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