He himself
was a mighty hunter of old; one of his footsteps measured eight leagues,
the Great Lakes were the beaver dams he built, and when the cataracts
impeded his progress he tore them away with his hands. Attentively
watching the spider spread its web to trap unwary flies, he devised the
art of knitting nets to catch fish, and the signs and charms he tested
and handed down to his descendants are of marvellous efficacy in the
chase. In the autumn, in "the moon of the falling leaf," ere he composes
himself to his winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and takes a
god-like smoke. The balmy clouds float over the hills and woodlands,
filling the air with the haze of the "Indian summer."
Sometimes he was said to dwell in the skies with his brother the snow,
or, like many great spirits, to have built his wigwam in the far north
on some floe of ice in the Arctic Ocean, while the Chipeways localized
his birthplace and former home to the Island Michilimakinac at the
outlet of Lake Superior.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277