Plunged as if he were an otter, Tugged at sunken logs and branches, With his hands he scooped the sand-bars, With his feet the ooze and tangle. And thus sailed my Hiawatha Down the rushing Taquamenaw, Sailed through all its bends and windings, Sailed through all its deeps and shallows, While his friend, the strong man, Kwasind, Swam the deeps, the shallows waded; Up and down the river went they, In and out among its islands, Cleared its bed of root and sand-bar, Dragged the dead trees from its channel, Made its passage safe and certain, Made a pathway for the people, From its springs among the mountains, To the bay of Taquamenaw. VIII. Hiawatha's Fishing. FORTH upon the Gitche Gumee, All alone went Hiawatha. 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 On the white sand of the bottom Down his sides, and back and shoulders 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, Listening to his call and clamor, Till he wearied of the shouting; In his fingers Hiawatha Felt the loose line jerk and tighten; As he drew it in, it tugged so F That the birch canoe stood endwise, Like a birch log in the water, Perched and frisking on the summit. Slowly upward, wavering, gleaming |