Fairy Tales From Many Lands
Copyright© 2024 by Katharine Pyle
Mishosha, the Magician of the Lake
From Tales of the American Indians
UPON the borders of a wide and lonely lake lived an Indian with his wife and two children.
Every day the Indian went off into the forest in search of game, and after he had gone the woman always sent the two boys down to play by the edge of the lake. This she did because she had a lover who came to visit her while her husband was away and she was afraid if her children saw him they might speak of him before their father.
One day the husband came back from his hunting earlier than usual. He heard voices in the lodge and stole up to it and peeped in. There he saw a strange man sitting with his wife and talking to her. The Indian was so angry that he threw the game down before the door, and strode off into the forest never to return.
So silently had he come and gone that his wife did not know he had been there until she came out and saw the game lying near the door where he had thrown it and his bow and arrows beside it. Then she was frightened, for she thought he would return later when she was alone and beat her. She begged her lover to take her with him, and as he was willing they stole away together, with not a thought of the two children left playing down by the lake.
After some time had passed the two boys tired of their play and wondered why their mother did not call them as usual. They grew hungry and at last came up to the lodge for food. There all was silent and deserted. There was no sound nor movement except among the leaves overhead. The boys called aloud, but there was no answer. Beside the door still lay the game that their father had brought, and to satisfy their hunger the older brother cut some pieces from it and cooked them at the fire. When night came they crept into a corner of the lodge and began to weep. They knew now that they were deserted.
After this the two brothers lived all alone. The older, Panigwun knew how to shoot, and every day he took his father’s bow and arrows and went off into the forest for game. Almost always he was able to bring something home with him.
The younger brother did nothing but play. He was very mischievous. One day when Panigwun was making a fire he carried the bow and arrows down to the lake, and began to amuse himself by shooting them into the water. Presently the elder brother saw what he was doing and called to him not to waste the arrows. The boy only ran further along the shore and kept on shooting. The elder brother ran after him and took the bow and arrows from his hands. Out in the lake a number of arrows floated on the water, and not wishing to lose them Panigwun waded out to get them. Some were quite far from the shore and by the time he reached the last one the water was up to his armpits. The younger brother stood on the shore laughing.
Suddenly from around a bend in the lake appeared a canoe, and in it sat an old man with streaming gray hair. He held no paddle, but the canoe swept onward of its own power, for it was a magic canoe, and the old man was Mishosha, the magician of the lake. When it reached the spot where Panigwun still stood the magician leaned over the side and lifted the boy into it. Then he slapped the side of the canoe. “Chemann Poll,” he cried. Immediately it turned and sped away toward a large island that lay in the middle of the lake.
The little boy, when he saw his elder brother being carried away from him, ran down to the edge of the lake, crying piteously. “Take me with you! Take me too!” he called. But the canoe still swept onward. He waded out into the lake as far as he dared, and stood there for some time weeping and calling his brother’s name; but there was no answer, the canoe had disappeared. At last he turned and waded back to the shore. Then he threw himself down and wept bitterly. He was now entirely deserted.
Meanwhile the elder brother had been carried to the island where the magician lived. It was in vain that he begged to be taken back to his little brother, or even that the little boy might be taken with them; the magician made no answer. When the canoe reached the shore of the island, Mishosha stepped from it, and motioned to Panigwun to follow him. He led the way back from the water and through bushes and past rocks and stopped at last before a lodge where two young girls were busy preparing a meal. They did not speak, but they cast looks of pity at the companion the magician had brought with him.
Mishosha spoke to the older of the two girls in a harsh voice. “I have brought you a youth who shall be your husband when you are old enough to marry. Take him to an empty lodge, and mind, no chattering on the way or you will be sorry for it.”
The girl started when Mishosha spoke to her, and looked at him with terror. When he had ended she turned to obey him with such haste that she tripped over a root and fell. The magician laughed a cruel laugh at the sight of her terror.
When the girl had picked herself up she led the way through the bushes, Panigwun following her, to where several empty lodges were. Here she paused, standing with her eyes cast down, and motioned to him to choose one. The boy looked about him, and was about to enter the one that seemed the most convenient, but the girl caught him by the arm with every sign of terror, and dragged him away from it. Panigwun looked at her with surprise, but she again stood with her eyes bent on the ground, waiting for him to choose.
“Since you do not wish me to have that one, I will take this,” said Panigwun. He was about to enter another lodge, but again the girl caught him by the arm and dragged him from it. “Very well,” said the boy impatiently, “since you will not let me choose for myself you shall choose for me. Which shall I take?”
The girl motioned him to a smaller lodge that stood a little way off by itself. “I will take that lodge,” said Panigwun, “if you will tell me why you choose it. If you do not tell me I will take one of the larger ones.”
The girl looked about to make sure that no one was near. Then she whispered hurriedly, “Those are ill-omened lodges. Those who lived in them went out with Mishosha in his canoe and never returned. But none has ever stayed in the smaller lodge. Take it.” Immediately and without another word, she slipped away and disappeared in the bushes.
Panigwun entered the lodge, threw himself on the ground and began to lament. “Oh, my poor little brother! what will you do now?” he cried. “How will you live now that I have left you. You have not even the arrows to shoot game, for I carried them away with me. My poor little brother!”
He lay grieving for a long time, until the light faded and the stars came out. Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and looking up he again saw the girl who had shown him to the lodge standing beside him. She laid her fingers on her lips as a sign for silence, and said in a voice as soft as a breath, “Mishosha is asleep. If we whisper he will not awaken, for the leaves whisper about him all night, and he is used to the sound. Down on the beach lies the magic canoe. Take it and go to visit your brother. Strike it on the side and say Chemann Poll and it will carry you wherever you wish. Only return soon, for if Mishosha awakens and finds you gone he will suspect me of helping you and punish me for it.”
Panigwun would have thanked the girl, but she had disappeared like a shadow in the night.
Stealing down to the beach, he stepped into the canoe; he slapped it on the side and uttered the magic words, and immediately it shot out over the dark and silent lake, and did not pause until it ran up on the shore from which Panigwun had waded that morning.
Panigwun leaped from it, and hurried up the beach to the lodge and looked in. By the faint starlight he could see his little brother lying asleep near the door, the bow clasped tightly in his hand. The older brother would have awakened him, but he remembered what the girl had said, and feared if his brother saw him he would not have the heart to leave him again. Very quietly he placed beside the child the sheaf of arrows, and also the food that the magician had sent to his wigwam for his supper. A moment he lingered, and then, as silently as he had come, he returned to the canoe, and soon was speeding back again across the water to the island.
But in the little while that Panigwun had been away the weather had changed. The sky was overcast, and the first breath of a coming storm ruffled the dark waters of the lake. He sprang from the canoe and hastened to his lodge. He had scarcely entered when there was a brilliant flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder.
In the silence that followed Panigwun heard the sound of feet running toward his lodge, and the next flash of lightning showed him the magician standing in the doorway. His face was drawn and haggard with terror. He ran to Panigwun and caught hold of him, and the youth could feel how he was shaking.
“Oh, my good Panigwun, you are not asleep, are you?” he cried with chattering teeth. “I could not sleep either. I came to see whether you were comfortable. Let us sit down and talk. I am not afraid—not afraid. I have had a curious dream, and I came to talk about dreams.” Again there came a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder. Mishosha fell on the floor and caught the boy by the feet. “I have never done you any harm! Say I have never done you any harm. It is the storm king. He is mightier than I. He is searching for me. Ah!” A flash of lightning brighter than the rest filled the lodge with light. “Hide me! hide me, Panigwun. What I did to-day was only in joke. To-morrow I will take you back to your brother. I always intended to. Only hide me till this terrible storm is past.”
Panigwun took up a blanket and threw it over Mishosha, and the magician rolled himself up in it, and lay shaken and trembling with fear, groaning aloud at each flash of lightning brighter than the rest.
Gradually the storm died away; the thunder reverberated more dully among the distant hills; the lightning grew fainter; the terror of the storm was over.
Mishosha freed himself from the blanket, rose and walked to the door of the lodge. There he stood looking out. “The storm has passed,” he said in his ordinary voice. “About dreams, I came to tell you of one I had had, but it grows late. Some other time I will tell it.”
“And you will take me back to-morrow to my brother?” asked the boy.
Mishosha laughed harshly. “We will make no promises to-night. To-morrow we might think them dreams we had dreamed. Another thing I would say. Beware how you touch my canoe. And do not have a dream that you can do anything on this island without my knowing of it.” He cast an evil glance at Panigwun and strode away through the night toward his own lodge.
The next morning Mishosha said to the boy, “I am going to an island to gather gulls’ eggs, and you will go with me.”
“But will you not take me to see my little brother first?”
“Some other time,” answered the magician. “We must make an early start if we are to reach the gulls’ island.” He stepped into the canoe and Panigwun followed him. “Chemann Poll,” he cried, and away they sped over the water.
The wooded island dropped out of sight behind them, and another island rose to view. This one was bleak and rocky; over it hovered thousands of sea gulls, filling the air with their harsh cries. The canoe stopped beside a rocky ledge, and the magician said to the boy, “Do you go ashore and gather the gulls’ eggs, and I will await you here.”
Fearing no evil, Panigwun stepped out on the rocks. Immediately the canoe slipped out into the deep water. “Oh, gulls,” shouted Mishosha in a loud voice, “I have long wished to make you an offering. Take this youth as a gift from me. He will serve as food for you and your children.” Then he slapped his canoe upon the side and cried “Chemann Poll.” The canoe shot away and was lost to sight, and Panigwun was left alone on the island.
The gulls rose and circled about him in a cloud. Their harsh cries deafened him. For a moment he was terrified; then he drew his knife and called upon his guardian spirit. With one blow he killed the nearest gull and hung it from his belt. “Man is the master of the birds,” he cried aloud. “Ye are my servants. Take me upon your wings and carry me back to where I came from.”
Immediately the birds settled about him upon the rocks. Panigwun stepped upon them, and they rose with him in a dense cloud, and carried him swiftly back to Mishosha’s island. As he swept along through the sky he looked down and saw the canoe speeding across the lake below him.
When the magician reached the island Panigwun was already there and came to meet him. “You did not wait long enough for me to gather the gulls’ eggs,” he said.
Mishosha was wonder-struck at finding him safe when he supposed the gulls were already feasting upon him.
“I am so forgetful,” he stammered. “I forgot I had left you upon the island. I should have remembered before long, however, and have returned for you.” Within himself he thought, “This boy must have a very powerful guardian spirit, but all the same to-morrow he shall not escape me.”
The next morning he said to Panigwun, “To-day I am going to take you to an island covered with precious stones of all kinds. There you may gather all you wish, and this time I will be careful and not forget you.”
“Will you not take me to see my little brother to-day?” asked Panigwun.
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