Part XVI: Pau-Puk-Keewis
- You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- He, the handsome Yenadizze,
- Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,
- Vexed the village with disturbance;
- You shall hear of all his mischief,
- And his flight from Hiawatha,
- And his wondrous transmigrations,
- And the end of his adventures.
- On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
- On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,
- By the shining Big-Sea-Water
- Stood the lodge of Pau-Puk-Keewis.
- It was he who in his frenzy
- Whirled these drifting sands together,
- On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,
- When, among the guests assembled,
- He so merrily and madly
- Danced at Hiawatha's wedding,
- Danced the Beggar's Dance to please them.
- Now, in search of new adventures,
- From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- Came with speed into the village,
- Found the young men all assembled
- In the lodge of old Iagoo,
- Listening to his monstrous stories,
- To his wonderful adventures.
- He was telling them the story
- Of Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker,
- How he made a hole in heaven,
- How he climbed up into heaven,
- And let out the summer-weather,
- The perpetual, pleasant Summer;
- How the Otter first essayed it;
- How the Beaver, Lynx, and Badger
- Tried in turn the great achievement,
- From the summit of the mountain
- Smote their fists against the heavens,
- Smote against the sky their foreheads,
- Cracked the sky, but could not break it;
- How the Wolverine, uprising,
- Made him ready for the encounter,
- Bent his knees down, like a squirrel,
- Drew his arms back, like a cricket.
- "Once he leaped," said old Iagoo,
- "Once he leaped, and lo! above him
- Bent the sky, as ice in rivers
- When the waters rise beneath it;
- Twice he leaped, and lo! above him
- Cracked the sky, as ice in rivers
- When the freshet is at highest!
- Thrice he leaped, and lo! above him
- Broke the shattered sky asunder,
- And he disappeared within it,
- And Ojeeg, the Fisher Weasel,
- With a bound went in behind him!"
- "Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis
- As he entered at the doorway;
- "I am tired of all this talking,
- Tired of old Iagoo's stories,
- Tired of Hiawatha's wisdom.
- Here is something to amuse you,
- Better than this endless talking."
- Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin
- Forth he drew, with solemn manner,
- All the game of Bowl and Counters,
- Pugasaing, with thirteen pieces.
- White on one side were they painted,
- And vermilion on the other;
- Two Kenabeeks or great serpents,
- Two Ininewug or wedge-men,
- One great war-club, Pugamaugun,
- And one slender fish, the Keego,
- Four round pieces, Ozawabeeks,
- And three Sheshebwug or ducklings.
- All were made of bone and painted,
- All except the Ozawabeeks;
- These were brass, on one side burnished,
- And were black upon the other.
- In a wooden bowl he placed them,
- Shook and jostled them together,
- Threw them on the ground before him,
- Thus exclaiming and explaining:
- "Red side up are all the pieces,
- And one great Kenabeek standing
- On the bright side of a brass piece,
- On a burnished Ozawabeek;
- Thirteen tens and eight are counted."
- Then again he shook the pieces,
- Shook and jostled them together,
- Threw them on the ground before him,
- Still exclaiming and explaining:
- "White are both the great Kenabeeks,
- White the Ininewug, the wedge-men,
- Red are all the other pieces;
- Five tens and an eight are counted."
- Thus he taught the game of hazard,
- Thus displayed it and explained it,
- Running through its various chances,
- Various changes, various meanings:
- Twenty curious eyes stared at him,
- Full of eagerness stared at him.
- "Many games," said old Iagoo,
- "Many games of skill and hazard
- Have I seen in different nations,
- Have I played in different countries.
- He who plays with old Iagoo
- Must have very nimble fingers;
- Though you think yourself so skilful,
- I can beat you, Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- I can even give you lessons
- In your game of Bowl and Counters!"
- So they sat and played together,
- All the old men and the young men,
- Played for dresses, weapons, wampum,
- Played till midnight, played till morning,
- Played until the Yenadizze,
- Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- Of their treasures had despoiled them,
- Of the best of all their dresses,
- Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,
- Belts of wampum, crests of feathers,
- Warlike weapons, pipes and pouches.
- Twenty eyes glared wildly at him,
- Like the eyes of wolves glared at him.
- Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis:
- "In my wigwam I am lonely,
- In my wanderings and adventures
- I have need of a companion,
- Fain would have a Meshinauwa,
- An attendant and pipe-bearer.
- I will venture all these winnings,
- All these garments heaped about me,
- All this wampum, all these feathers,
- On a single throw will venture
- All against the young man yonder!"
- `T was a youth of sixteen summers,
- `T was a nephew of Iagoo;
- Face-in-a-Mist, the people called him.
- As the fire burns in a pipe-head
- Dusky red beneath the ashes,
- So beneath his shaggy eyebrows
- Glowed the eyes of old Iagoo.
- "Ugh!" he answered very fiercely;
- "Ugh!" they answered all and each one.
- Seized the wooden bowl the old man,
- Closely in his bony fingers
- Clutched the fatal bowl, Onagon,
- Shook it fiercely and with fury,
- Made the pieces ring together
- As he threw them down before him.
- Red were both the great Kenabeeks,
- Red the Ininewug, the wedge-men,
- Red the Sheshebwug, the ducklings,
- Black the four brass Ozawabeeks,
- White alone the fish, the Keego;
- Only five the pieces counted!
- Then the smiling Pau-Puk-Keewis
- Shook the bowl and threw the pieces;
- Lightly in the air he tossed them,
- And they fell about him scattered;
- Dark and bright the Ozawabeeks,
- Red and white the other pieces,
- And upright among the others
- One Ininewug was standing,
- Even as crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis
- Stood alone among the players,
- Saying, "Five tens! mine the game is,"
- Twenty eyes glared at him fiercely,
- Like the eyes of wolves glared at him,
- As he turned and left the wigwam,
- Followed by his Meshinauwa,
- By the nephew of Iagoo,
- By the tall and graceful stripling,
- Bearing in his arms the winnings,
- Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,
- Belts of wampum, pipes and weapons.
- "Carry them," said Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- Pointing with his fan of feathers,
- "To my wigwam far to eastward,
- On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo!"
- Hot and red with smoke and gambling
- Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis
- As he came forth to the freshness
- Of the pleasant Summer morning.
- All the birds were singing gayly,
- All the streamlets flowing swiftly,
- And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis
- Sang with pleasure as the birds sing,
- Beat with triumph like the streamlets,
- As he wandered through the village,
- In the early gray of morning,
- With his fan of turkey-feathers,
- With his plumes and tufts of swan's down,
- Till he reached the farthest wigwam,
- Reached the lodge of Hiawatha.
- Silent was it and deserted;
- No one met him at the doorway,
- No one came to bid him welcome;
- But the birds were singing round it,
- In and out and round the doorway,
- Hopping, singing, fluttering, feeding,
- And aloft upon the ridge-pole
- Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
- Sat with fiery eyes, and, screaming,
- Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis.
- "All are gone! the lodge Is empty!"
- Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- In his heart resolving mischief
- "Gone is wary Hiawatha,
- Gone the silly Laughing Water,
- Gone Nokomis, the old woman,
- And the lodge is left unguarded!"
- By the neck he seized the raven,
- Whirled it round him like a rattle,
- Like a medicine-pouch he shook it,
- Strangled Kahgahgee, the raven,
- From the ridge-pole of the wigwam
- Left its lifeless body hanging,
- As an insult to its master,
- As a taunt to Hiawatha.
- With a stealthy step he entered,
- Round the lodge in wild disorder
- Threw the household things about him,
- Piled together in confusion
- Bowls of wood and earthen kettles,
- Robes of buffalo and beaver,
- Skins of otter, lynx, and ermine,
- As an insult to Nokomis,
- As a taunt to Minnehaha.
- Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis,
- Whistling, singing through the forest,
- Whistling gayly to the squirrels,
- Who from hollow boughs above him
- Dropped their acorn-shells upon him,
- Singing gayly to the wood birds,
- Who from out the leafy darkness
- Answered with a song as merry.
- Then he climbed the rocky headlands,
- Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee,
- Perched himself upon their summit,
- Waiting full of mirth and mischief
- The return of Hiawatha.
- Stretched upon his back he lay there;
- Far below him splashed the waters,
- Plashed and washed the dreamy waters;
- Far above him swam the heavens,
- Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens;
- Round him hovered, fluttered, rustled
- Hiawatha's mountain chickens,
- Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him,
- Almost brushed him with their pinions.
- And he killed them as he lay there,
- Slaughtered them by tens and twenties,
- Threw their bodies down the headland,
- Threw them on the beach below him,
- Till at length Kayoshk, the sea-gull,
- Perched upon a crag above them,
- Shouted: "It is Pau-Puk-Keewis!
- He is slaying us by hundreds!
- Send a message to our brother,
- Tidings send to Hiawatha!"
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