"O sister, we have come from afar!"
they cried. "We missed you, and have followed you. Let us in!" And yet
again she heard a sad and very earnest voice, and it was that of her
old mother, crying, "_N'toos', n'toos', pantahdooe_!" M., "My
daughter! my daughter! open unto me!" and she verily wist that it must
be so. But when she heard the voice of her dear old father, shaking and
saying, "_Pantahdooe loke cyowchee_!" "Open the door, for I am very
cold!" she could resist no more, and, springing up, opened it to those
who were without. And then the evil sorcerers, springing on her like
mad wolves, dragged her away and devoured her. They did not leave two
of her little bones one with another. [Footnote: This Indian Little Red
Riding-Hood story is very effective. The wolfish sorcerers bursting in
at midnight are even more terrible, from a nursery melodramatic point,
than the old wolf in bed.]
Now when _Wejek_, the Tree Partridge, came in and found his
friend's wife gone, he was so angry that, without waiting, he set forth
to seek her. And this was not wisely done, since, falling among them,
he was himself slain. Then Pulowech, returning last of all, and finding
no one, sought by means of magic to know where friend and wife might
be. For taking a _woltes_, or a wooden dish, he filled it with
water, and charmed it with a spell, and placed it in the back part of
his wigwam, just opposite the door.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309