Soon after, he again made his appearance, mincing as he walked, and singing to the same strain as before.
If you wish to take and punish me.
Let the widows come and catch me.
It seemed a good idea, and the young women were recommended to go and entice the culprit into the village, so that the friends of the deceased could lay hold of him.
They went forth on their errand. Shee-shee-banze would suffer them to approach, then he would dance off a little now he would allow them to come quite near; anon he would retreat a little before them, all the time singing.
Come, pretty widows, come and catch me.
Thus he decoyed them on, occasionally using honied words and flattering speeches, until he had gained their consent to return with him to his lodge, and take up their abode with him.
The friends of the murdered chief were scandalized at such inconstancy, and resolved to punish all three, as soon as they could catch them.
They surrounded his lodge with cries and threatenings, but Shee-shee-banze and his two brides had contrived to elude their vigilance and gain his canoe, which lay in the river, close at hand.
Hardly were they on board, when their escape was discovered. The whole troop flew after them. Some plunged into the stream, and seized the canoe. In the struggle it was upset, but immediately on touching the water, whether from the magical properties of the canoe, or the necromantic skill of the grandmother, they were transformed into ducks, and flew quacking away.
Since that time, the water-fowl of this species are always found in companies of three—two females and a male.