Lost Arrow -- Part 4


134

Ne' hatháíne' ne Hu'nöhtö'ö niyönishe'ö waathwatáse'.

Lost Arrow had walked in a big circle.


135

Ne' wai uhë'syönyö' uthuwætátye' ne' te'kææhkwææhkökwá hathaine'skwa', ta unë tkææhkwitkë'skwá waathaine'sék.

Many days had gone by, and each day was colder as he journeyed northward and then veered toward the east.


136

Únë shô teu'saiê ne' teunöktút tha'kwistë' aaakhwihsák.

He was hurrying now, hardly taking time to find anything to eat.


137

Te'katkahu téúkê ne húênö', ta unë íé ne' ha'tekakôt sakáyö' thsiatháíne'.

He could not find the song anywhere, and he was sure that it must have come home while he was gone.


138

Thúha únë wa'u'kææ húkê ne Hu'nöhtö'ö ne uköwöte' he thë'tyôtak ne úêtô.

One evening just before dark Lost Arrow saw his own familiar ridge ahead of him.


139

Nae teu'saiê aaashëöwi' ne húênö' he thë'tyôtak hunöhsút.

He hurried forward almost certain he would find his song at home.


140

He teyuhatakwête' thsááyö' huë'he'ö.

When he came to his own clearing he stopped short.


141

Hunöhsutkêô' uiwëthwë.

His little house had fallen in.


142

Tha'kwistë' únë te'uköhsuhtö.

There was hardly anything left of it at all.


143

Ha'téyô uiwëthwë kakwékö ne' na'u't niatka'waskwa'.

The rain and snow had destroyed everything he had left behind.


144

Ne' shô hukwëtææ'ö ne' te'katkahu te'kaënôyë'.

But most disappointing of all was that his song was nowhere to be found.


145

Ne'hu hátak akwas hukwëtææ'ö.

Lost Arrow stood there with his shoulders drooping.


146

Akwas khu hutöswe'táni huthsëhtö khu.

He was hungry and tired.


147

Uthúwe'.

He was cold.


148

Ta unë waë' thusnye'ö "Aayê' wai ëkatënöhtö'ötye'sék."

He said out loud to himself "My song seems to be lost forever."


149

Ta unë hukwëtææ'ö waatënyusyútë' nö'kôkwá ukúwæ' huhkwásö ne íyús uæ'ta' nikasyönya'tö.

Then he sat down dejectedly under a nearby oak tree and wrapped his feather-weave blanket around him.


150

Ne' wai u'kaiwanêêku' ne ukúwæ'.

The oak tree was surprised.


151

"Su't" wa'ákë'.

"So" she said.


152

"Haënihsás ne Hu'nöhtö'ö.

"Lost Arrow is looking for his song.


153

Ne' kathötatye'skwa' ne' tyutkôt hatënuthak.

I used to hear him singing it all the time.


154

Nae aakêôk aawakashææ't."

I wonder if I remember it."


155

Kutënökeæhtö aayötënútë', nae kuwa'hi'ö.

She tried to hum it, but could not get it right.


156

Ne' huthôte' ne Hu'nöhtö'ö ne' kutënut'a ne ukúwæ' ne'hu uthúwe', ta unë wáúta'.

Lost Arrow heard the murmur in the icy bare branches of the oak tree, just as he was drifting off to sleep.


157

Ne' ne wahsötakwékö nae kutênút shô ne ukúwæ'.

All night the oak tree sang.


158

Watsi'he's utsi'he'öötye'.

It got darker and darker.


159

Wathúwâs uthuwætöötye'.

It got colder and colder.


160

Wa'ötënutatye'sék ne ukúwæ', thsiuta'ö ne Hu'nöhtö'ö.

The oak tree kept singing and Lost Arrow kept sleeping.


161

Usthöö usthöö kushææ'ö ne ukúwæ' ne úênö'.

Little by little the song returned to the oak tree.


162

Setehtsia wai thsa'teyakuhtö.

By morning she had got it all right.


163

Kutehsa'ö únë ëöwöyötënútë' Hu'nöhtö'ö thaaatesëhtææku'.

She was ready to sing it to Lost Arrow as soon as he should wake up.


164

Wênithsíyú teyuhathehkö shô ha'téyô unestu ukwiyækeshö'ö katkáhu' kahatakô.

The sun was shining brightly, shimmering and glistening on all the ice-covered twigs of the woods.


165

U'këtyôta't ne tsiktsu'khwê' ne ukúwæ' ukwiyækêyatö' ukwiyöta'tö teyustææthe', ne' kakwékö katkáhu' u'heutö'shö'ö.

A chickadee landed on the branches of the oak tree and made the frozen twigs dance and twinkle, shedding tiny rainbows all about them.


166

Ne' ne Hu'nöhtö'ö thuta'ôôtye' shô ne nö'kôkwá ne ukúwæ' kææít, ne' huhkwásö ne íyús.

Lost Arrow still slept wrapped in his blanket at the root of the oak tree.


167

Uwisyu'suö ne hahsöhkææ'ke te'úthá' ne' khu ne hukaawékö.

The ice covered his silent lips and closed eyelids.


168

Wênishækwékö kutênút ne ukúwæ' ne uënöhtö'ö ne haksa'kúwá húwë, ne' kwá he n-aksa'kúwá te'wêtö wai ta'teakaaa'wë.

All day long the oak tree sang the boy's lost song, but the boy himself never opened his eyes.


169

Ne' n-ëkakuwæyêta'k kyö'ö ne' ne ëkakuwæstëötye'sék ne'hu ëkaköwôték Työtahsehtahkwa'ke.

There is an oak, they say, a great old oak on a certain ridge in the mountains.


170

Ne' kë' kyö'ö kës ukwényô uthôte' ne' ne hënötúwâs hënôtö ne'hu aaatihë'he't kës ne' ëkakwenyôôk ëhsathôták kës ne ukúwæ' ëyötënúthák.

It is whispered among the folk that at times hunters have stopped beneath it and wondered to hear it sing.


171

Ne' nô uhsötanúsyö' ne' nô tëwöhathehkwák, ne' wêtö ti'kwa unénö' niyukëhés, ne' unénö' kakwékö kaaítö' niyuhsuhku'tê tkwëhtææ'ê' tsitkwææ'ê' khu, ta unë kutká'a ne ukúwæ' kuhsá' kutênút khu.

For on some cold nights, and at some bright dawns, sometimes in the heat of summer when everything else is still, or then perchance at evening in Indian summer when all the mountain is aflame, the old oak rustles and begins to sing:


172

"Thsiatháíne' n-aksút kanöta'ke ëöta'tisyútë'.

"When Grandfather Thunder walks on the mountain he takes along his stick.


173

Thsikaawi' n-u'háút huikê tsiktsö'khwê'..."

When the rainbow carries the chickadee..."


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