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      He had moccasins enchanted,

      Magic moccasins of deer-skin;

      When he bound them round his ankles,

      When upon his feet he tied them,

      At each stride a mile he measured!

       Much he questioned old Nokomis

      Of his father Mudjekeewis;

      Learned from her the fatal secret

      Of the beauty of his mother,

      Of the falsehood of his father;

      And his heart was hot within him,

      Like a living coal his heart was.

       Then he said to old Nokomis,

      "I will go to Mudjekeewis,

      See how fares it with my father,

      At the doorways of the West-Wind,

      At the portals of the Sunset!"

       From his lodge went Hiawatha,

      Dressed for travel, armed for hunting;

      Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings,

      Richly wrought with quills and wampum;

      On his head his eagle-feathers,

      Round his waist his belt of wampum,

      In his hand his bow of ash-wood,

      Strung with sinews of the reindeer;

      In his quiver oaken arrows,

      Tipped with jasper, winged with feathers;

      With his mittens, Minjekahwun,

      With his moccasins enchanted.

       Warning said the old Nokomis,

      "Go not forth, O Hiawatha!

      To the kingdom of the West-Wind,

      To the realms of Mudjekeewis,

      Lest he harm you with his magic,

      Lest he kill you with his cunning!"

       But the fearless Hiawatha

      Heeded not her woman's warning;

      Forth he strode into the forest,

      At each stride a mile he measured;

      Lurid seemed the sky above him,

      Lurid seemed the earth beneath him,

      Hot and close the air around him,

      Filled with smoke and fiery vapors,

      As of burning woods and prairies,

      For his heart was hot within him,

      Like a living coal his heart was.

       So he journeyed westward, westward,

      Left the fleetest deer behind him,

      Left the antelope and bison;

      Crossed the rushing Esconaba,

      Crossed the mighty Mississippi,

      Passed the Mountains of the Prairie,

      Passed the land of Crows and Foxes,

      Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet,

      Came unto the Rocky Mountains,

      To the kingdom of the West-Wind,

      Where upon the gusty summits

      Sat the ancient Mudjekeewis,

      Ruler of the winds of heaven.

       Filled with awe was Hiawatha

      At the aspect of his father.

      On the air about him wildly

      Tossed and streamed his cloudy tresses,

      Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses,

      Glared like Ishkoodah, the comet,

      Like the star with fiery tresses.

       Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis

      When he looked on Hiawatha,

      Saw his youth rise up before him

      In the face of Hiawatha,

      Saw the beauty of Wenonah

      From the grave rise up before him.

       "Welcome!" said he, "Hiawatha,

      To the kingdom of the West-Wind!

      Long have I been waiting for you!

      Youth is lovely, age is lonely,

      Youth is fiery, age is frosty;

      You bring back the days departed,

      You bring back my youth of passion,

      And the beautiful Wenonah!"

       Many days they talked together,

      Questioned, listened, waited, answered;

      Much the mighty Mudjekeewis

      Boasted of his ancient prowess,

      Of his perilous adventures,

      His indomitable courage,

      His invulnerable body.

       Patiently sat Hiawatha,

      Listening to his father's boasting;

      With a smile he sat and listened,

      Uttered neither threat nor menace,

      Neither word nor look betrayed him,

      But his heart was hot within him,

      Like a living coal his heart was.

       Then he said, "O Mudjekeewis,

      Is there nothing that can harm you?

      Nothing that you are afraid of?"

      And the mighty Mudjekeewis,

      Grand and gracious in his boasting,

      Answered, saying, "There is nothing,

      Nothing but the black rock yonder,

      Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!"

       And he looked at Hiawatha

      With a wise look and benignant,

      With a countenance paternal,

      Looked with pride upon the beauty

      Of his tall and graceful figure,

      Saying, "O my Hiawatha!

      Is there anything can harm you?

      Anything you are afraid of?"

       But the wary Hiawatha

      Paused awhile, as if uncertain,

      Held his peace, as if resolving,

      And then answered, "There is nothing,

      Nothing but the bulrush yonder,

      Nothing but the great Apukwa!"

       And as Mudjekeewis, rising,

      Stretched his hand to pluck the bulrush,

      Hiawatha cried in terror,

      Cried in well-dissembled terror,

      "Kago! kago! do not touch it!"

      "Ah, kaween!" said Mudjekeewis,

      "No indeed, I will not touch it!"

       Then they talked of other matters;

      First of Hiawatha's brothers,

      First of Wabun, of the East-Wind,

      Of the South-Wind, Shawondasee,

      Of the North, Kabibonokka;

      Then of Hiawatha's mother,

      Of the beautiful Wenonah,

      Of her birth upon the meadow,

      Of her death, as old Nokomis

      Had remembered and related.

       And he cried, "O Mudjekeewis,

      It

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