THE STORY OF HARKA
AN AMERICAN INDIAN TALE
IT was evening, and the Indians had gathered around their camp fires. Among the youths sat Harka, the tallest and handsomest of them all.
From the lodge his mother called to him, “Harka, go down to the spring in the forest and bring me some water.”
Without moving, Harka answered, “It is dark down in the forest, and I am afraid to go where it is dark.”
Then from all the Indians around there rose a shout of laughter and of jeering. “He is afraid of the dark!” they shouted. “He has said it!” And even the children laughed and jeered at him.
Then Harka arose and cried, “You think I am a coward, but I will prove to you before long that I am as brave as any man in the tribe, either youth or warrior.”
“How will you prove it, Harka?” they mocked at him; and one cried, “Bring us the head of Pahundootah! Then we will believe you.”
Now Pahundootah was a sorcerer, so powerful and wicked that he was the terror of all the villages. Even the warriors feared him, and women and children shuddered at his name.
But in his anger Harka answered rashly, “I will bring you the head of Pahundootah.”
Then again the shouts arose, mocking and jeering at him. None believed him, but they thought him an idle boaster.
But Harka wrapped his blanket about him and went back in silence to his lodge, and the sound of laughter followed him, and his heart was troubled within him. He had said that he would bring them the head of the sorcerer, and now unless he kept his promise he would be ashamed to face again his people and have them taunt him for his boasting.
Early the next morning Harka arose, and without saying anything to any one, he took from a bag that hung in the lodge three magic arrows belonging to his father, and set out upon a journey. He had determined to seek out Pahundootah and either slay him or be slain.
All the morning he traveled on without stopping, and at noon he shot one of the magic arrows high into the air. He carefully noted the direction in which it went and then followed, running swiftly and lightly.
Toward evening he came to where a deer lay dead, with the arrow sticking in it.
Without troubling to withdraw the arrow, Harka cut some slices of venison and cooked and ate.
All night he tended the fire that it might not die down and leave him in darkness, and in the early morning he again set out upon his journey.
At noon he shot his second arrow into the air, and toward evening he found it buried in the heart of an elk. That night he had elk meat for supper, and the next day he went on his way, traveling swiftly, but he forgot the arrow.
He waited till noonday and then shot from his bow his third and last arrow. That evening he came to where a buffalo lay dead, slain by the arrow. Once more he ate and rested by the fire, and at dawning he set out again upon his journey.
When noon came he had no arrow to shoot, for he had left them all behind him.
By evening Harka was very hungry, but there was nothing for him to eat.
Suddenly he saw the light of a fire just ahead of him. He advanced toward it, slowly and cautiously, fearing it might be the encampment of some enemy, but he saw no one except an old woman who was stirring something in a pot that hung over the fire. Never was seen an old woman half so horrible and terrifying as she. Her face was more like that of a skull than of a human being. Her gray hair hung down about her like a mat; her eyes were as red as fire, and her nails so long that she could hardly close her hands. About her neck was a necklace of bones, and about her waist a girdle of scalps.
After looking at her for awhile, Harka was about to steal quietly away when, without looking up, the old woman called to him, “Come nearer to the fire, Harka. Supper is almost ready.”
Harka came forward into the firelight, and the old witch, still without looking up, bade him be seated.
Suddenly the scalps about her waist burst into a shout of laughter, and the hag joined in with them, laughing loudly. Then they fell silent, and the old woman too became quiet, scowling and muttering to herself as she bent over the pot.
Presently she filled a dish with food and brought it to Harka. The youth was hungry, and in spite of the strange look of the old woman, he ate heartily.
When he had finished, she took away the bowl. Again the scalps burst into wild laughter, and the hag laughed with them.
After they were silent, she came over and sat down beside Harka and began talking.
“I know why you have come here, Harka,” she said. “You are in search of Pahundootah. I am the Witch Wokonkatonzooeyepekahaichu and Pahundootah is my bitterest enemy. I myself cannot destroy him, but you may be able to do it with my help. It will be a very dangerous business, and you will have to be careful. Now sleep, and to-morrow I will tell you what you must do in order to destroy the sorcerer.”
Harka lay down beside the fire and slept soundly.
The next morning, when he awoke, the breakfast was ready, and after he had eaten, the old woman went into the lodge and brought out a magic pouch. From this she drew a leaden comb, a golden cup, and a blade of sword grass. She also took from the bag a woman’s dress most beautifully shaped and colored.
“Now listen carefully,” said the witch. “Only as a maiden can you come near Pahundootah. Put on the dress, and then I will comb your hair for you.”
Harka did as the old witch bade him. He dressed himself in the beautiful garments, and then the old witch took the leaden comb and combed his hair; and as she combed, his hair grew longer and longer until it hung down below his knees in beautiful shining tresses. His eyes also looked larger, and his face finer, so that any one who saw him would have thought him a surpassingly beautiful young maiden.
The old witch looked at him and burst into laughter, and all the scalps laughed with her.
Then she gave Harka the golden goblet and the blade of sword grass. “Put the grass in your girdle,” said she. “With that and that alone can Pahundootah’s head be severed from his shoulders. Now walk forward until you come to a lake with an island in the middle of it. Upon that island live the sorcerer and his people. As soon as you reach the lake you must begin to dip up the water in the golden cup. The sorcerer will see the gleam of it and come in his canoe to capture you. This you must allow him to do, though you must seem frightened and reluctant, as would a timid maiden. He will take you back to the island with him, and then you must find some way to draw him apart from the others and lull him to sleep. Then you can cut off his head with the blade of grass I have given you and escape before the others find what you have done.”
Harka took the cup and the blade of grass she offered him and strode off through the forest in the direction the witch pointed out to him. Soon he came out from the forest and found himself upon the borders of a wide lake, in the midst of which lay an island.
Harka now walked more slowly and delicately, trying to move with the soft grace of a young and timid maiden.
At the edge of the lake he stooped and dipped the cup into the water. The sunlight striking on the gold was reflected with a dazzling brightness that could be seen even as far as the island.
Scarcely had he lifted the dripping cup from the water when he saw a canoe shoot out from among the reeds of the island and come swiftly toward the spot where he was standing. In it sat the sorcerer Pahundootah, driving it forward with strong strokes.
As Harka looked at him, his heart beat heavy within him, for the sorcerer was terrible to see, so hideous and cruel and treacherous was his appearance.
But the youth managed to hide his feelings and turned aside with the shy and downcast air of a timid maiden, and moved slowly toward the forest. Charmed by his grace and beauty, Pahundootah followed him. He praised the pretended maiden’s eyes, her lips, her hair, the grace with which she moved, and poured words of love into Harka’s ears, begging him to return with him to his island home and share his lodge, his food, and fire.
Harka pretended to hesitate, but finally he allowed himself to be persuaded, and entering the canoe, he sat down opposite the sorcerer, giving him shy glances and trailing his hand through the water.
Pahundootah was as one bewitched. Hardly could he take his eyes from Harka’s beauty. With strong strokes he drove the canoe through the water and over to the island. Then he took Harka’s hand and led him to where a fire was burning and an old hag was cooking supper. He spread a robe for his love to sit on and threw himself at her feet. The hag who was his mother watched them, muttering. Again and again she looked suspiciously at Harka. At last the supper was cooked. She called Harka to come and carry a bowl of it to the sorcerer. Harka moved toward her softly, trying still to bear himself as a maiden, but the old woman watched him suspiciously, and as he drew nearer she looked deep into his eyes.
“Pahundootah,” she cried, “what magic has bewitched you? Can you not see that this is no maiden, but a brave and daring warrior who has put on this appearance in order to deceive you?”
Pahundootah sprang to his feet and looked at Harka with anger and suspicion, but Harka turned away his head with an offended air. “Your mother has insulted me,” he said. “She is angry because you have brought me here and because you have spoken to me of love. Now I will go away back to my own tribe where I will be free from insults.”
Slowly he walked away from the fire and down toward the reedy shore of the island.
As Pahundootah watched the grace with which he walked and noted again his long and glossy hair, he could not doubt but that his mother was mistaken, and that this was really a maiden. He followed, begging Harka to turn and smile upon him and return with him to the fire.
“No,” repeated Harka, “your mother has insulted me. It is better I should return to my own people.”
By the side of the lake Harka sat down, and the sorcerer threw himself down beside him, and laid his head in Harka’s lap.
Softly Harka passed his fingers through Pahundootah’s hair. Lulled by his love and the touch of Harka’s fingers, the sorcerer’s eyelids closed, and he sank into slumber. Then softly the lad drew from his girdle the blade of grass the witch had given him and with one stroke severed the head of Pahundootah from the body. Swiftly wrapping it in a cloth he had brought for that purpose, he sped to where the canoe lay among the rushes, and stepping into it, he drove it off across the water with silent, powerful strokes.
When he reached the farther shore, he turned and looked back. Already lights were moving about on the island. The old mother, grown suspicious, was hunting for the sorcerer. Then suddenly across the water sounded loud fierce wails and cries. By that, Harka knew they had discovered Pahundootah’s body.
Without waiting longer, he sped back to the camp of the old witch. As she saw him coming, she began to clap her hands, shouting, “You have slain him! You have slain him! Harka has slain the enemy of Wokonkatonzooeyepekahaichu!” and all the scalps that hung about her shouted with her. “Now,” she cried, “you are a great warrior! Now no one can laugh at you or scorn you.”
All that night as Harka lay beside the witch’s fire, he could hear, now louder now fainter, the cries of Pahundootah’s people, and always, as they sounded louder, the old witch laughed with joy, and the scalps laughed with her.
When he reached the farther shore, he turned and looked back.
Early in the morning Harka set out to journey back to his tribe. For three days he journeyed, and then he came within sight of the village. It was toward dusk, and the Indians were gathered once more about their fires. It was the children who saw him first, and they shouted, laughing, “Here comes Harka! Here comes Harka. Hasten, Harka, or the dark may catch you.” And the youths joined them in their laughter. “Have you slain the sorcerer, Harka? Have you his head to show us?”
Then Harka answered proudly, “Look!” and uncovering the head, he held it up before them.
For a moment all were silent, gazing awe-struck. Then a great shout arose, “He has slain him! Harka has slain Pahundootah! He has brought his head to show us!”
Then all gathered around him, youths and warriors, and the women and the children also, and all wondered and hailed him as a hero. And from that time Harka sat no more with those of his own age, but with the wise ones and the warriors, and joined in their councils, and when the old chief died, Harka was chosen chief and ruled his tribe and reared up children and killed many enemies. And always he was known as Harka, the slayer of Pahundootah.