Now there was in the cave much
hemlock bark, and this she began to heap on the fire. Then it blazed,
it crackled and roared; but Pulowech sat still, and said naught,
neither did his eyes change. And he called unto himself all his might,
the might of his magic did he awaken, and the spirit came unto him very
terribly, so that all the _boo-oin_, with their vile black
witchcraft, were but as worms before him, the Great and Terrible One.
And when the fire had burned low he brought in by his will great store
of bark, so that the whole cave was filled, and closing the door he
lighted the fuel. Then the Porcupines, who were those who had slain his
wife and friend, howled for mercy, but he was deaf as a stone to their
cries. Then the roof and sides of the cavern cracked with the heat, the
red-hot stones fell in heavy blocks, the red flames rose in the
thickest smoke, but Pulowech sat and sang his song until the witch and
wizard were burned to cinders; yea, till their white bones crumbled to
ashes beneath his feet. And then he arose and went unto his home.
[Footnote: In this Micmac legend, which is plainly a poem, there is one
very striking and original element in the art with which the great
knowledge and power of Pulowech are kept out of sight until towards the
final unfolding. When he picks up the Squirrel it is with a full
comprehension that he will be confronted with the _Weisum_.
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