|
A man, his wife and two
little sons went into the forest to hunt and fish, so as to get
sufficient food for the winter, the winter being very long and cold. The
father was very fortunate in his hunting. Many moose had he killed, also
ducks and geese in plenty; he had trapped plenty of beaver, otter and
marten; their furs were for clothing. His wife, however, was a very lazy
woman, and let much of the meat spoil. One day he asked his little
children: “What does your mother do when I am away?”
“Oh, father, she leaves us and will not let us follow her. She goes far
away, and does not come back till it is nearly time for you to come
home.”
The father was very sad, and could not rest till he found out what his
wife did during his absence. So the next morning he went off to see his
traps, etc., but only went a little way, and then waited for his wife.
Presently she came out, dressed in her best, and went towards the river.
He followed her, and saw her stop at a very large stump and knock at it
and say: “I am here my friends; come out now and let us play.”
Then the stump became alive with snakes, large and small. Then she laid
down and let them crawl ail over her, and kept singing and playing with
them. The poor man was almost overcome with terror, but tore himself
away and made his plan how he was going to destroy this monster of a
woman. So he shot many deer and left them and marked the places where
they were hid, and went home. He had killed some beaver and had taken
their teeth with him, but left them in the swamps. In the evening he
told his wife that she must get up early next day and go into the woods
and bring back the meat and beaver. How cross she was! She scolded her
children and behaved quite rudely. Next day she went off, and not long
afterwards he went to find the stump, and when he found it he took a
stick and beat on it and said: “Come out, my friends; I am here now;
come and play.”
Then the snakes all came out, and he began cutting them to pieces. He
killed all of them except one little snake that managed to escape into
its hole. He gathered all the blood of the snakes and took it home. At
dusk the wife returned, very tired and cross. He had cooked the beavers’
tails, which are most delicious and a great dainty, and afterwards gave
her to drink, but it was blood. She did not know it. He had told his
children that he had killed their mothers friends, and that when she
found out she would kill them all. “Now, listen, my children. You must
run away from here as quickly as you can; and if you see your mother
coming after you, you must throw this comb behind you.” Then he gave
them a wooden comb, flint and beaver’s teeth. “Always remember and throw
these things behind you and never in front.” Then he lifted up the flap
of the skin tent at the back, and told them to go that way. The poor
little fellows went off crying bitterly.
Now, the mother, after eating and feeling better, asked where the
children were.
“Oh, they are watching for the stars, and will be in soon, so go to
sleep. The next day he left early, but went only a little way, when he
saw his wife go out. Presently she came back, raging. She had gone to
the stump and found all her friends dead, and only one little one left
alive, who told her that her husband had killed all his relations. When
he heard her raging he returned and prepared for the death struggle.
Words cannot describe the awful conflict. At last he cut off her head
and fled, with the body after him and the head rolling about looking for
the children, and calling for them. At last she saw a crow, and asked
the bird if he had seen which way the children had gone.
“Oh, yes,” said he; “lift up the tent at the back and you will find
their trail.
So he flew down and picked up the tent, and out the head rolled. It went
on and on till it nearly reached the children, who were terribly
frightened. They threw the comb behind, and an immense forest sprang up.
Now the head was in despair, and asked everybody she met to help her. At
last the fire helped her and made a path for her through the forest. She
then rolled on and nearly came up to the children, when they threw the
flint, and a great mountain rose up. Again she asked the birds and
animals to help her. An eagle picked her up and carried her Over and
dropped her, and she went rolling on.
At last the poor children saw her coming, and in their haste they threw
the beaver’s teeth before them, and a broad river appeared. Poor
children, how could they cross this wide river? They cried so bitterly
that at last a pelican that was fishing near by, said: “Come, my poor
little children; get on my back and I will cross you."
“Oh, grandfather, how kind you are.”
On the broad back of the pelican they mounted, and he took them across
the river. The head saw the children get on the pelican’s back, but was
too late to catch them. So when the pelican came back, she begged him to
cross her too. At first he would not, but at last consented, and after a
good deal of trouble she got on the pelican’s back. Just when they were
in the middle of the river he made a dive after a fish, and the poor
Chis-tapistaquhn rolled into the water, where she became a sturgeon. The
Indians won’t eat the flesh of the sturgeon just where the head joins
the body, for that is, they say, Chis-tapistaquhn’s flesh. The poor
children remained on the river bank, living as best they could, when one
day a temanhous man came and carried away the eldest boy for his
daughter’s husband. The poor little boy was heartbroken at parting with
his brother, but the temanhous man turned the younger into a wolf. |
