A fearful tempest blew, and all night long the old black
Indian was out-of-doors, working with all his power to keep the lodge
from being blown away. As soon as he had pinned one sheet of bark into
its place another blew away, and then a tent pole rattling in the rain
bounded afar. It was a weary work, but all night long the young bride
slept in peace, until the morning came, and then he slept.
Then she arose, and, walking to the wood, sat down beside a stream and
sang a song:--
"There are many men in the world,
But only one is dear to me.
He is good and brave and strong.
He swore to love none but me;
He has forgotten me.
It was a bad spirit that changed him,
But I will love none but him."
And as she sat and sang, the sagamore her husband, paddling by in his
canoe, heard the sweet song intoned in magic style, [Footnote: Not only
the words, but the peculiar intonations of them, were essential to produce
the proper effect of a magic song. An intelligent white man has left it
on record that it required two years to learn one of these incantations
of only a few lines.] and all at once recalled what had been lost,--the
two strong giants, the cavern and the elf, the seven-headed monster and
the fight, the sisters and the evil-minded men, and the black dog who
leaped to lick his hand: it flashed upon him like some early dream brought
out by sorcery.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346