has the same portent. [80]

To kill blue-bottle flies will bring rain.

If anyone finds or sees a live mole it is a sign that some member of the family will die soon. Moles are very rare in the Timagami neighbourhood and quite a stir is raised when one is encountered.

Hiccoughing is a sign that the victim has been stealing something. If it is true and the victim is accused of it, he will stop hiccoughing from fright.

If a child is born feet first he is gifted with curing powers for people with sore backs. They let him jump on the patient’s back.

The method of cooking squirrels (dji·′tɔ′mǫ) has an influence upon the weather forces. Squirrels are usually cooked by splitting the carcass, after it has been skinned, and roasting it in the flames until done. Should the animal, however, be boiled instead, it will bring rain. When rain is needed, squirrels are boiled purposely to bring it.

To bring on a snowstorm an infant is allowed to make its moccasin print in the snow.

If an infant warms its hands before the fire, it is a sure sign of cold weather coming. [81]

A red sunset with red clouds is a sign of wind.

A whirling buzzer, made by spinning a bone or wooden disk on a string operated by the two hands, will cause the wind to rise.

A divination device is used before the hunt to foretell what kind of game is going to be killed. It is as follows. The metacarpal bone of a beaver’s hind leg, with its sinew covering, is taken and cut nearly through, so that it will break easily.

This is stuck upright in the ground near the fire and a series of lines radiating from it are traced in the ashes or ground, each line being named for some game animal: moose, beaver, caribou, deer, bear, otter, martin, fisher, etc. Then, as the heat shrinks the sinew, it breaks the bone at the cut and the upper piece points along one of the lines marked. This answers what kind of game is going to be gotten. The lines sometimes also are used to denote the direction to be followed to get the animals designated.

(A variation of this operation was noted from the Mattagami band. Here a stick is used instead of a beaver bone and the base of the stick is burned. When this falls, it denotes the direction to be taken to secure game).

Pa·′gαk. This is a personification of a human skeleton without the flesh, which wanders about the country. When he travels, he goes as fast as he thinks. When he wishes himself to be in a place, he is there as soon as he thinks of it. When he is heard by the people, it is a sign that someone will die. It is thought that he is heard occasionally three times in succession, making his peculiar noise, once at the horizon, once at the zenith, and again at the opposite horizon. [82]

Me·′megwe·‵s·i. A species of creature which lives in the high remote ledges. They are small and have hair growing all over their bodies. The Indians think they are like monkeys, judging from specimens of the latter they have seen in the picture-books. These dwarf-like creatures have ugly faces and seek to hide them when they meet with people. A little narrative of a meeting with these creatures is told by some Timagami Indians who had been to Lake Timiskaming. The Indians were passing the high ledge of rock a few miles below Haileybury, where the water was very deep and where they had set their nets. They found that somebody had been stealing fish. They proceeded to watch the nets and soon saw three Me·′megwe·‵s·i come out astride of an old log for a canoe, using sticks for paddles. The Indians pursued them, the fairies meanwhile hiding their faces. Finally the Indians caught one. Then one Indian said, “Look behind!” When the fairy turned quickly they got a glimpse of how ugly he was. The Indians then took a knife from this fairy and the rest disappeared, riding their log through the rock wall to the inside, where they could be heard crying, as this was where they lived. The Indians then threw the knife at the rock and it went right through to the inside to its owner.

Figure 2. Markings on birch bark.

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