Read Ebook: The Steam Engine Familiarly Explained and Illustrated With an historical sketch of its invention and progressive improvement; its applications to navigation and railways; with plain axioms for railway speculators by Lardner Dionysius Renwick James Contributor

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Nokomis had a friend called Iagoo the Boaster, because he told so many stories about great deeds that he had never done, and this Iagoo once made a bow for Hiawatha, and said to him: "Take this bow, and go into the forest hunting. Kill a fine roebuck and bring us back his horns." So Hiawatha went into the forest all alone with his bow and arrows, and because he knew the language of the wild things he could tell what all the birds and animals were saying to him.

"Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" said the robins; and the squirrels scrambled in fright up the trunks of the trees, coughing and chattering: "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" But for once Hiawatha did not care or even hear what the birds and beasts were saying to him.

At last he saw the tracks of the red deer, and he followed them to the river bank, where he hid among the bushes and waited until two antlers rose above the thicket and a fine buck stepped out into the path and snuffed the wind. Hiawatha's heart beat quickly and he rose to one knee and aimed his arrow. "Twang!" went the bowstring, and the buck leaped high into the air and fell down dead, with the arrow in his heart. Hiawatha dragged the buck that he had killed back to the wigwam of Nokomis, and Nokomis and Iagoo were much pleased. From the buck-skin they made a fine cloak for Hiawatha; they hung up the antlers in the wigwam, and invited everybody in the village to a feast of deer's flesh. And the Indians all came and feasted, and called Hiawatha "Strong Heart."

HIAWATHA AND MUDJEKEEWIS

THE years passed, and Hiawatha grew from a child into a strong and active man. He was so wise that the old men knew far less than he, and often asked him for advice, and he was such a fine hunter that he never missed his aim. He was so swift of foot that he could shoot an arrow and catch it in its flight or let it fall behind him; he was so strong that he could shoot ten arrows up into the air, and the last of them would leave his bow before the first had fallen to the ground. He had magic mittens made of deer-skin, and when he wore them on his hands he could break the rocks with them and grind the pieces into powder; he had magic moccasins also--shoes made of deer-skin that he tied about his feet, and when he put on these he could take a mile at every step.

Hiawatha thought a great deal about his father, Mudjekeewis, and often plagued Nokomis with questions about him, until at last she told Hiawatha how his mother had loved Mudjekeewis, who left her to die of sorrow; and Hiawatha was so angry when he heard the story that his heart felt like a coal of fire. He said to Nokomis: "I will talk with Mudjekeewis, my father, and to find him I will go to the Land of the Sunset, where he has his kingdom."

So Hiawatha dressed himself for travel and armed himself with bow and a war-club, took his magic mittens and his magic moccasins, and set out all alone to travel to the kingdom of the West-wind. And although Nokomis called after him and begged him to turn back, he would not listen to her, but went away into the forest.

For days and days he traveled. He passed the Mississippi River; he crossed the prairies where the buffaloes were herding, and when he came to the Rocky Mountains, where the panther and the grizzly bear have their homes, he reached the Land of the Sunset, and the kingdom of the West-wind. There he found his father, Mudjekeewis.

When Hiawatha saw his father he was as nearly afraid as he had ever been in his life, for his father's cloudy hair tossed and waved in the air and flashed like the star we call the comet, trailing long streams of fire through the sky. But when Mudjekeewis saw what a strong and handsome man his son had grown to be, he was proud and happy; for he knew that Hiawatha had all of his own early strength and all the beauty of the dead Wenonah.

"Welcome, my son," said Mudjekeewis, "to the kingdom of the West-wind. I have waited for you many years, and have grown very lonely." And Mudjekeewis and Hiawatha talked long together; but all the while Hiawatha was thinking of his dead mother and the wrong that had been done to her, and he became more and more angry.

He hid his anger, however, and listened to what Mudjekeewis told him, and Mudjekeewis boasted of his own early bravery and of his body that was so tough that nobody could do him any harm. "Can nothing hurt you?" asked Hiawatha, and Mudjekeewis said: "Nothing but the black rock yonder." Then he smiled at Hiawatha and said: "Is there anything that can harm you, my son?" And Hiawatha, who did not wish Mudjekeewis to know that nothing in the world could do him injury, told him that only the bulrush had such power.

Then they talked about other things--of Hiawatha's brothers who ruled the winds, Wabun and Shawondasee and Kabibonokka, and about the beautiful Wenonah, Hiawatha's mother. And Hiawatha cried out then in fury: "Father though you be, you killed Wenonah!" And he struck with his magic mittens the black rock, broke it into pieces, and threw them at Mudjekeewis; but Mudjekeewis blew them back with his breath, and remembering what Hiawatha had said about the bulrushes he tore them up from the mud, roots and all, and used them as a whip to lash his son.

Thus began the fearful fight between Hiawatha and his father, Mudjekeewis. The eagle left his nest and circled in the air above them as they fought; the bulrush bent and waved like a tall tree in a storm, and great pieces of the black rock crashed upon the earth. Three days the fight continued, and Mudjekeewis was driven back--back to the end of the world, where the sun drops down into the empty places every evening.

"Stop!" cried Mudjekeewis, "stop, Hiawatha! You cannot kill me. I have put you to this trial to learn how brave you are. Now I will give you a great prize. Go back to your home and people, and kill all the monsters, and all the giants and the serpents, as I killed the great bear when I was young. And at last when Death draws near you, and his awful eyes glare on you from the darkness, I will give you a part of my kingdom and you shall be ruler of the North-west wind."

Then the battle ended long ago among the mountains; and if you do not believe this story, go there and see for yourself that the bulrush grows by the ponds and rivers, and that the pieces of the black rock are scattered all through the valleys, where they fell after Hiawatha had thrown them at his father.

Hiawatha started homeward, with all the anger taken from his heart. Only once upon his way he stopped and bought the heads of arrows from an old Arrow-maker who lived in the land of the Indians called Dacotahs. The old Arrow-maker had a daughter, whose laugh was as musical as the voice of the waterfall by which she lived, and Hiawatha named her by the name of the rushing waterfall--"Minnehaha"--Laughing Water. When he reached his native village, all he told to Nokomis was of the battle with his father. Of the arrows and the lovely maiden, Minnehaha, he did not say a word.

HIAWATHA'S FASTING

THE time came when Hiawatha felt that he must show the tribes of Indians that he would do them some great service, and he went alone into the forest to fast and pray, and see if he could not learn how to help his fellow-men and make them happy. In the forest he built a wigwam, where nobody might disturb him, and he went without food for seven nights and seven days. The first day, he walked in the forest; and when he saw the hare leap into the thicket and the deer dart away at his approach he was very sad, because he knew that if the animals of the forest should die, or go and hide where the Indians could not hunt them, the Indians would starve for want of food. "Must our lives depend on the hare and on the red deer?" asked Hiawatha, and he prayed to the Great Manito to tell him of some food that the Indians might always be able to find when they were hungry.

The next day, Hiawatha walked by the bank of the river, and saw the wild rice growing and the blueberries and the wild strawberries and the grape-vine that filled the air with pleasant odors; and he knew that when cold winter came, all this fruit would wither and the Indians would have no more of it to eat. Again he prayed to the Great Manito to tell him of some food that the Indians might enjoy in winter and summer, in autumn and in spring.

The third day that Hiawatha fasted, he was too weak to walk about the forest, and he sat by the shore of the lake and watched the yellow perch darting about in the sunny water. Far out in the middle of the lake he saw Nahma, the big sturgeon, leap into the air with a shower of spray and fall back into the water with a crash; and every now and then the pike would chase a school of minnows into the shallow water at the edges of the lake and dart among them like an arrow. And Hiawatha thought of how a hot summer might dry up the lakes and rivers and kill the fish, or drive them into such deep water that nobody could catch them; and he called out to the Great Manito, asking a third time for some food that the Indians could store away and use when there was no game in the forest, and no fruit on the river banks or in the fields, and no fish in any of the lakes and rivers.

On the fourth day that Hiawatha fasted, he was so weak from hunger that he could not even go out and sit beside the lake, but lay on his back in his wigwam and watched the rising sun burn away the mist, and he looked up into the blue sky, wondering if the Great Manito had heard his prayers and would tell him of this food that he wished so much to find. And just as the sun was sinking down behind the hills, Hiawatha saw a young man with golden hair coming through the forest toward his wigwam, and the young man wore a wonderful dress of the brightest green, with silky yellow fringes and gay tassels that waved behind him in the wind.

The young man walked right into Hiawatha's wigwam and said: "Hiawatha, my name is Mondamin, and I have been sent by the Great Manito to tell you that he has heard your prayers and will give you the food that you wish to find. But you must work hard and suffer a great deal before this food is given you, and you must now come out of your wigwam and wrestle with me in the forest."

Then Hiawatha rose from his bed of leaves and branches, but he was so weak that it was all he could do to follow Mondamin from the wigwam. He wrestled with Mondamin, and as soon as he touched him his strength began to return. They wrestled for a long time and at last Mondamin said: "It is enough. You have wrestled bravely, Hiawatha. To-morrow I will come again and wrestle with you." He vanished, and Hiawatha could not tell whether he had sunk into the ground or disappeared into the air.

On the next day, when the sun was setting, Mondamin came again to wrestle with Hiawatha, and the day after that he came also and they wrestled even longer than before. Then Mondamin smiled at Hiawatha and said to him: "Three times, O Hiawatha, you have bravely wrestled with me. To-morrow I shall wrestle with you once again, and you will overcome me and throw me to the earth and I shall seem to be dead. Then, when I am lying still and limp on the ground, do you take off my gay clothes and bury me where we have wrestled. And you must make the ground above the place where I am buried soft and light, and take good care that weeds do not grow there and that ravens do not come there to disturb me, until at last I rise again from the ground more beautiful than ever."

True to his word, Mondamin came at sunset of the next day, and he and Hiawatha wrestled together for the last time. They wrestled after evening had come upon them, until at last Hiawatha threw Mondamin to the ground, who lay there as if dead.

Then Hiawatha took off all the gay green clothes that Mondamin wore, and he buried Mondamin and made the ground soft and light above the grave, just as he had been told to do. He kept the weeds from growing in the ground, and kept the ravens from coming to the place, until at last he saw a tiny little green leaf sticking up out of the grave. The little leaf grew into a large plant, taller than Hiawatha himself, and the plant had wonderful green leaves and silky yellow fringes and gay tassels that waved behind it in the wind. "It is Mondamin!" cried out Hiawatha, and he called Nokomis and Iagoo to see the wonderful plant that was to be the food that he had prayed for to the Great Manito.

They waited until autumn had turned the leaves to yellow, and made the tender kernels hard and shiny, and then they stripped the husks and gathered the ears of the wonderful Indian corn. All the Indians for miles around had a great feast and were happy, because they knew that with a little care they would have corn to eat in winter and in summer, in autumn and in spring.

HIAWATHA'S FRIENDS

HIAWATHA had two good friends, whom he had chosen from all other Indians to be with him always, and whom he loved more than any living men. They were Chibiabos, the sweetest singer, and Kwasind, the strongest man in the world; and they told to Hiawatha all their secrets as he told his to them. Best of all Hiawatha loved the brave and beautiful Chibiabos, who was such a wonderful musician that when he sang people flocked from villages far and near to listen to him, and even the animals and birds left their dens and nests to hear.

Chibiabos sang so sweetly that the brook would pause in its course and murmur to him, asking him to teach its waves to sing his songs and to flow as softly as his words flowed when he was singing. The envious bluebird begged Chibiabos to teach it songs as wild and wonderful as his own; the robin tried to learn his notes of gladness, and the lonely bird of night, the whippoorwill, longed to sing as Chibiabos sang when he was sad. He could imitate all the noises of the woodland, and make them sound even sweeter than they really were, and by his singing he could force the Indians to laugh or cry or dance, just as he chose.

The mighty Kwasind was also much beloved by Hiawatha, who believed that next to wonderful songs and love and wisdom great strength was the finest thing in the world and the closest to perfect goodness; and never, in all the years that men have lived upon the earth, has there been another man so strong as Kwasind.

When he was a boy, Kwasind did not fish or play with other children, but seemed very dull and dreamy, and his father and mother thought that they were bringing up a fool. "Lazy Kwasind!" his mother said to him, "you never help me with my work. In the summer you roam through the fields and forests, doing nothing; and now that it is winter you sit beside the fire like an old woman, and leave me to break the ice for fishing and to draw the nets alone. Go out and wring them now, where they are freezing with the water that is in them; hang them up to dry in the sunshine, and show that you are worth the food that you eat and the clothes you wear on your back."

Without a word Kwasind rose from the ashes where he was sitting, left the lodge and found the nets dripping and freezing fast. He wrung them like a wisp of straw, but his fingers were so strong that he broke them in a hundred different places, and his strength was so great that he could not help breaking the nets any more than if they were tender cobwebs.

"Lazy Kwasind!" his father said to him, "you never help me in my hunting, as other young men help their fathers. You break every bow you touch, and you snap every arrow that you draw. Yet you shall come with me and bring home from the forest what I kill."

They went down to a deep and narrow valley by the side of a little brook, where the tracks of bison and of deer showed plainly in the mud; and at last they came to a place where the trunks of heavy trees were piled like a stone wall across the valley.

"We must go back," said Kwasind's father; "we can never scale those logs. They are packed so tightly that no woodchuck could get through them, and not even a squirrel could climb over the top," and the old man sat down to smoke and rest and wonder what they were going to do; but before he had finished his pipe the way lay clear, for the strong Kwasind had lifted the logs as if they were light lances, and had hurled them crashing into the depths of the forest.

"Lazy Kwasind!" shouted the young men, as they ran their races and played their games upon the meadows, "why do you stay idle while we strive with one another? Leave the rock that you are leaning on and join us. Come and wrestle with us, and see who can pitch the quoit the farthest."

Kwasind did not say a word in answer to them, but rose and slowly turned to the huge rock on which he had been leaning. He gripped it with both hands, tore it from the ground and pitched it right into the swift Pauwating River, where you can still see it in the summer months, as it towers high above the current.

Once as Kwasind with his companions was sailing down the foaming rapids of the Pauwating he saw a beaver in the water--Ahmeek, the King of Beavers--who was struggling against the savage current. Without a word, Kwasind leaped into the water and chased the beaver in and out among the whirlpools. He followed the beaver among the islands, dove after him to the bottom of the river and stayed under water so long that his companions believed him dead and cried out: "Alas, we shall see Kwasind no more! He is drowned in the whirlpool!" But Kwasind's head showed at last above the water and he swam ashore, carrying the King of Beavers dead upon his shoulders.

These were the sort of men that Hiawatha chose to be his friends.

HIAWATHA'S SAILING

ONCE Hiawatha was sitting alone beside the swift and mighty river Taquamenaw, and he longed for a canoe with which he might explore the river from bank to bank, and learn to know all its rapids and its shallows. And Hiawatha set about building himself a canoe such as he needed, and he called upon the forest to give him aid:

"Give me your bark, O Birch Tree!" cried Hiawatha; "I will build me a light canoe for sailing that shall float upon the river like a yellow leaf in autumn. Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree, for the summer time is coming." And the birch tree sighed and rustled in the breeze, murmuring sadly: "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"

With his knife Hiawatha cut around the trunk of the birch-tree just beneath the branches until the sap came oozing forth; and he also cut the bark around the tree-trunk just above the roots. He slashed the bark from top to bottom, raised it with wooden wedges and stripped it from the trunk of the tree without a crack in all its golden surface.

"Give me your boughs, O Cedar!" cried Hiawatha. "Give me your strong and pliant branches, to make my canoe firmer and tougher beneath me." Through all the branches of the cedar there swept a noise as if somebody were crying with horror, but the tree at last bent downward and whispered: "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha."

He cut down the boughs of the cedar and made them into a framework with the shape of two bows bent together, and he covered this framework with the rich and yellow bark.

"Give me your roots, O Larch Tree!" cried Hiawatha, "to bind the ends of my canoe together, that the water may not enter and the river may not wet me!" The larch-tree shivered in the air and touched Hiawatha's forehead with its tassels, sighing: "Take them, take them!" as he tore the fibres from the earth. With the tough roots he sewed the ends of his canoe together and bound the bark tightly to the framework, and his canoe became light and graceful in shape. He took the balsam and pitch of the fir-tree and smeared the seams so that no water might ooze in, and he asked for the quills of Kagh, the hedgehog, to make a necklace and two stars for his canoe.

Thus did Hiawatha build his birch canoe, and all the life and magic of the forest was held in it; for it had all the lightness of the bark of the birch-tree, all the toughness of the boughs of the cedar, and it danced and floated on the river as lightly as a yellow leaf.

Hiawatha did not have any paddles for his canoe, and he needed none, for he could guide it by merely wishing that it should turn to the right or to the left. The canoe would move in whatever direction he chose, and would glide over the water swiftly or slowly just as he desired. All Hiawatha had to do was to sit still and think where he cared to have it take him. Never was there such a wonderful craft before.

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