On one occasion when this persecution became intolerable, he determined to leave his country, and, if possible, accompany the spirit to the skies.
The chief men had enjoined on all the duty to refrain from any desire or any attempt to ascend the vine whose branches reached the heavens, telling them that to do so would bring upon them severe penalties.
The spirit finding the young man quite sad, inquired, learned the true cause of his sorrow, and taking him, reascended.
The old woman cried for his return, “Noo-sis, be-ge-wain, be-ge-wain.” “My child, come back, come back!” He would not come home, and the woman having adjusted all her matters in the lodge, after the nightfall repaired to the vine and began to ascend it.
In the morning the Indians found the lodge she had inhabited empty, and soon espied her climbing the vine. They shouted to her, “Hoision shay! ah-wos be-ge-wain, mah-je-me-di—moo-ga-yiesh!” “Holloa, come back, you old witch you.”
But she continued ascending, up, up, up.
A council was held to determine what inducement could be made to her to return. They could hear her sobbing for her grandson. “Ne-gah-wah-bah-mah nos-sis.” “I will yet see my child.”
Consternation and fear filled the hearts of the nation, for one of their number was disobeying the Great Spirit. Indignation and fury were seen in the acts of the warriors, and the light of the transgressor’s burning wigwam shed its lurid rays around.
The woman was just nearing the top of the vine which was entwined around one of the stars of heaven, and about entering that place, when the vine broke, and down she came, with the broken vine which had before been the ladder of communication between heaven and earth.
The nations, as they passed by her, as she sat in the midst of the ruin she had wrought, pushed her declining head, saying, “Whah, ke nah mah dah bee mage men di moo ya yilsh.” “There you sit, you wicked old witch.”