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“What shall we have, sir?”

“Corn, if you please,” the magician answered.

“No, we will have whortleberries,” rejoined the kettle, in a firm voice.

“Very well; just as you choose.”

When he supposed it was time, the magician invited Maidwa to help himself.

“Hold a minute,” interposed the kettle, as Maidwa was about to dip in his ladle. He paused, and after a delay, the kettle, shaking itself up and simmering very loudly, said, “Now we are ready.”

Maidwa fell to and satisfied his hunger.

“Will the kettle now withdraw?” asked the magician, with am air of much deference.

“No,” said the kettle, “we will stay and hear what the young man has to say for himself.”

“Very well,” said the magician. “You see,” he added to Maidwa, “how poor I am. I have to take counsel with the kettle, or I should be all alone, without a day’s food, and with no one to advise me.”

All this time the Red Swan was carefully concealed in the lodge, behind a curtain, from which Maidwa heard now and then a rustling noise, that fluttered his spirits and set his heart to beating at a wonderful rate.

As soon as Maidwa had partaken of food and laid aside his leggings and moccasins, the old magician commenced telling him how he had lost his scalp, the insults it was receiving, the pain he suffered thereby, his wishes to regain it, the many unsuccessful attempts that had already been made, and the numbers and power of those who retained it. He would interrupt his discourse, at times, with sudden groans, and say:

“Oh, how shamefully they are treating it.”

Maidwa listened to all the old magician had to say with solemn attention.

The magician renewed his discourse, and inquired of Maidwa as to his dreams, or what he saw in his sleep, at such times as he had fasted and darkened his face to procure guardian spirits.

Maidwa then told him one dream. The magician groaned.

“No, that is not it,” he said.

Maidwa told him of two or three others.

The magician groaned again and again, and said, rather peevishly, “No, these are not the dreams.”

“Keep cool,” said the kettle, which had left the fire, and was standing in the middle of the floor, where a pleasant breeze was blowing through the lodge, and added, “Have you no more dreams of another kind?”

“Yes,” said Maidwa; and he told him one.

“That will do,” said the kettle. “We are much pleased with that.”

“Yes, that is it–that is it!” the magician added. “You will cause me to live. That was what I was wishing you to say. Will you then go and see if you can not recover my poor scalp?”

“Yes,” said Maidwa, “I will go; and the day after to-morrow, when you hear the ka-kak cries of the hawk, you will know that I am successful. You must prepare your head, and lean it out through the door, so that the moment I arrive I may place your scalp on.”

“Yes, yes,” said the magician. “As you say it will be done.”

Early the next morning Maidwa set out to fulfill his promise; and in the afternoon, when the sun hangs toward home, he heard the shouts of a great many people. He was in a wood at the time, and saw, as he thought, only a few men, but as he went on they increased in numbers. On emerging upon the plain, their heads appeared like the hanging leaves, they were so many.

In the middle of the plain he perceived a post, and something waving at its top. It was the wampum scalp; and every now and then the air was rent with the war-song, for they were dancing the war-dance in high spirit around it.

Before he could be observed, Maidwa changed himself into a humming-bird, and flew toward the scalp. As he passed some of those who were standing by, he came close to their ears, and as they heard the rapid whirr or murmur which this bird makes when it flies, they jumped aside, and asked each other what it could be. Maidwa had nearly reached the scalp, but fearing that he should be perceived while untying it, he again changed himself into the down that floats lightly on the air, and sailed slowly on to the scalp. He loosened it, and moved off heavily, as the weight was almost too great for him to bear up. The Indians around would have snatched it away had not a lucky current of air just then buoyed him up. As they saw that it was moving away they cried out, “It is taken from us! it is taken from us!”