Then he raised his hands to heaven,

Called imploring on the tempest,
Called Waywassimo, the lightning,

And the thunder, Annemeekee;

And they came with night and darkness,
Sweeping down the Big-Sea-Water
From the distant Thunder Mountains;
And the trembling Pau-Puk-Keewis
Heard the footsteps of the thunder,
Saw the red eyes of the lightning,

Was afraid, and crouched and trembled.
Then Waywassimo, the lightning,

Smote the doorways of the caverns,

With his war-club smote the doorways,

Smote the jutting crags of sandstone,
And the thunder, Annemeekee,

Shouted down into the caverns,

Saying, "Where is Pau-Puk-Keewis!

And the crags fell, and beneath them
Dead among the rocky ruins

Lay the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Lay the handsome Yenadizze,

Slain in his own human figure.
Ended were his wild adventures,
Ended were his tricks and gambols,
Ended all his craft and cunning,
Ended all his mischief-making,
All his gambling and his dancing,
All his wooing of the maidens.
Then the noble Hiawatha

Took his soul, his ghost, his shadow,

Spake and said: "O Pau-Puk-Keewis'

Never more in human figure

Shall you search for new adventures;

Never more with jest and laughter
Dance the dust and leaves in whirlwinds;

But above there in the heavens

You shall soar and sail in circles;

I will change you to an eagle,

To Keneu, the great war-eagle,

Chief of all the fowls with feathers,

Chief of Hiawatha's chickens."

And the name of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Lingers still among the people,

Lingers still among the singers,

And among the story-tellers;

And in Winter, when the snow-flakes
Whirl in eddies round the lodges,

When the wind in gusty tumult

O'er the smoke-flue pipes and whistles,
"There," they cry, "comes Pau-Puk-Keewis;

He is dancing through the village,

He is gathering in his harvest!"

H

243

XVIII.

THE DEATH OF KWASIND.

FAR and wide among the nations
Spread the name and fame of Kwasind;
No man dared to strive with Kwasind,
No man could compete with Kwasind.
But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,
They the envious Little People,
They the fairies and the pigmies,

Plotted and conspired against him.

"If this hateful Kwasind," said they,

"If this great, outrageous fellow

Goes on thus a little longer,

Tearing everything he touches,

Rending everything to pieces,
Filling all the world with wonder,
What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies?
Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies?
He will tread us down like mushrooms,
Drive us all into the water,

Give our bodies to be eaten

By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs,

By the Spirits of the water!"
So the angry Little People

All conspired against the Strong Man,
All conspired to murder Kwasind,

Yes, to rid the world of Kwasind,
The audacious, overbearing,

Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind!

Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind

In his crown alone was seated;

In his crown too was his weakness;

There alone could he be wounded,
Nowhere else could weapon pierce him,