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And scarcely were they concealed, or the Crane well again in his place, ere Master Lox appeared. And being in no good temper he called to Uncle Crane to set him across, and that speedily. Now the Crane had been made mightily pleased and proud by the winsome words of the Weasels, and was but little inclined to be rudely addressed. So he said to Lox, “I will bear thee over the river if thou wilt bear witness to my beauty. Are not my legs straight?” “Yea” replied the Lox, “and beautifully painted, too.” Now the color thereof was little pleasing to poor Uncle Crane. “Are not my feathers very smooth and fine?” “Yea, smooth and fine; what a pity, though, that they are mildewed and dusty!” “And my straight neck?” “Yes, wonderfully straight,–straight as this” said Lox to himself, taking up a crooked stick. And then he sang:–

“Mecha guiskipat kasqu’,
Mecha quig nat kasqu’.”

The Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.

“Come, mooso me (grandfather), hurry up!”

Oh, the Crane has a very ugly neck,
The Crane has dirty, ugly legs.

“I wish you to be quick, mooso me. Hurry up, I say!” [Footnote: This dialogue, including the songs, is from a very curious Passamaquoddy version of the tale, sent to me by Louis Mitchell. As in all such cases, there is far more humor in the Passamaquoddy narratives than in the Micmac or Eskimo.]

And all of this ill-temper and insincerity was deeply and inwardly detected by Uncle Crane, but he said not a word, and only meekly bent him down to take the traveler on his back. But when in the stream, and where it was deepest and most dangerous, he gave himself a shake, and in another instant Lox was whirling round and round like a chip in the rapids. And yet a little time he was dashed against the rocks, and then anon was thrown high and dry on the shore, but dead as a seven-year-old cedar cone.

Now the Lox is a great magician at certain times and seasons, albeit his power fails at others. [Footnote: From this point of the legend onward there is an inextricable confusion as regards the four different versions. While the hero is decidedly a Badger in the Micmac, I regard the great ferocity, craft, and above all the vitality which he displays as far more characteristic of the Lox or Wolverine of the Passamaquoddy. What is almost decisively in favor of the latter theory is that in all the stories, despite his craft and power, he is always getting himself into trouble through them. This is eminently characteristic of the Lox, much less so of the Badger.] And he is one of those who rise from the dead. Now it came to pass that some days after two boys of the Kwedech or Mohawk race found the Lox lying dead on a rock in the sunshine, and the worms were crawling from him. But when they touched him he arose as if from sleep, and stood before them as a proud and fierce warrior. But he was scarce alive ere he sought to do them who had roused him to life a mischief; for having noted that they had fine bows, he got them into his hands, and broke them, yet all as if he meant it not. [Footnote: In the Passamaquoddy version of this tale, when Lox is thus dismembered, the ants, pitying him, bring his scattered members together. As soon as he recovers, the Wolverine, with characteristic ingratitude, amuses himself by trampling his benefactors to death beneath his feet.] And then by magic making a sound as of many children at play, afar off across the next point of land by the river, he bade them run and join the pleasant games. And when he had got them a space onward, lo, the sound seemed ever farther on, mingled with the murmur of the stream; and so they went without him, seeking it, and yet it wandered ever far away.