LITMIR.BIZ

        Through the clear, transparent water

      He could see the fishes swimming

      Far down in the depths below him;

      See the yellow perch, the Sahwa,

        Like a sunbeam in the water,

      See the Shawgashee, the craw-fish,

      Like a spider on the bottom,

      On the white and sandy bottom.

        At the stern sat Hiawatha,

      With his fishing-line of cedar;

      In his plumes the breeze of morning

      Played as in the hemlock branches;

      On the bows, with tail erected,

      Sat the squirrel, Adjidaumo;

      In his fur the breeze of morning

      Played as in the prairie grasses.

        On the white sand of the bottom

      Lay the monster Mishe-Nahma,

      Lay the sturgeon, King of Fishes;

      Through his gills he breathed the water,

      With his fins he fanned and winnowed,

      With his tail he swept the sand-floor.

        There he lay in all his armor;

      On each side a shield to guard him,

      Plates of bone upon his forehead,

      Down his sides and back and shoulders

      Plates of bone with spines projecting!

      Painted was he with his war-paints,

      Stripes of yellow, red, and azure,

      Spots of brown and spots of sable;

      And he lay there on the bottom,

      Fanning with his fins of purple,

      As above him Hiawatha

      In his birch canoe came sailing,

      With his fishing-line of cedar.

        "Take my bait!" cried Hiawatha,

      Down into the depths beneath him,

      "Take my bait, O sturgeon, Nahma!

      Come up from below the water,

      Let us see which is the stronger!"

      And he dropped his line of cedar

      Through the clear, transparent water,

      Waited vainly for an answer,

      Long sat waiting for an answer,

      And repeating loud and louder,

      "Take my bait, O King of Fishes!"

        Quiet lay the sturgeon, Nahma,

      Fanning slowly in the water,

      Looking up at Hiawatha,

      Listening to his call and clamor,

      His unnecessary tumult,

      Till he wearied of the shouting;

      And he said to the Kenozha,

      To the pike, the Maskenozha,

      "Take the bait of this rude fellow,

      Break the line of Hiawatha!"

        In his fingers Hiawatha

      Felt the loose line jerk and tighten;

      As he drew it in, it tugged so

      That the birch canoe stood endwise,

      Like a birch log in the water,

      With the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

      Perched and frisking on the summit.

        Full of scorn was Hiawatha

      When he saw the fish rise upward,

      Saw the pike, the Maskenozha,

      Coming nearer, nearer to him,

      And he shouted through the water,

      "Esa! esa! shame upon you!

      You are but the pike, Kenozha,

      You are not the fish I wanted,

      You are not the King of Fishes!"

        Reeling downward to the bottom

      Sank the pike in great confusion,

      And the mighty sturgeon, Nahma,

      Said to Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

      To the bream, with scales of crimson,

      "Take the bait of this great boaster,

      Break the line of Hiawatha!"

        Slowly upward, wavering, gleaming,

      Rose the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

      Seized the line of Hiawatha,

      Swung with all his weight upon it,

      Made a whirlpool in the water,

      Whirled the birch canoe in circles,

      Round and round in gurgling eddies,

      Till the circles in the water

      Reached the far-off sandy beaches,

      Till the water-flags and rushes

      Nodded on the distant margins.

        But when Hiawatha saw him

      Slowly rising through the water,

      Lifting up his disk refulgent,

      Loud he shouted in derision,

      "Esa! esa! shame upon you!

      You are Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

      You are not the fish I wanted,

      You are not the King of Fishes!"

        Slowly downward, wavering, gleaming,

      Sank the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

      And again the sturgeon, Nahma,

      Heard the shout of Hiawatha,

      Heard his challenge of defiance,

      The unnecessary tumult,

      Ringing far across the water.

        From the white sand of the bottom

      Up he rose with angry gesture,

      Quivering in each nerve and fibre,

      Clashing all his plates of armor,

      Gleaming bright with all his war-paint;

      In his wrath he darted upward,

      Flashing leaped into the sunshine,

      Opened his great jaws, and swallowed

      Both canoe and Hiawatha.

        Down into that darksome cavern

      Plunged the headlong Hiawatha,

      As a log on some black river,

      Shoots and plunges down the rapids,

      Found himself in utter darkness,

      Groped about in helpless wonder,

      Till he felt a great heart beating,

      Throbbing in that utter darkness.

        And he smote it in his anger,

      With his fist, the heart of Nahma,

      Felt

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