A hunter was once going through a
forest with his dogs. After he had gone some
distance he missed them. He called and whistled,
but they did not come, so he turned back to find them.
Going some distance farther, he thought he saw one
lying under some low bushes, and when he reached the
spot, he saw his three dogs lying there fast asleep.
He tried to waken them, but they would open their
eyes only for a moment, then fall asleep again.
Soon he began to feel a strange, sleepy feeling coming
over him. He shook himself and tried to keep
awake. Just then he noticed a very large insect
on a branch of a tree. It had many wings on
its back, which kept up a steady, droning noise.
When it noticed the hunter looking at it, the insect
said, “I am Weeng, the spirit of sleep.
Your dogs came too near my home, and so they have
fallen under my spell. In a few minutes you will
be asleep yourself.”
“Must I go to sleep?”
said the hunter. “I would like to go back
to my lodge.”
“You are a brave chief and have
always been kind to the forest insects, so this time
I am going to let you go. Take a leaf from yonder
little tree, chew it and swallow the juice.”
The hunter did as he was told and
at once the sleepy feeling was gone. Then the
strangest thing happened. He saw all around him
queer, little fairies, each one with a tiny war-club.
They peeped from out the bark of the trees, from
amidst the grass, and even from out his pouch.
“What are these?” he asked Weeng.
“They are my sleep fairies,
and are called ‘Weengs.’ Now you
may waken your dogs and go.” And before
the hunter had time to reply the insect had gone.
He turned and roused the dogs, who
followed him, still looking very stupid. As
he went he saw the Weengs all around the trees, and
many seemed to be coming with him. When he reached
his lodge, he saw the little creatures run to the
men and climb up their foreheads; then with their
war-clubs they began to knock them on the head.
Soon the Indians began to yawn and rub their eyes,
and in a little while they all lay asleep.
Then the hunter began to feel his
own head grow heavy. He tried to keep awake,
but could not, so he stretched himself beside the fire
and went to sleep. When he awakened and looked
around, there were no fairies to be seen.
The hunter determined to go into the
forest and see if he could find the little tree from
which he had plucked the leaf. But before he
went, he carefully tied up his dogs, for he did not
wish them to follow him and again fall under the spell
of Weeng. They whined when he left them and
pulled at their ropes, but he was soon lost to their
sight among the trees. Making his way slowly
through the forest, he kept a sharp lookout for the
little tree with the magic leaves. But he could
see nothing that looked like it. For many hours
he tramped on, and at last he threw himself down on
the ground to rest.
As he lay there, he heard a droning
noise above his head. He looked up quickly,
and there sat Weeng on the farthermost branch of the
tree.
“Good-morning, great hunter,”
said the insect. “You have been searching
for my little tree, have you not?”
“Yes,” replied the hunter. “How
did you know?”
“I know many things,”
said Weeng; “but listen, to me. Yonder
is the tree.” As he spoke, he pointed
to a little tree not two yards away. “Pluck
one of the leaves, but do not chew it until sunset.
At that hour I utter my sleep call, which bids all
the insects fly home to rest. When you hear
the call, you may chew the leaf, for I want you to
see what happens then.”
“Is anything strange going to happen?”
asked the hunter.
“Great hunter,” said Weeng,
“if you will remain in this forest behind that
large oak tree, you may see it all. One hour
before sunset, the Red Squirrel and all his army are
coming to attack me.”
“Why are they going to do that?”
asked the hunter, in surprise.
“Because the Red Squirrel wishes
to have my branch for his home. He ordered me
to get down, and I refused. So, one hour before
sunset, he and his army are coming to drive me from
my home.”
“What are you going to do?”
asked the hunter. “Can I help you?”
“I and my winged friends,”
said Weeng, “are going to fight them when they
come. Yes, great hunter, you can help us by remaining
to see that the battle is fair. The Red Squirrel
knows that if he can once touch me, I must fall.
But my insects have sharp swords, and they can keep
the army back till sunset.”
“And what will happen then?” asked the
hunter.
“Then the insects must go to
their homes. But, if you swallow the juice of
the leaf, you will see the end of the battle.
Now go and hide behind the oak tree. In a few
minutes my army will be here.”
The hunter did as he was bidden and
took his place behind the tree. From here he
could see Weeng quite plainly, but he was himself hidden.
In a few minutes the insects began to assemble.
First came the wasps, looking fierce and warlike.
Then came the bees, buzzing along with indignation.
Then dozens of flies, bluebottles, sand-flies, and
bull-flies, all ready for the fight. Then followed
the moths, ladybugs, butterflies, and mosquitoes.
Lastly, with a great noise, came a
regiment of hornets and took their places on the branch
directly in front of Weeng. The others had gathered
in a huge circle around him, and in the midst of the
bodyguard he sat, like a general ready for the attack
of the enemy. He had not long to wait, for somewhere
in the forest the Red Squirrel had assembled his army,
and now he brought them forward in one body to the
foot of the tree. All the red squirrels were
in front, next came the gray squirrels, then the chipmunks.
The Red Squirrel gave the command,
and up the tree his army began to climb. Out
on the branch they came, where Weeng sat at the farthest
end. But the hornets were ready for them, and
as they advanced the sharp swords of the defenders
pricked their noses, eyes, and bodies. Backward
they tumbled, some falling from the limb, others clinging
desperately to the under side. Then the gray
squirrels pushed forward, and in spite of many wounds,
broke through the ranks of the hornets. They
had nearly reached Weeng when the bees, buzzing more
indignantly than ever, made one fierce dash at them.
The gray squirrels fought bravely, but at every turn
they met terrible, stinging blows. At last they
could not see what they were doing, and, like the red
squirrels, many of them fell from the limb.
While this part of the battle was
going on, the chipmunks had been waging a war of their
own with the wasps, who had attacked them. The
battle had been a sharp one, and many soldiers of both
armies lay dead on the ground below the tree.
But the chipmunks had won the victory, and now made
their way along the branches towards Weeng. Their
leader, a large, bold-looking chipmunk, made a fierce
rush at Weeng, and almost touched him. But just
as he did so, with a noiseless swoop, down came the
mosquitoes upon him. They covered his head, until
not a part of it was to be seen. He slapped
wildly at them, lost his hold on the branch, and fell
to the ground. With redoubled fury on rushed
the other chipmunks and the red squirrels, who had
by this time recovered. They were met by a solid
wall of insects bristling with sharp swords, for the
wasps, the hornets, and flies had placed themselves
across their path. Then came the hottest part
of the battle, and in one confused mass they struggled
and fought on the slender branch. In the midst
of this there sounded a soft, sweet call. It
was the sleep call of the fairy Weeng. At once
all the insects sheathed their swords, and turning,
fluttered slowly home to bed. As each one departed,
he uttered a soft good-night to Weeng.
The hunter, who was watching all this
anxiously, wondered that although the Red Squirrel’s
army was still fighting it was making no headway.
He wondered how this could be. Suddenly he remembered
the leaf in his pocket. At once he chewed it,
and he then saw the reason for the squirrels’
defeat. At the call of Weeng his sleep fairies
had come forth, and now with their clubs were knocking
their enemies on the head. Blow after blow they
struck. The squirrels resisted bravely, but
it was useless. In a few minutes they were driven
back and off the branch of the tree, and were glad
to escape to their homes. As the darkness gathered
and the magic of the leaf began to wear away, the
hunter could just dimly see Weeng sitting in the midst
of his sleep fairies, like a great general who has
won his battle.