All this wampum, all these feathers,
On a single throw will venture
All against the young man yonder !

'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 lagoo. "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 Kena-
beeks,

Red the Ininewug, the wedge-men,
Red the Sheshewug, 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 wea-

Pointing with his fan of feathers,
'To my wigwam far to eastward,
On the dunes of Nagow Wujoo !"
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 stream-
lets,

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 wig.

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 for

est,

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 head-
lands,

Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee, Perched himself upon the summit,

Waiting full of mirth and mischief

The return of Hiawatha.

Stretched upon his back he lay there;

Far below him plashed the waters, Plashed and washed the dreamy waters;

Far above him swam the heavens, Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens; Round him hovered, fluttered, rus

tled,

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,

Til at length Kayoshk, the scagull,

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 !"

XVII.

THE HUNTING OF PAU-PUK-KEEWIS.
FULL of wrath was Hiawatha,
When he came into the village,
Found the people in confusion,
Heard of all the misdemeanors,
All the malice and the mischief
Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis.
Hard his breath came through his
nostrils,

Through his teeth he buzzed and muttered

Words of anger and resentment, Hot and humming like a hornet. "I will slay this Pau-Puk-Keewis, Slay this mischief-maker!" said he. "Not so long and wide the world is, Not so rude and rough the way is, That my wrath shall not attain him, That my vengeance shall not reach him!"

Then in swift pursuit departed, Hiawatha and the hunters

On the trail of Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Through the forest, where he passed,
To the headlands where he rested;
But they found not Pau-Puk-Kee-
wis,

Only in the trampled grasses,
In the whortleberry bushes,
Found the couch where he had
rested,

Found the impress of his body.
From the lowlands far beneath them,
From the Muskoday, the meadow,
Pau-Puk-Keewis, turning
ward,

Made a gesture of defiance,
Made a gesture of derision;
And aloud cried Hiawatha,

back

To a streamlet still and tranquil,
That had overflowed its margin,
To a dam made by the beavers,
To a pond of quiet water,
Where knee-deep the trees were
standing,

Where the water-lilies floated, Where the rushes waved and whispered.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,

On the dam of trunks and branches, Through whose chinks the water spouted,

O'er whose summit flowed the streamlet.

From the bottom rose the beaver, Looked with two great eyes of wonder,

Eyes that seemed to ask a question, At the stranger, Pau Puk-Keewis.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Kee

wis,

O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet,
Flowed the bright and silvery water,
And he spake unto the beaver,
With a smile he spake in this wise:

O my friend Ahmeek, the beaver,
Cool and pleasant is the water;
Let me dive into the water,
Let me rest there in your lodges;
Change me, too, into a beaver !"

Cautiously replied the beaver, With reserve he thus made answer : "Let me first consult the others, Let me ask the other beavers." Down he sank into the water, Heavily sank he, as a stone sinks, Down among the leaves

branches,

and

From the bottom rose the beavers, Silently above the surface Rose one head and then another, Till the pond seemed full of beavers, Full of black and shining faces.

To the beavers Pau-Puk-Keewis Spake entreating, said in this wise: Very pleasant is your dwelling, O my friends! and safe from danger;

Can you not with all your cunning, All your wisdom and contrivance, Change me, too, into a beaver?" "Yes!" replied Ahmeek, the beaver,

He the King of all the beavers,

Let yourself slide down among us, Down into the tranquil water.'

Down into the pond among them Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis ; Black became his shirt of deerskin, Black his moccasins and leggings, In a broad black tail behind him Spread his foxtails and his fringes; He was changed into a beaver.

"Make me large," said Pau-PukKeewis,

"Make me large and make me

larger,

Larger than the other beavers."
"Yes," the beaver chief responded,
When our lodge below you enter,
In our wigwam we will make you
Ten times larger than the others."

Thus into the clear, brown water Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis ; Found the bottom covered over With the trunks of trees and branches,

Hoards of food against the winter, Piles and heaps against the famine; Found the lodge with arching doorway,

Leading into spacious chambers. Here they made him large and larger,

Made him largest of the beavers, Ten times larger than the others. "You shall be our ruler," said they ; "Chief and King of all the beavers.' But not long had Pau-Puk-Kee

wis

| From the watchman at his station
In the water-flags and lilies,
Saying, "Here is Hiawatha !
Hiawatha with his hunters!"
Then they heard a cry above
them,

Heard a shouting and a tramping,
Heard a crashing and a rushing,
And the water round and o'er them
Sank and sucked away in eddies,
And they knew their dam was
broken.

On the lodge's roof the hunters Leaped, and broke it all asunder; Streamed the sunshine through the crevice,

Sprang the beavers through the doorway,

Hid themselves in deeper water,
In the channel of the streamlet;
But the mighty Pau-Puk-Keewis
Could not pass beneath the door-
way;

He was puffed with pride and feeding,

He was swollen like a bladder.

Through the roof looked Hiawa

tha,

Cried aloud, "O Pau-Puk-Keewis !
Vain are all your craft and cunning,
Vain your manifold disguises!
Well I know you, Pau-Puk-Kee-
wis !"

With their clubs they beat and
bruised him,

Beat to death poor Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Pounded him as maize is pounded, Till his skull was crushed to pieces.

Six tall hunters, lithe and limber, Bore him home on poles and branches,

Bore the body of the beaver ;
But the ghost, the Jeebi in him,
Thought and felt as Pau-Puk-Kee-
wis,

Still lived on as Pau-Puk-Keewis.

And it fluttered, strove, and
struggled,

Waving hither, waving thither,
As the curtains of a wigwam
Struggle with their thongs of deer-
skin,
When the wintry wind is blowing;

Till it drew itself together,
Till it rose up from the body,
Till it took the form and features,
Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Vanishing into the forest.

But the wary Hiawatha
Saw the figure ere it vanished,
Saw the form of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Glide into the soft blue Shadow

Of the pine-trees of the forest ; Toward the squares of white beyond it,

Toward an opening in the forest, Like a wind it rushed and panted, Bending all the boughs before it, And behind it, as the rain comes, Came the steps of Hiawatha.

To a lake with many islands Came the breathless Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Where among the water-lilies Pishnekuh, the brant, was sailing; Through the tufts of rushes floating, Steering through the reedy islands. Now their broad black beaks they lifted,

Now they plunged beneath the water,

Now they darkened in the shadow, Now they brightened in the sunshine.

"Pishnekuh!" cried Pau-Puk

"In your flying, look not downward,

Take good heed and look not downward,

Lest some strange mischance should happen,

Lest some great mishap befall you!" Fast and far they fled to north

ward,

Fast and far through mist and sunshine,

Fed among the moors and fen-lands, Slept among the reeds and rushes.

On the morrow as they journeyed, Buoyed and lifted by the Southwind,

Wafted onward by the South-wind, Blowing fresh and strong behind them,

Rose a sound of human voices,
Rose a clamor from beneath them,
From the lodges of a village,
From the people miles beneath
them.

For the people of the village
Saw the flock of brant with wonder,
Saw the wings of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Flapping far up in the ether,
Broader than two doorway curtains.
Pau-Puk-Keewis heard the shout-
ing,

Knew the voice of Hiawatha,
Knew the outcry of Iagoo,
And, forgetful of the warning,
Drew his neck in, and looked down-
ward,

And the wind that blew behind him

Caught his mighty fan of feathers, Sent him wheeling, whirling downward!

All in vain did Pau-Puk-Keewis Struggle to regain his balance ! Whirling round and round and downward,

He beheld in turn the village
And in turn the flock above him,
Saw the village coming nearer,
And the flock receding farther,
Heard the voices growing louder,
Heard the shouting and the laughter;
Saw no more the flock above him,
Only saw the earth beneath him;
Dead out of the empty heaven,