The full significance of the Indian legend connected with this locality will be realized as the gaze goes over the whole mass of turbulent and seething water. The legend, in brief, is this:—
Long ago a great war party of 500 Mohawks came by Temiscouata Lake and the Madawaska River to destroy the Maliceet village of Medoctec on the St. John. Before they reached the mouth of the Madawaska they surprised a Maliceet hunter with his family. The man and his family were instantly killed, but the woman was spared on condition that she should guide the war party to the doomed village by a safe path. (One version has it that it was a Maliceet maiden who was thus captured.) She was placed in the chief’s canoe and guided them safely over the portage by the Madawaska Falls and into the St. John River.
[Illustration: Tobique Narrows, St. John River]
Assured by their guide that there were no more falls to pass, the canoes were lashed together and drifted down the tide while the weary Mohawks sank in slumber. By and bye a sound of falling water aroused one of the chiefs; but being told that it was only the noise of the waterfall at the mouth of a nearby river, he again slept. But suddenly the full roar of the tremendous cataract strikes on the ears of the sleepers. Springing to their feet the horror of the situation is at once apparent. Paddles are seized and frantic efforts are made to stem the fierce tide. It is useless, and a terrible cry of despair goes up as they are swept to the brink of the foaming cataract. She had saved her father and her native village:
“Then with a shout of triumph, the Indian maiden cried, ‘Listen, ye Mohawk warriors, which sail on Death’s dark tide! Never shall earth grave hold you, or wife weep o’er your clay. Come to your doom, ye Mohawks, and I will lead the way.’
“And many a day thereafter, beyond the torrent’s roar, The swarthy Mohawk dead were found along the river’s shore. But on brave Malabeam’s dead face no human eyes were set— She lies in the dark stream’s embrace, the river claims her yet.
“The waters of five hundred years have flowed above her grave, But daring deeds can never die while human hearts are brave. Her tribe still tell the story, and round their council fires, Honor the name of her who died to rescue all their sires.”