Part 26
Then the woman laughed and said, “O rabbit you must be a great fool not to know that I have not moved and that you have been running around in a circle. When you ran up to me I sang the song,
“‘Gallops, Gallops, with hair circling round’!”
Now the old people say that when you see a rabbit and wish to kill it to remain still and make ready to shoot. He will come again round a circle and you can kill him. This thing was learned from this legend. Now when you hunt rabbits sing this song when you see one and soon he will appear again for he runs in circles and returns to the same spot in which you saw him first. So now all.
45. THE RABBIT GAMBLER.
In old times there was a rabbit,—Osīda Hodaweo, that was his name. Now Osīda was a gambler and was continually winning games. He had a deadly enemy, Sēno,—that was his name, a skunk. Now this Sēno loved two sisters. He never gambled but always had plenty to eat. Osīda, also loved the same two sisters. He gambled and had stores of goods. So Osīda was the choice of the women but his grandmother said that they would be fickle and would desert him when his luck changed. Then Osīda laughed at the old woman.
His wives were always faithful and cooked good food. Each morning he returned from his gambling. Then he sang a song:
“One Djagwehee! Deiogwaie do-no! One Djagwehee! Deiogwaie do-no! Now I am coming home; all night I have gambled! Now I am coming home; all night I have gambled!”
Then his wives hearing his song in the distance would run out on the trail to greet him. They would sing a song:
“Osida-a-a-a Hada-weo! Dondae! Osida-a-a-a Hada-weo! Dondae! Feet Earrings! He is returning! Feet Earrings! He is returning!”
So it happened this way continuously. Then it changed. One morning he sang his song but his wives did not come to greet him. He did not hear their song. He thought that it was strange. But he kept singing. He had no goods with him. For a long time now he had brought nothing home. His luck had changed. Therefore he wished his wives to come and cheer him but they did not come. He continued to sing until he stood outside the lodge door. He paused and listened but heard no sound within. He thought that was strange. He entered the lodge and it was empty. No one was within. There was a hot meal ready for him and he sat down and ate. He was absent minded and did not see what he was eating. After a time he heard singing in the air above the lodge. He heard the words:
“Ionegattha sago no sothetstsowa Haiasho! Ionegattha sago no sothetatsowa Hayasho!”
These were the words he heard and then he voided his meal.[42] He ran out of the lodge, and above the trees overhead he saw his wives paddling a canoe through the air. They were not descending. Osīda was sick at stomach but he ran to catch them. They paddled fast and he did not succeed in getting near them for some time. At last he was at the side of the canoe which the women were paddling over the ground. He leaped into the canoe but the women leaped out and hopped away into the bush lands. Osīda chased them but lost sight of his runaway wives.
Now Sēno heard a noise above his burrow and sticking his head from the door saw the women whom he loved running. “Kwe!” he cried, “what is your haste?”
“We are running away from Osīda,” they replied.
“My lodge will be a safe refuge,” he answered with a smile, and beckoned them in. So they entered.
Osīda spied their tracks in the mud and stalked them to a burrow. He was about to run into the hole without looking when a hairy tail of some animal was pushed against his very face. He had no warning and was drenched with Sēno’s fetid water. He fell back and cried loudly for he was greatly in distress. By and by his grandmother came to him. She said something to him, but Osīda did not laugh. He went home with his grandmother.
46. THE RACCOON AND THE CRABS.
There was a raccoon who was fond of crabs. It was his custom to catch the crabs when they swam out from under a rock in the water. After a time the crabs learned how he caught them and when he came near the water they would hide under a flat rock and not come out until a sentinel told them that the raccoon had gone. The raccoon thought it strange that the crabs had grown so wary and resolved to play a trick. He crept to the bank of the brook and lay upon his back pretending to be dead. After some time the crabs crawled out to the bank and looked carefully at the “dead” raccoon. Then the chief of the crabs, Hasanowane Odji’eg´dă, was his name, notified all the crab people to come out and see their dead enemy. Now when they had all assembled the chief said, “He is dead, let us all rejoice. He who destroyed us is himself at last destroyed. So let us rejoice and show our gladness by a dance.” So they danced and this was the song:
Do sa gwe Do sa gwe ga no ho tci do (Chorus) ie ie ie ie ie ie ie ie!
Soon one of the crabs said, “Are you sure that he is dead?” And the chief answered, “Go pinch him and see.” So the crab went and pinched him and the raccoon did not move, so he answered, “Yes, he is dead.” Then they danced again and after a time a crab asked of the chief, “Are you sure he is dead?” And the chief answered, “Go and see, then tell us.” So the crab went up and crawled down the raccoon’s throat. When he came out he answered, “Yes, he is dead there is evidence inside.” Then the crabs danced again but after a time a crab asked of the chief, “Are you sure that he is dead?” And the chief answered, “Go and see for yourself, then report to me.” So the crab crawled up and pinched the raccoon’s heart. This made the raccoon very angry and he said to himself, “Now is my time to feast, I have waited too long.” So he leaped up and began devouring the crabs and he ate until his belly was gorged. Then he laughed and thought himself a great trickster. Now that is how the raccoon outwitted the crabs. It is said that it is not safe to rejoice at the downfall of an enemy lest he rise again and devour those that thought they danced at his funeral.
47. THE CRAB’S EYES.
Now a crab slept so long that his eyes dried up. When he awoke he did not know where he was. He could not open his eyes because they had dried up in his head. So he strained for a long time. He crawled along endeavoring to find his way to water. As he crawled he kept striving. After a time he came across an obstruction. So he sang this song:
A-di-na-ote sa-hi ga-i‘ De-sa-si-no gwa-do-nio! What kind of a standing tree With crooked legs here?
And the tree answered, “I am the oak!”
“Oh! Oh!” cried the crab, “How far I am from water!”
Now he crawled along straining his eyes and singing his song. He asked every tree whose crooked legs he ran against but they answered, maple or beech, and he was discouraged. After a time a tree said, “rock elm.” Then he was encouraged and said, “Water must be near at hand!” So he kept along striving and singing and when he heard a tree call out “willow” he was exultant. He strained still harder and when he struck water the paste over his eyes melted and so intense was he that his eyes shot out of his head and waved about. Now this was convenient for he could see better than he had ever before. So he decided to keep them out where he could adjust them as he wished. Now the old people have said that this was the way the crab got his eyes and it may be true. So it ends.
48. HOW THE SQUIRREL GAVE A BLANKET TO HIS WARRIOR, ROBBED THE WOODCHUCK OF HIS TAIL AND THE FROG OF HIS TEETH.[43]
There was a time when animals and birds were very large. So, also, trees were more lofty and rivers broader. This was long ago.
Now, in those days there was a great chief of the squirrels, and he was very wise. It was his custom to go stealthily through the forest and watch his people as they worked or sported.
One autumn morning as he lay concealed by the leaves on the limb of a giant oak, he heard a chattering voice call from a hemlock. It was the voice of a squirrel.
“All the autumn days I have been gathering nuts,” said the squirrel in an aggrieved tone, “and yet day by day my store is growing smaller. Who is stealing my hoard? Truly some culprit lurks here and is robbing me of my winter’s food that I have patiently stored in that stump!”
Up from a hole in the hillside popped Tēdo‘, the woodchuck. From the dark scummy swamp water a big frog lifted its green head.
“How unfortunate!” said the woodchuck, “Some thief must be lurking here.”
“Yes, I too think it strange,” croaked the big frog, “Surely some thief must be hidden here.”
Then in a chorus both poured out their sympathy to the indignant squirrel.
The squirrel chief seated on the oak limb listened attentively and then nodding his head spoke thus to himself. “True, indeed, thieves are not far away. I think this sympathy betokens knaves.”
At night the chief hid in a branch that overhung the stump that the squirrel had pointed out.
When the sun had gone in his western door and darkness had obscured the earth, from a hole in the hillside a brown head cautiously emerged and after peering slyly around the woodchuck crept from his burrow, swung his tail jauntily and trotted down his path to the swamp. A green backed frog pushed his way from a high tufted hummock of grass through the black water of the swamp toward the hillside. But he made no froggish splash, no gurgling trill, no croak but swam in silence. Reaching the bank he sneaked his way up the path to the stump beneath the squirrel’s hemlock where a furry brown bulk was rummaging.
“Kwe!” exclaimed the frog in a startled note.
“Kwe!” came the hollow reply, and Tedo, the woodchuck, withdrew his head to see who had discovered him but finding it to be only Skoak, the frog, he resumed his work of pilfering the squirrel’s store.
“Iis kho, and you too,” he said in a muffled voice as with bulging cheeks he hurried back to his hole.
Now the frog in those days had sharp gnawing teeth like a beaver’s and when he entered the hollow stump he tested the nuts to find what variety he would choose. He had taken hickory nuts before but now chose to take chestnuts.
From the limb over the stump store house a shrill cry sounded.
“Thief found!” came the alarm, and the woodchuck and the frog buried their ears in their booty to shut out the sound.
On the following day the squirrel chief called a council of all the animals, for in those days the squirrel was a famous animal and mightier than a wolf.
“Thieves have been found,” said he. “I call a council to pronounce judgement.”
Every animal from the neighborhood was present except the frog and the woodchuck.
A delegation was sent to examine the houses of these absent two and after some time returned with the most guilty pair ever brought to council for judgement.
Said the squirrel chief. “I saw you steal the squirrel’s nuts, the delegation found them in your houses, therefore, you shall be punished. You, the woodchuck, shall have your tail removed to humble your pride, and you the frog shall have your teeth taken from your mouth that you may not be further tempted to steal another’s store. You the squirrel have been too careless. Henceforth build your storehouse high and in order to protect yourself from offenders that might attack you, I give you this blanket to stretch from leg to leg so that you may skim the air like a leaf.”
A wolf snapped off the woodchuck’s tail and a heron extracted the frog’s teeth and so punished the guilty knaves in sight of all.
So now all these things came to pass; all frogs were afterwards hatched without teeth, all woodchucks had bobbed tails and all the descendents of the squirrel had blankets fastened to their legs and bellies and made a tribe of their own. Moreover, since that time all frogs have been afraid of long-billed birds and all woodchucks are afraid of wolves but some squirrels have blankets and can skim the air like leaves.
49. THE CHICKADEE’S SONG.[44]
Djikdjunkwa was a lonely chickadee. She was very sad and sat on the limb of a tree singing a sorrowful tune. Then she flew to another tree and listened for an answering call.
A wolf passing by heard her crying song and tears came in his eyes. “Let me be your helper?” he asked.
“What kind of food do you eat, good friend?” asked she.
“Raw meat, raw meat,” exclaimed the wolf, seeking to lure the Chickadee to him.
But Chickadee screamed a fluttering note and flew away. Soon again she sang her song.
“I am so lonesome, I am looking for somebody to marry me.”
A crow flying over listened and was moved to help the distressed little bird.
“Oh poor Chickadee,” said Crow. “I would like to marry you.”
“What would you feed my young ones?” asked the Chickadee.
“Ripe dead meat,” answered the crow, whereupon Chickadee flew away and hid herself in a low bush, until the crow had flown away. Then she returned to a tree and sang again:
“Dji-he, dji-he, dji-i-he, I am so lonely that I would like to marry. Dji-he, dji-he, dji-i-he.”
Soon she heard an answering call and saw a bird like herself. He flew toward her and said, “I am the one and we will marry now.”
50. THE BIRD WOMAN.[45]
Sitting mournfully on the edge of her nest was a heart-broken Gonadjodjo, (Chewink). Her husband had been blown away on the breath of a storm and the bird mother was left alone to care for her hungry brood.
All day long she had waited for her mate to return but, alas, he seemed to have forgotten her. Disconsolate, she listened to her children’s cries. When she would fly to find their food they would shiver with cold and when she nestled them under her wings they would scream for bugs and seeds and berries. Something must be done or her callow nestlings would perish. So with a sad heart she began to sing in melancholy note.
Fluttering upon the stump of a fallen tree she sang and an owl within a hollow stub nearby poked out his head and said, “Oh may I not be your helper and care for your nest?”
“Alas!” sighed Gonadjodjo in great distress, “it would never do for my young birds would die when they heard you.”
The owl drew back into his hole and Gonadjodjo sang again.
From another hollow tree came an answering call. “May I not be your helper?” screeched a night hawk.
“Ah, what would you say to comfort them?” said Ganojojo.
“I would say Hai‘´, hai‘´, hai‘´, hai‘´!”
“Oh no, no!” cried Ganodjodjo, “they would scream the worse.”
Flying to an open spot she sang again and a crow poking among the weeds paused and lifted his head as he heard the song. Then, with all compassion he said, “Oh, Ganodjodjo, I would like to help you.”
“Then what would you say to soothe my children?” sighed the unhappy bird.
“Ga! ga! ga! ga!” replied the crow, but Ganodjodjo cried in terror that his harsh hoarse voice was far too hoarse for her little ones, so, the crow croaked and strode on.
Winging her way to the top of a dead tree Ganodjodjo sang again her plaintive song. There was a whirr of wings and a bluejay alighted on the branch beside her.
“I will help you gladly,” said he.
“Well,” said the hapless Ganodjodjo shyly, for she was impressed with the gay bird at her side, “what would you say to my children?”
“In my softest voice I would say, “Di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, skil´lŭm, skil´lŭm!”
The sharp shrill cry of the bluejay made Ganodjodjo’s ears ache and fluttering to the ground half fainting she fell in a mouldering pile of leaves. Plaintively she sang her song again. The leaves on the ground a distance away began to tremble and rustle and then there was a faint sound of “tci´-wii‘, tci´-wii‘!” The disconsolate bird stopped short, and darting to the spot found her own lost mate.
“I have been stunned and bruised,” he said, “and only awoke when you called.”
She plucked him a red berry for medicine and then together they flew to their nest, he with unsteady wings but she in strong and happy flight.
51. THE PARTRIDGE’S SONG.
Now there was a partridge[46] woman who had a large family. She had a house under a big log and her house was hidden by plants. A good many people (animals) tried to find the partridge’s house because they wanted to eat her eggs or her children. Now one morning her children were all asleep and she was running about eating worms and seeds. At this time she smelled an enemy so she was alarmed for her children’s safety. Now then she sang a song to awaken them:
Djut-gan-nio, djut-gan-nio! Ho-sho-ga-he shoda-die-s! Ya-ha-ne sho-da-ges! Ia-ha-ne sho-da-ges!
which meant that the skunk was prowling about and would soon find them if they did not scurry away. After a time they heard their mother’s song and ran into the bushes and she hid them in a safe place.
Now this is the partridge song and it is a good thing to sing it when you see or smell an enemy about a partridge’s house. It is good luck.
IX. TALES OF GIANTS, PYGMIES AND MONSTER BEARS
52. A TALE OF THE DJOGEON OR PYGMIES.
There was a young man named Snow who lived with his parents along the bank of a river. He played about the door yard every day and sometimes swam in the river. When he was very young he obeyed everything his father told him and refrained from going toward the south, where he had been forbidden to venture.
One morning he took his bow and arrows and began to hunt cedar waxwings. It was spring time and there were many of these birds on the tall trees. Just as he was about to shoot, the birds flew to the south and so kept on flying up the bed of a smaller stream, emptying into the river. As Snow chased the birds he noticed that the walls of the stream grew higher and higher until they were very high and close together at the top. It became very dark and Snow became confused and could not tell where to walk, for the rocks began to get more and more jagged. So he sat down on a large stone, feeling very miserable.
Suddenly he heard a stone strike the ground at his feet. He looked about in the gloom and then heard another strike. The next time the stone struck him on the forehead between the eyes and Snow fell over like a dead person.
After a long time he heard voices speaking. The discussion was about him and he heard a voice say, “Now we have him.” He resolved to keep his eyes shut and wait for a good opportunity to escape. Soon he heard foot falls about him; they were very light like a small child’s. Then more came about him and soon he heard the sound of drumming. Presently small voices began to sing and the singing continued for a long time.
Snow understood every word and remembered the songs. Finally he made up his mind that there was nothing malign about the intentions of the beings that moved about him and he opened his eyes.
All about him were pygmies,—little people,—dressed just like Indians. There was a shout when he opened his eyes and he was told to rise and be seated. He could now see clearly by aid of a fire on the slaty bottom of the creek.
At length one of the little people spoke, asking him if he had tobacco. Snow searched through his hunting pouch and found a small quantity which he gave the chief. This caused an expression of great pleasure.
The chief of the little people now spoke. “You have come to our home,” said he. “We sent for you in order that we might teach you our ways. You are to stay here until you have learned our customs.”
Snow lived with the little people and became versed in all their arts. He was told that when the Djogeon were in need of tobacco they would be heard singing, and then the Indians must throw tobacco into the gulches where the sound emanated. Sometimes drumming would be heard instead of singing, and this also indicated the need of tobacco. The little people would also be pleased to have finger nail parings in order to give them certain human powers. Snow was told about the different tribes of Djogeon and about the stone throwers. Some Djogeon had power over the fruits and plants and even the health of people. They had some valuable hunting charms which they would bestow if man would guard their potency by appropriate ceremonies. All this Snow learned.
The time came for him to depart, and the Djogeon gave him presents, telling him their purposes and magical attributes. Snow now departed and returned to his people, who had grown very old. They scarcely knew him because of his long absence, which seemed to him only a few days.
Snow now called together his friends and taught them the ceremonies and the songs of the little people, and these ceremonies have come down to this day. They must be performed in the dark.
After that time the people began to see Djogeon in various places, but they felt safe, knowing how to appease them.
53. BEYOND-THE-RAPIDS AND THE STONE GIANT.
Skŭn´niwŭndi[47] was a great fighter. His name as a warrior was famous everywhere and he was called the greatest war chief in the world. Skŭnniwŭn´di was a great name.
Skŭnniwŭn´di was passing along the bank of a river one time when he heard his name called out, “Kwe Skŭnniwŭn´di,” some voice was saying. “You are the best fighter in the world,—you are the best fighter in the world.”
Skŭnniwŭn´di looked up and saw across the river a terrible Genonsgwä, a stonish giant, a female giant. So he answered, “Kwe! What do you want?”
“I want to fight with you,” she answered.
Skŭnniwŭn´di never had fought with a stonish giant but he answered, “All right, come over!”