Round its waist a shining girdle, Thus the Birch Canoe was builded In the bosom of the forest; And the forest's life was in it, And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Paddles none had Hiawatha, Paddles none he had or needed, For his thoughts as paddles served him, And his wishes served to guide him ; Swift or slow at will he glided, Veered to right or left at pleasure. Then he called aloud to Kwasind, To his arm-pits in the river, Swam and shouted in the river, 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, 7 98 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, On the white and sandy bottom. At the stern sat Hiawatha, With his fishing-line of cedar; On the white sand of the bottom There he lay in all his armor; On each side a shield to guard him, |