Dead among the shouting people, His right hand to seize and hold him, When the cunning Pau-Puk Keewis Whirled and spun about in circles, Fanned the air into a whirlwind, Danced the dust and leaves about him, And amid the whirling eddies Sprang into a hollow oak-tree, Changed himself into a serpent, Gliding out through root and rubbish. With his right hand Hiawatha Smote amain the hollow oak-tree, Rent it into shreds and splinters, Left it lying there in fragments. But in vain; for Pau-Puk Keewis, Once again in human figure, Full in sight ran on before him, Sped away in gust and whirlwind, On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Westward by the Big-Sea-Water, Came unto the rocky headlands, To the Pictured Rocks of sandstone, 1 The reader will find a long description of the Pictured Rocks in Foster and Whitney's Report on the Geology of the Lake Superior Land District, Part II., p. 124. From this I make the following extract : "The Pictured Rocks may be described in general terms, as a series of sandstone, bluffs extending along the shore of Lake Superior for about five miles, and rising, in most places vertically from the water, without any beach at the base, to a height varying from fifty to nearly two hundred feet. Were they simply a line of cliffs they might not, so far as relates to height or extent, be worthy of rank among great natural curiosities, although such an assemblage of rocky strata, washed by the waves of the great lake, would not, under any circumstances, be destitute of grandeur. To the voyager coasting along their base in his frail canoe they would at all times be an object of dread; the recoil of the surf, the rock-bound coast affording for miles no place of refuge, the lowering sky, the rising wind, all these would excite his apprehension, and induce him to ply a vigorous oar until the dreaded wall was passed. But in the Pictured Rocks there are two features which communicate to the scenery a wonderful and almost unique character. These are first, the curious manner in which the cliffs have been excavated and worn away by the action of the lake, which for centuries has dashed an ocean. like surf against their base; and second, the equally curious manner in which large portions of the surface have been colored by bands of brilliant hues. "It is from the latter circumstance that the name by which these cliffs are known to the American traveller is derived; while that applied to them by the French voyagers (Les Portals') is derived from the former, and by far the most striking peculiarity. "The term Pictured Rocks has been in use for a great length of time; but when it was first applied we have been unable to discover. It would seem that the first travellers were more impressed with the novel and striking distribution of colors on the surface than with the astonishing variety of form into which the cliffs them. selves have been worn. . . . "Our voyagers had many legends to relate of the pranks of the Menni-bojou in these caverns, and in answer to our inquiries, seemed disposed to fabricate stories without end of the achievements of this Indian deity." Dead among the rocky ruins Ended were his wild adventures, Then the noble Hiawatha Took his soul, his ghost, his shadow, Spake and said: "O Pau-Puk-Keewis, Never more in human figure Shall you search for new adventures; Never more with jest and laughter Dance the dust and leaves in whirlwinds; But above there in the heavens And the name of Pau-Puk-Keewis "If this great, outrageous fellow He will tread us down like mushrooms, Drive us all into the water, So the angry Little People All conspired to murder Kwasind, Yes, to rid the world of Kwasind, The audacious, overbearing, Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind! Now this wondrous strength of | O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind. Kwasind In his crown alone was seated; Nowhere else could weapon harm him. Even there the only weapon That could wound him, that could slay him, Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree, So they gathered cones together, Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree, Gathered blue cones of the fir-tree, In the woods by Taquamenaw, Brought them to the river's margin, Heaped them in great piles together, Where the red rocks from the margin Jutting overhang the river. There they lay in wait for Kwasind, The malicious Little People. 'Twas an afternoon in Summer; In his birch canoe came Kwasind, From the overhanging branches, Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin; Like the burnished Dush-kwo-ne she, Like a dragon-fly he hovered To his ear there came a murmur At the first blow of their war-clubs, So he floated down the river, Underneath the wooded headlands. Hurled the pine-cones down upon him, Struck him on his brawny shoulders, On his crown defenceless struck him. Death to Kwasind!" was the sud den War-cry of the Little People. And he sideways swayed and tumbled, Sideways fell into the river, Plunged beneath the sluggish water Headlong, as an otter plunges ; Lingered long among the people, And the branches, tossed and troubled, Creaked and groaned and split asunder, " 'Kwasind!" cried they; "that is | For the steps of Hiawatha Kwasind! He is gathering in his firewood !" XIX. THE GHOSTS. NEVER stoops the soaring vulture And a third pursues the second, So disasters come not singly ; wounded, and First a shadow, then a sorrow, Mighty Peboan, the Winter, Till the plains were strewn with whiteness, One uninterrupted level, Homeward from the hunt returning. On their faces gleamed the firelight, Painting them with streaks of crim Climbed and crowded through the smoke-flue, Then the curtain of the doorway From without was slowly lifted; Brighter glowed the fire a moment, And a moment swerved the smokewreath, As two women entered softly, Strangers seemed they in the village; Very pale and haggard were they, shadows. the These are corpses clad in garments, These are ghosts that come to haunt you, From the kingdom of Ponemah, From the land of the Hereafter!" Homeward now came Hiawatha From his hunting in the forest, With the snow upon his tresses, And the red deer on his shoulders. At the feet of Laughing Water Down he threw his lifeless burden; As a token of his wishes, Cowering, crouching with the shadows, Said within himself, "Who are they? What strange guests has Minne haha ?" But he questioned not the strangers, Came from fishing or from hunting, Seized upon the choicest portions That the virtue of free-giving, Once at midnight Hiawatha, By the glimmering, flickering fire- Heard a sighing, oft repeated, Not a word spake Hiawatha, From his couch rose Hiawatha, From his shaggy hides of bison, Pushed aside the deerskin curtain, Saw the pallid guests, the shadows, ished; Let them do what best delights them; Weeping in the silent midnight. And he said: "O guests! why is it That your hearts are so afflicted, Let them eat, for they are famished." That you sob so in the midnight? Many a daylight dawned and dark-Has perchance the old Nokomis, Has my wife, my Minnehaha, Wronged or grieved you by unkind ened, Many a night shook off the daylight From the midnight of its branches; And whenever Hiawatha |