Chapter V: Tales (2)

When night came the husband said to his wife, "You and the child must be saved. Go; I shall meet misfortune alone." She then started with the child through the forest, and went on until she came to a hollow log, into which she crept, and then she heard a great noise in the camp, and a voice saying, "You have bitten me." Soon she saw the light of torches borne by people searching for her and the child; nearer and nearer they came, until they reached the log (her hiding-place), into which they pushed their sticks, but the woman remained quiet, and heard them say, "She must be somewhere near here; any way, she cannot live long." She waited until they had left and all was quiet before she emerged from her refuge, and then traveled on as fast as she could until morning, when she came upon a trail, to which, instead of following it, she took a parallel course, and did not see any signs of life until she came to an opening, which appeared like a camping-ground. In the center of this clearing stood a large hemlock tree, into which she climbed, and made herself and child as comfortable as she could.

Soon after ascending the tree she heard approaching voices, one of which said, "We might as well stay here as to go further." They were hunters, heavily laden with skins, meat, &c. During the night one of them said, "My thumb is painful; what shall I say bit me?" The woman heard the answer: "Say a beaver bit you."

In the early dawn the men departed and the woman began to make her way down the tree, but she saw one of the party returning, so she remained until he, finding his bow, again started homeward. When all were out of sight she brought her child down, and, taking again the course parallel to the trail, she hurried onward during the day and reached home just at twilight. When once home she related what had happened to herself, child, and husband, to her many friends who secreted her, and made preparations to have the matter investigated. The head chief was informed, and he sent out "runners" to all the members of the tribe to call them to a general council.

When the time for all to assemble had come, none but the hunters were absent, and they came after repeated and persistent requests to be present. When they did come the head chief said, "We have come to congratulate you in that you have prospered and been preserved from harm. Now, relate to us all the things that have happened to you and tell why you have returned without the other party." The hunters refused to tell anything about their affairs and pretended to know nothing about the other party.

The head chief, after severely cross-examining them, ordered that the woman be brought forth to tell her story. When she had finished her narrative of facts, as stated above, she told that one of them had his thumb bitten, explaining that he was bitten by her husband in defending himself against these robbers, who took from her murdered husband the skins and the meats which they had brought home. Hereupon the head chief gravely said to the waiting and impatient warriors, "Go, do your duty;" and they, with their war-clubs and tomahawks, soon put to death the wicked hunters.

MRS. LOGAN'S STORY.

An old man and his little nephew once lived in a dark woods. One day the man went hunting, and just before leaving told the boy he must not go eastward. But the boy became tired of playing in one place, and was one day tempted to go in the forbidden direction until he came to a large lake, where he stopped to play. While thus engaged a man came up to him and said, "Well, boy, where do you come from?" The boy told him that he came from the woods. Then the man said, "Let us play together at shooting arrows." So they shot off their arrows up into the air, and the boy's arrow went much the higher. Then the man said, "Let us see which can swim the farthest without breathing," and again the boy beat the man. Then the latter said, "Let us go to the island, where you will see many pretty birds." So they entered the canoe. Now, on either side of the canoe were three swans which propelled it. As soon as they were seated in the canoe the man began singing, and very soon they arrived at the island, around which they traveled for some time, and then the man took off all the boy's clothes, and, jumping into his canoe, said, "Come, swans, let us go home," and he began to sing. When the boy perceived that he was deserted he went up the bank and sat down and cried, for he was naked and cold.

It began to grow dark very fast, and he was greatly frightened when he heard a voice say, "Hist! keep still," and, looking around, he saw a skeleton on the ground near him, which beckoned him and said, "Poor boy, it was the same thing with me, but I will help you if you will do something for me." The boy readily consented. Then the skeleton told him to go to a tree near by, and dig on the west side of it, and he would find a tobacco-pouch full of tobacco, a pipe, and a flint; and the boy found them and brought them to the skeleton. It then said, "Fill the pipe and light it;" and he did so. "Put it in my mouth," said the skeleton; and he did so. Then, as the skeleton smoked, the boy saw that its body was full of mice, which went away because of the smoke. Then the skeleton felt better, and told the boy that a man with three dogs was coming to the island that night to kill him, and in order to escape he must run all over the island and jump into the water and out again many times, so that the man would lose the trail. Then, after tracking the island all over, he must get into a hollow tree near by, and stay all night. So the boy tracked the island all over and jumped into the water many times, and at last went into the tree. In the early morning he heard a canoe come ashore, and, looking out, saw another man with three dogs, to whom the man said, "My dogs, you must catch this animal." Then they ran all over the island, but not finding him, the man became so angry that he killed one of the dogs and ate him all up. Then, taking the two remaining, he went away. The boy then came out from his hiding-place, and went to the skeleton, who said, "Are you still alive?" The boy replied, "Yes." "Well," said the skeleton, "the man who brought you here will come to-night to drink your blood, and you must go down to the shore where he will come in, and dig a long pit and lie down in it and cover yourself up with the sand so he cannot see you, and when he comes ashore and is off, you must get into the canoe and say, 'Come, swans, let's go home,' and if the man calls for you to come back you must not turn around or look at him."

The boy promised to obey and soon the man who had brought him came ashore on the island. Then the boy jumped into the canoe, saying, "Come, swans, let's go to our place;" and as they went he sang just as the man had done. They had gone but a little way when the man saw them. He began to cry, "Come back! Oh do come back!" but the boy did not look around and they kept on their way. By and by they came to a large rock in which there was a hole, and the swans went up into the rock until they came to a door which the boy proceeded to open. Upon entering the cave he found his own clothes and many others, and also a fire and food all prepared, but no living person. After putting on his clothes he went to sleep for the night. In the morning he found a fire and food, but saw no one.

Upon leaving the cave he found the swans still waiting at the entrance, and, jumping into the canoe, he said, "Come, swans, let's go to the island." When he arrived there he found the man had been killed and nearly eaten up. He then went to the skeleton, which said, "You are a very smart boy; now you must go and get your sister whom this man carried off many years ago. You must start to-night and go east, and by and by you will come to some very high rocks where she goes for water, and you will find her there and she will tell you what to do."

The boy started and in three days arrived at the rocks, where he found his sister, to whom he called, "Sister, come, go home with me"; but she replied, "No, dear brother, I cannot go; a bad man keeps me here, and you must go, for he will kill you if he finds you here." But as the boy would not be persuaded to leave without her she allowed him to stay. Now this very bad man had gone to a great swamp where women and children were picking cranberries. The sister then went to the house and, taking up the planks over which her bed was made, she dug a pit underneath it sufficiently large for her brother to sit in; then she went to her brother and bade him follow her, and to be sure and step in her tracks and not touch anything with his hands or his clothes. So she covered him up in the pit she had prepared for him, and made her bed up again over the place. She then cooked a little boy for the man, put it with wood and water by his bed, and then went and lay down. Soon the man and dogs returned; then immediately the dogs began barking and tearing around as if they were mad. The man said, "You surely have visitors"; she replied, "None but you." And he said, "I know better"; and he took a stick and commanded her to tell him the truth, but she denied it, saying, "Kill me if you like, but I have none." He then went to his bed and sat down to eat his supper; but he said to himself, "She has some one hidden; I will kill him in the morning." He then called her to build a fire, but she replied, "You have wood, build your own fire." Then he said, "Come, take off my moccasins"; but she replied, "I am tired, take them off yourself." Then he said to himself, "Now I know she has seen some one, for she was never so saucy."

In the morning he started off for the swamp to get some children for his dinner. A short distance from home he concealed himself to watch the girl. As soon as he was gone she called her brother and said, "Come, let us take his canoe and go quickly." So they ran and jumped into the canoe and went off, but the man saw them and ran, throwing a hook which caught the canoe, but as he was pulling it ashore the boy took a stone from the bottom of the canoe and broke the hook. Then they proceeded again very fast. Then the enraged man resorted to another expedient: Laying himself down upon the shore he began to drink the water from the lake, which caused the boat to return very fast. The man continued to drink, until he grew very big with so much water in him. The boy took another stone and threw it and hit the man so it killed him, and the water ran back into the lake. When they saw that he was dead they went back, and the boy said to the two dogs, "You bad dogs, no one will have you now; You must go into the woods and be wolves"; and they started for the woods and became wolves.

Then the boy and his sister went to the island. The boy went to the skeleton, which said, "You are a very smart boy to have recovered your sister--bring her to me." This the boy did, and the skeleton continued, "Now, gather up all the bones you see and put them in a pile; then push the largest tree you see and say, 'All dead folks arise'; and they will all arise." The boy did so, and all the dead arose, some having but one arm, some with but one leg, but all had their bows and arrows.

The boy then said to his sister, "Come, let's go home." When they arrived home they found their own uncle; he looked very old. For ten years he had cried and put ashes upon his head for his little nephew, but now he was very happy to think he had returned.

The boy then told the old man all that he had done, who said, "Let us build a long house." And they did so, and put in six fire-places. Then the boy went back to the island for his people and brought them to the house, where they lived peacefully many years.

THE HUNTER AND HIS DEAD WIFE.

Once upon a time there was a man and his wife who lived in the forest, very far from the rest of the tribe. They used to go hunting together very often, but after a time there were so many things for the wife to do that she staid at home and he went alone. When he went alone he never had good luck. One day the woman was taken sick, and in a day or two she died. The man felt very badly and buried her in the cabin. He was very lonesome; and after a day or two he made a wooden doll about her size and dressed it in the clothes she used to wear. Then he put it down in front of the fire-place and felt better. Then he went hunting; and when he came back he would go up to the doll and brush the ashes off from the face, for as the wood fell down the ashes would rattle onto the face. He had to do his cooking, mending, and making fire, for now there was no one to help him; and so a year passed away. One day when he came home from hunting there was a fire and wood by the door. The next night there was wood and fire and a piece of meat all cooked in the kettle. He looked, all over to see who had done this, but could find no one. The next time he went hunting he did not go far and went back quite early, and when he came in sight of the cabin he saw a woman going into the house with wood on her shoulders; he saw, and opened the door quickly, and there was his wife sitting in a chair and the wooden doll was gone. Then she spoke to him, saying, "The Great Spirit felt sorry for you, so he let me come back to see you, but you must not touch me till we have seen all of our people; if you do, you will kill me." So they lived along for some time, when one day the man said, "It is now two years since you died. Let us go home. So you will be well." So he prepared meat for the journey--a string of deer meat for her to carry and one for himself; and so they started. It was going to take them six days to get to the rest of their tribe; when they were within a day's journey of the camp it began to snow, and as they were very weary they lighted fire and partook of food and spread their skins to sleep; but the desire of the man to once more clasp his wife in his arms was too great, and he went up to her and put out his hands; but she motioned him away and said, "We have seen no one yet." He would not listen to her, and he caught her in his arms, and, behold, he was holding the wooden doll! His sorrow was very great. He pushed on to the camp and there he told them all that had befallen him. Some doubted, and they went back with him and found the doll; they also saw the track of the two people in the snow, and the track just like the foot of the doll. The man was ever after very unhappy.

A SURE REVENGE.

Far in the ages of the past, a tribe of the Senecas settled upon the banks of Lake Erie. One eventful winter their enemies, the Illinois, came in great numbers upon the peaceful settlement, surprised the people in their homes, and, in spite of a stout resistance, killed a large number of them and took a middle-aged woman and a boy captive. They started off with the prisoners, and the first day's journey was one of pain and restlessness to the captives. They were foot-sore and weary when camp was pitched for the night. Then around a roaring fire the warriors gloated over the bloody deed. They called the boy and bid him join them in their songs of triumph, adding that they had no desire to hurt him; if he sang well he might enjoy himself. The lad pretended that he could not sing their language, but said that he would sing their song in his tongue, knowing that they could not comprehend a word of it. To this they agreed, and while they shouted out their jubilant delight he repeated, again and again, "I shall never forget what you have done to my people. You have stolen a helpless woman and a little boy from among them. I shall never forget it. If I am spared you will all lose your scalps." The Illinois warriors understood not a word; they thought he was joining in their triumph, and were satisfied that he would soon forget his own people.

After they had marched three days the woman became exhausted, and she was too faint to be dragged further. The warriors held a council, and she meanwhile spoke to the Seneca boy in earnest tones. "Avenge my blood!" said she; "and when you return to your own people tell them how the cruel Illinois took my life. Promise me you will never cease to be a Seneca." As he finished promising all she asked, she was slain and left dead on the ground.

Then they hurried forward, nearing their own settlement early in the evening. Next day two runners were sent to the village to proclaim their success and return, and all the population turned out with shouts and cries of joy to meet them.

Now the fate of the boy had to be determined. He listened as the chief, with exaggerated gestures and exclamations, gave an account of the successful expedition. The people, as they listened, grew so excited that they beat the ground with their clubs and wished they could exterminate every Seneca in the world. They longed to kill the boy, but the chiefs held a council and decided that there was stuff in him, and they would therefore torture him, and if he stood the test, adopt him into their own tribe. The boy meantime had dreamed a dream, in which he had been forewarned that the Illinois would inflict horrible tortures upon him. "If he can live through our tortures," said the chief, "he shall become an Illinois." The council fire glowed red with burning heat. They seized the captive and held him barefooted on the coals until his feet were one mass of blisters. Then they pierced the blisters with a needle made of fish bone and filled up the blisters with sharp flint stones. "Now run a race," they recommended; "run twenty rods." In his dream he had been told that if he could reach the Long House and find a seat on the wild-cat skin, they would vote him worthy of his life. His agony was intense, but up in his heart rose the memory of his tribe; and as the signal for his start was given he commenced singing with all his might, saying, as they thought, their war song, but in reality the words: "I shall never forget this; never forgive your cruelty. If I am spared you shall every one of you lose your scalps." This gave him courage. He forgot his agony. He bounded forward and flew so swiftly that the Indians, who stood in rows ready to hit him as he passed with thorn-brier branches, could not touch him. He rushed into the Long House; it was crowded, but he spied a wild-cat skin on which an old warrior sat, and he managed to seat himself upon the tail, remembering his dream. The chiefs noticed his endurance and said again, "If we spare his life he will be worthy to become an Illinois; but he knows the trail, so we had better kill him."

A solemn council was held. All the warriors agreed that he had borne the tortures well, and had stuff in him to make a warrior. "He may forget," they said. Still others disagreed and gave their opinion that he ought to be tried still more severely. The majority finally decided that he must die, and in three days should be burned at the stake.

When the day arrived a large fire of pine knots was prepared, and they bound the lad to a stake, and placed him in the midst. Torches were ready to set fire to them, when an old warrior suddenly approached from the forest. It was the chief who had trained other captive Indians. He stood and looked at the boy. Then he said, "His eye is bright. I will take him. I will make a warrior of him. I will inflict our last torture upon him, and if he survives I will adopt him into the tribe." He cut the thongs that bound the boy, and led him away to a spring. "Drink!" he said. And as the lad stooped, he pressed him down under the water until he was well nigh strangled. Three times he subjected him to this barbarity; then as he was still alive, although very weak, he took him to his wigwam and dressed his feet, and told him henceforth he should be an Illinois. No one guessed that revenge was in his heart.

Time passed. He became a man. He had a chief's daughter as his wife. The tribe thought he had lost all memory of his capture. He followed the customs of the Illinois, and was as one of them. He was named Ga-geh-djo-wă. They did not permit him to join them in their warlike expeditions, but he joined in their war dances when they returned. And so as the years passed on he was much esteemed for his feats as a hunter, and his strength and endurance were by-words among the Illinois.

He had been fifteen years among them when he heard them speak of an expedition against the Senecas. He begged to join, and they listened with delight when he declared that he, Ga-geh-djo-wă, would bring home more scalps than any. "He is one of us," they said, and gave him the permission he craved.

Early in the morning the warriors started, and, delighted with his eloquence and readiness to go against his own tribe, they elected him chief of the expedition. They marched on and on for many days, little guessing how his heart beat as they approached the wigwams of the Seneca settlement. He began to issue orders for the attack. "Send scouts," he said, "to the sugar camp, and let them hide in a bush, and return and tell us what they have seen."

Two warriors obeyed his directions, but returned saying there were no signs of the tribe. Then he sent others in a different direction. Their report was the same. Ashes everywhere, they reported, but no smoke and no fires. The Senecas must have left. Then at the council held that night Ga-geh-djo-wă proposed to go himself, with another warrior. This was agreed to, and they set out together. When they had gone five or six miles, the wily chief said to his companion, "Let us separate and each take a different pathway. You go over the hills; I will go through, the valley. We will meet on the mountain at dusk." So they parted, and Ga-geh-djo-wă, remembering his way, sped where he guessed he should find some of his old tribe. He found, as he expected, a family he knew. In hurried words he explained to them their danger: "The treacherous Illinois are upon you. Warn all the tribe of Senecas: bid them come early and hide along the range above the valley. I will be there with a heron's plume on my crest, and when I stumble it is the signal for the Senecas to attack. Go and tell the word of Ga-geh-djo-wă. He is true."

Returning to the appointed spot he reported that he had seen nothing, and hastened back to the camp. Then he said: "I remember these hills. I know where the Senecas hide. Give me the bravest warriors and we will go ahead. I can track them to their hiding-place. See! there below rises the smoke of their wigwams. Send two warriors after us at a short distance. We will surprise the Senecas."

Early morning saw the camp in activity, every warrior panting for the scalps he yearned to procure. Little they dreamed that already five hundred Senecas awaited them in the valley. The march commenced. As they entered the valley Ga-geh-djo-wă gazed anxiously around and delightedly caught sight of a face among the bushes. Now he knew the Senecas had heeded him. He led his men forward; then, pretending to miss his footing, he fell. Instantly the war-cry sounded; the Senecas rushed from their ambush, and he left his treacherous foes and rejoined his own people.

The slaughter was great. All the Illinois warriors but two in the rear were slain. Three hundred scalps revenged the treachery of the Illinois. Ga-geh-djo-wă was seized by the jubilant Senecas and borne in triumph to their settlement. Around the fires, as they displayed the scalps of their enemies, they listened to his recital of their cruelty, of his tortures, and of the woman's death. Never again did he leave them. He lived many years, the most esteemed warrior and chief of the Senecas, and when he died they buried him with the highest honors they knew, and have kept his name sacred in the legends of the tribe to this day.

TRAVELER'S JOKES.

An Indian traveler, tired of his uneventful journey, undertook to create an excitement after the following fashion: An old Indian custom is for runners, or those carrying important news, to announce the fact and gather the people together by crying, in singing tones, "Goh-weh, goh-weh." This the traveler began doing, and when the crowd called upon him to stop and tell his news, he began, "As I came through the last village the people were so delighted with my news that they all danced for joy, and shouted and kissed me." This he told so earnestly and sincerely that the people, not wishing to be outdone by any other tribe, also began singing and kissing him and making merry; and while the excitement was at its height, pleased with his success, the facetious traveler escaped and continued his journeyings.

Arrived at the next village he again began calling, "Goh-weh, goh-weh"; and the people and chiefs gathered around him, crying, "Let us hear." And he answered, "As I passed through the last town some people wept at my news, others began quarreling, kicking, and fighting." Immediately his contagious news produced its effect, and in the confusion he again escaped, saying to himself "What fools people are."

That night, as he was preparing to camp out, a man passed who inquired the distance to the next village; but the traveler said, "You cannot reach it to-night. Let us camp together." As they were each recounting stories, and the new-comer was boasting of his superior cunning, the traveler inquired, "What log is that you now use for a pillow?" and he guessed hickory, elm, &c. But the traveler said, "No, it is everlasting sleep." In the morning the traveler took some pitchy resin and rubbed over the eyes of his sleeping comrade and left, laughing at the probable chagrin the man would feel when attempting to open his eyes, and in the recollection of the warning regarding everlasting sleep and his boasts of superior cunning.

No further accounts of the traveler's jokes are told.

KINGFISHER AND HIS NEPHEW.

An old man and his nephew were living together in a good home near the river, where they enjoyed themselves day after day. One morning the old man said to his nephew, "When you are a man, remember in hunting never to go west; always go to the east."

The young man reflected and said to himself, "Why should this be so? My uncle To-bé-se-ne always goes west, and brings home plenty of fish. Why should he tell me not to go? Why does he never take me with him?"

He made up his mind at last that he would go, never minding about the advice. So he set off in a roundabout way, and as he passed the marsh land near the river he saw his uncle. "Ha!" he thought, "now I know where he catches his fish"; and he watched him take from his pocket two sharp sticks and put them in his nose, and then plunge into deep water and come up with a nice fish. He watched him carefully and then returned home. Presently the uncle came back, bringing some nice fish, but he never guessed that the nephew had seen him.

The young man now felt certain that he could fish as well as his uncle. Accordingly, one day when the old man had gone deer hunting, he thought at a good opportunity to try the new method. He hunted among his uncle's things until he found two sticks, and then he set off to the same log where he had seen his uncle sitting, which projected above the water in the river. He saw the fishes swimming about, so he at once stuck the two sticks into his nose, and plunged in. Then the sticks went deep into his nose and made it ache dreadfully, and he felt very sick. Home he hurried and lay down, thinking he should die of the agony. When his uncle came home he heard him groaning, and said, "What ails you? Are you sick?" "Yes, uncle," replied he, "I think I shall die. My head is sore and pains me." "What have you been about?" asked the uncle, severely. "I have been fishing," confessed the young man; "I took your things, and I know I have done wrong." "You have done very wrong," said the uncle; but he took the pincers and drew out the sticks, and the young man promised never again to fish in the west, and got well.

After a while, however, he thought that he would go and see once more, although he had been forbidden. So he started west. He heard boys laughing, and he had none to play with, so he joined them. They invited him to swim with them and he accepted, and they had a very gay time together. At last they said, "It is time to go home; you go, too." Then he saw that they had wings, and they gave him a pair and said, "There is an island where all is lovely; you have never been up there-over the tall tree up in the air; come." So they started up in the air, far away above the trees, till they could see both sides of the river; and he felt very happy. "Now," said they, "you can see the island"; and he looked down and saw the print of their tracks on the island; so he knew they had been there. Then said they, "Let us go in swimming again." So they went into the water. Then they said, "Let us see which can go down and come up the farthest"; and they tried one at a time, and he was the last, so he must go the farthest; and while he was in the water the rest put on their wings and, taking his also, flew up in the air. He plead in vain for them to wait; but they called, as though speaking to some one else, "Uncle, here is game for you to-night." Then they flew away in spite of his entreaties, and he thought to himself, "I shall surely be destroyed, perhaps by some animal."

As he looked around he perceived tracks of dogs which had clawed the different trees, and then he concluded that perhaps they would tear him to pieces. In order to confuse them in their scent he climbed each tree a little way, and so went on until he reached the last tree on the island, in which he remained and listened in suspense. He soon heard a canoe on the river and some one calling the dogs. Then he concluded his conjectures were true. After making a fire the man sent out his dogs. The man had a horrid-looking face, both behind and before, which the poor nephew could see by the fire-light. Then the dogs began barking, having traced the tracks to the first tree; they made such a noise that the man concluded they had found the game, and went to the tree, but found nothing. So they went on to the next, and the next, with the same experience, and this they continued the night long. Then the old man said, very angrily, "There is no game here; my nephews have deceived me." And he returned, leaving the last tree.

After sunrise the poor fellow came down from the tree, saying, "I think I have escaped, for if those young fellows return I will watch them and contrive to get their wings from them." He then concealed himself and patiently awaited their coming. He soon heard their voices, saying, "Now we will have a good time." They first jumped around to warm themselves, and then said, "Let us all dive together." Then he rushed out, and, taking all the wings, he put on one pair, and flew away, calling out, "Uncle, now there is plenty of game for you"; and when they entreated him he replied, "You had no mercy on me; I only treat you the same." Then he flew on until he came to his old home, where he found his old uncle, to whom he recounted the whole story; and after that time he remained peacefully at home with his good uncle, where he still resides.

"So many times my old grandfather, chief Warrior, told me that story," said Zachariah Jamieson to me on the Seneca Reservation.

THE WILD-CAT AND THE WHITE RABBIT.

[Told by Zachariah Jamieson.]

The wild cat, roaming disconsolately in the woods, experienced the sense of utter loneliness which calls for companionship. A friend he must have or die. Cats there were none within speaking distance, but rabbits it might be possible to entice. He commenced a plaintive ditty. His soul craved a white rabbit above all else, and his song was pathetic enough to entice the most obdurate:

He gah yah neh
He gah yah! He găh yăh
Di ho ni shu guă da-se
He yah gah.

His meaning was simple as his song, "When you are frightened, sweet rabbit, you run in a circle."

He was wise in his generation. A short distance off lay a white rabbit in his lair; hearing the melodious ditty he pricked up his ears. "Heigho!" exclaimed he, "that dangerous fellow, the wild-cat, is around; I hear his voice; I must scud"; and away he ran, turning from the direction in which the voice came and hastening with all his might. He had gone but a short distance when he stopped, turned back his ears and listened. There was the song again:

He găh yăh! He găh yăh!
Di ho--

He waited to hear no more. On he sped for awhile; then once more he laid back his ears and halted again; surely this time the song was nearer. He was still more frightened. "I will go straight on" said he; but he thought he was following an opposite direction. On and on he sped, scarce daring to breathe; then a pause; alas! the singer is nearer--nearer yet. Unfortunate rabbit! he could but follow his instinct and run in a circle which brought him each time nearer his enemy. Still the song went on, until, circling ever nearer, white rabbit fell a victim to the wild-cat.