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Chapter 3
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· 113 · CHAPTER 3 On reachingthe boat,launched bythe river’s shore,Lonidaw handed her mother the ball of twine which she had brought. She quickly tied the cord to the bow of the boat, carefully got in, and while Lonidaw held the ball, she pushed out into the stream. I now first knew why the twine was brought.The maid and I now left alone, with none to hear except the deer, our words were very few and simple; but our thoughts were many, and filled with eloquence. Soon the mother reached the other shore, and with her hand a motion made for Lonidaw to wind up the cord. In her nimble hands the ball spun like a top; the boat returning, as if impelled by some unseen power divine, soon reached our landing-place. I now reached for the maiden’s hand to help her into the boat. The watchful deer sprang forward, as if to help her too; but quick as “shegossee” (the weasel) she bounded in herself, handed me the ball, grasped the oar, and like “wabisi” (the swan) pushed out into the stream. The deer gave one whistling,snorting snuff,then bounded twenty feet or more into the stream, swimming close behind the boat until it reached the other shore. Pulling back the boat with the cord, soon I crossed and joined them on the other side. Nearing our wigwam summer home, our dog, old Mawkaw, met us on the trail, with hair along his back up-turned, and threatening growl, came near the maid, and nosed her hand. The · 114 · Simon Pokagon mother stopped,and standing still,she asked,“Nedawyoemewawaunish?” (Is that your dog?)“Ae,”I replied.She then said,“I fear Mawmawshkayshe saw aunimoosh” (the deer will kill him). “Yawkaw” (O, no), I said, “he is mawingawn aunimoosh (a wolf dog), and has killed many a deer and wolf.” While yet I spoke, the deer sprang at the dog as fiercely as the mountain “pezhen” (lynx) that guards her young, striking him with his three-pronged antlers square in the beast; and as he turned to run, gave him another cruel punch full in the rear, which sent him yelping into the house. My mother heard the fearful yells, and thought perhaps “meshebeshe” (a panther) had pounced upon the dog, and quickly shut to the door. I opened it, and we three, without a word, walked into the room. She gazed at them in wonder and surprise, thinking perhaps it might be that I had caught the maiden mocking spirit of the woods beyond the river, with some other being of her kind, together with the sacred deer of white, that now stood just outside the open door, with head drooped low, as if expecting to give the skulking dog another punch. Fearing the deer might venture in, quickly I shut to the door, saying, “Ogawshemaw me demogay?” (Do you know this old lady?) She gazed at her with the most inquiring look I ever saw, then rushed into her arms, exclaiming, “My dear Kobunda!” while the stranger answered back, “My dear Kalawna! my dear Kalawna, are we dreaming, or are we both awake?” Unclasping their embrace,my mother threw her arms about the daughter’s neck,while her mother threw hers around mine, “odgindiwin” (kissing) us as if we were but little children. Then both sat down and wept with joy together. Lonidaw and I also wept, to see them weep. At last, looking upward through her tears, my mother said, “Kobunda (Do tell me) where you have been, and all about it; for I was told, time and time again, that you perished in mitagog (the woods) near Nijode sagaiganog (Twin lakes),1 1. In an article read before the Indiana Historical Society of South Bend, by Daniel McDonald, editor of the Plymouth Democrat, a newspaper published at Plymouth, Ind., near where the old Indian village was located, appears the following history: Several treaties between the United States and different bands of the Pottawattamies were made in northern Indiana, whereby they were to leave the State within two years and go on a reservation to be provided for them west of the Mississippi River; but when the time arrived, many of them, especially the Menominee band, refused to leave because Menominee, their chief, had not and would not sign any treaty to sell their land and remove West. David Wallace, father of General Lew Wallace, author of Queen of the Woods· 115...