looked up and saw
Hiawatha standing before them, carrying on his shoulders a deer he had
just slain. This offer he laid at the feet of Laughing Water, and the
old man and the maiden both bade the young hunter welcome; then
Minnehaha prepared a meal and set it before the two men. When they had
finished eating, Hiawatha spoke of his childhood, his friends, and of
the happiness and plenty in his land. "After many years of strife," said
he, "there is now peace between your tribe and mine. In order to make
the peace more lasting and our hearts more united, give me this maiden
for my wife." And the ancient arrow-maker answered gravely: "Yes, if
Minnehaha wishes; let your heart speak, Minnehaha!" Then the maiden rose
up and took the seat beside Hiawatha, saying softly: "I will follow you,
my husband." Thus was Hiawatha's wooing, and hand in hand the young
couple went away together, leaving the old arrow-maker in his
loneliness.

When Hiawatha and his fair bride reached their home, old Nokomis
prepared a sumptuous wedding-feast to which many guests were bidden.
Among them was a handsome but idle and mischievous youth named
Pau-Puk-Keewis, who was renowned for his skill in all sports and
pastimes. To please the company he rose from his seat and danced his
merry dances to the music of flutes and drums. Then the sweet singer,
Chibiabos, sang a melodious love-song, and when this was finished, Iagoo
the Boaster, jealous of the praise and applause bestowed on the
musician, told one of his most marvelous stories, and well pleased the
wedding-guests took their departure.

As the days went on, old Nokomis found that her grumblings about the
uselessness of a wife from a far-off land had not been justified, for
Minnehaha was as skilled with her fingers as she was beautiful, and
Hiawatha loved her more and more dearly.

[Illustration]

Once, when all the maize was planted, Hiawatha bade his wife go alone at
night, clothed only in her dark tresses, and draw a magic circle round
the cornfield, so that no blight or insect might injure the harvest.
This Minnehaha did, but the King of Ravens and his band of followers,
who were perched on the tree-tops overlooking the cornfield, laughed
with glee to think that Hiawatha had forgotten what mischief they could
do. So early on the morrow all the black thieves, crows and blackbirds,
jays and ravens, flew down on the field, and with claws and beak began
to dig up the buried grain. But the wary H