243 XVIII. THE DEATH OF KWASIND. FAR and wide among the nations Plotted and conspired against him. "If this hateful Kwasind," said they, "If this great, outrageous fellow Goes on thus a little longer, Tearing everything he touches, Rending everything to pieces, Give our bodies to be eaten So the angry Little People All conspired against the Strong Man, Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind! Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind In his crown alone was seated ; In his crown too was his weakness; There alone could he be wounded, Nowhere else could weapon pierce him, Nowhere else could weapon harm him. Even there the only weapon That could wound him, that could slay him, Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree, Was the blue cone of the fir-tree. This was Kwasind's fatal secret, So they gathered cones together, Jutting overhang the river. There they lay in wait for Kwasind, 'T was an afternoon in Summer; Very hot and still the air was, Insects glistened in the sunshine, Insects skated on the water, Filled the drowsy air with buzzing, With a far-resounding war-cry. Down the river came the Strong Man, In his birch canoe came Kwasind, From the overhanging branches, Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended ; His invisible attendants, Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin ; Like the burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she, Like a dragon-fly, he hovered As of waves upon a sea-shore, At the first blow of their war-clubs, Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind; At the second blow they smote him, Motionless his paddle rested; At the third, before his vision Reeled the landscape into darkness, Very sound asleep was Kwasind. So he floated down the river, |