For seven days and seven nights the people of the encampment could not bring themselves to carry out the shaman's orders. For seven days and seven nights they bid the girl farewell. On the eighth day they put Silken Tassel into a wooden barrel, bound it with nine iron hoops, nailed down the bottom with copper nails, and threw the barrel into the rushing river.
On that day a young fisherman called Balykchi sat on the steep bank of the river some distance from the camp.
He saw the barrel, caught it, brought it into his hut, picked up an axe, and knocked out the bottom. When he saw the girl, the hand that held the axe dropped, and his heart leaped like a grasshopper. At last he asked the girl:
"What is your name?"
"Silken Tassel---Torko-Chachak."
The girl climbed out of the barrel and bowed low to the fisherman.
"Who put you into the barrel?"
"The shaman Teldekpei said that it must be done."
The fisherman whistled for his dog, fierce as a mountain lion, put him into the barrel, nailed down the bottom with copper nails, and let the barrel float downstream.
The shaman's slaves pulled out the barrel, brought it to the white birchbark tent, put it before the old wizard, and ran away into the woods.
But even before they reached the woods, they heard the shaman call: "Help! Help!"
But the slaves did everything he had bidden. They heard shouts, but did not turn back. They heard moaning and cries, but did not look back. For such were their master's orders.
Three days later they returned from the woods. The shaman lay on the ground, more dead than alive. His clothes were torn to shreds, his beard was bloody and tangled, his eyebrows were shaggier than ever. |
