Algonquin

Wiske-djak wandered over the swamps and mountains feeling all out of sorts with himself. It was just after the Indians had stolen all his ducks and geese as they cooked in the coals. All at once he came upon a little flock of partridges, just newly hatched. Their mother was away.

“Kwe!” said Wiske-djak. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” said the partridges. “Just staying here.”

“Where is your mother?” asked Wiske-djak.

“She’s away hunting,” they said.

“What’s your name?” he asked one of them. And then each little partridge had to tell him his name until he came to the very last. “What’s your name?” he demanded.

“Suddenly Frightened,” answered little partridge.

“Oh, you!” said Wiske-djak, “what can you frighten?” And he picked up a big lump of soft mud and threw it all over the clean little partridges. “What can you frighten now?” he said. Then he walked off. He walked for a long time until he came to a high mountain. When he had climbed to the very top he found a nice breeze blowing across it.

“This feels good,” said Wiske-djak. “I think I’ll stay here,” and he searched around until he came to a place clear of trees just on the edge of a great chasm. The rock broke straight away for hundreds of feet, and over the edge of the cliff came a delightful breeze. Wiske-djak lay right down there and went to sleep at once.

By this time Old Partridge had got home, and found them all covered over with mud.

“What has happened to you? Where did you go?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” said the little partridges.

“Who did this?” asked Old Partridge.

“Wiske-djak came along,” said the littlest one. “He asked us a lot of questions, and then he asked us our names. When I told him my name, he said, ‘Well, what could you frighten?’ and threw mud all over us.”

Old Partridge was angry. She cleaned up the children, and washed them and dried them, and gave them their supper. Then she asked them which way Wiske-djak had gone, and she went straight on his trail.

Old Partridge tracked Wiske-djak to the high mountain. Then she kept right on until she reached the high, rocky cliff. There lay Wiske-djak, fast asleep. Old Partridge went close to him, on the upper side of the rock. She spread her wings, went close to his ears, and flapped her wings and gave her warwhoop. Wiske-djak waked up so suddenly he could only see that something terrible was whooping right above him. He moved backward and fell right over the edge of the cliff.

“Well,” said Old Partridge, “now you know what ‘suddenly frightened’ means.”