Chapter II: Part 2

The Ancient History of the Six Nations, by David Cusick, gives us in one particular a strange coincidence with the Edda. It tells us that the Bad Mind, the principle of Evil, forced himself out into life, as Cusick expresses it in his broken Indian-English, "under the side of the parent's arm;" that is, through the armpit. In the Edda (Vafthrudnismal, 33) we are told of the first beings born on earth that they were twins, begotten by the two feet of a giant, and born out of his armpit.

"Under the armpit grew,
't is said of the Hrimthurs,
a girl and boy together;
foot with foot begat,
of that wise Jotun,
a six-headed son."

There are in these six lines six coincidences with red Indian mythology: (1.) The Evil principle as a Jotun's first-born in the one and the Bad Mind in the other are born of the mother's armpit. (2.) In one of the tales of Lox, the Indian devil, also a giant, we are told that his feet are male and female. (3.) In both faiths this is the first birth on earth. (4.) The six-headed demon appears in a Micmac tale. (5.) There is in both the Eddaic and the Wabanaki account a very remarkable coincidence in this: that there is a Titanic or giant birth of twins on earth, followed by the creation of man from the ash-tree. (6.) The Evil principle, whether it be the Wolf-Lox, in the Wabanaki myths, or Loki in the Norse, often turns himself into a woman. Thus the male and female sex of the first-born twins is identified.

According to the Edda, the order of births on earth was as follows:--

First, two giants were born from the mother's armpit.

Secondly, the dwarfs were created.

Thirdly, man was made from the ash-tree.

According to the Wabanaki, this was the order:--

First, two giants were born, _one_ from his mother's armpit.

Secondly, the dwarfs (Mikumwessuk) were created from the bark of the ash-tree.

Thirdly, man was made from the _trunk_ of the ash.

The account of the creation of the dwarfs is wanting in the present manuscript.

_Of the Great Deeds which Glooskap did for Men; how he named the Animals, and who they were that formed his Family._

(Passamaquoddy.)

_Woodenit atbk-hagen Gloosekap_: [Footnote: Passamaquoddy.] this is a story of Glooskap. It is told in traditions of the old time that Glooskap was born in the land of the Wabanaki, which is nearest to the sunrise; but another story says that he came over the sea in a great stone canoe, and that this canoe was an island of granite covered with trees. When the great man, of all men and beasts chief ruler, had come down from this ark, he went among the Wabanaki. [Footnote: This part of the legend is from a very singular and I may add almost unintelligible manuscript, _Storey about Glooscap_, written in English by a Passamaquoddy Indian. The word _ark_ which occurs in it reminds me that the Indian from whom I obtained it once asked me if I did not think that Glooskap was the same as Noah. This sentence is as follows in the Indian-English of the original: "Gloosecap hat left from ark come crosse even wiht wabnocelel."] And calling all the animals he gave them each a name: unto the Bear, _mooin_; and asked him what he would do if he should meet with a man. The Bear said, "I fear him, and I should run." Now in those days the Squirrel (_mi-ko_) was greater than the Bear. Then Glooskap took him in his hands, and smoothing him down he grew smaller and smaller, till he became as we see him now. In after-days the Squirrel was Glooskap's dog, and when he so willed, grew large again and slew his enemies, however fierce they might be. But this time, when asked what he would do should he meet with a man, Mi-ko replied, "I should run up a tree."

Then the Moose, being questioned, answered, standing still and looking down, "I should run through the woods." And so it was with Kwah-beet the Beaver, [Footnote: This is very obscure in the original manuscript. It reads "Herask beaber did do anything just look behager."] and Glooskap saw that of all created beings the first and greatest was Man.

Before men were instructed by him, they lived in darkness; it was so dark that they could not even see to slay their enemies. [Footnote: This was read to me by an Indian from a wampum record, now kept at Sebayk. I do not think I am mistaken in the phrase. It probably refers to ignorance of warlike weapons.] Glooskap taught them how to hunt, and to build huts and canoes and weirs for fish. Before he came they knew not how to make weapons or nets. He the Great Master showed them the hidden virtues of plants, roots, and barks, and pointed out to them such vegetables as might be used for food, as well as what kinds of animals, birds, and fish were to be eaten. And when this was done he taught them the names of all the stars. He loved mankind, and wherever he might be in the wilderness he was never very far from any of the Indians. He dwelt in a lonely land, but whenever they sought him they found him. [Footnote: This is from the Rand manuscript. The writer remarks that these expressions were the very words of a Micmac Indian named Stephen Flood, "who had no idea that he was using almost the identical expressions of Holy Writ with reference to God."] He traveled far and wide: there is no place in all the land of the Wabanaki where he left not his name; hills, rocks and rivers, lakes and islands, bear witness to him.

Glooskap was never married, yet as he lived like other men he lived not alone. There dwelt with him an old woman, who kept his lodge; he called her Noogumee, "my grandmother." (Micmac.) With her was a youth named Abistariaooch, or the Martin. (M.) And Martin could change himself to a baby or a little boy, a youth or a young man, as befitted the time in which he was to act; for all things about Glooskap were very wonderful. This Martin ate always from a small birch-bark dish, called _witch-kwed-lakun-cheech_ (M.), and when he left this anywhere Glooskap was sure to find it, and could tell from its appearance all that had befallen his family. And Martin was called by Glooskap Uch-keen (M.), "my younger brother." The Lord of men and beasts had a belt which gave him magical power and endless strength. And when he lent this to Martin, the younger brother could also do great deeds, such as were only done in old times.

Martin lived much with the Mikumwess or Elves, or Fairies, and is said to have been one of them.

_How Win-pe the Sorcerer, having stolen Glooskap's Family, was by him pursued, and how, Glooskap for a Merry Jest cheated the Whale. Of the Song of the Clams, and how the Whale smoked a Pipe._

(Micmac.)

_N'kah-ne-oo_. In old times (P.), in the beginning of things, men were as animals and animals as men; how this was, no one knows. But it is told that all were at first men, and as they gave themselves up to this and that desire, and to naught else, they became beasts. But before this came to pass, they could change to one or the other form; yet even as men there was always something which showed what they were.

Now Glooskap lived on an island named Aja-lig-un-mechk, and with him were many Indians with the names and natures of animals and birds.

These men, but most of all Pulowech, the Partridge, having acquired power themselves, became jealous of Glooskap, and made up their minds to depart when he was away, taking with them Martin and the grandmother. For they had great hope that Glooskap, being left alone on the island, would perish, because they knew not his power. There is another story which says that he was living at the mouth of the Oolostook, at a place called Menogwes (St. John, N. B.), and went away into the forest as far as Goolwahgik (Juan), and had been gone six weeks, when he returned home and found the old woman, whose name was Mooinarkw, [Footnote: Mr. Rand translates this Micmac word as Mrs. Bear.] and Martin had been taken away. Following their tracks to the shore he saw one of his greatest enemies, a terrible sorcerer named Win-pe, just pushing off in his canoe. And with him were his wife and child and Dame Bear and Martin. They were still within call, and Glooskap cried from the shore to the grandmother to send back his dogs, which were not larger than mice, and, as some stories tell us, were squirrels. So she took a _woltes-takun_, which is a small wooden platter, and on such Indian dice are tossed. This she put in the water, and placed the dogs on it, and it floated to the shore, and Glooskap took it up. Win-pe with his family and prisoners pushed on to Passamoogwaddy (M.), and thence to Grand Manan; and after remaining there a while he crossed over to Kes-poog-itk (Yarmouth), and so went slowly along the southern coast through Oona-mahgik (Cape Breton), and over to Uktukkamkw (Newfoundland), where he was slain.

Now whether it was to gain magical power, or to weaken that of Win-pe, or to chasten the others by suffering, who knows? But Glooskap rested seven years alone before he pursued the enemy, though some say it was seven months. And when the time had come, he took his dogs and went to the shore, and looked far out to sea over the waves, and sang the magic song which the whales obey. [Footnote: In the _Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo_, by Dr. Henry Rink, we are told in the story of Akigsiak that an old man taught the hero a magic lay for luring a whale to him. In another, Katersparsuk sings such a song to the walrus.] Soon there rose in the distance a small whale, who had heard the call, and came to Glooskap; but he was then very great, and he put one foot on the whale to test his weight, and the fish sank under him. So he sent it away.

Then the lord of men and beasts sang the song again, and there came the largest, a mighty female, and she bore him well and easily over to Kes-poog-itk. But she was greatly afraid of getting into shoal water, or of running ashore, and this was what Glooskap wished her to do that he might not wet his feet. So as she approached she asked him if land were in sight. But he lied, and said "No." So she went on rapidly.

However, she saw shells below, and soon the water grew so shoal that she said in fear, "_Moon-as-taba-kan-kari-jean-nook_? (M.) Does not the land show itself like a bow-string?" And he said, "We are still far from land."

Then the water grew so shoal that she heard the song of the Clams as they lay under the sand, singing to her that she should throw him off and drown him. For these Clams were his deadly enemies. But Bootup the Whale did not understand their language, so she asked her rider--for he knew Clam--what they were chanting to her. And he replied in a song:--

"They tell you to hurry (_cussal_) (M),
To hurry, to hurry him along,
Over the water,
Away as fast as you can!"

Then the Whale went like lightning, and suddenly found herself high on the shore. Then she lamented and sang:--

"Alas, my grandchild (_noojeech_),
Ah, you have been my death;
I can never leave the land,
I shall swim in the sea no more."

But Glooskap sang:--

"Have no fear, _noogumee_,
You shall not suffer,
You shall swim in the sea once more."

Then with a push of his bow against her head he sent her off into deep water. And the Whale rejoiced greatly. But ere she went she said, "Oh, my grandson, _K'teen pehabskwass n'aga tomawe_?" (P.). "Hast thou not such a thing as an old pipe and some tobacco?" He replied,--

"Ah yes.
You want tobacco,
I behold you."

So he gave her a short pipe and some tobacco, and thereunto a light. And the Whale, being of good cheer, sailed away, smoking as she went, while Glooskap, standing silent on the shore, and ever leaning on his maple bow, beheld the long low cloud which followed her until she vanished in the far away.

In a Passamaquoddy tale of Pook-jin-skwess the Witch, the Clams sing a song deriding the hero. The words are:--

"Mow chow nut-pess sell
Peri marm-hole wett."

These words are not Indian, but they are said to mean,--

You look very funny with your long hair streaming in the wind,
And sailing on a snail's horn.

The large Clams sing this in a bass voice, the small ones in falsetto. The gypsies say that a Snail, when put on a pie, utters four cries, or squeaks; hence in Germany the Romany call it _Stargoli_: that is, _shtor-godli_, four cries.

_Of the Dreadful Deeds of the Evil Pitcher, who was both Man and Woman, and how she fell in love with Glooskap, and, being scorned, became his Enemy. Of the Toads and Porcupines, and the Awful Battle of the Giants._

(Passamaquoddy.)

When Glooskap came into the world it abounded in giants, monsters, sorcerers and witches, fiends and devils. Among the witches there was, one whom the Passamaquoddy call Pook-jin-skwess, or the Pitcher. [Footnote: It is not impossible that this well-known Indian witch gave her name to Moll Pitcher, the famous fortune-teller of Lynn.] And they have a legend that she once fell in love with Glooskap when he was young and had not gained the power of his riper age. He fled before her, and she pursued him. It was a dreadful flight, since to make rapid steps both took the form of giants by their _m'-te-oulin_ (P.), or magic power. It was like an awful storm in winter, the wind chasing the cloud; it was like a frightful tempest in summer, the lightning chasing the thunder. As the snow lay deep, both had snow-shoes on. When they came to the shore Glooskap leaped from the main-land to the island of Grand Manan, [Footnote: A leap of about nine miles.] and so escaped her. Now the snow-shoes of Glooskap were _sams'ook_ (P.), or round, while those of Pook-jin-skwess were long and pointed, [Footnote: The Penobscots give the long shoes to Glooskap.] and the marks of them as they jumped are to be seen deep in the rocks to this day.

When Glooskap came to the camp, which was at Ogumkegeak (M.), now called Liverpool, he found no one. But there lay the _witch-kwed-lakun-cheech_ (M.), or birch-bark dish of Martin, and from it, or, as another legend states, from an old man and woman who dwelt hard by, he learned that Win-pe and the families had been gone for seven years, along a road guarded by wicked and horrible beings, placed by Win-pe to prevent the Great Master from finding him. For it was a great triumph for him to keep Glooskap's friends as slaves, and all the land spoke thereof.

And these monsters were Pook-jin-skwess, or the Evil Pitcher herself, in many forms; for she could be man or woman, [Footnote: In the _Tales and Traditions_ of the Eskimo, we are told that a woman named Arnakuak, being apparently gifted by magic with the ability to change her sex, had her daughter-in-law; Ukuamak, for a wife, and, having eloped with her, was followed and killed by her own son. As this is almost immediately followed by a story of a man who gave birth to a child, it would appear that the idea was common to both Eskimo and Indians. Only the wicked magicians in Indian tales change their sex, like Loki in the Edda.] or many of them, and also several girls, when she willed it. Now it is a great part of Indian _m'teoulin_ (P.) to know what one's enemies are planning and plotting, and all their tricks and darkened paths; and in this Glooskap went beyond them all, for before his time every one went his own way, even in wickedness. But Glooskap first of all threw out his soul unto others.

And when he came to Ogumkeok he found a hut, and in it, seated over a fire, the ugliest old hag he had ever seen, trembling in every limb, as if near death, dirty, ragged, and loathsome in all ways. Looking up at him with bleared eyes, she begged him to gather her a little firewood, which he did. And then she prayed him to free her from the _wah gook_(M.), or vermin, with which she was covered, and which were maddening her with their bites. These were all devils in disguise, the spirits of foul poison, such as she deemed must kill even the Master. Now Glooskap, foreseeing all this, had taken with him, as he came, from a bog many cranberries. And bidding Pook-jin-skwess bend over, he began to take from her hair the hideous vermin, and each, as he took it, became a horrid porcupine or toad. [Footnote: In the Eskimo mythology, _Arnarkuagsak_, the old woman of the sea, is tormented by vermin about her head. These are really the souls of still-born or murdered infants, who have become imps. The first thing which the _angakok_ or sorcerer, who visits her must do is to free her from these pests. The descent of the sorcerer to this mother of all the monsters of the sea, who are at the same time _giants_, when they choose to assume the human form, recalls that of Odin to Hela. Both make this journey to hell, not for themselves, but in the interests of mankind.] Then the hag asked, "Have you found one?" "I have," replied the Master. "_Basp_!" (M.) "Crush it!" was her answer, and Glooskap crushed a cranberry; and she, hearing the noise, thought that he had done as she bid, and that the poison on his fingers would penetrate to his life. But he put the imps, one by one, under the wooden platter, which lay before him. As this went on he put the witch to sleep. When she awoke he was gone. The foul porcupines and toads were swarming all over the ground, having upset their hive. And filled with fury at being made a jest of, since it was a great despite that he had not even found it worth while to kill her when asleep, she burst out into her own form, which was beautiful as sin, wild as the devil, and gathering up all her imps, and making herself far more magical by fiercer will, went onward to encounter him again.

Then Glooskap came to a narrow pass in the hills. Here were two terrible beasts, as one story has it, or two monstrous dogs, [Footnote: The Indians had dogs before the coming of the whites. They were wolf-like.] as it is told in another. And they attacked him; but he set his own at them, and they, growing to tremendous size, killed the others. His dogs were so trained that when called to come off they went on, and the more they were bid to be quiet the more they bit.

Soon he came to the top of a high hill, and looking thence over all the land saw afar off a large wigwam, and knew in his heart that an enemy dwelt therein. And coming to it he found an old man and his two daughters. [Footnote: In another account, an old sorceress and her daughters; also an old man and his wife and daughters. According to two versions, these are all separate wizards, but the whole spirit of the Passamaquoddy legends make them Pook-jin-skwess alone.] Now the girls came out greeting [Footnote: In the story of the Rabbit and Lusifee the sorcerer singly twice assumes the form of an old man and his two daughters. There is yet another story, in which a magician thus triples himself with two daughters. It is, I believe, Eskimo, but I cannot distinctly remember as to this.] him with very pleasant glances, wooing softly and sweetly; they offered him a string of sausages, such as the Indians make from the entrails of the bear by only turning them inside out. For the fat, which clings to the outside, fills the skin. When these are washed and dried and smoked, many deem them delicious. But these which the girls offered, as girls do, to show their love, by casting the string round the neck of the favored youth, were enchanted, and had they once put the necklace upon him he would have been overpowered. However, they knew not of this new magic which the Master had brought into the land, by which one can read the heart; so, as they sidled up unto him with smiles and blandishments, waving in the wind as they danced their garlands of enchanted sausages, he looked as if he wanted to be won. And when his dogs growled at them he cried, "_Cuss_!" (M.), which means _Stop_! but which the dogs only knew as "Hie, at them!" So they flew at the witches, and these flashed up like fire into their own dreadful forms of female fiends. Then there was a terrible tumult, for never before in the land of the Wabanaki had there been such a battle. All the earth and rocks around were torn up. All the while the Master cried to the dogs, "Stop! These are my sisters. Come off, ye evil beasts! Let them alone! Cease, oh cease!" Yet the more he exhorted them to peace the more they inclined to war, and the more fiercely they fought, until the witches fled.

Then he entered the wigwam where the old sorcerer sat, waiting for him as food. And the Master said, "Are you hungry? Or do you love sausages? Here they are!" Instantly casting the links around his neck, he was taken, and Glooskap slew him with one blow.

Then, going on, he reached the Strait of Camsoke [Footnote: Camsoke means, "There is a high bluff on the opposite side of the river."--S. T. Rand.] (M.), or Canso, and to cross over again sang the song which wins the whales, and one of these rising, carried him to the opposite shore. Thence he made the circle of Oona-mah-gik, keeping round by the southern coast, and coming to the old camps where his enemy had been. From the _witch-kwed-lakun-cheech_, or birch-bark dish, left by Martin, he learned how long they had been gone. [Footnote: As the gypsy leaves his _patteran_, or sign, so the Indian makes marks which set forth clearly enough how long he has camped at any place, and how many were in the party, etc. It may be supposed that Martin, not daring to attract Win-pe's attention, effected this by a few secret scratches. Thus three lines and a crescent or moon would mean three nights.] When he came to Uk-tu-tun (M., Cape North) he found they had rowed to Uk-tuk-amqw (M., Newfoundland), and had left three days before.

Then again he sang, and once more a whale carried him over. And now he knew that he was indeed coming to what he sought, for in the deserted camp he found the embers of a fire, still smoking. Advancing rapidly, he saw near the next camp Martin, seeking wood to burn. The youth and the old Dame Bear had been most cruelly treated by Win-pe, and they were nearly starved, but Martin's clothes were good. [Footnote: There is a reason for this singular detail. Nancy Jeddore, the Indian from whom Mr. Rand learned one version of this legend, informed him that the Martin, thin at all times, always has a fine fur, however starved he may be. Dying with hunger, he is always well dressed.] And Martin was so sunk in sorrow that he did not hear Glooskap call him, and not till the Master threw a small stick at him did he look up, and even then he thought it had fallen from a tree. Then, seeing him, he cried out with joy; but Glooskap, who was hiding in the woods, bade him be silent. "Wait till it is dark," he said, "and I will go to your wigwam. Now you may go home and tell your grandmother."

In the other story (M.) it is narrated that as Martin with the grandmother were on the road, and Dame Bear bore him as almost a babe on her back, he turned his head and saw Glooskap following them, and cried out,--

"Where, oh where,
Where is my brother?
He who fed me often
On the marrow of the moose!"

And she replied,--

"Alas for thee, boy!
He is far, far away;
You will see him no more."

But the little fellow, seeing him again, sang as before, and Dame Bear, turning her head and beholding her Master, was so moved that she fainted and fell to the ground. Then Glooskap raised her in his arms, and when she had recovered she related how cruelly they had been treated by Win-pe. And Glooskap said, "Bear with him yet a little while, for I will soon pay him in full for what he has done."

Then the Master bade the old woman go back to the camp with Martin, and say nothing. It was the youth's duty to go for water and tend the baby in its swinging cot. And Glooskap told him all that he should do. When he should bring water he must mix with it the worst filth, and so offer it to Win-pe, the sorcerer.

And even as he ordered it was done, and Martin meekly offered the foul drink to the evil man, who at the smell of it cried aloud, "_Uk say_!" (M., Oh, horror!) and bade him bring a cleaner cup. But Martin, bearing the babe, threw it into the fire, and, running to the spot where Glooskap hid, cried out, "_Nse-sako! nse-sako_!" (M., My brother! my brother!) Win-pe, pursuing him, said, "Cry out to him; your brother cannot help you now. He is far away from here, on the island where I left him. Cry out well, for now you must die!" All this had been done that Win-pe's power might be put to sleep by anger, and his mind drawn to other things. And the Master rose before him in all his might, and stepped forward, while Win-pe drew backward a pace to recover his strength. And with great will the Master roused all the magic within him, and, as it came, he rose till his head was above the tallest pine; and truly in those days trees were giants beyond those of this time. But the lord of men and beasts laughed as he grew till his head was far above the clouds and reached the stars, and ever higher, till Win-pe was as a child at his feet. And holding the man in scorn, and disdaining to use a nobler weapon, he tapped the sorcerer lightly with the end of his bow, like a small dog, and he fell dead.

_How the Story of Glooskap and Pook-jin-skwess, the Evil Pitcher, is told by the Passamaquoddy Indians_. [Footnote: In this story Glooskap is called Pogumk, the Black Cat or Fisher, that is, a species of wild cat, while Martin is a N'mockswess, sable. There seems to be no settled idea as to what was the _totem_ or innate animal nature of the lord of men and beasts. I have a series of pictures scraped on birch-bark illustrating these myths, executed by a Passamaquoddy, in which Glooskap and the adopted grandmother in the stone canoe are represented as wood-chucks, or ground-hogs. (Mon-in-kwess, P.)]

(Passamaquoddy.)

There was a village of Indians who were all Black Cats, or Po'gum'k. One of them, the cleverest and bravest, went forth every day with bow and arrow, tomahawk and knife, and killed moose and bear, and sent meat to the poor, and so he fed them all. When he returned they came to him to know where his game lay, and when he had told them they went forth with toboggins [Footnote: Toboggin, a sled made very simply by turning up the ends of one or more pieces of wood to prevent them from catching in the snow.] and returned with them loaded with meat. And the chief of the Black Cats was by his mother the son of a bear. [Footnote: A confused but important point in all these myths.]

Pook-jin-skwess, the Witch, was a Black Cat. She was a woman or a man as she willed to be; but in these days she was a man. And she, being evil, hated the chief, and thought long how she could kill or remove him, and take his place. Now, one day when all the camp had packed what they had, being about to travel, Pitcher asked the chief to go with him, or with her, as you may will, down to the water-side to gather gulls' eggs. And then they went far out in a canoe, and very far, and still farther, till they came to an island, and there they landed, and while Pogumk (who was Glooskap) sought for eggs, the false-hearted Pitcher stole away in the _akweden_ (P., canoe), and as she paddled she sang a song--

"Nikhed-ha Pogumk min nekuk,
Netswil sagamawin!" (P)

"I have left the Black Cat on an island,
I shall be the chief of the Fishers now!"

So she came to the village, and the next day they all departed through the woods; there was not one of them left save the one who was worth them all. And at night they camped, expecting every day that the chief would come to them, and till then Pitcher was in his place.

Now on the thirtieth day the chief remembered his friend the Fox, who had _m'teoulin_ (P.), or magic power. And he sang a song, and the Fox heard it, although he was miles away, beyond forests and mountains. And thus knowing all, he went to the shore and swam to the island, where he found the chief. At this time the Black Cat could not swim such a distance, [Footnote: The most powerful _manitous_, or magicians, in the Chippeway tales, as well as in all others of the Indians, may exhaust their power and be forced to depend on that of inferiors in the great art. In this tale Glooskap is decidedly under a cloud.] but the Fox offered to take him to the mainland. Then they waded into the water, and the Fox said, "Close thine eyes and hold fast to my tail as tightly as thou canst, and be of good faith, oh, my elder brother, and we shall soon gain the shore." Saying this, he swam away and his friend followed. And it went well with them, but the chief grew weary, and he opened one eye a little, and saw that they were not ten feet from the shore. And being of little faith he thought, for he spoke not aloud, "We shall never get to land." But the Fox replied, "Do not believe it." But the journey lasted long, for what seemed to Pogumk to be ten feet was ten miles, and the wind was high and the waters were wild, for Pitcher had called forth a storm. So they swam all day and all the evening before they landed. "And now, my elder brother," said the Fox, "you may go your way." And he went to the camp of the Black Cats.

When he came to the camp it was cold, and there were only ashes, for the people had gone on. So he followed them, and in one day came near them. And the first whom he overtook was his mother, bearing his younger brother Sable ('Nmmok-swess, P.) on her back, so that while she looked forward he looked behind. And as Pogumk peeped out from among the leaves, Sable saw him, and said, "Here comes my brother!" And she turned, but saw nothing, for the chief suddenly hid himself behind a tree. Then they went on, and Sable cried again, "Indeed, mother, I behold my elder brother!" And this time the mother, glancing quickly, caught him, and they all laughed for joy, and she threw Sable down in the leaves, like a stick. Then the chief bade Sable run to the camp. "And when you are there," he said, "build up a great fire of hemlock bark, and take Pitcher's babe, even the babe which she loves, and which you tend, and throw it into the fire, and run to me as fast as you can, for verily thou wilt be in dire need to do so."

And as he commanded it was done; and when the fire was hot, Sable threw the babe into it, and it was burned to death. And Pitcher, being, as one may well believe, maddened at such a sight, pursued him as a starving wolf pursues a rabbit. Then Sable, in great fear, cried aloud, "Oh, my elder brother, my brother!" And Pitcher screamed, "Call aloud to him, for you must run as far as the island where Pogumk is, to save yourself!" And at that word Pogumk stepped forward and confronted her, and said, "Truly, she need not run so far."

And seeing him and hearing this, fear came upon her; but she laughed aloud to hide it, and said, "I did but chase him in sport, for I love Sable." But Pogumk replied grimly, "I know thee and thy tricks, thou the evil one." Then, as his magic had come to him, he used his power, and put Pitcher with her back against a tree; and there she stayed, stuck to it, unable to get away. But the chief and Sable went to the camp. Now Pitcher had a hatchet and wedge, and with much ado she cut herself away, and the Black Cats heard her pounding and chopping all night long. And in the morning she came to them, and there was a great piece of wood sticking to her back, and they laughed her to scorn, and sang at her,--

"He who made the chief
Stay on a distant island,
He is stuck by the chief
Fast with his back to a tree."

Now Pitcher the Witch, being mad with shame and spite, fled from the face of man, and ran through the woods like a wild wolf. And so she came to Bar Harbor (Pes'sonkqu', P.), and sat down on a log, and said, with her heart full of bitterness and malice, "I would that I could become something which should torment all men." And as she said this she became a mosquito (T'sis-o, P.), and so it came to pass that mosquitoes were made. And to this day men see that wherever the Black Cat is, there too is the Sable not far away. [Footnote: The Passamaquoddy version relates that Pitcher in her flight pursued a moose to Bar Harbor, where, having killed him and drawn out the entrails, she petrified him. A Penobscot woman told me she had often seen the moose rock there, and the "inments." But she attributed the deed to Glooskap, to whom it properly belongs, his petrified moose and dogs and the print of his bow, etc., being still shown in Nova Scotia; and it is also said that it was at Freshwater, after returning from Bar Harbor (Maine), that Pitcher was changed into a mosquito. Another story states that Pook-jin-skwess, having pursued young men all her life, changed into a mosquito that she might continue to prey on them.]

Of this Pook-jin-skwess it was said that she had children of her own, begotten by sorcerers and giants and monsters; but as they were all ugly she stole from the Indian women their fairest babes, and brought them up as if they were her own, that she might not be entirely put to shame because of her children. And once she had thus stolen a boy, and when he grew up some one said to him that he should not believe that she was his mother, but should question her as to it. Now the youth, reflecting on this, observed that his brothers and sisters were all as ugly as evil beasts and no better behaved, while he himself was comely and good. Then he asked her what this might mean. And she replied, laughing, "Because they were all begotten (or born) in the night-time, but you are a child of the day and of light." [Footnote: There is probably an allusion in this to the Wabanaki, or Children of Light; that is, the Algonquin. This story was told me by Noel Josephs, a Passamaquoddy. I have been told by an old Passamaquoddy woman that the descendants of Pook-jin-skwess were the 'Nmmok-skwess. This stealing the white boy is related in another tale more folly. It may refer to the early dark Eskimo.]

_How Glooskap became friendly to the Loons, and made them his Messengers._

(Micmac.)

When Glooskap was pursuing Win-pe, he one day on Uktukamkw saw from afar flying over water the Kwe-moo (M.), or Loons. And thrice did their chief make the circle of the lake, coming near to the land of men and beasts every time, as if he would fain seek somewhat. Then Glooskap asking him what he wanted, Kwe-moo replied that he would be his servant and friend. So Glooskap taught him a strange long cry like the howl of a dog, and when the loons were in need of him or would pray to him they were to utter this cry.

And it came to pass that when he was in Newfoundland he came to an Indian town, and they who dwelt therein were all Kwee-moo-uk, or Loons. And they, as men, were exceeding glad to see their lord, who had blessed them as birds, and did their best to please him. So he made them his huntsmen and messengers, and in all the tales of Glooskap the Kweemoo ever appears as faithful to him. Whence to this day, when the Indians hear the cry of the Loon, they say, "_Kwemoo el-komik-too-ajul Gloocapal_" (He is calling upon Glooskap).

_How Glooskap made his Uncle Mikchich the Turtle into a Great Man, and got him a Wife. [Footnote: This legend of the tortoise is carefully compiled from six different versions: the narration of Tomah Josephs, a Passamaquoddy; the Anglo-Indian manuscript, already cited; two accounts in the Rand manuscript; the author quoted without credit in _The Maritime Provinces_; and one by Mrs. W. Wallace Brown. As the totem of the Tortoise was of the highest rank among the Algonquins, this account of its origin is of corresponding interest. Having employed an old Indian to carve the handle of a war or scalping knife for me, such as was used by his Passamaquoddy ancestors, he carved on it a tortoise. It was especially the totem of the Lenni-Lenape, called by the Passamaquoddies _Lel-le-mabe_, "the people."] Of Turtles' Eggs, and how Glooskap vanquished a Sorcerer by smoking Tobacco._

(Micmac and Passamaquoddy.)

Now when Glooskap left Uktukamkw, or Newfoundland, it was in a canoe, and he came to Piktook (M. for Pictou), which means the bubbling up of air, because there is much bubbling in the water near that place. And here there was an Indian village, and in that place the Master met with a man whom he loved all his life.

And this was not because this man, whose name in Micmac is Mikchich and in Passamaquoddy Chick-we-notchk, meaning the Turtle, was great, or well favored, or rich. For truly he was none of these, being very poor and lazy, no longer young, and not very clever or wise in any way. It is said that he was indeed Glooskap's uncle, but others think that this was by adoption. However, this old fellow bore all his wants with such good nature that the Master, taking him in great affection, resolved to make of him a mighty man. Which came to pass, and that in a strange manner, as we shall see.

For coming to Piktook, where there were above a hundred wigwams, Glooskap, being a very handsome, stately man, with the manner of a great chief, was much admired, and that not a little by all the women, so that every one wished to have him in the house. Yet he gave them all the go-by, and dwelt with his old uncle, in whose quaint ways and old-time stories he took great delight. And there was to be a great feast with games, but Glooskap did not care to go, either as a guest or a performer in the play.

Still he inquired of Mikchich if he would not take part in it, telling him that all the maidens would be there, and asking him why he had never married, and saying that he should not live alone. Then the uncle said: "Poor and old and plain am I; I have not even garments fit for a feast; better were it for me to smoke my pipe at home." "Truly, if that be all, uncle," replied Glooskap, "I trow I can turn tailor and fit you to a turn; and have no care as to your outside or your face, for to him who knows how, 't is as easy to make a man over as a suit of clothes." "Yes; but, nephew," said Mikchich, "how say you as to making over the inside of a mortal?" "By the great Beaver!" answered the Master, "that is something harder to do, else I were not so long at work in this world. But before I leave this town I shall do that also for you; and as for this present sport, do but put on my belt." And when he had done that, Mikchich became so young and handsome that no man or woman ever saw the like. And then Glooskap dressed him in his own best clothes, and promised him that to the end of his days, whenever he should be a man, he would be the comeliest of men; and because he was patient and tough, he should, as an animal, become the hardest to kill of all creatures on the face of the earth, as it came to pass.

So Mikchich went to the feast. Now the chief of Piktook had three beautiful daughters, and the youngest was the loveliest in the land. And on her he cast his eyes, and returning said, "I have seen one whom I want." Now all the young men in Piktook desired this girl, and would kill any one who would win her.

So the next day Glooskap, taking a bunch of _wawbap_ (P., wampum), went, to the chief and proposed for Mikchich, [Footnote: All invitations to festivals, or formal ceremonies, proposals of marriage, etc., were preceded among these tribes by a gift of wampum.] and the mother at once said "Yes." So the girl made up a bed of fresh twigs and covered it with a great white bear-skin, and went to Mikchich, and they returned and had dried meat for supper. So they were married.

Now Turtle seemed to be very lazy; and when others hunted he lounged at home. One day his young wife said to him that if this went on thus they must soon starve. So he put on his snow-shoes and went forth, and she followed him to see what he would do. And he had not gone far ere he tripped and fell down, and the girl, returning, told her mother that he was worthless. But the mother said, "He will do something yet. Be patient."

One day it came to pass that Glooskap said to Mikchich, "To-morrow there will be a great game at ball, and you must play. But because you have made yourself enemies of all the young men here, they will seek to slay you, by crowding all together and trampling upon you. And when they do this it will be by your father-in-law's lodge, and to escape them I give you the power to jump high over it. This you may do twice, but the third time will be terrible for you, and yet it must be."

All this happened as he foretold; for the young men indeed tried to take his life, and to escape them Mikchich jumped over the lodge, so that he seemed like a bird flying. But the third time he did this he was caught on the top of the tent-poles, and hung there dangling in the smoke which rose from below.

Then Glooskap, who was seated in the tent, said, "Uncle, I will now make you the _sogmo_, or great chief of the Tortoises, and you shall bear up a great nation." Then he smoked Mikchich [Footnote: In a verbal Passamaquoddy narrative (John Gabriel), and in one given in _The Maritime Provinces_, this was effected by Glooskap with tobacco-smoke from his pipe. In Mr. Rand's manuscript it is the smoke of the tent-fire. The Passamaquoddy narrations are invariably more spirited and _humorous_ than the Micmac.] so long that his skin became a hard shell, and the marks of the smoke may be seen thereon to this day. And removing his entrails he destroyed them, so that but one short one was left. And he cried aloud, "_Milooks_! (M.) My nephew, you will kill me!" But the nephew replied, "Not so. I am giving you great life. From this time you may roll through a flame and never feel it, and live on land or in the water. And though your head be cut off, it will live for nine days, and your heart, even, shall beat as long when taken from your body." So Mikchich rejoiced greatly.

And this came betimes, for he soon had need of it all. For the next day all the men went on a hunt, and the Master warned him that they would seek to slay him. Now the young men went on before, and Turtle lingered behind; but all at once he made a magic flight far over their heads, unseen, and deep in the forest he slew a moose. Then he drew this to the snow-shoe track or road, and when his foes came up there he sat upon the moose, smoking, and waiting for them. Now Glooskap had told them that they would see some one come out ahead of them all that day, and when this came to pass they were more angered in their hearts than ever.

So they plotted to kill Turtle, and his nephew, who was about to leave, told him how it would be. "First of all, they will build a mighty fire and throw you in it. But do thou, O uncle, go cheerfully, for by my power thou wilt in nowise suffer. Then they will speak of drowning, but thou must beg and pray that this may not be; and then they will the more seek to do so, and thou shalt fight them to the bitter end, and yet it shall be."

And as he said, so it came to pass; and Mikchich, being of good cheer, bade farewell to his nephew. [Footnote: This is amusingly, though not very clearly, set forth in the Indian manuscript as follows: "Make believe but you dond want be trown. So he shaken hands witt is nuncel kick hororch good by do him. Tell is uncle you--I shall not be kill and I am going Lever (to live)--we may meet again."] And they seized him and threw him into a great fire, but he turned over and went to sleep in it, being very lazy; and when the fire had burnt out he awoke, and called for more wood, because it was a cold night.

Then they seized him yet again, and spoke of drowning. But, hearing this, he, as if he were in mortal dread, begged them not to do this thing. And he said they might cut him to pieces, or burn him, as they would, but not to throw him into the water. [Footnote: This in the original is extremely like Brer Rabbit's prayer not to be thrown into the brier-bush. As this legend is one of the oldest of the Algonquin, and certainly antedating the coming of the whites, I give it the priority over the negro.] Therefore they resolved to do so, and dragged him on. Then he screamed horribly and fought lustily, and tore up trees and roots and rocks like a madman; but they took him into a canoe and paddled out into the middle of the lake (or to the sea), and, throwing him in, watched him sink as he vanished far down below. So they thought him dead, and returned rejoicing.

Now the next day at noon there was a hot sunshine, and something was seen basking on a great rock, about a mile out in the lake. So two young men took a canoe and went forth to see what this might be. And when they came to the edge of the rock, which was about a foot high, there lay Mikchich sunning himself; but seeing them coming to take him, he only said, "Good-by," and rolled over plump into the water, where he is living to this day. In memory whereof all turtles, when they see any one coming, tip-tilt themselves over into the water at once.

And Turtle lived happily with his wife, and she had a babe. New it happened in after-days that Glooskap came to see his uncle, and the child cried. "Dost thou know what he says?" exclaimed the Master. "Truly, not I," answered Mikchich, "unless it be the language of the Mu-se-gisk (P., Spirits of the Air), which no man knoweth." "Well," replied Glooskap, "he is talking of eggs, for he says '_Hoo-wah! hoo-wah_!' which methinks is much the same as '_Waw-wun, waw-wun_.' And this in Passamaquoddy means egg." "But where are there any?" asked Mikchich. Then Glooskap bade him seek in the sand, and he found many, and admired and marveled over them greatly; and in memory of this, and to glorify this jest of Glooskap, the Turtle layeth eggs even to this day.

* * * * *

The great Glooskap was a right valiant smoker; in all the world was no man who loved a pipe of good tobacco so much as he. In those days the summers were longer in the land of the Wabanaki, the sun was warmer, and the Indians raised _tomawe_ (tobacco, P.), and solaced themselves mightily therewith. [Footnote: I have met with an old Indian woman in New Brunswick who told me that her grandmother remembered to have seen tobacco raised there by the Passamaquoddy.] And there came to Glooskap a certain evil-minded magician, who sought to take his life, as the Master very well knew, for he read the hearts of men as if they had been strings of wampum. And this _m'teoulin_ (P., magician), believing himself to be greatest in all things, thought to appall Glooskap by outdoing him at first in something at which he excelled; for a fish is frightened when another swims faster, but not till then.

And the man sat down to smoke with an exceeding long pipe with a great bowl, but that of Glooskap grew to be much greater. Then, having filled his pipe, the sorcerer exhausted and burnt it out at one pull, and then blew all the smoke out of his nose at one puff. So he sat and looked at the Master. But Glooskap, whose pipe held ten times as much tobacco, did the same, and blowing it out split the rocky ground, so that a great chasm opened before them. Then they were silent awhile, till the Master said, "If you can do that you may kill me." But he could not, and so went back with shame to those who had sent him. [Footnote: In this "tale of tobacco," told me by John Gabriel, the evil-minded magician is described as a Black Cat. This is probably an error, as Glooskap himself appears as chief of the Black Cats in another tale. It may be, however, that this was Pook-jin-skwess in disguise.]

_How Glooskap sailed through the great Cavern of Darkness._

(Micmac.)

Now it is told in another tradition--and men tell even this differently--that _pitche_, in these old times (P.) Glooskap's seven neighbors, who were all so many different animals, took away his family, and that he followed them, even as it has been written, unto Newfoundland. And when he came there it was night, and, finding Marten alone, he took him forth into the forest to seek food, putting his belt on the boy, which gave him such power that he hunted well and got much meat.