Part 28

“I am your father,” said the man, “we were rescued from death by the false faces.”

“And I am your daughter,” said a voice as the boy uncapped his arrow, “and my brother has saved me!”

58. NIA’´GWAHE THE MAMMOTH BEAR.[52]

In the olden times in the valley of the Dociowĕh lived a newly married couple. Their lodge was far back by the big rocks and when danger threatened they hid in the caves.

After a time there came to the young wife two baby boys. When the twins were five weeks old the mother died. The father was at first dumb with grief for his heart was very heavy. Then looking up toward the heavens he sang,

“I see a hemlock tree. It has but two branches. The tree is twisted in the hurricane and is broken midway. The two remaining branches on the stub are thrashing in the gale. The tree is I. My wife is broken from me and my children are in the storm! Let me burn tobacco, the wind will cease; let me burn tobacco and my sorrow heals. It gives me thought!”

The dead mother had not lain long on her bed of spruce boughs when the hungry babes began to cry. A sudden thought came to the father. He cut down two strings of deer meat and flung them into the mortar. Grasping the pestle he pounded the meat into a powder and soaking it in hot water fed the liquid to his children. For several months they were nourished with this and they grew lusty and fat. When the corn was ripe, “in the milk,” the father scraped the kernels from the cob and pounded them in his mortar, mixed the paste with water, skimmed off the gruel and cooked with venison broth, and thus made a new food upon which the children thrived. When they were a year old they ate the same food that their father did and grew tall and strong.

The years went by and they grew vigorous and lithe and became expert runners often keeping pace with the swiftest of the tribe. At the age of fifteen one of them ran a race with a deer and falling exhausted died. And the father sorrowed again and became melancholy. After the death of his brother the other seemed to double in strength of body and mind. His name was Hahyennoweh meaning the Swift Runner. In this son the father took great pride for it was his sole remaining “branch.” Thus he instructed him in every art known to the hunter and warrior.

Hahyennoweh was a skilled bowman but as he developed greater speed in running he came to believe the bow and arrow coward’s weapons.

“A fight to death and face to face is the only fitting way,” he said.

With this idea in his mind and a sharp flint in his belt, he broke his bows and snapped his arrows. Then when he wished to slay an animal he would pursue it and when it fell exhausted he would wait until it recovered its breath and strength, slit its throat and carry it home. Bear, deer, elk, moose and buffalo all fell victims of his speed.

Like every brave and skillful man he loved to boast of his power, and no one ever made a statement of their skill lest he exclaimed, “Ho, that is nothing! I am braver than that for I am the most skillful of all the tribe!”

The father began to worry about this fault of his son’s, for it was a serious one. His entire conversation was self praise, which while excusable when indulged in occasionally, was unpardonable when continued forever. Wishing to warn him the father spoke to the boastful young warrior. “Son, I am your father, hear me!” he said. “You must not brag or boast yourself hereafter!”

But the son merely laughed and replied, “Father, I do not. I speak truth!”

“But, my son,” the father entreated, “the animals will hear you,—will hear your boasting and out of revenge will slay you.”

“No, I think not, father,” he replied, “for no animal can outrun me, not a beast in all this forest.”

“Son!” the father spoke gravely, “think wisely and hold your tongue. The winds will steal your words for mischief and the magically endowed animals will know it. Then, my son,—then I shall lose you!”

“Father,” replied the son, “I shall ever boast if speaking truth is boasting!”

The father continued his warnings but Hahyennoweh only laughed and bounded back into the forest.

One evening Hahyennoweh came home after an exciting race and began again to boast his prowess. Sadly the father looked at him, and said sorrowfully, “Son, again I bid you to cease your boasting. Evil will befall you for I feel it.” But the son was asleep.

A knock sounded at the door and the father pushed aside the bear skin curtain saying, “Dahdjoh!” “Gahdjih!” said a voice and the father went out. A stranger stepped from a shadow.

“I have come,” said he, “to tell you that the animals have heard your son’s voice. They have heard his audacious voice and his unseemly boasting. They have felt his knife and died. They have chosen me and I have come to him. I have come to tell him he must race me. I am the chosen one to race him from the sunrise to the sunset. We race the way the sun goes. If I win, then I shall kill him. If I lose then he shall slay me. Tell him he must meet me at the windfall.”

Awaking, the son heard the voices outside and when the father pushed aside the curtain to re-enter he began to question him. The father’s brow was wrinkled, his cheek had a gray color. He had sorrow in his voice.

He spoke “My son, you are all I have and you have loudly boasted about running swiftly. Did you not hear my advising words of caution? Did you not hear my entreaties? Nia’´gwahē has been here and spoken to me. You have heard our talk together. You will be hurt by him. Hahyennoweh! My only son I believe that you will perish!”

Hahyennoweh smiled, and then laughed at his father saying, “Nia’´gwahē is an old and foolish creature. So it is only he who makes this challenge! Chisnah! He should know that I am the champion of runners. Father, tell me more particularly about him, I would like to know how to feel afraid, but what you have said does not make me afraid.”

Turning, the father answered, “Nia’´gwahē is a mighty conjurer. He can change his form to suit him any time he wishes. He has never once been beaten in a race. Now you had better go to sleep and let me think about it and when I am done I shall awaken you.” So the son drew his blanket over his head and went back to his dreaming.

Seizing the pestle, the father pounded parched corn and maple sugar together and moistening the meal molded it into a cake and put it into a rawhide bag. After awhile he awakened his son for he had been thinking as he had worked.

“Son, awake!” he said. “I have been thinking and now I will advise you. The small humming bird is the swiftest of all the feathers and Nia’´gwahē has never had a race with him. In your cap I am going to put two feathers from the humming bird’s breast; they are a race charm.”

The father did not want to sleep that night but sat and threw pinches of oyankkwaoweh, the sacred tobacco, on a small fire to calm his fears and give him power with medicine spirits.

Before the sunrise the son awoke and going down the trail to the creek took his morning plunge and returned to eat his venison. Finishing his meal, he shook his father’s hand and said, “Oneh, now I am going.” His limbs felt strong and elastic for he had rubbed them well with plenty of oil. As he ran he thought he would like to test his jumping power,—just for luck,—and nearing the windfall, judged its breadth seven times his length. Increasing his speed he gave a great leap and cleared it. “Ho!” said he, “I am ready for any race in the world and ready for Nia’´gwahē, the beast-conjurer. My legs move of their own accord and my feathers give me power. Now where is this old thing that gives me a challenge?”

Just as he spoke there was a loud snort, and looking up he saw the monster.

The sun was about to go under the rim of the sky, over Onondasdaht, the big hill. Hahyennoweh spoke, “Shall we race now? I am ready, it is sunrise!” But Nia’´gwahē did not answer. He simply blew wind through his nose and started running.

The monster’s path was toward a swamp and Hahyennoweh followed after. The great beast ran very fast through clumps of bushes, just as easily as the son ran over grass. Saplings, stumps and trees fell before the big animal. For about five miles the son labored through the muck and tangles, and then seeing that these obstacles were too much for his style of running, concluded that it would not be wise to follow much longer through the swamp-land. He, therefore, decided to return to the starting point and take his route over the high ridge that curved for miles around the big swamp. Toward noon, when he had circled it, and had run miles beyond, he saw Nia’´gwahē far in the distance. Increasing his speed he soon reached the animal with the exclamation, “Ho-hoh, I am up to you!” But the mammoth bear only replied, “Ungh wooh!” The son saw that the Nia’´gwahē was very tired and as he ran beside him he said. “Kway Nia’´gwahē! Adekoni, it is time for eating!” But the beast with heavy breathing kept on running. Hahyennoweh, the Swift Runner, paused in the race, and sitting down on a stone, took a swallow of water and slowly chewed a handful of parched corn and sugar. He rested for a while after his meal and then after a swim in the brook, near by, he started on his race again.

When the sun was midway from the high heavens to its setting, the son caught up to the beast again. “Ho-hoh, I am up to you, old opossum!” he said, but the huge animal was too tired even to grunt. A stream of water poured from his body leaving in his tracks a muddy streak and his big sides bulged within and without.

Again Hahyennoweh sat down and rested, for besides the giving of rest it made greater excitement. Taking up the race again the son ran over the path made by the monster. On and on he sped but Nia’´gwahē was nowhere within range. The path that he had made was a line that ran beyond the eye’s reach. He increased his speed but even then Nia’´gwahē was not to be discovered. Then he began to get frightened and wondered if the monster called into play his magic powers. It seemed so for though Swift Runner ran his swiftest the beast seemed to run still swifter. But he did not despair but kept on his journey, hopeful that his charms would be strong. After awhile, far in the distance, was a small speck that grew larger as Hahyennoweh ran toward it. That made him run faster and after some time he overtook the magic monster. It was nearly dark when Hahyennoweh caught up to the beast and it was none too soon for the race was almost over. He was very tired but as courageous and boastful as ever, so Hahyennoweh said, “Ho hoh, I’m up to you again! You are no runner! Who said you could run, you have been flattered. You are an ugly old woman to be flattered. You run just like a lame old woman. You have forgotten how to run. No you never knew how to run at all. Just let me show you how to run. I’ll never let you catch me as I have you. Oh you are very slow like a three-legged turtle. Now see me run!”

The young warrior ran ahead with very great speed over the plain until he saw the sun hang low and red over the hills. Then looking back, he saw a small speck. Two thoughts came into his mind. The first that he should go back and kill the beast, as the sun sank below the hills, and the second that perhaps the monster was shaming and would speed ahead should he retrace his steps. But in a moment he laughed at this second thought and was not afraid. Running back he saw that the Nia’´gwahē had fallen, unable longer to stand the strain of the contest. His panting was so great that he blew up leaves and sticks high in the air and bent the saplings about him.

The sun disappeared and the evening star shone bright in the sky. It was twilight and Hahyennoweh stood looking at the fallen big meat before him. He grasped the small blow gun from his back and fixed a small sharpened arrow. He aimed for a dark spot on the left front foot of the animal. He shot and the heaving sides no longer took in wind. The beast died where he fell.

It was getting dark and the Swift Runner was tired by his race, so he lay down beneath a high tree and went to sleep.

THE RETURN.

When he awoke the next morning he found himself wondering what could be on the road through the swamp,—the route chosen by the Nia’´gwahē. “Surely it must be some mischief,” he thought, “or he would not have been so maddened when I ran on the ridge. I think the monster grew so slow was because he was mad. I must explore the swamp and find the evil.”

The huge beast in his mad race had beaten a good path through the swamp, which the son proceeded to follow. After a journey of ten miles he made a discovery. The footprints of a hostile people, the marks of the enemy’s moccasins, were fresh in the path. Hahyennoweh advanced with caution and as it grew dark he saw ahead of him two fires. Hidden in the underbrush were temporary shelters erected by a hostile war party. Home was but five miles distant and the son crept noiselessly past the encampment and sped toward his father’s lodge. In the moonlight he saw a deer with very large legs. He looked still closer. The deer had men’s legs and wore leather leggings! The truth flashed upon his mind. Two of the enemy were reconnoitering and were planning an attack before the sunrise!

Entering the lodge he greeted his father and gave him the beast’s tusk, the big tooth that sticks out. The father received it without a comment and continued his smoking. Then very loudly the son exclaimed, “I’ve seen a deer. I am going to outrun him. I am going now to race him!” Then in a lower tone he added, “I will return soon, father, and tell you of my adventure, but wait.”

Grasping a stone axe he ran out in search of the strange deer. At length he espied it back of the lodge, peering in at his father. Creeping up with stealth the son struck the strange animal a crushing blow between the shoulders, the hatchet sank deep and the forequarters of the deer dropped to the earth without a sound. Quickly snatching the skin he wrapped it around the hind quarters and led them struggling into the lodge.

“Well father here is the deer of which I told you! Let us skin him and see what is inside! Unwrapping the skin he revealed the captive, who, nearly smothered, was too feeble to further resist. Hahyennoweh flung him into a corner and began to ply him with questions. “How many of you are there in the swamp? Why came you to kill my people? Where is your party hidden? What chief sent you? Who is your leader? Are any other tribesmen with you?” These and other questions he asked him. Bidding the captive lead the way Hahyennoweh advanced toward the enemy’s camp and reached it about midnight. He lashed the captive to a tree and stopped his mouth. The sleeping warriors were not aware of danger and never moved as they slept. Lifting high his hatchet Hahyennoweh struck the sleepers. Forty-two times he struck and each time killed an enemy and the captive bound against the tree saw it all. “Ha’´dĕgaiiwio‘!” he exclaimed as the last sleeper was struck and then turning to the terrified man bound to the tree he said “Iīs newa, now you!” He lifted his tomahawk but paused as he was about to strike then lifting it again let it fall with a blow the shook the tree. But it had not touched the man, the blow was not aimed at him, but instead it cut the thongs and set the captive free. “Now go with all your speed and tell your tribe not to send war parties against us again for we have strong medicine and cannot be harmed.” The captive thought so.

That night as the son sat at the fire in the lodge with his father stretching the scalps on hoops he told the story of his great race but not in a boastful way. His great deeds had made it necessary for him to boast no longer, for if he should men would laugh and say, “Hoh, you did better than that once!” So never after did he boast but took a good woman who had asked him to marry her.

In after years he told the story of the race again, that the tribe might not forget it, but his grandchildren were unbelieving. “Show us the spot and the bones and then we will glory in our grandfather,” they said laughing. So, undaunted, the old man whose name was changed to Nia’´gwahēgowa, (Mighty Magical Bear), in recognition of his great race, took his grandchildren on the journey and showed them the place where the beast had fallen. They dug into the soft soil and found the huge bones and the jaw where he had broken out the tusk.

The Indian story teller adds: “White man find bones right where the Nia’´gwahē fell long after, to this day. Put them in big musees, so story real true I guess!”

59. THE BOY AND THE NIA’´GWAHE.

The Five Nations had waged a war with the Snake People who lived in caves (the Cherokee). The Five Nations became exhausted. Both began to see that the cause was not worth such a loss of life, and so a treaty of peace was made. Each party promised to send warriors, women and families to settle with the other, and thus, by mutual adoptions and inter-marriage weave a bond of friendship.

The day arrived for the mutual emigrations, and patiently the Five Nations awaited the coming of their visitors, but none came, nor could news be obtained of their own party. A messenger was dispatched but he never returned. More were sent but, likewise, they never came back to report. At last the chiefs called a council to devise means to get to the land of their former enemies and learn how the party and the messengers had fared. A new messenger was chosen from the bravest of the warriors and a short distance behind a watcher followed. For two days all was well, but on the third the watcher looking ahead on the trail saw the messenger crawling laboriously along. Running toward him he found him wounded, stripped of all clothing and bleeding from tusk wounds and heavy bruises.

Niā’´gwahē!” whispered the man hoarsely, and fell dead.

The runner dashed down the trail crying, “Gowĕ´! Gowĕ´!”

A council was hastily called and the fate of the messenger discussed.

“Agē! So it is Niā’´gwahē who has been destroying our people and not our allies,” said the chief. “Truly now, some one must be found who is able and willing to destroy the evil. A brave one must he be for he will battle with the most powerful of all beast magic. He who grasps this white wampum belt shall be the chosen man and he shall have the belt ‘on his body’.”

The chief circled the council, holding the belt before every man but no one moved or lifted a hand.

“What!” said the chief, “are real men cowards! Has no one a heart and mind and arm strong enough to take this belt!”

Standing in the doorway of the council house was a boy, awkward in figure and uneven of feature. His parents were dead and his home was with his grandparents. He was accounted of a lowly family and as of foolish mind. The chief wished to make a laugh to break the seriousness of the situation and so called out, “Why not try Tedo‘!” The chief did not smile although the entire assembly laughed, but holding the beautiful belt out to the boy said, “Are you Oñgwĕhoweh?”

The boy grasped the belt and threw it over his shoulder.

“Do you know what you have done?” asked the chief solemnly.

The boy nodded his head and clasping the wampum ran from the council to his grandmother’s lodge.

“Oh grandmother!” he cried, “I have taken the belt to kill the nīa’´gwahē, he who blocks trail to our new ‘friend’.”

“What, you!” exclaimed the grandmother. “Why you are nothing but a ragged simpleton!”

“Well hurry then, and prepare my owĭs´hä,” said the boy, “for I am to kill nīa’´gwahē and need food for my journey.”

The old woman pounded the parched corn and mixed it with maple sugar.

“Now be off,” she said, “you and your dog!”

The boy started down the path talking to his dog. “I will not yield, I will demand yielding,” he said. “I will not be pursued, I will pursue, I will not see failure, I will succeed.”

For two days he journeyed down the trail that led to the allies’ country. At dawn on the third day there was a wild trampling in the forest and from the thicket rushed the nī’´gwahē. The dog rushed forward with a yelp but the great beast merely opened his jaws and drew in a breath and with it the dog flew down his throat.

Picking up a stump, the boy dashed forward, yelling, “I am after you, you cannot escape me!”

Now it happens that these words are the very ones used by a nīa’´gwahē when it pursues its prey, and such a charm have these words, that, as the beast repeats them, animals and men become weak and fall down as victims of the creature’s cunning. When this nīa’´gwahē heard its own cry flung back in its face, it was surprised. Its own words were turned into its own ears. Then the great beast turned and fled.

“Ha, ha!” laughed the boy, “you cannot escape me!”

All day the nīa’´gwahē fled from the boy who pursued it crying shriller and sharper, “I am after you, you cannot escape me!”

The sun began to set and the boy sat down on a log to eat his owĭs´hä with a little water, but when he opened his pouch he found his food a mass of wriggling maggots.