The Laugh-Maker (Twenty-First Evening)

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Title:     The Laugh-Maker (Twenty-First Evening)
Author: Charles Alexander Eastman [More Titles by Eastman]

TWENTY-FIRST EVENING

"You remember the young man who married among the Bear people," begins Grandfather. "Now to us the Bear seems at times almost human; he can stand and even walk erect; he will cry and groan very like a man when hurt, and there are those who say that he laughs. In the old stories the Bears are a powerful nation; and there is a young man, perhaps the same one I told you of before, who is said to have been living among them at one time with his wife, Woshpee, and their little son."

THE LAUGH-MAKER

The village of the Bears was a large one, and the people were well-fed and prosperous. Upon certain days, a herald went the round of the lodges, announcing in a loud voice that the time had come to "go a-laughing." Not a Bear was left in the village at such times, for every one went, old and young, sick and well, the active and the lame. Only the stranger remained at home, although his wife, Woshpee, always went with her kinsfolk, for somehow he did not feel inclined to "go a-laughing;" and he kept with him his little son, who was half Bear and half human.

One day, however, a curiosity seized him to know what this laughing business might be. He took his boy and followed the Bears at a distance, not choosing to be seen. Their trail led to the shore of the Great Water, and when he had come as near as he could without exposing himself, he climbed a tall pine from whose bushy top he could observe all that took place.

The gathering of the Bears was on a deep bay that jutted inland. Its rocky shores were quite black with them, and as soon as all had become quiet, an old Bear advanced to the water's edge and called in a loud voice:

"E-ha-we-cha-ye-la, e-ha-un-he-pee lo! (Laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!)"

When he had called four times, a small object appeared in the midst of the water and began to swim toward the shore. By and by the strange creature sprawled and clambered out upon a solitary rock that stood partly above the water.

The Laugh-maker was hairless and wrinkled like a new-born child; it had the funniest feet, or hands, or flippers, with which it tried to walk, but only tumbled and flopped about. In the water it was graceful enough, but on dry land so ungainly and ridiculous that the vast concourse of Bears was thrown into fits of hysterical laughter.

"Ha, ha, ha! Waugh, waugh!" they roared, lifting their ugly long muzzles and opening their gaping jaws. Some of them could no longer hold on to the boughs of the trees, or the rocks on which they had perched, and came tumbling down on the heads of the crowd, adding much to the fun. Every motion of the little "Laugh-maker" produced fresh roars of immoderate laughter.

At last the Bears grew weak and helpless with laughing. Hundreds of them sprawled out upon the sand, quite unable to rise. Then the old man again advanced and cried out:

"E-ha-we-cha-ye-la, wan-na e-ha un-ta-pe ktay do! (Laugh-maker, we are almost dead with laughing!)" Upon this the little creature swam back into deep water and disappeared.

Now the stranger was not at all amused and in fact could see nothing to laugh at. When all the Bears had got up and dispersed to their homes he came down from the tree with his little son, and the child wished to imitate his great-grandfather Bear. He went out alone on the sandy beach and began to call in his piping voice:

"Laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!"

When he had called four times, the little creature again showed its smooth black head above the water.

"Ha, ha, ha! Why don't you laugh, papa? It is so funny!" the boy cried out breathlessly.

But his father looked on soberly while the thing went through all its usual antics, and the little boy laughed harder and harder, until at last he rolled and rolled on the sandy beach, almost dead with laughter.

"Papa," he gasped, "if you do not stop this funny thing I shall die!"

Then the father picked up his bow and strung it. He gave one more look at his boy, who was gasping for breath; then he fitted a sharp arrow to the bow and pierced the little Laugh-maker to the heart. He went out and took the skin, and they returned in silence to the camp of the Bears.

Now the next time that the herald called upon the Bears to "go a-laughing," the skin of the Laugh-maker was almost dry, but they knew nothing of it. They went away as usual, and left the young man alone with his son. But he, knowing that his wife's kinsfolk would kill him when they discovered what he had done, took the skin for a quiver and went homeward with his child.

[The end]
Charles Alexander Eastman's short story: Laugh-Maker (Twenty-First Evening)

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