And there was a
great feast, a great dance, and great games held in honor of their
arrival, and the two finest young Sea-Duck men, utterly unheeding the
old Loon, who believed indeed that they were his own wives, carried
them off, and nothing loath wedded them.
And it was in this wise. There was a canoe-race, and Kwee-moo, being
bitterly angry that he was held of so little account in the Sea-Duck
land, went forth with the rest, and, paddling far outside, upset his
canoe, and making as if he were drowning called to the Weasels to come
and save him. But the Sea-Ducks laughed, and said, "Let him alone.
Truly he will never drown. We know him." And the race ended they went
ashore in peace. [Footnote: Here the Micmac narrative ends. The rest is
as it was given to me by Noel Josephs, or _Chi gatch gok_, the
Raven, a Passamaquoddy. It would not be a complete Indian tale if a man
having received a slight or injury did not take a bloody revenge for
it.]
And that night they danced late, and the Weasels, being better pleased
with the two handsome Sea-Ducks than with Loon, forthwith divorced
themselves out of hand, and at once married them, going to where their
canoe lay, to pass the bridal night. Now Loon had not gone to the
dance, but sat at home nursing his vengeance till he was well-nigh mad.
And as the Weasels did not return, he went forth and sought them; and
this he did so carefully that at last he found all four by the sea,
sound asleep.
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