Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis; 
Black became his shirt of deerskin, 
Black his moccasins and leggings, 
In a broad black tail behind him 
Spread his fox-tails and his fringes; 
He was changed into a beaver. 
‘Make me large,’ said Pau-Puk- 
Keewis, 
‘Make me large and make me 
larger, 
Larger than the other beavers.’ 
‘Yes,’ the beaver chief responded, 
“When our lodge below you enter, 
In our wigwam we will make you 
Ten times larger than the others.’ 
Thus into the clear brown water 
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis: 
Found the bottom covered over 
With the trunks of trees and 
branches, 
Hoards of food against the winter, 
Piles and heaps against the famine; 
Found the lodge with arching door- 
way, 
Leading into spacious chambers. 
Here they made him large and 
larger, 
Made him largest of the beavers, 
Ten times larger‘than the others. 
‘You shall be our ruler,’ said they; 
‘Chief and King of all the beavers.’ 
But not long had Pau-Puk- 
Keewis 
Sat in state among the beavers, 
Wher there came a voice of warn- 
ing 
From the watchman at his station 
In the water-flags and lilies, 
Saying, ‘Here is Hiawatha! 
Hiawatha with his hunters!’ - 
Then they heard a cry above 
them, 
Heard a shouting and a tramping, 
Heard a crashing and a rushing, 
And the water round and o’er 
them 
Sank and sucked away in eddies, 
And they knew their dam was 
broken. 
On the lodge’s roof the hunters 
Leaped, and broke it all asunder; 
Streamed the sunshine through the 
crevice, 
Sprang the beavers through the 
doorway, 
Hid themselves in deeper water, 
In the channel of the streamlet; 
But the mighty Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Could not pass beneath the door- 
way; 
He was puffed with pride and 
feeding, 
He was swollen like a bladder. 
Through the roof looked Hia- 
watha, 
Cried aloud, ‘O Pau-Puk-Keewis! 
Vain are all your craft and cun- 
ning, 
Vain your manifold disguises! 
Well I know you, Pau-Puk-Keewis!’ 
With their clubs they beat and 
bruised him, 
Beat to death poor Pau - Puk - 
Keewis, 
Pounded him as maize is pounded, 
Till his skull was crushed to pieces. 
Six tall hunters, lithe and limber, 
Bore him home on poles and 
branches, 
Bore the body of the beaver; 
But the ghost, the Jeebi in him, 
Thought and felt as Pau-Puk- 
Keewis, 
Still lived on as Pau-Puk-Keewis. 
From The Song of Hiawatha. 
