From Wabanaki Folklore
Wee-zig-yik-keseyook. “Of old times.” Far back in the forest, by a brook, dwelt two young men, Abistanooch, the Martin, and Team, the Moose. Of these each had a wigwam, and therewith a grandmother who kept house. And Team hunted and worked industriously, but Master Martin was greatly moalet, which signifies one who lives upon his neighbors, depending on their good nature, even as he that plants corn and beans depends upon the pleasant smiles of the sun; whence it came to pass that wherever victuals were in store there too his presence did greatly abound.
Now it happened that one day Team, the Moose, had killed a bear, and brought home a single load of the meat, leaving the rest to be looked after anon. And being thrifty, and not caring to feed those who fed him not, neither did they thank, he said unto himself, and also to his grandmother, “Truly, the eyes of Martin shall not see this thing, his nose shall not smell thereof, neither shall his tongue taste it; so let not the tidings of our good luck go forth from the wigwam.”
“Yes,” replied the old woman, “and well and wisely thou speakest, my son. But we have this day broken our kettle, while Martin has brought in a new one. Behold, I will go and borrow it, and having cooked in it I will wash and wipe it, so that there shall be no sign of what we did therewith, and so return it.”
Now this was done, but he who is moalet and a haunter of feasts is like a hunter of beasts: he knows well from a small sign where there is a large load, and the borrowing of kettles means the boiling of victuals therein. So having in him somewhat of sorcery, he did but step to his friend’s wigwam, and peeping through a crevice, saw a great store of bear’s meat. And when the grandmother of Moose came unto him to return the kettle, just as she entered the lodge there arose from it a savory steam, and looking in it was full of well-cooked food. And Martin thanked her greatly, yet she, being put to shame, fled to her own home. But Moose said it was no matter, so the next day they went to the woods together, and all was well.
Now it befell Martin, as it might have befallen any other man, that one day he came to a distant and lonely lake in the mountains. Yet there, stepping softly as a cat behind the rocks hung with grapevines, he heard laughing and splashing, and a pleasant sound as of girls’ voices. So, peeping carefully, he saw many maids merrily bathing in the lake: and these were of the fairy race, who dwell in deep waters and dark caves, and keep away from mankind. And seeing their garments lying on the shore, and beholding among the damsels one whom he desired to obtain, Martin quietly slipped along unseen, as all of his species can do, till he had the clothes in his hands. For being tinctured with magic and learned in the lore of all kind of goblins, elves, and witches, Master Martin knew that when Naiads are naked and a man has their garments he holds them at his mercy. For in the apparel lies their fairy power; and if you doubt it, do but give it a trial and see for yourself!
And having done this, the merry fellow ran inland with a brave whoop, which the fairies hearing, they in a great rage ran after the ravisher of their robes. But she whom he desired outstripped the rest, and when she approached him he did but tap her lightly on the head with a small stick, according to a certain ancient prescription following in Fairy-land, which makes of a woman a wife; whereupon she, according to the antique rite, being astonished to find herself so suddenly married, fainted dead away, and was carried off in peace. And as for the clothes of the others, the Martin gave them back without taking fee or rewards.
Then Team, the Moose, who was a good soul, but not wise above the world, coming home and finding Martin married, wished also for a wife. And having heard all the tale, he said, “Well, if it is no harder than that, ‘t is as easy as sucking a honey-suckle, and I am as good as married.” And going to the pond in the mountains, among the rocks and behind the grapevines, he too beheld the virgins jumping, flapping, splashing, and mischieving merrily, like mad minxes, in the water; whereat he, being all of a rage, as it were, caught up the clothes of these poor maids and ran; she whom he most admired catching up with him. And being resolved to do the thing thoroughly, he grappled up a great club and gave her a bang on her small head, which stunned her indeed, and that forever, inasmuch as she was slain outright. So the Moose remained unmarried.
Now Team was one of the king not uncommon in this world, who hold that if any other man has or gets more than they have, then they are deeply wronged. And it had come to pass that Master Martin, finding that his wife yearned greatly for the society of her sisters, offered to take yet another of them in marriage, merely to oblige his wife; for in such a kind of benevolence he was one of the best souls that ever lived, and rather than have trouble in the family he would have wedded all the pretty girls in the country. So going as before to the pond in the mountains, among the rocks and behind the grapevines, he, by the same device, captured yet another fairy, whom, taking home, he wedded.
Yet Team took this sadly to heart, and willed that Martin should give him this last spouse, to which Martin would in nowise agree. Truly, Team argued earnestly that as he had no wife, and no wisdom wherewith to win one, of course he must have one of Martin’s, or that Martin should go and get him one. To which Martin replied that Moose might skin his own skunks, and fish for his own minnows, and also paddle his own canoe to the devil, if it so pleased him. Whereupon Team sought to persuade Martin with a club, who have a soft answer by shooting a flint-headed arrow through Team’s scalp-lock; and this friendship they continued for many days, passing their evening in manufacturing missiles, and the mornings in sending them one at the other.
Now the fairy water-wives, not being accustomed to this king of intimacy, sought to subtract themselves from it. So one morning, when Martin and Team were most industriously endeavouring to effect mutual murder, the two wives of the former fled afar to seek fortune, and succeeded therein to perfection. And it came to pass when the sun had set and the voice of Bumole, the Spirit of Night, was heard afar on high, and Nibauhset, the Night-Walker, shone over all, that the two brides lay in an oak opening of the forest, and looked at P’ses’muk, the Stars, and talked about them even as children might do. And one said to the other, “If those Stars be men, which would you have for a husband?” “By my faith,” replied the other, “it should be that little red, twinkling fellow, for I like the little stars best.” “And I,” said the other,” will wed the Wisawaioo P’ses’m, the Great Yellow Star, for I love the large stars.” And, saying this in jest, they fell asleep.
But many a word spoken in jest is recalled in earnest, as the brides learned when they awoke, and found themselves married again in the Indian manner, at only a word. For she who had wished for the Great Yellow Shining Star, as she opened her eyes, heard a man’s voice say, “Take care, or you will upset my war-paint!” And lo, there lay by her side a great and handsome man, very noble, with large and lustrous eyes. Then the other, as she awoke and stirred, heard a little feeble, cracked voice crying, “Take care, or you will spill my eye-water!” And by her was the smaller star, whom she had chosen; but he was a weak-looking old fellow, with little red, twinkling eyes. And as they had chosen so it came unto them.
But yellow or red, young or old, in a few days they both grew a-weary of the star country to which they were taken, and wished to return to the earth. And then that came to pass which made them yearn with tenfold longing; for their husbands, who were absent all day hunting, had pointed out to them a large flat stone, which they were on no account to lift; which they obeyed in this wise, that they did not both lift the stone, but only the younger, who, as soon as the Stars had gone to the greenwood, rushed to the slab, and, lifting it up, gazed greedily down into the hole beneath. And what she saw was wonderful, for it was the sky itself, and directly under them was the world in which they had lived, and specially in sight was the home of their childhood, with all its woods and rivers. And then the elder having looked, both almost broke their hearts with weeping.
Now the Stars were by no means such evil-minded men as you may have deemed; for having perceived by magic that their wives had looked through the hole in the sky, and knowing that they were lying when they denied it, they gave them leave to go back to earth. Yet there were conditions, and those not easy to such fidgety damsels as these; for they said, “Ye shall lie together all this night, and in the morning when ye awake ye shall be in no haste to open your eyes or to uncover your faces. Wait until ye shall have heard the song of the Ktsee-gee-gil-lassis, or chick-a-dee-dee. And even then ye shall not arise, but be quiet until the song of the red squirrel shall be heard. And even then ye must wait and keep your faces covered and your eyes closed until ye hear the striped squirrel sing. And then ye may leave your bed and look around.”
Now the younger wife was ever impatient, and when the chick-a-dee-dee sang she would have leaped up at once, but the elder restrained her. “Wait,” she said, “my sister, until we hear the Abalkakmooech (ground squirrel).” And she lay still till the adoo-doo-dech (red squirrel) began his early chatter and his morning’s work. Then, without waiting, she jumped up, as did the elder, when they found themselves indeed on earth, but in the summit of a tall, spreading hemlock-tree, and that in such a manner that they could not descend without assistance. And it had come to pass in this wise: for as each song was sung by the bird and the squirrels, they had come nearer and nearer to the earth, even as the light of day drew near, but as they could not delay they had been deserted.
And as they sat there and day dawned, men of the different Indian families went by, and unto all of these they cried for help. It is true that their star husbands had made for them in the tree a bed of moss, but they cared not to rest in the hemlock, for all that. And of all the beasts of the forest or men of the clearing, who should be the first to appear but Team, or Master Moose, himself. And to him they cried, “N’sesenen-apkwahlin, n’sesebeb! Oh, out elder brother, let us free; take us down, and we will be your two dear little wives, and go home with you.” But he, looking up scornfully, said, “I was married this autumn.” And so he went his way.
And he who next came was the shaggy Bear, or mooin, to whom they made the same request, offering themselves for no higher price than to be taken down safely out of their nest. But he growled out that he had been married in the spring, and that one wife was enough for any man. So he went his way.
And then who should come along but Martin himself, even the Abistanooch, whom they had deserted! And they cried out for joy, begging him to take them back. But he, behaving as if they were utter strangers, replied that he had been married in the early spring to one of his own tribe, and unto a damsel whose name was Martin, and that it was not seemly for animals to wed out of their own kind. So he scampered off, leaving the little Weasels all alone.
And last of all came Lox, whom hunters call the Indian Devil, and others the Wolverine, who is exceeding subtle above the beasts of the forest, and who is gifted with more evil mischief than all of them in one. And when the Weasels called to him for help he tarried, for it came into his heart that he might in some way torment and tease them. But verily he had to deal with those who were not much more virtuous than himself, and quite as cunning, for what with traveling from the earth to the heavens and changing husbands, these fair maidens were learning wisdom rapidly. So the elder sister, who had not the least idea of keeping her promise unless it suited her fancy, played a trick, and that quickly anon. For she at once took off her hair-string and tied it into a few less than a hundred knots among the twigs of the trees, tangling it so that you would have deemed it a week’s work before a man could loosen it again without injury.
Now Master Lox, having taken down the younger sister with all the politeness in the world, came for the other, and aided her also to descend. And when on the ground she indeed said, “Willee-oon, I thank you,” but begged him to go up the tree again and bring down a great treasure which she had left there, her hair-string; beseeching him for all their lives not to break or injure it in any way, but to most carefully untie every knot, for thus doing it would bring untold felicity on them all; and that they, the Weasels, would meantime build a beautiful bridal bower, or a wigwam, and that so furnished as he had never seen the like before, in which verily they kept their word.
For they speedily built the wigwam, but the furniture thereof was of this rare kind. The Weasels had, it seems, certain sworn friends, and these were not far to seek, as they were the Thorns, Burrs, and Briers of all kinds, Hornets and other winged and stringed insects, besides the Ants. And they were, moreover, intimate with all the sharp-edged Flints in the land, which was a godly company. So when the bower was built it had therein a hornet’s nest for a bridal bed, thorns for a carpet, flints for a floor, and an ant’s nest for a seat. Now it had taken Master Lox the entire day to untie the hair-string, so when he came down it was dark, and he was glad when he saw the hut and thought of resting therein.
But, as he entered, he ran among the Thorns, which pierced his nose, and Flints, which cut his feet, so that he roared aloud. Then he heard a voice, which seemed to be that of the younger Miss Weasel, crying “Names-cole, Go to my sister, yonder!” So he went, and trod in an anti-hill, and this was worse than the Briers. And then he heard another voice on that side which cried, laughing, “N’kwech-kale!, Go to my sister, who is younger than I.” And lunging furiously through the darkness, he fell on the hornet’s nest; and verily the last state of that Indian was worst of all. Thus, seeing himself mocked, he became furious; so that he who has by nature the very worst temper of all beasts or men was never so angry before, and, seeking the tracks of the Weasels, he pursued them as they fled in the night and through the thick forest.
Now it came to pass that by daybreak the two girls, even the Misses Weasel, had come to a broad river which they could not cross. But in the edge of the water stood a large Crane, motionless, or the Tum-gu’o-lig-unach, who was the ferryman. Now truly this is esteemed to be the least beautiful of all the birds, for which cause he is greedy of good words and fondest of flattery. And of all beings there were none who had more bear’s oil ready to anoint every one’s hair with than the Weasels. So, seeing the Crane, they sang:
“Wa wela quis kip pat kasqu,
Wa wela quis kip pat kasqu.”
“The Crane has a very beautiful long neck,
The Crane has a very beautiful long neck.”
Thus charmed the old ferryman very much, and when they said, “Please, grandfather, hurry along,” he came quickly. Seeing this, they began to chant in chorus, sweetly as the Seven Stars themselves:
“Wa wela quig nat kasqu’,
Wa wela quiq nat kasqu’.”
“The Crane has very beautiful long legs,
The Crane has very beautiful long legs.”
Hearing this, the good Crane wanted more; so when they asked him to give them a lift across, he answered slowly that to do so he must be well paid, but that good praise would answer as well. Now they who had abundance of this and to spare for everybody were these very girls. “Have I not a beautiful form?” he inquired; and they both cried aloud, “Oh, uncle, it is indeed beautiful!” “And my feathers?” “Ah, pegeakopchu, beautiful and straight feathers indeed!” “And have I not a charming long, straight neck?” “Truly our uncle has it straight and long.” “And will ye not acknowledge, oh, maidens, that my legs are fine?” “Fin! Oh, uncle, they are perfection. Never in this life did we see such legs!” So being well pleased, the Crane put them across, and then the two little Weasels scampered like mice into the bush.
And scarcely were they concealed, or the Crane well again in his place, ere Master Lox appeared. And being in no good temper he called to Uncle Crane to set him across, and that speedily. Now the Crane had been made mightily pleased and proud by the winsome words of the Weasels, and was but little inclined to be rudely addressed. So he said to Lox, “I will bear thee over the river if thou wilt bear witness to my beauty. Are not my legs straight?” “Yea,” replied the Lox, “and beautifully painted, too.” Now the color thereof was little pleasing to poor Uncle Crane. “Are not my feathers very smooth and fine?” “Yea, smooth and fine; what a pit though, that they are mildewed and dusty!” “And my straight neck?” “Yes, wonderfully straight, straight as this,” said Lox to himself, taking up a crooked stick. And then he sang:
“Mech guiskipat kasqu’,
Mecha quig nat kasqu’.”
“The Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.”
“Come, mooso me, grandfather, hurry up!
Oh, the Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.
I wish you to be quick, mooso me. Hurry up, I say!”
And all of this ill-temper and insincerity was deeply and inwardly detected by Uncle Crane, but he said not a word, and only meekly bent him down to take the traveler on his back. But when in the stream, and where it was deepest and most dangerous, he gave himself a shake, and in another instant Lox was whirling round and round like a chip in the rapids. And yet a little time he was dashed against the rocks, and then anon was thrown high and dry on the shore, but dead as a seven-year-old cedar cone.
Source:
The Algonquin Legends of New England, Charles G. Leland, 1884
Kotharian Lightning 