University of Virginia Library

"KWA!" I called, standing outside Andrew Paul's house in the rain.

I stood also in the wind, but manners are manners, and a hostess must have her opportunity to say "not at home." If I were not wanted, I knew the procedure. A voice would ask who I was, and what was my business. After that there would be nothing for it but to state my errand and go away. But no such cold-blooded thing happened to me. The door flew open on Mrs. Paul, gorgeous to behold in a green plaid shawl pinned with a niskaman , or clasp of rank, as big as a saucer, and solid silver at that. Mrs. Paul is a captain's wife, and lets you know it.

"Well, it gives me happy thoughts to see you," she said in Indian. "Come in; sit down; dry yourself!"

I did all three. The one-roomed house was as neat as a new pin, except for the litter of moccasin-making. My moccasins were done, and I paid for them; after which there was a great brewing of tea. One of the grandchildren, who sat, oily-eyed, behind the stove, said something, and was promptly hushed. Mrs. Paul looked at me apologetically.

"We was just telling them a few old

story," she said; "they wants me to go on with them. I say to them where their manners? The sakamow , he don't care for Indian story."

"Old Joe Brooks"—I began; and the name was electric.

"Him!" cried Mrs. Paul; for a moment scorn choked her. "Him! He don't know 'em right! Me, I got them straight down from my grandmother, and her mother, Philip Bernard was her man. And he was a Frenchman,—he was kepture by us when we was fighting with you people,—and my grandmother's mother she marry him. He have great story-telling to his camp every night of every winter, got story-tellers in from miles round; and every story he tell to my grandmother, and she tell to me, word for word. There isn't no Indian story that I don't know, nor that I don't know right. I tell you one now,—right this minute. Old Joe Brooks— Ho, I make him feel funny if I catch him story-telling! And"—she looked at me with the last pride of the accomplished— "I tell you it in English, too. I can't sound him out like I do in Indian, but there isn't one woman alive that could do this but me."

If I had had time, I would have produced tobacco, but she forestalled me, and lit her own. There was no light but the fire from the open stove. It glittered on the silver of her niskaman , and on the oily eyes of the silent children. In the quiet I heard the rain against the house wall.

"The name of this story," said Mrs. Paul—she looked at me between two puffs of her really remarkable tobacco—"is The Whale. Seems to me," she added reflectively, "that in those times the animals were all talking loud,—like people,—but we git to that by and by! First:—

"There was a time a family lived in the woods. I don't know if they was the only family in the world, but it seems so. Anyhow, nobody ever came near where they were, and they never knowed there was any people in the world but themselves. There was an Old Man and an Old Woman, and they got two children, boy and girl; girl was the oldest.

"Old Man he used to have traps in one direction; Old Woman she had her traps in 'nother direction. They live on what they ketch in those traps; meat, fowls, and everything. And maple sugar,—one year to 'nother year they had maple sugar all along! And they gather up the fishes in the spring to do them till next spring; and meat, they keep it from one year to other end of year. In the spring they used to plant the corn; and in the summer they used to pick wild potatoes,—just like sweet potatoes," she broke off, "only leaves and flowers like morning-glory, open and shut just the same way; and roots all strung on one string. Then they gather up a lot of stuff what's growin'; peppermint, yellow lilies—their buds just like onion, and boil like onion—so they never mind anything about white man, what he eat now,—they got plenty of their own. Their clothing it was of fur and leather. But they had three prayers every day; one at morning, one at noon, and one at night. They train their children to this, till every action they had their children had it. Children stayed with them till they was grown up, able to do for themselves.

"One day Old Man sick. Old Woman go to work to try to get some kind of root to cure Old Man; but she couldn't cure him. He died. Old Woman was very lonesome, and she made up her mind to tell the children what they must do if she was dead. She told them to not go no place; told the Boy to take his father's traps, and the Girl to take her own traps, and to be together always and not parted. She told Girl, 'You care for your Brother best way you kin,' and she told Boy, 'You take care your Sister, so no boooin (and that's what you call witchcraft) 'can get hold of her.' They both make very good promise; and, that very next day, Old Woman she die.

"Well, the Brother and Sister was there for good many years, 'long themselves. Then one night they was saying their

prayers, and after they finish their prayers the Boy says:—

"Sister, there must be somebody in the world like us, because these prayers what we got says, " Kesoolk, our Maker and Great chief, take care of them all,"—and if there was only us two in this world they would say, "take care of them two."' Says he: 'Our prayers tells us to think of our neighbors as we do ourselves. You say these birds and beasts they have no souls, and we shouldn't pray for them: so why wouldn't there be no more people than us?'

"Well, Girl begin to turn round, and told him: 'Well, you have a queer notion, to think about people, when we are very well contented here with the two of us, and we needn't complain. We eat any time we are hungry; we can kneel down and say our prayers; when we want to we can sleep, just as comfortable as if we had a thousand people round us.'

"Boy said: 'I want to find out if there is more people in this world than us. We must start and look for them, till we find out.'

"The Girl told him, 'I'll do as you say, if you'll do as I say afterwards.'

"So he make good promise, and she got ready to start and look for the people. They made some kind of rule, that they'll go one way all along; they put a stick in the ground in the middle of the day, and wherever the shadow was on the ground in the middle of the day they took that direction always. They traveled good many days, till winter sets in; and they found nobody yet, not the sign of nobody. One day they'll put up their camp to prepare what they'll eat, and the Boy will be restless; when they finish what they have to eat, he'll make her gather up and start; they do like that all winter. And before that winter was quite over they found the tracks of Somebody; but it was such an old track they lost that track. But when they did they sat down and made their camp, and they said, 'We'll stay here; and p'raps Somebody'll come along.'

"One day, while the Boy was hunting, he found a place where a moose had been killed that Somebody killed. When he come home, says he: 'I found where They killed a moose, but I daresn't go too far, for I was frightened I might see Them. Good many,' says he, 'that don't afraid, have brought themselves into trouble!'

"So they stay there till spring, and start again. They found a place pretty soon, where Somebody had been all winter; good many camps were left empty where the people they had moved from that place. Still, they went ahead to try and find them out, where they had gone to, till they come out on a river. When they come there they found a camp where Somebody had been making sugar; trees were all tapped; troughs were all put away into one camp, for next spring. Boy says:—

"'We're getting handy to Them! We found out that there was more people than us in this world.' And they went along, following the river till they got to salt water; and there they found a place where Somebody had moved from. Canoes had all landed, and start again from beach; children's tracks, and women's tracks, and men's tracks,—they see them all in the sand.

"Girl said: 'We needn't go hurry. Let me make our clothing, so we'll have all new clothing, and everything nice and neat; because we are strangers.'

"So she begin to make their clothing, and the Boy was making sacks himself for carrying things; sacks made of leather. And he put flowers on them, with all the things that had happened to him and his Sister since they left home to look for people. Time he found tracks first and looked down at them, he put his picture down of that; how he found out what a track was, he put that down; what kind of way They killed the moose he found first; and when he found the winter camps with no one in them,—he put all them things down on them sacks; and how he stood himself when he come to

the salt water, and see all those tracks on the sand and shore of it.

"So they made up their clothes, and they started in the morning. In the evening they come to a little cove, and right opposite them they seen fires on the other shore of it; first fires, and then people. Some made their own camps, and some they stayed overnight without camps. The Boy and Girl they went round this little cove till they come to the first camp.

"Well, in that first camp the people was Old Bear and Young Marten. Next was Old Chief's,—and he had awful big eyes,—but he was Old Owl, you know; in them days just same as people! 'Nother camp was a widow woman's; she had a lot of girls, and she was Mis' Mink. She had a smart boy to help her, name Weasel.

"When Boy and Girl come to Old Bear's camp they stayed, for Old Bear she ask them. Girl was helping Old Bear best way she kin, and the young fellow her Brother was getting wood the best way he kin, and helping Marten. They worked awful well; better than Old Bear ever had seen.

"One day Old Chief was saying: 'We ought to get this Boy and Girl to be camping with us always. They work awful hard work, and they are company for us because we can understand them; they talk our language.'

"So the people in those camps asks them, 'if they would get married there if they got the man and got the woman?' Says they, 'No! Because we have to go back home, not knowing how soon.'

"Old Chief said (and he let them go out first, before he said it): 'What we'll do, we'll make it so he never kin go back, and then his Sister she stay with him. We'll get'"—

The old lady broke off. "I don' know what I'm going to call what they get." She said an Indian word that I knew to mean "the great reptile," and translated it, "Great big lizard, kind of horned, awful deep jaw—one of them—I think most like crocodile!" (It was the first thing I had ever heard in support of the tradition that the Micmacs came north from Florida, and if I might have substituted alligator for crocodile, I held my tongue.) She continued with decision:—

"'We'll get crocodile and we'll take the horns off it.'" (I am an unlearned person, and there may be crocodiles with horns; I make no stipulations about it); "'and we'll get the old Witch to wish those horns on the Boy's head, so they can't come off. But how we kin do it?'

"Well, he think and think. Says he: 'We'll make party; only for men, not for women, so that Girl she can't come. Every man will have his form of arm what he'll use when he's hunting, and what he'll use in war with strange Indians; bow an' arrows and spears, and little tommy-hawk and butcher's knife. We'll get up after we done eating, and we'll sing'"— She interrupted herself. "What'll I call neskowa ? I don't know that word in English. Not war' hup ,"—she said it indescribably, with a cold and rising inflection; and I interrupted. I know neskowa , it means to dance a magic dance, chanting the while a chant which is not used in churches; each man takes his turn at it, every one making his own song of what he has done, and what he will do,—and at this present day it is well known that during the duration of his neskowa the singer is impervious to bullets. It is not a blood-warming performance, even now. I said, " Kejeek, I know it!"

The old lady nodded. "My Mr. Paul, he knows all them old songs," she said casually. "You get him some day; tell him, ' neskowa a little for me.'" And Mr. Paul is a pillar of the church, and respected. They are not pretty songs.

Mrs. Paul puffed at her pipe, and thought a little.

"Well," she continued, "well, says Old Chief, 'we'll get up and neskowa ; every man'll make his own song of what he would do, and every one'll go round and shake hands; and while we shake hands we'll put those horns on that boy.'

"Well, Girl she told her Brother: 'My

dear, they call each other together to put up some rig on you. That's what you were wishing for when you wish for people. But when you must go to this party don't forget me, not even for one minute; while you remember me nobody kin get at you.'

"But the Boy went away quite cheerful to the party. And when they was done eating, Old Chief done like he said he would. He got up, and he sing that neskowa all round the camp; and the rest of them all put those crocodile's horns on their heads, turn by turn, and say, 'How would I look if I had these horns on my head?' An' 'nother one would do the same, till they got all through. The Boy was the last one.

"And when he put those horns on, he couldn't took them off. He forgot all about his Sister, and these horns stuck on his head. Old Chief and all his men were so pleased to get those horns stuck on his head, that they made an awful hurrah, all of them. And then all those men and women they cleared out their camps, and moved away from that place in canoes: since the Boy and his Sister would not marry one of them nor be one of their people, they could stay now where they were, alone.

"The Boy came home to his Sister. He looked very sad.

"She told him: 'Well, you got what you were seeking for when you wished to see other people. You always said that you liked me and would never forget me; and now it shows that you did forget me. Now you brought us here to those people, and they leave us,—no camp, not anybody left,—and you not able to go home because of those horns fixed on your head.'

"He sat down by an elm tree, and she was making a camp of the leavings of those people that had gone away; and while she was making it her Brother's horns growed that fast they twisted round the elm tree, so tight he couldn't get them off. He got to sit there. Then his Sister made little shed for him, round the elm tree, and she finished her camp for herself. And he sits there in his little shed, and she in her camp.

"She feel pretty bad. She feel worse than if she had stayed at home, and never seen nobody. One day she feel so bad she went to work and washed herself, and combed her hair, and put on her best clothing, and painted her cheeks; and she went over to where there was a flat rock stuck out into the sea, and was sitting down there and singing lonesome tunes to herself. She commenced to cry, and she cried till by and by she went to sleep. While she was sleeping there was a Whale going beside the rock, for there was deep water round it, and what he seen was a little young girl laying down; and he never see any prettier girl than that. He stopped, and he change himself into a man in a canoe.

"And this," said Mrs. Paul, "is where I don't understand 'bout the ten and animals; seems like as if you couldn't tell always which was which. So I don't believe 'em now when they say that birds and the beasts they don't have no souls,—but I don' know , and you don' know!

"That man that was a Whale, he took his paddle and lifted up the Girl with it, and he put her in his canoe. Then he paddled home to his own house.

"He got a Mother and Sister. When he get home he say to his Sister:—

"'You go down to my canoe and wake up your sister-in-law; and tell her to come to her dinner.'

"This Whale-girl she was so pleased that she run; she'd never had no company at all, where she lived. Looking in canoe, there was the girl, just waking up. Says the Whale-girl:—

"'My dear sister-in-law, get up and come home.'

"They went home together, and when they got in the old Whale-woman look up. Says she, 'Well, daughter-in-law, go up 'long side of your man.'

"And that's the way," said Mrs. Paul, "that us Indians used to get married before we knew the Scriptures. The old

people, you know, they sit at home; and when their son bring in a girl, if they like her they says, 'Come up to the back part of camp, daughter-in-law,'—that the place of honor. After that, they make good cheer, and feast for wedding; and that's the way the Whale-woman did.

"So that Girl she was married, and she got so contented that her mind was put away from her Brother. She had company, and they used her very well. She liked the place, and she liked the people, and she liked her man very well; with him she was awfully pleased. She had her own prayers yet; the Whales they never pray, but they wouldn't hinder her from saying her prayers. She knowed a great deal, and she used to tell them stories about Kesoolk, our Creator and Great Chief, as well as she kin. They got into her way, every one of 'em, to honor their Maker. She was thankful to Kesoolk for everything she had got; but these Whales used to grab everything, and never thank for it till she learned them. They got so that they got along real good together.

"She got a baby, little boy. By and by the baby was one year old; and one day, looking at the baby, something struck her that she remembered her Brother. She couldn't help herself, and she was crying.

"Old Woman Whale badly struck when she seen her daughter-in-law crying; she thought she was sick.

"'My dear child,' she says, 'what wrong with you? You sick?'

"'No, dear mother.'

"'Are you feel lonesome about your man?' Cause, you see, he was out every day from before sunrise till after sundown,—that was his life. Old Woman Whale thinks then 'Maybe my daughter-in-law is lonesome! She told her own daughter, 'Go some place, and get the roots for making a canoe.'

"The Whale-girl told her sister-in-law, 'What make you cry?'

"The Girl said: 'Well, I'm just a-going to tell you now! I got a Brother where I come from, and he was wished them crocodile horns on his head; when I came away they were growing so fast they were growing round the tree he was sat down under. By this time he must be dead; and I'm so wishing to see him once more.'

"'Ho,' the Whale-girl says, 'those horns can be cured off! I got simple cure to cure them off. When my brother come home to-night, if the sun goes down in red cloud, you pinch little baby; make him cry whole evening. If my brother he ask you what wrong with the child, you tell him, "He's foolish! He's crying after that red cloud he see when sun was down."'

"Well, this Girl carried the child out to meet his father, because he's sure to come home after sundown; and when she look at the cloud it was red. So when her man come home she pinched the young one. He cried, and cried, and cried.

"Her man says, 'What wrong with the child?'

"Girl told him, 'He has such a simple notion that he cried after that red cloud he see, when the sun was down.'

"'Is that all?' said her man, and he laugh. 'Well, we see about that in the morning!'

"The child stop crying, because his mother didn't pinch him any more, and in the morning the Whale-man he start for that red cloud;—and he brought it home, mind you; that next night! Child didn't play with it, 'cause of course he never thinking nothing about it. But his mother she put it away carefully rolled up in a little bark box. Next night says the Whale-girl:—

"'Yellow cloud to-night. You pinch this child hard, so to make him cry for this yellow cloud which comes now with sundown, and to-morrow morning his father he go and fetch it for him. And to-morrow morning you must get up early, soon as he has gone, and make ready to do whatever I tell you.'

"So when the Whale-man gone, the Whale-girl and her sister-in-law were

ready. They went off by themselves in the canoe the Whale-woman had told them to make when she see her daughter-in-law cry, and took the child in his little cradle, laced up like Indian child is carried. The Whale-girl says to her mother, 'We going over to little island to see if we kin pick few berries.' But they started for good, and they went over to the Girl's home.

"Whale-girl told her, 'I know your home where the Whale my brother got you;' and she steer canoe herself. They paddle hard.

"But just when this Whale-man got that yellow cloud the baby cry for, he begin to feel bad; he know something wrong in his home. He begin hurry for home. When he got there, they wasn't there; not the Whale-girl, nor the child and his mother.

"Old Woman Whale said, 'They started for picking berries, ever since you started in the morning.'

"Says he, 'They'll not picking berries! My sister she takes her sister-in-law home. They made some plan up for to take her home.' He started after them.

"Says the Whale-girl to her sister-in-law, 'My dear, he coming after us! Very fast.' Wasn't she frightened! 'But he'll not kill us; only take us back. If he comes handy, you drop the cradle in water, and paddle away all you kin.'

"And he was coming so handy they saw the water raised up where he blow. But next time he blow was right handy. The Whale-girl told her, 'He's coming fast!'

"At that she threw the cradle into the water, and he hollered, 'This poor little baby's cradle fall into the water!' And he caught it, and pet it up, and sing songs to it, till they went very far, and he put it into his bosom. And then they only could see the place where they were going.

"When he be too handy again the Girl went and throw the stick that raised the veil from off her baby's face, and he pick that up. When he come handy again she took her baby's little clothes and throw them in the sea; and he taking so much time to pick them all up. Then once more he will overtake them, if they hadn't anything more to put in the water. Thinking about her baby's pillow, she emptied all the feathers out of it in the water. When he picked them up, one by one, they were at the shore.

"The Whale he won't come too handy to shore, and he stopped; and advised her to take good care of that child, and not to cross water of any distance wide, because he sure to catch her crossing. The Whale-girl she took that little box what the red cloud was in, and says she,—

"'My sister-in-law, when we come to your Brother's shed what you built over him, don't look at him, don't stop at all, don't feel sorry for him,—make your own way to your own camp what you built that same day.'

"But when she passed her Brother spoke to her. 'My dear sister, I'm living yet; very miserable, very poor, very hungry, and very tired sitting.'

"She never looked at him, nor touched her heart for him saying this. She passed by.

"This Whale-girl she went and looked at him. She anointed him with the red cloud out of the little box, and rubbed him in it, and melted some of it in water, and gave it to him to drink. When he was sitting there he was nothing but skeleton, but after she rubbed him, he was filled out all over. Then he stood up, and his horns was off, and hair was where his horns had growed; and she dressed him with fine clothes. He thanked her for doing this for him, and call her his dear wife,"—and that was another quick marriage!—"He come in to the camp where his Sister was waiting, and oh, they was proud to see one another!

"They made good home for to stay there; and they stay there till it was winter. There was a little cove there, and one day they went to it for boughs for their camp; the Girl went, too, with her baby on her back. This little cove was kind of narrow, but long and deep, with ice on it. They went round it, but the Girl thought she would carry home boughs across it; her sister-in-law, the Whale-girl went across it, and she went after her. First two steps she make on the ice, she went under,—and the Whale grabbed her. Took her and her little boy, and stand her on his back, and her carrying her baby in her arms. And away he went to his home."

"Is that the end?" asked a solemn grandchild.

The old lady laughed. "Well, then," she said, "I went home myself. I went with them just that far." It was a delicate hint, for she turned as I rose. "Next time you come I tell you about the Partridge and his Wife."