part I

am glad. I do not see why you should be sad; she would have devoured you if they had not killed her. Now there is nothing to harm us. Your old uncle has gone back to his own home and will not trouble us now that he has eaten your wife’s flesh.” He added: “Your children are living in this direction (pointing westward); be of good courage, and go after them. I shall return. You will continue in one direction with your dogs until you reach the boys. You need never fear to suffer such hardships again.” So saying, he went home, and when the brother looked after him he had disappeared.

The man and his dogs went toward the west. The dogs had left the children in a place near a village where an old woman lived with her granddaughter. While the young girl was in the woods gathering fuel she heard the sound of voices. On listening, as the wind came directly to her, she discovered that they were human voices, and thought, “I will ask grandmother what to do.” When she reached home with her wood she told the old woman that she had heard children crying and asked her to go to the woods to hear for herself. The old woman asked: “In what direction were the voices? It is a pleasure to know that there are children yet alive; they must be for us.” They went to the place. “Now listen!” said the girl. “True,” said the grandmother. “Look everywhere and find these children; they may be sent to us, as we are alone.” The girl followed the sound, which she could hear distinctly as coming from the ground. She kept on until she found the two children, seemingly a year old, one slightly larger than the other. Going up to them she told them to stop crying; that she would be their mother. As she stood there talking her grandmother came, who pitied the children; she found that they were clothed with skins. The grandmother said: “Now stop crying. You shall be our children. I will be your grandmother and my granddaughter will be your mother.” The girl added: “All we have shall be yours. I will love you as a mother.” The boys stopped crying. Each had his little bow and arrows and ball club. The children went home with the women. The old woman said: “We will take care of these children. There are many people in the village, but not a child among them all. I lived here a long time, but have never seen a little child.” The children soon seemed larger and sometimes would go to hunt birds. They were never gone long at a time, and never went out of sight of the lodge. “Grandmother,” called one of the boys one day, “come and see what we have killed; it is all spotted and lies yonder in the weeds.” “Where is it? Where is it?” she asked. The boys led the way, but she could hardly keep in sight of them, as the weeds were tall. On reaching the spot she found a fawn, a few hours old, which they had killed. She carried it home, saying to herself: “I am thankful to have these children; they will be great hunters in time; their game is getting larger. First they kill birds, now a fawn.” When they did not feel like hunting they would play out near the lodge and then go in and sit down.

One day one of the boys said, “Our father is coming.” The other said, “I hardly think our father is alive.” The old grandmother overhearing this, told the boys to go out and shoot birds, for she wanted some to roast and eat. The next day while the children were out a man came into the lodge. The invisible brother had told him where he would find his children, and that he must say when he came to the old woman’s lodge, “Grandmother, I am thankful to see you,” and to the girl, “Sister, I am very glad to see you.” As he went in he saw the old woman and saluted her as grandmother; to the girl he said, “Sister.” One of the boys outside said, “Our father has come.” The other replied: “I do not believe this is he, for our father had two dogs. There are no dogs with this man.” As the boy was bound to know, raising the doorflap slightly, he saw his father sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Noticing a red spot on his jaw, the boy said further: “Look for yourself; see, he has a mark on his face; it is really he. Let us go and see which way he came; we can tell his trail, and we will follow it and see whether we can find the dogs.”

They had gone but a short distance when they found that the dogs had gone in another direction, whereupon one of the boys said: “Let us follow their tracks; father loves those dogs; let us find them.” In the evening they found one dog sitting on a fallen tree. The larger boy said: “There sits one of the dogs.” “Let us go and see if it is really father’s dog,” said the other. On hearing the children’s voices the dogs were as much pleased to see them as the boys were to see the dogs. The boys now said, “Let us all go home.” The boys did not know the way, however, so the dogs took the lead. It was late at night and very dark, and the people at home were frightened and very anxious about the children, not knowing where to look for them. When the boys came back, the grandmother asked: “Why were you gone so long? Why did you frighten us so?” “We were looking for our father’s dogs,” said they. Thereupon they went into the lodge, the dogs following. The man was lying down, so all went to sleep. All were now together again.

The young woman was the man’s own sister and the grandmother was his grandmother. They all lived very happily together. And this is the story.

58. DOONONGAES [135] AND TSODIQGWADON

Doonongaes, who lived at one end of Ganyodaes,[136] or Long Lake, had such orenda (magic power) that no one in that region could influence or control him. He claimed the lake and all that lived in its waters.

Doonongaes had a servant, Skahnowa,[137] who lived at the other end of Ganyodaes, which was so long that one end of it could not be seen from the other. Skahnowa’s work was to patrol the lake and keep off intruders. One morning early he jumped up, saying, “I must be on my rounds, for if I do not I shall be punished.” So he hurried along the shore; soon he saw some one with a pole, evidently fishing. Skahnowa approached and, seeing him eating a fish, he asked, “What are you doing here?” “Oh! there is a great deal of fungus138 growing on the hickory trees here,” replied the intruder. “If you are getting fungus from the trees, why do you go to the water?” asked Skahnowa. “You see,” said the man, who was Djidjogwen,139 “the fungus is sandy and I go to the lake to wash it.” “Well,” said Skahnowa: “I think you have stolen something, and you better give up one of your own people as a gift in payment140 for what you have taken. The owner of this lake will come soon and he will settle with you. I am going on.” Djidjogwen stood on the bank and kept thinking: “Can this be true? It is very strange if it be true that one person owns this lake.” Going to his master, Skahnowa said: “I have news for you. There is a man yonder at Dediosteniagon141 who is getting fish out of the water very fast.” “I will stop him. I like to amuse myself in this way,” said Doonongaes, who got his kettle ready at once and, taking his club, started for the place.

Skahnowa continued his journey around the lake. When Doonongaes came in sight of Dediosteniagon, looking around carefully, he saw a man [142] some distance off. “Oh! that is the one,” thought he, and diving under the water he came out right in front of Djidjogwen, who had pulled out a great fish a moment before. “What are you doing?” asked Doonongaes. “What business have you to meddle with my game animals?” “Oh! you are mistaken. I am not meddling with them. I am merely eating the fungus143 that grows around here,” replied Djidjogwen. “Then how came that fish here?” asked Doonongaes. “As I stood here a small bird flew along above the water, and a fish, leaping up to catch the bird, perhaps, jumped out here on the shore,” said Djidjogwen. “Oh! that is not true; I will punish you,” snapped Doonongaes. Djidjogwen started to run. Doonongaes followed and, striking him on the head with his club, killed him, remarking, “That is the way I treat intruders on Ganyodaes.” He then threw the body of the dead man over his shoulder and, after reaching home, cooked his flesh. When the flesh was cool he ate the meat, which he enjoyed much, and thanked Skahnowa for what he had done.

One morning Doonongaes said to his servant: “I am going on a long journey, and I want you to be faithful in the performance of your duty. If you find a trespasser, kill and eat him.” “Very well,” replied Skahnowa, “it shall be done as you say.”

Doonongaes went westward, traveling day and night for a month. He traveled till he came to a broad opening.[144] In the middle of the opening he saw a lodge, which he could not reach without being seen. “Very well,” thought he, “I will go underground.” He went into the ground, and going forward until he thought he was at the right place he came out. Peeping through a crack in the lodge wall, he heard singing, and saw that there were two very old women inside. The words of the song were, Onen waongiʹons ne ganio.145 “That does not sound well,” thought Doonongaes; “I may get killed here. I will see whether I can not steal this lodge.” So he pushed his horns under the lodge; then lifting it on his head, he rushed away, carrying it on his horns. He came very soon to the edge of the woods and ran into it. Finally he heard a noise in the lodge. “Well,” said a voice, “it seems to me that there is a terrible wind blowing.” (He went at such speed as to give the impression of wind blowing past the lodge.) The other woman said: “You must do all you can to stop it. Let us stand, you in one corner and I in the other and sing our wind song.” Taking their places, they said: “We beg you who have care of us to stop this wind. Our lodge is so small that we are afraid it will blow away.” Then they sang Gaintho, Gaintho.146 One of them, seeing the lodge moving, called out, “Hwu,147 our lodge is moving.” “Well,” said the other, “maybe Doonongaes has come; he always troubles poor people; hurry up, go out and see.” So she went out through the smoke-hole, and, looking around, saw that they were far out in the dense woods. On taking an observation to see whither the wind was going, she saw a long black body moving, and she saw that their lodge was on it. Going in, she said, “As I looked down the wind I saw a very black thing, which was so long that I could not see the end of it.” “It is just as I said to you,” said the other woman; “this is Doonongaes, who is making sport of us. Now, do your best to punish him.”

These two old women, who were Gwidogwido [148] people, and sisters, were possessed of such very powerful orenda (magic power) that it was hard to conquer them by sorcery. Taking their clubs, therefore, they went out of the smoke-hole. Then the elder of the two said: “Go to the end of his tail; something is sticking out there. Strike it, and I will try to cut its head off.” While the younger sister went to the tail, the elder went to the neck joint. The younger sister, seeing objects which resembled fins sticking out, began to pound these; soon she saw that she was driving them in. “What shall I do,” thought she; “my sister said these things would crumble to pieces.” She kept on pounding, however, until she saw that something like milk began to come out. She stopped striking them, whereupon the milklike fluid turned into foam and came out stronger and stronger. At last, becoming frightened, she ran to her sister, whom she found lying down, doing nothing. She said, “Oh! my sister, what is the matter?” “Oh!” said the elder, “I can not do anything; he has overpowered me by his orenda (magic power); do the best you can.” The younger, driving their flint knife into the neck joint, began to hammer it; finally the knife went out of sight. Then she asked her sister, “What shall we do now?” “Our only safety is to run away,” was the answer. The younger sister, going down the smoke-hole, got a narrow strip of the skin of Djainosgowa. This was the container of their magic power, or fetish. Coming back to her sister, she said, “Now I am ready.” The elder answered: “Take hold of one end of the skin and I will take the other. Then let us run to the end of Doonongaes’ tail, where we will jump off and get away as fast as we can.” It was a good while before they came to the end of the tail. Then jumping off, they hurried along, not on the straight trail but somewhat to one side of it.

Doonongaes, who was running all this time with great speed, said at last, “I do not hear anyone talking.” Then his neck began to feel tired, and he said, “This lodge wearies me,” and jerking his head, off went the lodge, falling some distance away. On going up to it he found it empty. “Very well. We shall soon see about this,” thought he: “No one has ever been able to get away from me. I will put these two out of the way.” Thereupon he ran back as fast as he could, saying, “When could they have escaped? Oh! my neck is sore.” As he went he snuffed the air to find the women. Halting and looking around he saw tracks where they had jumped from his tail, for the earth was torn up. “Ha, ha! you think you are going to escape me,” he said, starting with lightning speed on their track. He ran until night. Toward morning he said: “The pain in my neck is increasing. I wonder if I should better go back. No; I can not give up this chase. I have always thought I could allow no one to overpower me, so I will keep on.” At midday he came to the end of the women’s trail, and could track them no farther. Now, he thought, “What shall I do, for I am determined to put them out of the world?”

Standing up, he became taller and taller until at last he stood on the tip of his tail with his head high in the air. He saw a smoke far off on one side, so he came down and shot off in that direction, reaching the place in a few moments. Halting by the lodge, he thought: “I hear some one inside. Very likely magically powerful people live here.” On peeping in, he saw a very old man sitting down smoking, with his head bowed. Doonongaes watched him for some time; at last the old man, looking up, said: “Hwu, my nephew has come! Well, nephew come in. Why do you stand outside?” “This is my uncle’s lodge; it seems he knows me,” thought Doonongaes; so he went in. “Well, nephew,” said the old man, “I am glad to see you. I have been expecting you for a long time.” “Well, I have come. What do you want?” said Doonongaes. “Oh! you and I will fight against each other,” replied the old man. “That suits me exactly,” answered Doonongaes; “it is the very game I amuse myself with.” “We will wait until noon tomorrow, when the fight will begin; you can stay here with me until then,” said the old man. This old man was the grandfather of the two women who were trying to escape. His name was Gwidogwido. The next day the old man said, “Now, let us go.” They went through the woods until they came to an opening, whereupon the old man said, “Here is where I always fight.” Seeing the ground was covered with bones, Doonongaes became greatly frightened and asked, “Is there not some way to annul our pact, for I want to continue my journey?” “No,” replied the old man, “we have agreed to it.” “What would happen if I should refuse to play?” said Doonongaes. “Well, if you do not want to fight, give yourself up to me, and I will do what I like with you,” answered the old man. “If I do that I suppose you will kill me; so we may as well fight,” replied Doonongaes.

Thereupon the fight began. Doonongaes had a basswood club, while the old man had a mallet. As they fought they moved around the opening until they came to the farther end, striking at each other all the time. At the end of the clearing they began to tear up trees, which they hurled at one another. They opened a broad road through the forest, uprooting the trees as they fought. They advanced until they came to another clearing, at the farther end of which they saw a village. Doonongaes now got another basswood club, for they had thrown away their weapons when they began to hurl trees. The old man had to defend himself with his hands and arms until they reached the village. There he picked up a lodge, which he threw at Doonongaes, whereupon Doonongaes threw another lodge at the old man. Thus they continued throwing lodges as they went along, until a great cry was raised by the people as they saw their lodges smashed on the heads of the combatants, and so all attacked the two men.

The people of the village were Djihonsdonqgwen [149] people, who were great fighters. They determined to punish the two men, so with their flint knives they killed the old man Gwidogwido, but Doonongaes ran out of sight, shouting, “I have always said that nobody could conquer me.” He added: “It seems to me that there is something in my neck. Can it be that a limb fell on it, and a splinter stuck into my neck?”

Doonongaes went on until he came to a new lodge. “Perhaps,” thought he, “another uncle of mine lives here. I will have a look.” Peeping through a crack, he saw two little boys playing with a man’s head, and heads all around the lodge with flesh on them. He wondered where the boys got these for they were too small to go out to hunt. “Perhaps they will be able to cut my head off,” thought he, running away. A few moments later one of the boys said to the other, “Did not you think some game came to the lodge just now?” “Yes,” replied the other. “Well, let us hurry out; we will soon bring it back,” said the other. Taking their knives, they ran out and around the lodge. Seeing the trail, they ran along it until they were at Doonongaes’s heels. When he turned and saw the two boys behind him, each with an uplifted knife ready to strike, he seized the first boy and threw his knife away. Then he did the same with the other boy, and putting a boy under each arm, he hurried on. As he went along, he saw a high precipice, whereupon he said, “Perhaps I had better throw these boys over, for they annoy me.” After throwing them over the precipice, he walked on. Presently he heard “Tcu! Tcu! that man walking over there falls (is about to fall).” Doonongaes turned around to see where the voice came from, with the remark, “This sounds as though they meant me.” He stood looking around; soon he heard some one laughing, and saw a man high up on the cliff. “It is absurd that he should make sport of me,” said Doonongaes; “I will punish him.” Doonongaes hurried toward the man, who was ahead. When he came to the spot where he thought the man was, he could not find him, and could see no one. Soon he saw far ahead the man peep from behind a tree, then dart back and peep out again. Doonongaes ran to the tree, and going around it, said, “Now, I will punish you, you scoundrel”; but he found no one there. He looked everywhere. At last he saw another tree far ahead with the man peeping from behind it. He hurried to the place, saying as he ran after the man around the tree, “I have caught you”; but when he got around, he could see no one. “This is provoking,” said Doonongaes, “he is making sport of me; I must punish him without fail.”

Doonongaes sat down under the tree to rest from the chase and closed his eyes; in a little while he was sound asleep. The man came back and, seeing Doonongaes asleep, said, “I thought this man said he was going to beat me.” As he stood looking at Doonongaes he resolved to kill him. Taking out a flint knife he cut his throat. At first foam came from the cut but no blood; then it seemed as if Doonongaes blew a great breath, whereupon out came the blood streaming in every direction. Then Doonongaes died. “I did not have much trouble,” thought the murderer, who was one of the Djoñiaik [150] people, “though he called himself powerful”; and sitting on the tree above the body he continued to laugh.

When Doonongaes was killed his blood ran down the precipice. The people who lived in the ravine below said they saw it. “This looks like the blood of our people, like the blood of our great chief.” They all gathered at the place where the blood was coming, and one of the tallest men said, “I will try to look over.” He stretched himself up, but could see nothing except the bare cliff. Then another man got on his shoulders, a third on the shoulder of the second, another and another doing likewise until in this way they reached the top. Djoñiaik saw men coming, and noticing that they were the same kind of people as Doonongaes, he said, “They are so many I will run away.” So, slipping down from the tree, he was off.

The men looked around—there lay the great chief of their people. One of them, who became chief for the time, said: “Every one of us must do his best (in the exercise of orenda). We will try to make him alive again. Let two of you build a very large fire and two of you go to the end of a lake for a thing that has been of great aid to our people—the white pebble. Go quickly; and two more go to Doonongaes’s lodge at the end of Ganyodaes, to get his fisher-skin pouch and bring it here; and two of you go to the end of the earth and notify our grandfather, who lives there. Tell him what has happened and find out what he thinks about it. Let two go to the place where the rocks are the highest in the world, for in that place lives a man who is master of the thing that has the greatest power in the world. Let two get on the trail of the man who killed our chief, Doonongaes; when they overtake him, let them kill him if necessary, but if not let them bring him here and we will do what we like with him.” In a short time the two appointed to make a fire had an enormous one burning. The two sent for the white pebble reached a lake surrounded by a hemlock forest that seemed to grow on rocks without any earth. On looking around, the two men saw many stones of the kind for which they were sent. Having picked up the right one, they went back immediately, saying on their return, “We have brought what we were sent for.” The new chief thanked them. Now all the people waited.

The two men sent to Doonongaes’s lodge reached the lake, and as they went along the bank, one of them said: “I am getting hungry. Let us have some fish.” “Very well, we will catch some,” replied the other. Soon they had a number of fish, and sitting down on the bank, they began to eat them raw. Skahnowa saw these men eating fish, so he came near and asked: “What are you doing? You are stealing my fish.” “Oh, no!” replied the men; “this lake does not belong to you.” “Well, to whom does it belong?” asked Skahnowa. “It belongs to the Controlling Power,” was the reply. “No, the man who owns this lake has ordered me to watch it,” said Skahnowa. “What is his name?” he was asked. “His name is Doonongaes,” he replied. “Well,” said the two men, “Doonongaes was killed some time ago.” “Are you sure of that,” asked Skahnowa. “Yes; we have just come from the spot where his body is,” they said. “Where is that?” asked Skahnowa. “At Broken Land, where the laughing man lives. You know where that is,” they said. “Oh, yes,” answered Skahnowa; “I will go and see. If he is dead, I suppose I shall get possession of this lake and own it myself.” “Take the trail we came on,” said the men. Then they went their way, while Skahnowa took the trail along which they had come.

The two men searched Doonongaes’s lodge, but for a long time they could find nothing. At last they found in the smoke hole the pouch they wanted. They took it out with them, and running very fast, they overtook Skahnowa when he was almost at Broken Land. The three went on together and in time came to the place where Doonongaes lay. Skahnowa, looking at the remains, said, “It is true that he is dead, and yet he thought no man could kill him, so greatly did he esteem himself.” The two men delivered the pouch, and then sat down, waiting for the others to come.

The two men who went to their grandfather arrived at the place they thought was the end of the earth, whereupon one of them said: “We are here. Now how are we to find where our grandfather lives?” The other answered, “I wonder if this is really the place?” They went along the edge of the water, which was only a small lake, not the end of the earth. Keeping on, at length they went around the lake. Seeing their own tracks ahead, they said: “The other two men have passed here. Let us go this way.” After going around again, they said: “Two more men have come up. Now let us hurry and overtake them.” The two had not gone far when one of them fell down with a great cry, saying: “I can not go any farther. There is something in my foot. You finish the journey alone. On the way back you can stop for me.” “Very well,” said the other. On running around the lake still again, he said, “There are six men running; now I will do the best I can. Why! there is a man sitting ahead on the bank. Well, I thought I would overtake those people soon.” The man who was sitting down, on turning to see who was running up, saw his friend. The runner said to himself, “Why, it looks like my friend who hurt his foot.” On coming to him, he asked, “What are you doing here?” “I am resting; my foot is nearly well now, and I will start at once. Did you go around and come back?” he asked. “Oh, no! I was on the trail all the time,” came the reply. They set out together. One said: “This must be a small lake. When we come to the other end we will go on in a straight line.”

They now watched the sun, and when it was at the other end of the lake, they took their course from it, and then traveled a long time straight ahead. Again they reached the limit of the land. Once more they said: “It seems that we have come to the end of the earth. Let us look for our grandfather’s lodge.” They saw an opening or clearing, and on the farther side smoke arising. They found a lodge there, and on looking in saw an old man, at which they said one to the other, “I wonder whether that is our grandfather.” While they were looking, the old man, straightening himself up, called out: “Come in, grandsons. Why do you stay outside?” They looked at each other, saying, “How did he see us, for his back is toward us?” Going around the lodge, they entered. The old man said, “You have a message, otherwise you would not have come; but let me get my pipe first.” [151] Taking his pipe and beginning to smoke, he said, “Now I am ready.” “Well,” said the two men, “our people are assembled in an important condoling council, and they said to us: ‘Go to our grandfather; tell him that our chief has fallen and that we want to make him alive again.’” “Very well,” replied the old man, who was one of the Ganos (Spring-frog people); “you have come on a very important errand and I will give you something that will be of great use to you, in fact the only thing that can bring your chief to life again.” Going into a hole in the ground, the old man returned with a white flint in the form of a canoe, about as long as a finger. In one end of this white flint canoe was some black paint and in the other end was a powder—a medicine of some mysterious kind. The old man said: “When you go to use what I give you now, color your faces with this paint, then paint your dead chief’s face with it also; and after that, put this powder on the edges of the wound and wash his face with cold water. Then blow on him and he shall come to life. When he opens his eyes, put this powder into water and give it to him to drink.” Hurrying off in the boat, they arrived at Broken Land without delay. They said: “We were hindered by the lake.152 We kept going around it.” The new chief replied, “People seldom get away from that lake, which is called Ganigonhadontha Ganiodae152 (the delirium-making lake); it puts men out of their minds.”

The people now waited for the next two men. Those two went ahead till they came to an opening lengthwise in the trail. On looking around, they could see people sitting here and there. One of the men said: “I wonder what they are doing. Are they watching and guarding the opening? We must pass.” They passed by unharmed and traveled till night, when they came to a hollow tree lying on the ground. They crawled into this and had been there only a short time when some one rapped and said, “Well, are you here for the night?” One answered, “Yes; we are.” “What would you do if the Ganiagwaihegowa should come?” was asked them. “Oh! we should like it; we should play tag and have a good time,” they replied. Soon they heard a voice saying: “Come out as quickly as you can. I have come to help you, for this is a very dangerous spot. The magic power (orenda) of the man you are looking for extends to this place, and he has a great many other places under his control. You must follow me, or you will not live through the night.” They went with the owner of the voice, seeming to rise in the air as they journeyed. After a while the guide said, “Stop here and see what would have happened to you if you had stayed in the tree.” As they looked back, they saw Ganiagwaihegowa [153] tear the tree into bits, which flew around in every direction. Ganiagwaihegowa looked for the men, saying: “He who notified me said that two men were here. He always disappoints me, but if he does this once more, I will cut his head off.” Then Ganiagwaihegowa went away. The guide said, “Ganiagwaihegowa has gone home, and you are now safe.”

They spent the night in another hollow tree. The next morning they hurried on and at midday came to the place where the rocks were high—the highest rocks in the whole world—on the summit of which lived the old man. As they stood at the foot and looked up, they said, “How is it possible to get up where that old man lives?” but they went. They searched until they found a ledge that seemed to ascend in a spiral; this they began to climb, one ahead of the other. Sometimes they slipped, almost falling off. At length the man ahead slipped on a round stone, and over he went, striking on the rocks as he fell and going down out of sight. “Well,” thought the other man, “my friend is dead;” thereupon he kicked the round stone from the ledge. In falling it struck the fallen man, who was just regaining consciousness, on the top of his head, killing him.

The man above went on until he reached the top of the rocks. At the lodge of the old man, whose name was Hasʻhonyot (i.e., “his back is turned”), of the Odjieqdah [154] (Crayfish or Lobster) people, he stood a while, thinking, “this man is at home, I suppose.” Looking down among the rocks, he said, “See where I would fall if he were to kill me.” Peeping into the lodge, he said: “Sure enough, he is at home; he is looking toward me and must have been looking at me ever since I came up. I wonder where that thing is for which I have come. I wonder whether that is it hanging up there. How shall I manage to get inside? Perhaps I would better turn the lodge over and let it fall among the rocks.” He overturned the lodge—down it went over the precipice, whereupon he thought: “What will happen when it strikes? I will go and see. I have overturned the lodge of the most magically powerful person in the world, and did not have much trouble in doing so.” When the man got halfway down he slipped. The farther he fell the faster he went. At last, slipping over the edge of the rocks, he fell till he struck on the topmost limbs of a great hickory tree; the limbs threw him upward, so that he landed on a ledge on the side of the precipice. Not knowing how to get down, he said: “I must die anyhow. I may as well jump.” So jumping off, he came down the same hickory tree, to the branches of which he clung; then he slipped to the ground, where he found his friend’s body with the skull crushed. “I think it was I who killed him by kicking off that round stone,” he said; “well, I could not help it.”

The old man’s lodge stood all right on level land. He peeped into it—there sat the old man. “This is dismal. I will burn the lodge,” said he; so he piled up sticks until he had it covered, whereupon he set fire to it. After the fire was well started, the old man said: “It is getting rather hot here. I wonder what is the matter. Perhaps Sʻhodieonskon [155] is playing tricks with me. It seems there is fire; it feels like that. I wonder whether he is burning my lodge?” After a while, hearing the noise of burning timbers, he was sure that there was fire. “Very well,” said he; “if that is the case, I will call on Hasdeaundyetʻha.”156 Then, taking native Indian tobacco out of a basket made of corn husks, he began to burn the tobacco and to call on Hasdeaundyetʻha, saying, “I ask you to make it rain so hard that the rain shall put out every spark of fire around my lodge.” The moment he finished speaking rain began to fall. It rained so hard that the man outside had to run for safety. In a few moments the sky cleared off, the fire was out, and no traces of rain were left.

“I wonder how things are where I set the fire,” thought the messenger. On returning to the place he found everything quiet—no fire; all in order. “Pshaw! what can I do?” said he; “I might take the lodge along, as it is not very heavy.” Picking it up and putting it on top of his head, he started for Broken Land. Traveling with great speed, he soon came near to his destination; but before coming in sight of it, taking the lodge off his head, he said, “I will leave it here and let the new chief say what shall be done with it.” After setting it down, he went to Broken Land. “You have come, but where is your companion?” asked the chief. “He fell from the rocks and was killed,” he replied. “Did you bring what you went for?” he was asked. “Yes,” he answered. “Where is it?” was the next question. “Not far from here, and I want you to say what shall be done with it.” The chief replied, “Well, let us all go there.” Thereupon all went to the spot where Hasʻhonyot’s lodge was left. The chief said, “You stay outside while I go into the lodge.” When inside he looked at the old man, who sat there smoking with his head down. The chief thought “He is a very magically powerful man; he could kill me in a moment if he liked;” then he said, “My friend, I have come to your lodge.” The old man kept on smoking, not seeming to hear. The chief called again louder, when the old man said, “It seems as though someone is talking.” Then scooping the matter out of one of his eyes with half of a clamshell, he threw it away; then he cleaned the other eye in the same way. Having done this, he looked up, and, seeing the man, said: “What are you standing there for? Go out! I do not want you in my lodge. I live on the top of these rocks so as to be alone,” said the old man. “I came out here,” answered the other, “in a friendly way. Come out, look around, and see where you live.” On going out and looking around, Hasʻhonyot saw that he was in a level country and that many people lived about him, and he wondered how he got there. “Did I bring it,” thought he, “from where the wind blows, or not? I wonder whether my lodge was moving when my head was moving and bumping here and there.” “Well,” he finally said to the chief, “what do you want?” “I came,” replied the chief, “to see whether you would lend us that thing which has so great and wonderful magic power?” “What do you want it for?” the old man asked. “Our chief has been overpowered and killed. We want to bring him to life,” said the chief. “I can bring him to life,” said Hasʻhonyot, “in a very short time.” “How shall we pay you?” the chief asked. “Find two of your best-looking women and send them to me. I ask no more,” he replied. “I will talk with my friends,” answered the chief.

Thereupon the chief went out and told his people what the old man said. They talked together a good while, saying: “The most beautiful women are married; how can they be given away? Perhaps we should never see them again?” At last the people said: “Let them go. If their husbands are angry, we will settle with them.” They told the women that the old man would have control of them thenceforth. The women said: “We all want to have the chief come back to life. We must consent. Perhaps it will turn out to be all right.” The chief went back to Hasʻhonyot and said: “All is settled. The women are willing.” “Bring them here, then,” said the old man. The women were brought to him. Now Hasʻhonyot had five bloodsuckers as attendants, and he said to them: “Tie these women. Do not let them go farther away than your own length.” The old man carried these bloodsuckers under his tail. They fastened on the women at once, but still held to Hasʻhonyot’s back. “All right now,” said Hasʻhonyot; “your chief will be alive tomorrow, but in the meanwhile I do not want any of your people around here.” The people dispersed, but stayed around at a safe distance to see whether the chief would come to life. During the night the old man went to the spot where the body of Doonongaes lay, and as the women were tied to him, they had to accompany him. He said, “There is no need of bringing this terrible-looking man to life.” Nevertheless he went to work, cleaning and washing the wound and putting upon it a certain weed pounded soft. Then reaching down for water, he poured it on the mouth of the corpse (there was no water near by, and the women never knew where he got it); then he blew into Doonongaes’s mouth and talked to him (the women could not understand what he said). Having done this, he built a small fire and told one of the women to run to the lodge and get what was under his couch. As she ran along the bloodsucker stretched out, but as soon as she picked up the bark basket of tobacco and started back, the bloodsucker began to contract. Hasʻhonyot took the tobacco and burned it, saying, “I burn this to you, the Complete Power,[157] and ask you to bring this man to life.” Then he sang, “Onen dondaʹwe né diiohegoⁿ (what keeps alive is coming back here).” When he had finished singing he sat a good while watching. Doonongaes did not come to life then. The old man sent the woman again for tobacco, which he burned, repeating the same words. Then he sang, Onen sagaion ne honhehgon, da onen denshadat hehioendjade.158 When he had finished singing he blew into the mouth of the dead man,159 who thereupon came to life. “You are well now,” said the old man. Doonongaes did not speak. Again the old man said, “You are well now.” Then Doonongaes answered, “I believe I am well.” Hasʻhonyot said: “I will go home. You stay here until your people come in the morning.” Hasʻhonyot went home, and the women went to bed with him.

The next morning the people came to Doonongaes and found him alive. They were very glad. “How did you bring me back to life?” he asked. “We sent a man to Hasʻhonyot’s lodge and he brought back the lodge and the old man, who promised to restore you to life if we would give him the two most beautiful women of our people. Therefore we gave them to him.” “That was not right,” said Doonongaes; “I will kill that old man.” The people said: “Do what you like. You are alive now, and we will go home.”

Going to the old man’s lodge, Doonongaes cried out, “Hallo, old man! what are you going to do with these women—keep them for life?” “Of course I will; they are mine now,” Hasʻhonyot replied. “I wish you would let them go,” said Doonongaes; “why should you keep them?” “I got them as pay for bringing you to life,” was the answer. “No matter; you must give them up,” replied Doonongaes. “Oh, no,” replied Hasʻhonyot. “You must,” said Doonongaes. “Well, then you must get out of my lodge,” retorted the old man. “No, I will not go until you free the women,” answered Doonongaes. Hasʻhonyot rejoined: “You must go at once; if you do not I will kill you. I did not think you would annoy me, if I brought you to life.” “Well, why did you bring me back to life?” asked Doonongaes. “Go out of here,” said Hasʻhonyot. “I will not go. I want those women,” said Doonongaes. The old man, springing up, drew his flint knife. “Now, I say you must go,” said he. Doonongaes, drawing back slightly, thought, “Pshaw! what a coward I am! I can play tricks on the old man.” Going outside, he put his horns under the lodge—up it flew in the air and then fell to the ground. (The lodge was of stone.[160]) “Very well,” said the old man, “I will kill you.” So he went out. “What are you doing?” he asked; “I think you are trying to throw my lodge over. Do you want me to cut your head off again? I can do it very easily,” he added. “All I want,” replied Doonongaes, “is that you release the women.” “I will not release them,” declared Hasʻhonyot. “You must,” said Doonongaes, and taking a reed, called owl’s arrow, he hit him on the back; the blow glanced off without hurting the old man a bit. Again Doonongaes asked, “Will you let me have the women?” “No,” exclaimed Hasʻhonyot. “Well, I am going over there a short distance. I will come back soon,” said Doonongaes.

Going into the lodge, Hasʻhonyot asked his attendants, the bloodsuckers: “What shall we do? I think he intends to kill us. Do you think he can do it?” “Yes; we think he has gone for help,” they rejoined. Doonongaes had gone to find the Djihonsdonqgwen [161] people. He came to the place in which they all lived, one great lodge—a mound lodge. Peeping in, he saw a great many people walking around. Immediately one spoke to the others, saying, “Hurry up! we have some game here.” Straightway there were great confusion and crowding and rushing to and fro. There seemed to be rooms all over this immense lodge, above and below and on every side. Entering, Doonongaes said: “Let us have peace. I came here to lead to a work which you will like; I know you will. I have come to hire you to kill a man over there.” They said to one another, “Let us get ready to go.” Their chief lived on a hill near by, but they did not notify him. Doonongaes led them to Hasʻhonyot’s lodge, saying, “I want you to kill this old man, but do not harm the women.” A great many went into the lodge, filling it, and there was a vast crowd outside. Some time passed, and then Doonongaes heard the old man scream and saw him run out. When outside the crowd around the lodge caught him. They released the women. They hurried home, accompanied by Doonongaes, who left the Djihonsdonqgwen to fight with the old man until they thought he was dead. When the women reached home they said, “We are now the wives of our great chief, Doonongaes.” “Thank you, my daughters,” said their mother; “he has saved you, and it is right that you should live with him.” So Doonongaes went to the lodge of the two women and did not return to Ganyodaes.

After a long time had passed both women had children, and he continued to live with them until one day he said, “I am going to the place where my friend, Hasʻhonyot, used to live on the high rocks.” When he reached the foot of the rocks, he saw something lying on the ground, whereupon he said, “He looks like some of our people.” It was the man who had fallen over the precipice while climbing up to Hasʻhonyot’s lodge. At last Doonongaes, having found the ledge on which the men had climbed, reached the summit where the lodge had been; there he saw the footprints of the man who had overturned it. On looking around, he could see to the end of the earth,[162] in all directions. He looked toward the west. Seeing far off a man killing people, he exclaimed, “Pshaw, that man is a fool!” Descending the cliff, he hurried to the place, where he found a great many people. To the man who was killing them, he said, “What are you doing?” “Oh! I am guarding the land under my control,” was the reply. “Yes. What is your name?” asked Doonongaes. “My name is Tsodiqgwadon,”163 was his answer. “You and I belong to the same people, then,” said Doonongaes; “we will therefore decide the matter of supremacy164 in this way: Whichever one of us has the orenda (magic power) to command the great rocks of the cliff on the south side of this village to fall, shall own this place.” Then Doonongaes said, “Let the rocks fall and fall this way.” He had barely spoken when the rocks began to fall toward him. “Only half the rocks have fallen,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Now command them to go back to their places.” It was done. Now it was the turn of Tsodiqgwadon. He said, “I command every rock of the cliff to fall,” and every stone fell with a great noise, only a mound of earth remaining where the cliff had just stood. Then Doonongaes said: “You have won. You have more orenda than I have. You are more magically powerful than I. I can do nothing more. Now, tell me what I can do to satisfy you.”165 Tsodiqgwadon said, “I want you to let women alone. Every woman living is mine.” Going home to his wives, Doonongaes said to them, “You are not mine any longer.” “Why not,” they asked; “have you sold us, or have you been beaten in a game in which you wagered us?” “No; I met a man who claimed you,” he replied. “Who is he?” they persisted. “Tsodiqgwadon!” exclaimed Doonongaes. “We do not know him; how can we be his wives?” they asked. “Well, that is what he said. I did all I could but he magically overpowered me. Now, I will go to my old home, where I shall be better off,” answered Doonongaes.

Thereupon Doonongaes went to Ganyodaes and, after seeing that all was in order, he began to cook. When he had finished he heard footsteps. A man kicked at the door, and in came his servant, Skahnowa, who said: “What are you doing in my lodge?” “How came this lodge to belong to you?” asked Doonongaes. “Get out of here!” said Skahnowa; “I do not want you.” “I wish,” said Doonongaes, “you would tell me by what right you claim this lodge.” “My master, the former owner, was killed, and I took possession of it after his death,” replied Skahnowa. “Ah! that is it. Do you not know me? I have come back,” said Doonongaes. “You Doonongaes? No; I am sure my master was killed and that his body has decayed by this time,” said Skahnowa. “No; it is I. I have come to life,” answered Doonongaes. For a time Skahnowa was silent; at last he said: “We will test this matter. Go to my lodge and bring the hind quarter of a bear.” “Very well,” replied Doonongaes, and he started, disappearing in the water of the lake. Coming out at a distance from the lodge, he killed a bear and, without having gone to Skahnowa’s lodge, brought a hind quarter. Skahnowa said: “You went quickly. Did you bring what I sent you for?” “Yes. Here it is,” replied Doonongaes. “This is fresh. All the bear meat I had home was roasted. You are not Doonongaes. Go out of this lodge,” said Skahnowa. Beginning to cry, Doonongaes went out. Skahnowa then started on his round of the lake. Doonongaes had not gone far when he said, “What a coward I am! It would be stupid of me to give up my lodge.” He went back but did not find Skahnowa there, so he took possession. The next day at noon Skahnowa returned just as Doonongaes was ready to eat. “What are you here for?” asked Skahnowa. “I told you to go away.” “Why should I give up my lodge?” asked Doonongaes. “If you do not go away, I will beat you,” said Skahnowa. They began to quarrel, and then, going outside, began to fight, moving along the lake. They fought the rest of the day and all night. The next morning Skahnowa said: “This is a hard task. It may be that he is my master. The only thing that makes me doubt it is that he did not do what I asked him to do. He did not go to my lodge.” Finally he said to Doonongaes: “Let us give up fighting.” “No,” replied Doonongaes, “let us have it out. A man has to be killed, one way or another.” “Very well,” said Skahnowa, so they fought again in good earnest. Being of equal magical strength, they fought day and night for one month.[166] Then Skahnowa said: “We would better stop fighting. I think neither of us can conquer.” “Yes,” replied Doonongaes, “it is useless to fight longer; but I want you to promise not to order me out of my own lodge again.” “Very well,” answered Skahnowa, “you may keep the lodge; the owner of it was killed long ago.” Doonongaes asked: “Do you not really know me?” “I know my master is dead,” said Skahnowa.

Doonongaes now went back to the lodge, thinking: “How can I get possession of my lake? I must manage to control it again.” The next night as he lay thinking, he fell asleep and had a dream, and in the dream a man said: “I have come to say that you have been fighting with your servant Skahnowa. We people of orenda, or magic power,[167] know immediately what is going on. All the people of magic power are stirred up now, and if you wish to live, you must go to Tsodiqgwadon. All these people fear him. You must get up and go now, for these people will be here exactly as the sun comes up in the east. Start immediately, and try to be there before daylight.” Doonongaes was astonished at his dream, but said, “I want to live, so I will go.” Starting about midnight, and going to his wives, he slept with them. Then he arose very early in the morning and journeyed on. He found Tsodiqgwadon at the same place where he had seen him killing people. He had barely sat down when a man, kicking aside the door flap, asked: “Have you seen Doonongaes?” “What do you want of him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “We want to have a trial of our orenda, or magical strength,” came the answer. “Yes; I have seen him, but it was a good while ago,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “There are fresh tracks coming here. Why do you try to hide him?” said the stranger. “I am not trying to hide him, and do you go out of my lodge,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “I want to see Doonongaes,” said the other. “Have I not said that I have not seen him? Do you understand me?” declared Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, I did not come with any evil intent,” said the other. “But why do you insist, when I tell you I have not seen him?” retorted Tsodiqgwadon. “But the tracks made by him are fresh,” was the other’s reply. “Pshaw,” said Tsodiqgwadon, “do you not know what kind of man I am?” The visitor, who was a Dagwanoenyent,168 ran out, screaming: “Oh! do not touch me. I do not want to fight.” “Well, if you do not, then go home,” said Tsodiqgwadon. The man then started for home.

This man was barely out of sight when they heard a second man coming. Kicking aside the door flap and jumping in, he inquired for Doonongaes, saying, “I will eat him should I find him.” This was Niagwaihe.[169] Tsodiqgwadon said, “I have not seen him.” “That is always the way with this man,” muttered the other; “he is always hiding bad people. How comes it otherwise that his tracks are here?” “I have not seen him. What do you come for? I do not want you in my lodge,” declared Tsodiqgwadon. “Why do you hide Doonongaes?” rejoined Niagwaihe. “I told you I have not seen him,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “His fresh trail comes in at your door,” replied the other. “Well, perhaps he came in and went off another way,” said Tsodiqgwadon. The man went out to look; then, coming back, he said, “No; it is as I told you; his trail comes in here.” “Do you want to fight him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “No; I merely came to see him,” was the reply. “If you do not go away I will kill you,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “You know what sort of person I am; the best way for you and me is to have it out.” Tsodiqgwadon then went outside, whereupon Niagwaihe screamed: “Do not beat me. I did not come with any ill feeling.” “Well, go home or I will fight you,” said Tsodiqgwadon. Niagwaihe disappeared. “Now,” said Tsodiqgwadon to Doonongaes, who was standing just behind him, “come out of your hiding place.”

They had barely sat down in the lodge when footsteps were heard again and Djainosgowa [170] rushed into the lodge, saying, “Yes; this is the man for whom I have come.” Seizing Doonongaes by the hair he pulled him out of doors. Tsodiqgwadon followed them. When outside he saw Djainosgowa walking off with Doonongaes on his shoulder. “He has taken away my friend, who came to live with me. Never mind,” said Tsodiqgwadon to himself, going back into the lodge and beginning to smoke. Then he thought: “Perhaps I would better go to help him. They may kill him.” So, following Djainosgowa’s trail, he found him sitting down talking with Doonongaes, and asking, “How did you come to think that you have orenda? Why did you want to kill your servant?” Tsodiqgwadon listened. Doonongaes answered, “Let us have peace. Why should we fight?” “No,” replied Djainosgowa; “I am going to try your strength in orenda.” Tsodiqgwadon was there, but had made himself invisible to them. All at once Tsodiqgwadon seized Doonongaes and, putting him on his back, said, “Let us go home. What is the use of being here?”

After Tsodiqgwadon had gone a few steps Djainosgowa found, on looking around, that Doonongaes had disappeared. He searched everywhere for him. At last he said, “Pshaw! I think Tsodiqgwadon took him away,” whereupon he started back. When Tsodiqgwadon reached home, he said to Doonongaes, “We will sit right down here. Djainosgowa will be back soon.” Almost immediately Djainosgowa came in and asked, “Have you seen Doonongaes?” “No; you jerked him out of my lodge. That is the last I have seen of him,” declared Tsodiqgwadon. Djainosgowa said, “I believe you are playing tricks on me. Where did you leave him?” “Why do you accuse me? Go home! I am tired of you,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “I want to see Doonongaes,” replied Djainosgowa. “Go out of here!” exclaimed Tsodiqgwadon. “I will not go until I am satisfied,” persisted the visitor. “I tell you to go. Can you not understand?” said Tsodiqgwadon, getting up and going toward Djainosgowa, who jumped out of the lodge, saying, “Oh! do not be angry. I did not come with any bad feelings.” “Go home,” replied Tsodiqgwadon, “or I will beat you.” Djainosgowa had to go, for he was conquered by superior orenda. Then Tsodiqgwadon said to Doonongaes, “What have you done to all these people that they come here after you?” “I had fought with Skahnowa, who had taken my lodge,” replied Doonongaes. “We fought for one month, and because we fought so long all the people having magic power around the world are excited; that is all.” “Let us go to your lodge,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “I should like to see your servant who is so powerful in orenda.”

Thereupon they went directly to the place. Skahnowa was on his daily rounds. “Where has he gone?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! he has gone around the lake. He will be here soon,” said Doonongaes, who began to cook. Just as they were sitting down to eat, they heard footsteps, and a man sprang into the lodge, calling out, “What are you doing in here? Go out!” “Oh! be quiet,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, what right have you in my lodge?” answered Skahnowa. “Be reasonable,” said Tsodiqgwadon. Skahnowa dropped his head; then, raising it again, he asked: “What are you doing? Are you on some errand of importance?” “We have come to see what you have been doing with your master,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “It is a great annoyance to have people come to try the strength of Doonongaes since your fight with him took place.” “Is that man there my master?” asked Skahnowa. “Yes; he is,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “How came he to be alive again?” Skahnowa asked. “That is nothing strange among us people of great magic power—persons who are possessed of potent orenda. We die and become alive again;[171] that is the way it was with Doonongaes,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Now I understand,” said Skahnowa. “I will not quarrel with him; he can have his own lodge. I will never trouble him again.” Tsodiqgwadon said to Doonongaes, “Let us go.”

So they went along the lake shore and were soon at home. The ground about was covered with tracks. Everything had been eaten; not a scrap was left. “What are you going to do now?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “The best I can do,” said Doonongaes, “is to go home with you and you can give me a couple of women to live with. Skahnowa will forget his promise and will attack me if I stay here.” “Very well; come along and I will take you to a woman,” Tsodiqgwadon said, so he brought him to a filthy, ugly-looking creature of the Hanondon [172] people. “Here is a woman—I want you to stay with her,” said Tsodiqgwadon. Doonongaes replied, “I want another.” “Well, let us go on a little farther,” declared Tsodiqgwadon. They soon came to a lodge in which was a woman of the Hawiqson(t)173 people, dirty, and so badly deformed that one of her feet was on her forehead. “Well,” said Doonongaes, “I suppose I shall have to live with these women. You are the ruler here.”

Tsodiqgwadon left him. Night came and Doonongaes hung his head, saying: “I think my friend Tsodiqgwadon has treated me badly. I will not stay with these women. I will go away.” He traveled all that night and the next day; he traveled southward 10 whole days and nights. When 10 days had passed Tsodiqgwadon went to the place where the women, Hanondon and Hawiqson(t), lived, saying, “I will see how my friend Doonongaes is getting on.” He asked the women, “Is Doonongaes at home?” “No,” they replied. “Where has he gone?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “We do not know,” said they, “he did not stay here; he went off the first night you left him.” “Pshaw! let him go,” said he, and Tsodiqgwadon went home.

At the end of 10 days Doonongaes came to a large village in which all the people wore feather headdresses. The chief of the village, Gasaisdowanen,[174] asked Doonongaes, “What did you come here for?” “To make a visit,” replied Doonongaes. “Who will take this man to his lodge?” asked the chief. “He may go with me,” called out one man, so Doonongaes lived with him. After a few days news came to the chief that the people from the far west were going to make war on him; then a challenge came. The chief asked his people to volunteer to fight the western people. In two days he had 500 volunteers, among whom was Doonongaes. They started, women going with them until the night of the first day. The next morning when the warriors went on the women returned to their homes. The warriors continued their journey until they began to see signs of danger and to hear war whoops here and there in the distance. When they stopped for the night the chief said, “Let one man be on guard all night.” Doonongaes volunteered to do this sentinel duty. He kept the fires burning and watched. About midnight he heard a great war whoop and, saying to himself, “I do not want to die,” he ran off. The western people, who were Dagwanoenyents, came to the spot where the people were asleep and killed and scalped every one of them. After getting away to a safe distance Doonongaes lay down and slept. In the morning he said, “I will go and see what has happened to my friends.” He found them all dead and scalped, whereupon he thought, “I will go to the wives of these men and take them all.”

When Doonongaes returned to the village he called the women together, and said, “I wish to tell you that your husbands are killed, and that I will marry all of you.” After talking the matter over all the women except one were finally willing to accept the proposal. Doonongaes said, “Very well; I will settle with the unwilling one.” He stayed one night at each woman’s lodge. When he came to the unwilling one he said, “If you do not marry me, I will cut your head off.” “Well,” she answered, “you will have to overpower me first.” She was a great woman; her name was Diagoisiowanens.[175] Doonongaes continued, “I am magically the most powerful man in the world,” referring to his orenda, or magic power. “Well, you must try me,” said she. Thereupon he went out, saying, “I will be ready in the afternoon,” but he never returned.

Going southward, Doonongaes traveled until evening. That night he spent in a hollow tree. He went on for eight days. The ninth night he said, “Diagoisiowanens thought she could overpower me, but I am too far off now.” He was just going to sleep when he heard someone walking on the leaves who, coming to the opening of his camp, said: “Doonongaes, are you here? What would you do if Hononeowanen [176] should come here?” “Oh! I should like it,” answered Doonongaes. The man went off, as it seemed, and soon a great noise of falling trees was heard—a terrible noise—the earth was torn up on every side. When Hononeowanen reached the tree he said, “Come out!” Turning himself into a snake,177 Doonongaes went out. When the other one saw him, he said, “Why, you are one of my people.” “Yes, I am the chief of our people, the most powerful person on earth,” was the reply of Doonongaes. “I think not,” said Hononeowanen. “Yes, I am. In the west lives a man of our kind, pretending to be the most powerful person magically in the whole world. I met and overpowered him (Doonongaes lied; he meant Tsodiqgwadon). “Well,” said Hononeowanen, “that man has more orenda than I, so if you have more orenda than he, I do not want to meddle with you, so I will go away.” So saying, he went off. Doonongaes stood a while thinking: “Why did Hononeowanen come over here? I suppose he forgot that I am second in magic power among my people. Well, I will go back to my wives, but there is no use in doing that, as Diagoisiowanens might kill me. I will go southward.”

Doonongaes then walked two nights and days without sleep, until he came to a great plain on the eastern side of which there was smoke arising. Thereupon he turned himself into a man.[178] Soon he reached a village, but he saw no one, though smoke was rising from every lodge. Entering a lodge, he found a kettle full of meat over a good fire, but there was no one at home. Going around the village, he waited. Just at noon he thought, “I would better go again and see whether anyone has come back.” He found no one. “This is very mysterious,” said he. “I will go away—perhaps this is a place of the arts of sorcery.”

Doonongaes next went westward. In the evening he saw another “opening” and smoke arising, as before. “If I do not find anyone here,” said he, “I will go back to the two women whom Tsodiqgwadon gave me.” He reached the place, where he had been but a short time when he saw coming toward him a splendid-looking man with great feathers on his head. This was Hostoyowanen,[179] the chief of the village. Doonongaes greeted him with, “Do you know the village off there in the east? Where have all the people gone?” “They are dead,” answered the man. “Niagwaihe has eaten them all. Tomorrow, perhaps, he will come here and destroy us.” “I should like to stay here a few days,” said Doonongaes. “Very well,” replied the chief, “tomorrow I will show you my village.” The next day they went all around. Doonongaes saw that the people had beautiful things—wampum, shells, and valuable skins; there were many people and lodges. After they had seen all the village, Hostoyowanen said: “Now, you must not stay any longer. I do not want you to die here. Run southward and you may be saved.” The chief went home and Doonongaes went southward. He ran fast, and when night came he slept in a hollow tree. The next morning he said, “I am going westward. I do not mind what that chief said.” Toward midday he was hungry. He said: “Oh! my neck is sore; it has been sore for a long time and feels as though something were in it. How can I cure it?” Having found a spring, he lay down to drink from it, but saw the reflection of someone in the water. “Oh! that looks like my wife, Hawiqson(t). Why is her face reflected in this water? I am far from her now. This is strange,” mused Doonongaes. Being frightened, he did not drink but, jumping up, he ran toward the south, forgetting which way he was going. He ran all night. Just at daylight he fell down from weakness. “Why,” thought he, “am I getting so heavy and weak? Is it because I am hungry?” He lay there and could not rise; he was too hungry, for he had not eaten anything for a whole year.180 He thought: “Well, there is no need of my standing up. I am a snake.” Changed from a man into a great snake, he went on, saying, “Well, I am traveling again.” At noon, coming to a village, he went into the last lodge, in which lived an old woman and her granddaughter, who were very poor. “I want to stay with you a few days,” said Doonongaes. “I have nothing to eat,” answered the old woman. “I want merely to sleep; I do not care for eating,” Doonongaes replied. “Then you may stay,” said the old woman. The next morning, before she was out of bed, Doonongaes asked, “Had you a family long ago?” “Yes,” she answered, “a long time ago I was married and had a large family, but only two are living now.” “Well,” said Doonongaes, “you must have kept a bow and arrows.” “Look around,” said the old woman to her granddaughter, “and see whether you can find a bow and arrows.” After hunting for them, at last she found a bow and arrows. Doonongaes straightened the arrows and strung the bow. Then he shot through the smoke hole, saying to the arrow, “Go for a large bear.” Soon they heard the sound of approaching footsteps and then of something falling in front of the door, at which the old woman said: “I think that man Dagadiye has come again, for he is always rushing through the village. He does not kill, but he chases our people.” Doonongaes laughed at her words. “Why do you laugh?” asked the old widow. “I laugh at what you say,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, what do you think the noise was?” she asked. “I do not know,” said Doonongaes. “Go and see.” Going to the door, she exclaimed, “Hwu! Hwu! There is a great bear here!” The old woman made a hole under the jaw of the bear and, putting her thumb into the incision, she tore off the skin. Then cutting open the body, she took out the intestines, after which she hung up the meat. Then she began to think: “Why did this bear come? Who sent it?” Finally she asked, “My grandson, can you tell me why this bear came?” Doonongaes said, laughing: “Did you not see me shoot? I told the arrow to bring a bear and the bear came.”

Doonongaes staid there all day, while the grandmother cooked. The next morning he heard a noise. A messenger came in, saying: “I have come to notify you that the daughter of our chief, Deyenegonsdasden,[181] is to be married to the man who can shoot the black eagle perched on the top of a pole that reaches to the clouds; the shooting begins at midday.” Doonongaes said, “I can marry the chief’s daughter, for I can kill any one of the eagles, even when flying high.” He straightened his arrows and strung his bow as he lay by the fire. Looking through the smoke hole, he could see the eagle on the pole.182 At midday all the people were around the pole, when the chief said, “Now, do you begin.” Doonongaes saw through the smoke-hole how the arrows flew. Each man tried twice, but none of the arrows went near the target. He watched until night, and then the chief said, “Tomorrow we will try again.” The next morning Doonongaes said, “None of these men can kill that eagle.” Stringing his bow, he shot an arrow through the smoke-hole, which he saw go straight to the eagle and pierce it. The eagle fell, while the arrow transfixing it stuck into the ground, taking root so deep that no one was able to pull it out. Every man said, “I did it.” But the chief replied, “Then take the arrow out.” Each tried but could not draw out the arrow. Now Doonongaes said to the old woman’s granddaughter:183 “Go after my arrow. Somebody may break it.” She went to the place, saying, “A man at our lodge sent me to get his arrow.” Thereupon, taking hold of it, she pulled it out easily.

“My daughter is married now,” said Deyenegonsdasden, so he sent two men for Doonongaes. They found him by the fire at the widow’s lodge. When they told him to come to the chief’s lodge, he asked, “Why does the chief send for me?” [184] “He wants you to marry his daughter, for you killed the black eagle on the top of the pole,” he was told, “Oh! I do not want any more wives. I have more than 100 now,” returned Doonongaes. They insisted, but he refused. On their return this was told to Deyenegonsdasden, who said, “Now let 8 or 10 of you go, and if he won’t come willingly, tie him and bring him here.” Going back, they said, “You must come.” “I will not,” replied Doonongaes; “I am not going there for nothing,” declared Doonongaes. “Well,” answered the men, “it is not for nothing. The chief wants you to marry his daughter.” “Is she good looking?” asked Doonongaes. “Oh, yes! she is very beautiful,” the men replied. “Well,” said Doonongaes, “it would be a shame for me to marry her; I am too nasty a man.” They tried hard to persuade him, but he would not go. Then they tried to tie him, but he hurled them away. Even after trying all day they could not bind him. When night came they said, “We might as well give up and go home.” When they went back they told the chief, “We can do nothing with him.” Then the chief said to his daughter, “You must go to him.” As her father told her that she must go, the girl went. She entered the old woman’s hut, but Doonongaes paid no attention to her. After a while she said, “I came to stay with you.” “Where do you live?” asked Doonongaes. “I live in the center185 of the village,” the girl replied. “Who is your father?” he asked. “The chief,” she said. “Oh! I will not marry you,” said Doonongaes. “Are you sure you will not marry me?” asked the girl. “Yes; I have too many wives,” he replied. “Are you married at home? Where do you live?” she inquired. The reply was: “Sixteen186 days’ journey from here I have more than a hundred wives. Farther on I have two more.” “Where did you come from?” she continued. “I think you know the place,” he said; it is called Dedyosdenhon.”187 “Yes,” he replied, “I know where that place is; it is far away, near the end of the earth. I suppose you will not go back there. It is too far, and you will marry me.” “No, I am not looking for a wife here. Such people as you are188 would not help me.” The beautiful girl began to cry. Doonongaes, looking at her, asked, “What is the matter?” Whereupon she cried harder and harder. Now Doonongaes himself began to cry. The old woman asked: “What is the matter? Why do you cry?” No answer. Then she herself began to cry. Her granddaughter, coming in and seeing that all were crying, began to get lonely and to cry, too. Now all were crying, and they cried louder and louder. Just as it became dark the chief heard the sound of crying, and sent men to find out where it was. They went through the whole village, but found no one crying. At last one said, “Let us go over to the old widow’s hut.” On nearing it they heard the sound of crying, so they returned to the chief and said, “The crying is at the lodge of the old widow, Deienensowanens.”189 Hearing this, the chief said: “My daughter is at that lodge. I must go over there.” When near, he, too, heard the sound of crying, at which his heart grew weak, and he thought to himself, “I can not go into that poor hut.” So he remained outside, and soon he also began to cry, and he cried until he forgot everything. When he came to his senses he was sitting at the side of the old widow, “Broad-Shoulders.” He did not know where he was. He was not crying, merely thinking why the others were crying. After a while he said, “Let us all be of good cheer and stop crying.” Now the old woman thought, “Who said that?” and, on looking up, she saw the chief of the village, whereupon she asked, “Why are you here? I never saw you near me before.” “I came to cheer you up,” he replied. “Very well,” said the widow, “but tell your daughter to stop crying. I thought it was the rule to cry, for when she got here she began to do so.” The chief said to his daughter: “Stop crying! It is not right for you to cry. If you do not stop, I will cut your head off.” Being afraid, she stopped. Doonongaes cried on as before until finally the old woman said, “My grandson, every one has stopped crying; so do not cry.” He paid no heed. The chief tried to stop him, but he cried the more, and continued to cry until morning. He was sitting on a block with his elbows on his knees and his head resting on the palms of his hands. In the morning his companions saw a great pile of wampum in front of him. All his tears were beautiful wampum. The chief asked: “What are those things? Are they not good for something?” “Yes,” replied Doonongaes, “if they are strung together. If a man is sad and cries, and a string of them is given to him, all will be well again.” Doonongaes had now stopped crying. The chief said, “I want you to be the chief of this place, and I will be the second, or vice, chief.” Doonongaes sat with drooping head for a while, after which, looking up, he said: “I do not want to be a chief. I am great enough now. I am known everywhere. I am second in magic power in the entire world—that is enough for me.” The chief asked, “Do you know who is first in magic power in this world?” “I do,” he replied. “Who is he?” was the next question. “Tsodiqgwadon, who lives at Dedyosdenhon,” he answered. “Very well,” said the chief, “I can say no more. I will go home, taking my daughter with me.” “Yes; go! I do not want you here,” Doonongaes added.

The chief and his daughter then returned home, whereupon Doonongaes began to laugh. The old woman asked, “Why do you laugh?” “Oh! I am laughing at the chief, for his daughter very much wants to get married.” The old woman replied, “You would better stop laughing and appoint some one to marry her instead of yourself.” “Well, grandmother, you must go and find some poor man to marry her,” said Doonongaes. “Very well, grandson. I will go to a ‘Shabby Man’ who lives on the other side of the village and speak to him about it.” When she got to the place she said to the “Shabby Man,” “I have come to have you marry?” “Who would marry me? Nobody wants me,” said the man. “Oh, yes! I can find you a wife, a beautiful one, too,” was her answer. The “Shabby Man” said, “All right,” and went home with the old woman. Doonongaes asked: “Are you the man? Do you want to marry?” “Yes. I should like to marry, if anybody would have me,” replied the man. Doonongaes said to the widow’s granddaughter, “Go to the chief and say that Doonongaes will marry his daughter now.” So she told the chief what he said. “Very well,” he answered, sending his daughter to the old woman’s hut. Doonongaes asked her, “Do you want to marry me?” “Yes; for you killed the eagle,” she replied. “Would it please you if I should appoint a man to marry you?” Doonongaes added. “Yes,” was the girl’s answer. “This is the man I appoint,” declared Doonongaes. Turning to the “Shabby Man,” the girl said, “Come, we will go home to my father’s lodge.” At this the man laughed for gladness.

Doonongaes spent a whole year with the old woman. One morning he said: “Now, I am going to the southern end of the earth. I want to know how things are there.” “Very well,” replied the grandmother. “Come in on your way back,” she said. “I will,” said Doonongaes. He left all the wampum with the old woman, for if he wanted any he had only to cry in order to get it. After traveling all day and all night, in the morning he came to a great opening in the woods. As he stood looking around the place, he saw some dark object in the west. Looking very sharply, he said: “What is that dark thing? Is some one watching?” He stood there a good while. Just at midday, seeing that the object was lying down, he thought: “What can that be? I must go there and see.” He ran thither as swiftly as he could, and on coming to a piece of smooth ground, there he found one of the Djainosgowa family. The one that had been standing up was the old man who guarded the opening; he was now lying down to sleep, for it was just midday. There were two old Djainosgowa persons and five children. Doonongaes, frightened, ran into the woods, thinking: “I must go home. I do not want these Djainos people to kill me.”

So Doonongaes ran a whole month, day and night, until he reached the lodge of Tsodiqgwadon, whom he found sitting by the fire with his head hanging down. When he looked up and saw Doonongaes he said, “Oh, my friend! are you alive?” “Yes; I have been traveling,” said Doonongaes. “Why did you leave your two wives?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! I do not think those women good enough for me; they are too ugly,” was his answer. “Why did you tell me you wanted them?” he was asked. “I did not want them. I wanted good-looking women,” he said. “Well, you can not have two beautiful women,” declared his questioner. Soon they heard a noise, at which Tsodiqgwadon said, “Sit down behind me.” A stranger, entering, asked, “Have you seen Doonongaes?” “I have not,” answered Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, I have tracked him to this lodge,” came the reply. “What of it? I have not seen him,” was the reply. “You must have hidden him,” persisted the stranger. “No; I tell you I have not seen him.” The stranger, who was Djainosgowa, and who had followed Doonongaes from the great opening, now said, “I must go home.” “You would better do so,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. As he started off, Tsodiqgwadon said to Doonongaes: “Come out here. I want you to go to the northern end of the earth and see how my father is getting on. He lives at the edge of the earth. Ask him if he will not come here. Tell him we are to have a great council at Broken Land. All the people of the world are to meet there.” “What is your father’s name?” asked Doonongaes. Tsodiqgwadon said, “Deanohdjes.[190] He is of the Geia191 people.”

Doonongaes immediately started on the journey. He traveled day and night for a whole year,[192] but could not reach the northern end of the earth. One morning he said, “I do not believe I shall ever get to the place where Deanohdjes lives.” Sitting on a large stone he wondered what he should do. At last he thought, “Well, I must go on; if I do not Tsodiqgwadon may kill me, for he is greater in sorcery than I.” So he traveled on for another whole year. Then he thought again: “How much farther must I go? I am very far away from Hanging Rock.” (Tsodiqgwadon was so magically powerful that he caused Doonongaes to lose his course, and hence to go round and round without ever drawing nearer the place to which he was sent.) One morning Doonongaes heard a voice from some village near by. There sat Tsodiqgwadon, who turned, and, looking at him, asked, “Well, have you come back?” “Yes,” said Doonongaes. “Have you seen my father?” continued his questioner. “No; I could not find his lodge,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, you have been gone a long time. Where have you been?” said Tsodiqgwadon. To this Doonongaes rejoined: “I thought I was on my way north, and that I was a great distance from here, and I wanted to know how far I was from your father’s lodge.” Tsodiqgwadon began to laugh and to make sport of him, saying, “I want you to go straight ahead this time, not in a circle.”

Doonongaes now set out the second time. He traveled northward for 10 days and nights, when he came to a narrow opening which was so long that he could not see the farther end. This was called Nitgendasadieha.[193] He started to cross this opening. At night he slept soundly on the grass. The next morning he traveled on. He was 10194 days in crossing this opening. Going on farther, he came to a second opening, through which he saw a lodge at the farther end. Peeping through the cracks in the wall, he saw sitting inside by the fire with his head down, smoking, an old man. The old man, who was of the Osigweon195 people, raising his head, said: “I smell a human being. My nephew must have come. Well, nephew, come in. Why do you stand outside?” Thereupon Doonongaes, thinking, “How did he know I was here?” went in. The old man continued: “I have been wishing for a long time that you would arrive, for I knew you were coming. Now, nephew, I have a game which I always play when anyone visits me—it is a foot race. We run from one end to the other of the narrow opening.” “I have nothing to bet,” replied Doonongaes. “Oh!” replied the old man, “bet your head.” “Very well,” said Doonongaes. “Wait a while,” said the old man; “I will tell you when I am ready,” and he went into another room. Doonongaes, making himself invisible, followed him. The old man had a bark canoe there, in which was a living thing that seemed to be without bones, being a mass of flesh about 2 feet long, in the shape of a lizard. As the old man rubbed his hand over it, a fluid resembling milk came out of the living object, with which the old man rubbed his hands and his whole body. Doonongaes also rubbed himself with the juice before going out. Then the contestants placed themselves at the end of the opening, whereupon the old man said, “I will start just as the sun comes to the middle of the sky.” They stood watching until the sun was exactly in the middle of the sky. Then they started. The old man, throwing out his arms, pushed Doonongaes far back. The latter, springing up, however, soon overtook the old man, and catching him by the neck, threw him back, saying, “That is what I do when I want to win.” They ran on until the middle of the afternoon, when they reached the other end of the opening. At sunset Doonongaes was back at the starting place, where he staid all night. In the morning the old man came, and Doonongaes said: “I have won. Now I will take off your head.” “Well,” said the old man, “I will have a smoke first.”196 “Oh, no,” said Doonongaes, cutting off the old man’s head at once.

Then Doonongaes continued his journey northward, traveling for two days and nights. When he tired of walking he turned into a long horned snake. Soon, seeing a great black cloud coming with rain and thunder, he thought, “Hinon [197] wants to kill me”; hence he went down into the earth so far that Hinon could not reach him. After staying there a good while, he said, “I must go on”; so he changed himself into a man again on account of his dread of Hinon. He soon came to a river, on the bank of which he stood, wondering how he was to cross. He went along the bank to the point where the river entered a lake. There he thought, “I must change myself into a snake and go into the water.” After crossing he became a man again so Hinon would not pursue him.

Doonongaes journeyed on a whole month. One morning he came to an opening called Gendagwen(t),[198] where he saw nothing. Having passed through this he saw a woman. He ran forward swiftly, but could not overtake her. She went with such speed that they were the same distance apart at night, when he thought, “I can not catch her, so I may as well camp.” Picking up some dry sticks, he made a fire. On looking around he saw that the woman had camped just ahead. “Oh, pshaw!” thought he, “I will go there.” He started, but as he advanced so did she. When he came to her fire there was no one there, so he said, “I will stay here.” Soon he saw another fire ahead, which he knew to be the fire of the woman whom he was following, whereupon he said: “I am ashamed to stop here, so I will go on.” He reached the second fire, but no one was there. Then he said, “I will go back to my own fire and stay there.” When he reached his camping place the woman was back again at her first fire. He followed her all the next day, always at the same distance. On reaching an opening she went into a lodge. Following, he found her sitting on one side of the fire, and an old man on the other side with his head bowed. Seating himself near the woman, Doonongaes asked her, “Do you not want to marry me?” She made no reply. He asked again, “Will you marry me?” He asked three times, but received no reply. Then the old man, who was a Dagwanoenyent (i.e., Cyclone), raising his head, said to the girl: “You have brought home game. Wash my big kettle, granddaughter, and boil some water, and I will kill the game.” At this he began to sharpen his flint knife, whereupon Doonongaes ran out, with the old man following him. Doonongaes mused: “What trouble comes to me: I shall die now. This is because I tried to catch the girl.” The old man was close upon him now, and as he lifted his knife to strike, Doonongaes stepped aside, so the old man cut his own knee. He fell down on account of the pain, but spitting on his hands, he rubbed the wound, thus curing it instantly. Then springing up, he ran on. All day he followed Doonongaes. Many times he cut himself as he did the first time, but always healed the wound with spittle. At sunset Doonongaes said, “What a shame! I ought to kill that man.” Turning himself into a snake, he tore him to pieces. As he threw off the legs, he said, “I want you to become owls,” and away they flew, owls. He made the old man’s flesh into all kinds of birds.199

Then he said, “Now, I will go back to the girl; it may be that she will marry me.” Reaching the lodge just at midnight, he went in and said to the girl, “Your grandfather is dead.” “Is that true?” she asked. “Yes, I have killed him,” said Doonongaes. “Well, what do you want?” she demanded. “I want to live with you,” said Doonongaes. “Very well,” she replied; “I was afraid of the old man—this is why I did not answer your questions at first.” Doonongaes stayed with Ganos,[200] for that was the girl’s name, a whole month. Then he said one morning, “I must continue my journey.”

So Doonongaes set out, and after traveling northward for 16 days and nights, he came to the edge [201] of the earth. It was very cold there. As he looked around, he saw a lodge in which he found a very old man with white hair reaching to the ground all around him as he sat there. Doonongaes said, “I have come to visit you.” The old man did not hear. Thrice Doonongaes spoke but received no answer. Then he looked for a club. Finding one, he hit the old man on the top of the head, saying, “Do you not hear me?” The old man never moved, but muttered, “Mice must have fallen from above my head. No matter.” Doonongaes, thinking what kind of man is this, struck him again. Thereupon the old man, lifting up his hair and tying it back so that he could see, asked, “What are you here for?” “I came to visit you,” said Doonongaes. “I do not want a visit from you. Be off!” he commanded. Doonongaes, who was nearly freezing to death from the extreme cold, retorted: “Be quiet! do not get excited.” “Oh! I do not care for other people,” said the old man. “What did you come here for?” “I came to ask a question. Do you know where Deanohdjes lives?” asked Doonongaes. “Yes; he lives in the middle of the ice lake over yonder,” said the old man. “Do you know whether he is at home today?” said Doonongaes. “Oh, you could not go to him today; it used to take me 10202 days and nights to go to his place,” said the old man. “Is there a trail?” inquired Doonongaes. “Yes, you will find my tracks,” said the old man, who was a white bear.

Now it grew colder and colder while Doonongaes traveled half a day before he reached the place where Tsodiqgwadon’s father lived. He found an open space in the ice. After standing there a while he saw a man with great teeth rising from the water. The man said to Doonongaes, “What do you come here for?” “Your son sent me. There is to be a great council at Broken Land. All the people of the world will be there,” answered Doonongaes. “What is the council for?” asked Deanohdjes. “I do not know; your son has not told me,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, I will start in 20 days from now,” rejoined the elder man.

Trembling with cold, Doonongaes turned back without delay. In 10 [203] days he was at Hanging Rock. Tsodiqgwadon asked, “Have you seen my father?” “Yes,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, what did he say?” was the next question. “He said that he would start in 20 days,” answered Doonongaes. “Let us go to Broken Land,” said Tsodiqgwadon. They started, but as they had 10 days’ time and it was only one day’s journey to Broken Land, they went southward to look around. The next day near sunset they saw a man coming toward them. “Who is that coming?” asked Tsodiqgwadon; “he looks like a chief. What a great headdress he has! [He had long feathers and much wampum.] He looks like a great man, for his face is painted red and black.” Doonongaes said, “Let us chase him.” “What shall we do with him if we catch him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “I will take hold of his head and you of his feet, and thus we will stretch him,” answered Doonongaes. “Very well,” said Tsodiqgwadon. When they met, Doonongaes asked the stranger, “Where are you going?” “To the north, to see the place where White Hair lives,” was the reply. “What would you do if I should wrestle with you?” inquired Doonongaes. “Oh! I should like that,” he said. So they began to wrestle. Doonongaes threw his adversary; and then, taking hold of his head and Tsodiqgwadon of his feet, the two began to pull, and they pulled until his legs and arms were stretched out to a great length. Thereupon Doonongaes said, “We will call you Gaisonhe.”204

Leaving him, the two traveled on. The second morning they saw some one ahead, an ugly-looking man who had a great deal of wampum wound around his body. He was shooting arrows as he sat on a stone. Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon looked in the direction his arrows were going and saw many deer standing there, but they noted that his arrows never struck one of them. Going up to the man, Doonongaes asked, “What are you doing?” “I am trying to kill deer. I have tried all the morning, but I can not kill one,” said he. “Such a shot as you are can never hit anything even if he were to shoot 10 days,” said Tsodiqgwadon, adding, “I will help you.” As the man shot, Tsodiqgwadon blew on the arrow, which went into the ground, at which Tsodiqgwadon said, “You will never see that arrow again.” Immediately it took root and turned to Ohohwa Ohnoh.[205] Tsodiqgwadon changed the man into an owl, after which they went on.

Just at midday the two came to a cliff. As they stood on the edge, looking down, Doonongaes said, “It seems as if some people live down there.” Tsodiqgwadon replied: “I think so. Let us go down.” When they reached the bottom, they saw that under the cliff was a plain, or opening, with the cliff hanging over one side of it. The plain had three points—a northern, a southern, and an eastern. At each point there was a lodge. Doonongaes went south and Tsodiqgwadon went north. Looking into the lodge that stood on the southern point, Doonongaes saw an old man working at something. “What is he doing making such a noise?” thought Doonongaes. The old man, looking up, said: “This odor is like that of a man. How could anyone get in here, for my master guards the entrance to the cliff?” The old man, who was of the Odjieqda [206] people, was making a wooden bowl. He went to work again, saying, “I will not waste time smelling.” Doonongaes heard him, and, saying “I will make him waste his time,” he thrust his horns under the lodge, and, lifting it into the air, threw it down so that it broke into pieces. The old man, however, still sat on the ground in the same place. Doonongaes laughed. The old man thought to himself, “Who is that laughing?” and, looking up, he said: “Oh! that is Sʻhodieonskon.207 Well, I will not do anything. I will go and tell my master”; with this remark he started toward the entrance, while Doonongaes hurried off to the lodge at the eastern point of the opening. There he heard the sound of pounding, and peeping into the lodge, he saw four Odjieqda women pounding Odauhdjah208 in stone mortars. The eldest asked, “Do you not smell the flesh of man?” “Yes,” replied the others. “Well, hurry up, take your clubs and try to kill him,” she continued. Doonongaes ran off, frightened. The women came out, but could see nothing but tracks. The old woman, whose name was Deiehnies,209 said, “Never mind; he will come back.” “That is a strange place,” thought Doonongaes; “I will go back and see what they will do”; so saying, he returned to the lodge. The women immediately knew of his return, and old Deiehnies said, “Make haste, my daughter, and kill the game.” When they came out they saw a man standing near the lodge. Then the old woman changed her mind, saying: “Do not bother him. It must be that he wants to marry—that is why he comes.” One of the girls added, “Yes; let him alone,” but the eldest said, “No; let us kill him.” The two younger girls returned to the lodge, but the eldest, running up to Doonongaes, lifted her club to hit him; he dodged, however, with the result that she struck herself210 on the knee, whereupon she fell down crying. At this the old woman came out, and taking hold of her by the hair, shook her, saying: “What are you doing? If you want to kill the game, run after it.” Then the old woman ran up to and struck at Doonongaes, likewise hitting her own knee and falling down crying. Doonongaes now went to the lodge where the two younger girls were and they stood up near him, for they liked him. As old Deiehnies and the eldest girl came in, the women began to fight. Going outside, Doonongaes watched the fight. They fought long and hard, but had not finished when Doonongaes set fire to the lodge; before the women knew it, the flames were so fierce that they could not escape, so all were burned to death. Thereupon Doonongaes said to himself: “Why did they try to kill me? They did not know what kind of a man I am. Everyone ought to be kind when I come. I will go to find Tsodiqgwadon.”

Doonongaes now went to the lodge in the north, but he found no one. He heard, however, a sound as of ball-playing. Following the sound he came to an opening, where he saw his friend playing ball with two old men of the Dagwennigonhge [211] people. It was a close game, and Doonongaes stood watching it. Soon they ran past him, and Tsodiqgwadon called out, “Why do you not help me? There are two against me”; so Doonongaes joined in. The old men played well, but Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon won. Then Tsodiqgwadon said, “Take the wager. Cut their heads off.” “Very well,” replied Doonongaes, “that is what I like.” So he cut off their heads, and throwing them into the lodge, then burned it up. The heads burst and Dagwanoenyents212 rushed forth. Now the cliff began to crumble, at which Doonongaes exclaimed: “Let us go quickly! This cliff may fall and bury us under it.” Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon ran out as quickly as possible and were barely outside when down came the cliff. Doonongaes said, “The man from the first lodge ran out at this opening.” As they stood there looking carefully around they saw a lodge, in the doorway of which sat a man, whereupon Tsodiqgwadon said: “That man’s name is Hahnyusdais.213 He is the master of the dwellers under the cliff, and he kept them as prisoners.” “Let us go up and see the fellow,” answered Doonongaes. When they went to the lodge, Hahnyusdais asked, “What did you come here for?” “I came to ask you a question,” retorted Doonongaes. “Well, wait until I smoke,” Hahnyusdais replied, and taking out a stone pipe, he began to smoke. Doonongaes continued, “I came to ask you what has become of the men you had under the cliff which has just fallen in?” “I will go and see,” replied Hahnyusdais. As the place was full of earth he could not look in, and he said to Doonongaes, “Do you not belong to the Dagwennigonhge people?” “No, I do not,” was the answer. The old man then inquired: “Why is this place full of earth? I went in some time ago, but I can not go in now. A man named Deagonstwihes214 came out of here a little while ago and then went back. I suppose he was buried in there.” Doonongaes began to laugh at what he had done, saying to Tsodiqgwadon, “Let us chase and catch Hahnyusdais.” “What shall we do with him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! stretch him,” came the reply. Thereupon they caught him, and Doonongaes taking him by the head and Tsodiqgwadon by the feet, they pulled in order to stretch him out. Hahnyusdais screamed: “Oh, stop! I do not want long legs. I want to be as I am.” But they only pulled the harder, Hahnyusdais growing longer and longer, until Doonongaes said, “This man now belongs to our people; he will be Haunhdji.”215

Leaving their victim, the two then went toward the east. At midday they met the two men who had been sent to track the Laughing Man [216] after he had killed Doonongaes. “What are you doing?” asked Doonongaes. They replied: “We are tracking the Laughing Man, who killed our chief. We were sent to track and to kill him. We shall never stop until we catch him. Here are his tracks.” “Who was your chief?” said Doonongaes. “Doonongaes,” they replied. Doonongaes, laughing, said, “Do you not know that when Sʻhodieonskon dies he comes to life again in a short time?” “No,” replied the men, whose names were, respectively, Hatkwisdowanen217 and Hushewathen.218 “We do not know that. We never heard the old people say that,” they answered. “Well, two days after I died I came to life. It is no use to pursue the Laughing Man any longer. You will not catch him, but he will never kill me again. You would better go home,” added Doonongaes. The two men said, “Thank you for our freedom; we are at liberty now to go where we please.” “I should like to take a smoke,” said Doonongaes; “I used to have a pouch,219 but I do not know now where it is.” “Well,” said Hatkwisdowanen, “when you died two men were sent to your lodge to get your pouch. I think that the chief, Hagondowanen,220 has it now.” “I will be at his place tomorrow,” replied Doonongaes. “We are going to have a great time at Broken Land. Will you not be there?” “It may be that I shall, if I do not get killed. I suppose my wife is enraged because I have been away so long,” answered Hatkwisdowanen.

Hatkwisdowanen and his friend now started for home, while Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon went on eastward. At nightfall the latter came to a lodge, within which they heard some one singing, Onen gagwégon sawadiyon heníyon ganyoh.[221] “Why does that old woman sing so?” asked Doonongaes. “Let us run through this hut,” he added. “Oh, pshaw!” answered Tsodiqgwadon; “what is the use of chasing people all the time?” “I will tell you why I like to do it,” answered Doonongaes. “All people get angry when they see me and try to kill me, so now I am going to kill all the people I can.” Tsodiqgwadon remained outside while Doonongaes went into the lodge, crying out, “Now I have come back.” The old woman, whose name was Gonyahsgweont222 and who belonged to the Nosgwais223 people, raising her head, said, “It seems as if some game creature was talking in my lodge.” Looking around and seeing Doonongaes, she said: “What are you doing in here? There is no use troubling me, for I have never chased you.” She knew he was Sʻhodieonskon, and that he always chased and killed people. She began to beg, but, going behind her, he held her by the shoulders when she tried to turn around. Then catching her by the feet, he pulled her out of the lodge. “Do not make sport of and trouble me,” cried the old woman; “I am poor, but I have never harmed anyone.” “Why do you sing in that way, then?” asked Doonongaes; “I thought you were the woman who killed all kinds of game.” “I was feeling happy, that is why I sang,” answered the old woman. At this Tsodiqgwadon said, “You would better let that old woman alone.”

So Doonongaes left the old woman and the two went on. When they met people they changed themselves to resemble those people. They were magically the most powerful persons living. Tsodiqgwadon was greatly superior to his friend in this respect, possessing the greatest orenda in this world. All were afraid of him because he could do anything he liked. All at once Doonongaes said: “My neck feels bad. It has been sore for a long time.” “When did it become sore?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. Then Doonongaes told about the two old sisters Gwidogwido, and said that ever since he had lifted and carried away their lodge his neck had troubled him. “You must have been bewitched by their lodge,” replied Tsodiqgwadon; “let me feel your neck?” When Doonongaes held his head down Tsodiqgwadon saw the end of a flint knife. He tried to pull it out; he continued to try all night long, and just as the sun [224] arose he drew it out. “There! I have it,” said he. “The wizards bewitched you. There are many more wizards than you know of. I have cured you now for life.” Taking up the knife, Doonongaes looked at it and said, “How strong I am to carry so long a knife in my neck so many years.”

Continuing their journey, Doonongaes and his companion soon came to a village where no one was found, although smoke arose from every lodge’s smoke-hole. “This must be the place I visited once before,” said Doonongaes; “there is something very mysterious about it.” “No, there is nothing mysterious here,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “The place is always kept this way. It is kept for people who are traveling around the world, so that when they come to this village they can eat whatever they like. It is called Yondekhonyatha Ganondayen.” [225] “Who has arranged all this?” asked Doonongaes. “A Great Power226 in the Blue Sky made this village, so every man could eat here,” answered Tsodiqgwadon. “Very well, let us eat, then,” said Doonongaes. So, going into one of the lodges, they took meat in a bowl. When they were ready to eat, Tsodiqgwadon began to laugh. “Why do you laugh?” asked Doonongaes; “you said this belonged to all people who are on the trail.” Tsodiqgwadon had now become what Doonongaes was—that is, Sʻhodieonskon—and he said, “I will go outside for a moment.” While Tsodiqgwadon went out, Doonongaes began to eat. At that moment he felt that someone was there. On turning around, he saw a Stone Coat227 sharpening his chert knife—yes, he saw several sitting around, all sharpening their chert knives. “What are you sharpening your knives for?” asked Doonongaes. “We are going to kill you,” came the reply. “Wait until I am ready. Give me fair play,” said Doonongaes. “All right,” was the reply, “but you must hurry up.” He went to the woods where he found Tsodiqgwadon, who, laughing, asked, “Did you see anything to frighten you?” “Yes; I have a fight on my hands,” answered Doonongaes. “Well, I am going on,” said Tsodiqgwadon; “all the help I will give you is to tell you what kind of a weapon these people are afraid of. It is a basswood228 knife.” “Should I not make a flint club?” asked Doonongaes. “No; that would not hurt them a bit. Make a basswood club,” came the answer. Doonongaes made, therefore, both a basswood knife and a club, and then, going back to the Stone Coats, he said, “I am ready.” When they saw his basswood knife and club they were terribly frightened, and ran off as fast as they could toward the north, chased by Doonongaes. The first one he overtook he hit on the head with his club, whereupon the Stone Coat crumbled down to the ground, dead, with his body and coat smashed to pieces. Doonongaes treated the next one in a like manner and so on until he had overtaken and killed them all—men, women, and children. Then he said: “This is the kind of man I am. Why did Tsodiqgwadon leave me? I can chase him, too, when I find him.” At that moment, hearing someone behind him, he looked around only to see Tsodiqgwadon, who asked, “What are you talking about?” Doonongaes replied, “Oh! I was saying that you are the best friend I have in the world.”

Once more the two went on together, and the next morning they came to a rock which was so high that they could not see the top of it. Doonongaes now changed himself into a buck, and rubbing his horns on the rock said, “I can kill Hinon [229] if I see him.” At that moment Hinon came out of the rock, and standing before him, asked, “What were you saying?” “Oh! I said that the man who lives in here is the best friend I have,” answered Doonongaes. Tsodiqgwadon stood on one side, laughing. Believing Doonongaes, Hinon went back into the rock.

The two friends now continued journeying toward the north. Tsodiqgwadon said to his companion, “I want you to stop fooling everybody, for you do not know what orenda other persons have; you may get into trouble some time.” Toward night they came to a lodge in which many old men lived. These were singing a war song, Ogwenion denkenoonk ganyohshon enkhegen heyoendjadeh.[230] All sang the same song. Assuming the form of this people, who were Gendagahadenyatha,231 Doonongaes, going into the lodge, began singing a war song, too, but with different words. He sang, Deaun ni daegwanoenk Onen neho agyon heonwe niswaiiyon.232 Thereupon the old men began to talk, and the chief of them said: “What does this man sing? He is an enemy. Let us scalp him.” Springing up and seizing their flint knives, they ran after him. Tsodiqgwadon stood outside, laughing. Doonongaes became a snake, and when they saw this the old people ran back, for they were too small to fight such a man. Tsodiqgwadon said to Doonongaes, “Let them alone.” “No; I will settle this people,” answered Doonongaes. “You would better let them alone. It is not right to act in this way all the time,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “Let us go on then; there is no use in standing here if you will not harass these people with me,” said Doonongaes.

Traveling toward the east, the two companions soon saw a large man coming in their direction. When they met him they spoke to him, and the man said to Doonongaes: “I have come to tell you that you are not doing right in attacking people. You may strike your friend.” At this Doonongaes struck Tsodiqgwadon, knocking him down. The large man laughed, saying, “That is what I like.” Tsodiqgwadon jumped up, whereupon the stranger said: “You must strike back,” so Tsodiqgwadon struck Doonongaes. “Now, you must say bad words to each other and scold,” said he. They began to scold, and threaten, and talk fiercely. “That is enough,” said the large man. “You can go now, and whatever people you see as you go around the world, pursue them; that is what I like. I am always near you as you go along.” Then the large man, whose name was Nanisheonon,[233] went off toward the west.

Tsodiqgwadon and Doonongaes now started for Broken Land. The former said: “That is why I always tell you to stop chasing people. You see now. We met this large man on account of your hurting people. He likes such things. Stop your fooling and be like me. Tomorrow is the day of our council meeting.” When they reached Broken Land Doonongaes said: “Here is where I was killed, and I will show you where the man lived who brought me to life, and to whose lodge I went and killed him.” “Is that what you do to people who help you?” said Tsodiqgwadon. “That is what I did to him because he was trying to keep our two most beautiful women,” Doonongaes replied. “What did you do with the women?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “I lived with them until you told me to go with you, and that all women belonged to you,” was the reply. “Did I tell you that?” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Yes, you did,” retorted Doonongaes. At this Tsodiqgwadon laughed. “What are you laughing at?” asked Doonongaes. “I am laughing because I fooled you so when I said that to you,” rejoined Tsodiqgwadon. “You will not be angry, then, if I go to them?” said Doonongaes. “Oh! you can go if you like,” was the reply. “Very well, I will go now,” declared Doonongaes. “May I visit you until tomorrow?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “No; I think you would better not,” was the answer. “All right; I can stay here until the time comes for the council,” said Tsodiqgwadon. Going to his mother-in-law’s lodge, Doonongaes asked, “Where are your daughters?” “Oh! they have gone back to their first husbands,” said the old woman. “Have they forgotten me?” asked Doonongaes. “You know,” answered the old woman, “that you have been gone a long time. They waited two years for you.” “Well, I have been all over the world. I thought they would wait until my return,” declared Doonongaes. “Stay here and I will go for them,” said the old woman. She went to her elder daughter, to whom she said, “Your husband, the great chief, has come back.” “I will go to him,” replied the woman. Then going to her second daughter, she said, “I have come for you; your husband has returned.” The daughter said, “My husband is here.” “Not that one,” replied her mother; “I mean the great chief.” “I know; but I waited a long time for him. I should be ashamed to go from this husband now,” she added. “Oh!” said the old woman, “this man you have now is not worth anything; he has not a bit of wampum.” “I will go, then,” said the girl, “but do not tell my husband.” So she dressed up and made a bundle of her things in preparation to go away. “Where are you going?” asked her husband. “To my mother’s lodge.” “Very well,” said he, and off she went.

When the two girls reached their mother’s lodge, after greeting Doonongaes, they began to talk to him. One asked, “Where have you been for so long a time?” “Oh! I have been to the northern, southern, and western ends of this earth,” replied Doonongaes. “Do you know what there is going to be tomorrow?” she asked. “No; what is it?” asked Doonongaes. “They are going to have a great council,” she replied. “What kind of council?” he inquired. “Oh! to appoint another chief. They will take the chieftaincy away from Tsodiqgwadon and put somebody else in your place as second chief,” was the answer. “Why so?” demanded Doonongaes. “Because you chase all the people living in the world,” she replied. Now Doonongaes began to feel sad; he sat there with his head down, thinking until night. Then he made up his mind, saying, “Well, if they do put me out I will always be Sʻhodieonskon.” The next morning he felt better, because his mind was made up. As soon as they were through eating, all the people went to Broken Land.

When they had assembled Doonongaes arose, saying, “I believe all are now present.” Thereupon Tsodiqgwadon arose. He told them what the council was for, and said to the people, “You now have to choose a head chief and a second chief for the whole world, and every village is to choose a chief for itself.” But Deanohdjes had not yet come. Then one man, arising, said, “I should like to make Deanohdjes [234] head chief.” They talked the question over; one-half were for Deanohdjes and the other half against him. Only one man remained silent. Remarking, “Well, I can say nothing until tomorrow,” Tsodiqgwadon then adjourned the meeting. The next morning Deanohdjes arrived. When the council assembled Tsodiqgwadon arose and said: “All are now present. Now, my father, are you willing to be the head chief of the whole world?” Deanohdjes hung his head, while the people all were silent. Then, raising his head, he said, “I can say nothing for 10 days.” So the council adjourned and met again in 10 days. Thereupon Deanohdjes said: “I will tell you my mind. Put this duty on Doonongaes; make him head chief of all the world.” Doonongaes was delighted, but Tsodiqgwadon said, “He is too mean a man for that; he is Sʻhodieonskon.” “If he is made head chief of the world he will change,” replied Deanohdjes. “He who is most powerful in orenda should be head chief,” said Tsodiqgwadon; “Doonongaes has not much power.” “Well, you have more orenda than anyone else in the world,” said Deanohdjes, to which Tsodiqgwadon retorted: “I do what the people wish. They said they were going to appoint another chief, and I supposed they had found some one who is magically more powerful than I am.” Then Tsodiqgwadon, addressing the meeting, said, “Take the person who you think has the greatest orenda.” Some one then said: “Let us adjourn for 10 days, for only our own people are present now, while others who are coming should be here. Let Haiwanenqgwi235 be sent to all the people of every kind in the world to notify them of the council.” Accordingly he was sent, and the council was adjourned. After going all over the world, as he thought, he came back. “Have you been everywhere?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Yes; the world is not so large that I had need of many days to visit all its parts,” replied Haiwanenqgwi. “Have you found every known people?” was asked him. “Yes, excepting one; I have not seen these,” he answered. “Who are they?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “The Dagwanoenyents,” Haiwanenqgwi said. “Oh! did you not go to Gaha Gastende,236 where the high rocks are in the east?” inquired Tsodiqgwadon. “No; I thought no one lived there,” he replied. “Well, you must go there, for that is the place where the Dagwanoenyents live,” declared Tsodiqgwadon.

Haiwanenqgwi started again. On reaching the foot of the mountain he met some of the Dagwanoenyents, who roam all over the region of Wind Cliff, and to them he said, “I have come to notify your people that a council is to be held at Broken Land in 10 days from now.” The chief answered, “You stay here until I call a meeting, so you can tell all the people, for if I should deliver the message they might not believe me.” So saying, he went on the mountain to a place where these people always held their meetings; it was a smooth place without trees or grass. Soon the people began to appear, and when all had come, there were hundreds and hundreds of them. Haiwanenqgwi, rising, said, “I have come to notify your people that a council will be held at Broken Land 10 days hence and that you must all be present.” In response all said, “We will be there at the appointed time.” Then the meeting adjourned and all went home. When Haiwanenqgwi returned to his home Tsodiqgwadon asked him, “Have you now notified all kinds of people?” He replied, “Yes; all those whom I have ever seen.” Thereupon he was asked, “Have you notified the Stone Coats?” To which he answered, “No; where do they live?” Tsodiqgwadon told him, saying: “They live on Gahsgwaa Tgawenot,[237] far off in the west. After you have been there go to an island in a southerly direction therefrom called Othegwenhdah Tgawenot;238 there you will find other people. Thence you must go in a southeasterly direction until you come to Oosah Tgawenot.239 The people of this island are called Gaisonhe.240 Thence go southward again and you will come to Nitgawenosatieha,241 where the Djinonhsanon242 people live. Just beyond Nitgawenosatieha you will find Tgawenogwen,243 where the Onowehda244 people dwell. Be sure to notify all the people on these islands. Then go toward the east and you will reach a large island, on which you will find the Djisdaah people; this island is called Djisdaah Tgawenot.245 Thence go northward and then return here as soon as possible. Do not delay on the way.” These were the instructions of Tsodiqgwadon. Haiwanenqgwi, answering, “Very well,” started westward.

When he came to the end of the earth at the west he remarked to himself, “What shall I do to reach Gahsgwaa Tgawenot?” [246] Then he quickly assumed the form of a snake, and, going into the water, swam about half way to the island, when loud thunder and vivid lightnings made him halt, whereupon he said, “I think that Hinon wants to kill me, so I will change myself into a Hahnowa.” As soon as he had become a Hahnowa, Hinon stopped his threatenings, and the sky cleared off, and everything became as bright as ever. He reached the Gahsgwaa Tgawenot, or Stone Island, when he again assumed the form of a man. Going on, he met a person to whom he said, “I have come to notify your people that we are going to have a great council at Broken Land 10 days from now.” “Well, where is your wampum?” he was asked. “I have none,” said Haiwanenqgwi, who asked in turn, “Where is your chief?” “Go westward,” he was told, “and you will come to a large opening in the rocks—there you will find our chief.” He came to this opening, and on looking in, saw a very old man sitting there. As soon as he stopped at the edge of the opening, the old man, looking up, said, “What do you want here?” Haiwanenqgwi replied, “I have come to notify you that our people will hold a great council at Broken Land, and that our head chief sends for you to come there in 10 days from now.” “Very well, I will come with all my people,” answered the old man.

Assuming the form of a Hahnowa, Haiwanenqgwi now went over the water until he came to the next island, which was called Othegwenhdah Tgawenot. Here he assumed the form of a man, and going to the chief, whose name was Hoonkgowanen,[247] he said, “I have come to invite you to a great council, which is to be held at Broken Land in 10 days.” The chief replied, “Very well; we will be there on time.”

Then Haiwanenqgwi, again assuming the form of a Hahnowa, went over the water to Oosah Tgawenot.[248] At this place he found Shayades,249 the chief of the people who dwelt there. To him Haiwanenqgwi gave the invitation to be at the great council at Broken Land in 10 days, and then he went on to Nitgawenosatieha. Soon he met some men who took him to their chief, whose name was Deanohsgwis.250 Having given him the invitation, the chief accepted it, saying, “We will go to the council.”

Haiwanenqgwi next went to Tgawenogwen.[251] Changing himself into Onowehda,252 he stood around for a time, but, not seeing anyone, mused to himself: “When shall I be able to see these people? It must be that I have missed the place.” But as he stood waiting, some of the people appeared. He learned that they dwelt in the ground, and that their chief’s name was Hononhengwen.253 On receiving the invitation, the chief promised in the name of his people to go to the great council at Broken Land.

Then Haiwanenqgwi went to Ganehdaiikhon Tgahadayen [254] Tgawenot, where the Degatengowa255 people lived. There he saw one of the men standing in the air, at which he wondered what he was standing there for, concluding at last that this man must be possessed of the most powerful orenda to be found on the island. Soon a person came to him and conducted him to the chief, to whom he announced the invitation to the great council at Broken Land. The name of this chief was Henhgadji.256 The invitation was willingly accepted.

Haiwanenqgwi now went to Djisdaah Tgawenot,[257] where the Djisdaah people lived. There he assumed the form of one of these people. Having met a man, he said to him, “I have come to notify you of a great council to be held in 10 days at Broken Land.” But the man told him that he must go to the chief. “Well, take me to him, then,” he replied. “Go straight ahead,” was the answer; “you will find the lodge yourself, for I can not go with you.” So Haiwanenqgwi went along farther and soon came to a lodge in which sat an old man, large and solemn in appearance; this was the Djisdaah chief. When he drew near, the old man, raising his head, said “Well, what news do you bring?” “I bring an important message to you and your people,” he answered. “Oh! wait then. Let me get some tobacco and light my pipe.”258 So saying, he took a large bunch of oak leaves—these were his tobacco—and beginning to chew them, he said, “Now, I am ready to listen to your message.” Thereupon Haiwanenqgwi gave him the invitation to the great council. The chief, whose name was Hodehondasiowanen,259 said, “We will be there at the appointed time.”

Haiwanenqgwi then ran homeward all night, reaching Broken Land in the morning. Once there he declared, “I have now visited all the peoples on the earth.” But Tsodiqgwadon asked, “Have you visited Gaasyendietʻha [260] yet?” “No, I do not know where he lives,” he replied. “You must, however, go to him. Bring me an arrow,” said Tsodiqgwadon. The arrow having been brought, Tsodiqgwadon split the head, and after making Haiwanenqgwi small, placed him in the head and closed it, fastening it securely. Then Tsodiqgwadon said to the arrow: “I want you to go to the place where Gaasyendietʻha dwells. There you will find a Great Rock of white chert or flint, which is red-hot; under this stone is a cavern in which Gaasyendietʻha lives. This rock is on the edge of the Blue Sky, where it meets the waters, just where the sun sets. Gaasyendietʻha carries this stone with him when he travels in winter so that he can break the ice as he goes; it is called Gaonhiahge Tgastendeh.261 There is no earth there; only stone. I want you to go directly to the Rock in the Blue Sky.” Then stringing the bow, he shot the arrow westward. The arrow, now alive, went flying through the air until it came to the end of the sky, where it saw the Rock in the Blue Sky. On coming down it struck the hot rock. The man who lived under the rock said, “Something has come down on my ball,” and pushing off the hot rock, he came forth. Thereupon Haiwanenqgwi, coming out of the arrowhead, said to Gaasyendietʻha, “Tsodiqgwadon sent me to ask you to be present at a council to be held in nine days from now at Broken Land.” “What is the council for?” asked the host. “To appoint a new chief for all the people under the Blue Sky,” came the reply. “Very well,” said he, “I will go.” Gaasyendietʻha asked, “How did you come, for I have never known any man to be able to come up to the Rock in the Blue Sky before?” “Oh! I came in the arrow,” answered his visitor. “Well, then, I must send you back in the same manner,” replied Gaasyendietʻha. “All right; I will have to return that way,” said Haiwanenqgwi. In picking up the arrow Gaasyendietʻha found that its head was split, so seizing Haiwanenqgwi and shaking him to reduce his size, he was finally able to reinsert him in the arrowhead, wherein he carefully secured him. Having done this, he cast the arrow eastward and it flew away. In a short time it came down at the feet of Tsodiqgwadon, who had not moved from that place since he had shot the arrow westward. When Haiwanenqgwi came forth he was asked, “Have you notified all the people now?” He replied, “Yes; I have, so far as I know, notified all the peoples under the Blue Sky.” But Tsodiqgwadon declared: “No; you have not; there are a large number yet who have not been notified of the great council. You must now go eastward to the place where Tkwendahen Niohsiowesiohden262 lives. This place is situated on an island called Gaahgwa Tgawenot,263 which is located just where the sun rises. The chief of this place is called Djahgwiyu.264 When you have performed your errand here you must go northward until you find another island, which is called Ohnonqgon(t)265 Tgawenot. The name of the chief of the people who dwell here is called Djihtkwahen Niothwahasyohden.266 When you have finished your errand here you must go northeastward, and you will reach an island which is called Gainhdoya267 Tgawenot; and the name of the chief who lives on this island is Djihtkwahen268 Haos. After you have notified him, take a westerly course, visiting an island which is called Hahnowa269 Tgawenot, and on which all kinds of Hahnowa people live. The name of their chief is Honohtsagagiyit.270 After giving him your message you must go northward to Ohneqsah271 Tgawenot, where all kinds of Sowekshohon272 people live, the name of whose chief is Hahnyahses,273 who is of the Awaeh274 people; and when you have delivered your message to all these people, thence start southwestward and return home.”

Haiwanenqgwi then set out for Sun Island. There he saw after a while one of the Djahgwiyu [275] people coming toward him, whereupon he thought: “What can this mean? Is the world going to burn up?” But soon he saw that it was Tkwendahen276 Niohsiowesiohden himself, who said, “What have you come for?” Haiwanenqgwi replied, “Oh! Tsodiqgwadon, the chief of the world, has sent me to notify you and your people of a council to be held at Broken Land in eight days from now.” “Very well; we will be there,” declared Tkwendahen Niohsiowesiohden.

Then Haiwanenqgwi went to Ohnonqgon(t) Tgawenot, and after that he reached Gainhdoya Tgawenot. When he arrived there he saw five men fishing. For a while he stood watching them, thinking, “What beautiful belts these men have.” When they saw him coming they threw reeds [277] at him to bewitch him, to make him sore, and to cause him to swell up. When the reeds pierced his body, at once he began to swell and to suffer great pain. At last, to escape from them, he leaped into the water, where he remained until the pain was gone, and then, coming out, he said to these men: “Be quiet! I have not come to harm you, but I have been sent to you to notify you that there will be a great council at Broken Land eight days from now, and that Tsodiqgwadon wishes to have you come.” In reply these men said, “Well, we must first go to tell our chief before we can give you an answer.” When the chief was told of Haiwanenqgwi’s mission he promised faithfully to be present with his advisers.

Haiwanenqgwi went next to Hahnowa Tgawenot, where he delivered his message, and then he retraced his steps homeward. Having arrived there, Tsodiqgwadon asked him, “Have you now notified all the peoples of the world?” “Yes; I have notified all,” was his reply. “No; you have notified only half of the tribes of men. You must now go up to the Land in the Blue Sky, called Gaonyahge [278] Diyoendjadeh, and you must go in a southerly direction. This land is very high, and you can not get there until orenda for that purpose is given you. The Sʻhadahgeah279 people dwell in that land, the name of whose chief is Odahnoqgwiyah280 Haos. You will tell him first, and then go westward, where you will find seven281 men living on the clouds; these seven men are Hinon people. The elder one and chief of these people we call Shedwaqsot.282 After you have given your message to these seven men, you must go straight up until you reach the central part of the Blue Sky, and directly above the Blue Sky you will find a man whose name is Hahasdensyowanen.283 And when you have told him your message come straight down to the ground. Directly under the door in the center of the Blue Sky you will find an opening in the earth. In this opening you will find an Odonseh284 man, whose name is Shagoewatha;285 notify him also. A short distance from this opening you will see a high rock, on which you will find the tallest of men, whose name is Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa.286 You must summon him, too. Thence go farther along the rocks, and you will reach the dwelling place of the chief Ganiagwaihegowa.287 You must notify him also, and then you must return here.” Tsodiqgwadon gave Haiwanenqgwi a small piece of a substance which resembled flesh, and which possessed great orenda. In giving it to him, Tsodiqgwadon said, “When you desire to use this, you must chew it,” adding further directions as to the manner of its use.

Placing this mysterious substance in his mouth, Haiwanenqgwi at once mounted higher and higher. In a very short time he had reached the Land in the Blue Sky. When he arrived there he looked around, and while doing this Sʻhadahgeah saw him, and an Oqtcihgah [288] Ongwe asked him whence he came. “Oh! I came from below,” was the answer of Haiwanenqgwi. “How did you get up here?” was asked him. “I walked on the air,” he answered; “and I have come to notify you that there will be a great council at Broken Land to be held seven days from now. You must all come.”

Thence Haiwanenqgwi went westward, passing through the air, and soon came to a lodge situated on a cloud. Entering the lodge, he saw therein seven men of the Hinon people, who were all smoking, so the lodge was filled with smoke. He gave his message to the elder man, whose title was Shedwaqsot, and who assured him that they would all go to the council.

From that place Haiwanenqgwi went straight to the middle of the Blue Sky, where there was a door. Passing through this, he saw an old man sitting there, whose name was Sadjawiski;[289] he also was smoking. Haiwanenqgwi said to him, “I came to notify you of a great council to be held at Broken Land seven days from now.” “Very well; I will go,” said the old man. “I have been waiting a long time for you, because I knew that you were coming and knew what your message would be. My brother, Shagoewatha,290 knows that you are coming to see him, too. Wait a few moments; a man291 will pass here soon; tell him too of the council.” Soon a man came on the run from the east; when he arrived where the old man was he stopped. This man was Odjisdanohgwah,292 but the people whence Haiwanenqgwi came call him Gaaqgwaah,293 for he gives light to the world. In reply to the invitation to attend the council he said, “It is well; I will attend,” and continued on his journey; he did not seem to care for Haiwanenqgwi or for Sadjawiski.

Now Haiwanenqgwi came to an opening directly under the door in the Blue Sky, far down into which he went. There he saw an old man called Shagoewatha, to whom he said, “I have come to notify you of the great council to be held at Broken Land in seven days from now.” The old man replied, “It is well; I will attend it.”

Next Haiwanenqgwi went up and notified Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who said in reply, “I have been wishing for a long time to meet all kinds of people, so I will surely go.” Later Niagwaihegowa [294] also promised to be at the great council at the appointed time.

Now Haiwanenqgwi went home feeling quite happy, thinking that he had completed his task. But when he reached home, Tsodiqgwadon asked him, “Have you now notified everybody?” He replied, “Yes; so far as I know.” “No; you have not. You must go to another country, situated directly east of this, which is a great island on which are many people,” declared Tsodiqgwadon. “It is well,” said Haiwanenqgwi (who did not desire to go, although he could not help doing as he was commanded); “I will rest tonight and start in the morning.” “You may do so,” added Tsodiqgwadon.

Early the next morning Haiwanenqgwi started, walking on the ground, but when he came to the water at the end of the earth he walked on the air until he arrived at Tgawenosdenh,[295] where he saw many kinds of people, whom he notified, and then returned home. On his arrival there, Tsodiqgwadon asked him, “Are you now through with your task?” “Yes,” replied the messenger. “No; you have not yet finished your work,” declared his questioner. “You must go to Othowege,296 where the chief Hathogowa297 dwells, in the far regions of the north. You will have to travel on the air in order to go there and return in one day.”

So Haiwanenqgwi went on the air until he reached Othowege, which was a very cold place, for the wind was blowing and the snow was falling all the time. Hathogowa, the chief, was naked (he looked like a human being), and there were a great number of the Otho [298] people. Haiwanenqgwi delivered his message to all. In reply to the invitation they said, “It is well; we will go to Broken Land.”

Haiwanenqgwi thence returned home. When he arrived there Tsodiqgwadon said to him, “You are not yet through with your task.” “Well,” replied the messenger, “I will wait until tomorrow, for I am so tired that I can not start today.” So then next morning Tsodiqgwadon gave him further instructions, saying to him: “I want you to go to Onenonhge,[299] where Dedioshwineqdon300 lives. To get there you must go directly to the southern end of the earth.”

The messenger started, following the course indicated. At last he found a beautiful country, which was very warm and full of flowers, and he saw there a large number of people who looked like Ongwe Honwe.[301] He gave them his message. “It is well,” they said; “we will attend the council.”

When Haiwanenqgwi reached home he declared that he was not able to go anywhere else. Thereupon Tsodiqgwadon, laughing, said to him, “Now, my friend, your work is done.”

When the 10 days were expired all the people from all parts of the world came in great numbers—from the four quarters and from above and from below—from the east and west, north and south. They gathered about their several stations around the great council fire. At noon, when the sun was high in the blue sky, Tsodiqgwadon arose and asked, “Are you, the peoples of all the world, now present?” They answered him in chorus, “We are present.” Thereupon Tsodiqgwadon said: “I will tell you what this council is called for. A chief of all the peoples dwelling above and below is to be chosen, and it is for you to select one.” Now the tribes of people talked among themselves and one with another; but Tsodiqgwadon sat still, listening to what was said. They talked until night and then they talked all night. They remained a whole year, talking day and night. At the end of the year they chose Gaasyendietʻha [302] as chief of all the people of the world above and below. All agreed to this choice, and Gaasyendietʻha himself was willing. When this was done they had to select a second chief. Another year was passed in talking. Tsodiqgwadon sat in the midst of the vast throng, listening all the time. At last Hinon was chosen as the second chief. Then Tsodiqgwadon said, “Who shall be chief of each locality?” Then each tribe sat together, talking among themselves. The first to complete their deliberations were the Stone Coats,303 who chose Ongwe Hanyos,304 one of their own people. The Ongwehonwe were the next; they chose one of their principal men, and the other peoples chose the same chiefs as they had before. Tsodiqgwadon was chosen chief of the Snake People only. The council then closed and all went to their homes.

LEGENDS

59. GENONSGWA [305]

Once there was a village in which it was the custom of the people to fight a great deal, for they were very warlike. A strange boy came to this village; he was small and perhaps 4 years old. No one knew whence he came. He could do nothing for himself, but he wandered around the village, staying here and there in the several lodges. First one family then another would keep him for a little while. The people did not care much for him, nor pay much attention to him. Finally he grew to be a young man. There was at this time a good deal of talk among the people about getting up a party to go on the warpath. At last 20 men were found who were willing to go. This young man, hearing about the party, asked permission to go, too. He asked one and then another, but all refused his request. Thereupon he said: “I do not care. I will go anyhow.” He was so peculiar that no one really liked him.

The 20 warriors started and he went along with them. When night came, fires were built; there were two men at each fire, but the boy built a fire for himself. Several days passed in this way. One night, however, when all were asleep, the young man had a dream. A man appeared to him, who said: “I have come to warn you that if you do not change your course somewhat you shall all perish tomorrow at noon. Tell this to the headman of the party and urge him to change his course.” They were then going northward. The boy told his dream the next morning to the headman, who scolded, saying: “I did not want this fellow; he is nothing but a hindrance, nothing but a coward. We have come to meet an enemy. Why should we turn back even if we know there is one in our path?” So, after eating their morning meal, they continued northward, paying no heed to the warning in the young man’s dream.

When the sun was near the middle of his path across the sky, the party, which was going in Indian file, noticed that the headman stopped, then the next one, then the next. The boy, who brought up the rear, found that they were looking at a track, saying: “It is Ganiagwaihegowa, which always kills the people it meets. Its magic power is so great that the instant anyone looks at its tracks, no matter how far off, Ganiagwaihegowa knows it, and returns to destroy that person.” As the boy listened, he said: “I am very anxious to see this bear. I have never seen such a thing.” The men said, “You do not want to see so terrible a thing;” but he insisted. The chief said: “If this is really your wish, you must not follow us. We shall turn off here and go in a different direction, and you can go on northward; but if you meet this bear you must run in some direction, some course different from ours.” They tried to make him go with them, but he would not do so.

Breaking a small tree that stood near, the young man hung his bundle in the crotch; then he went on. Soon he saw a tremendous object ahead of him; when near it, he recognized it as a great bear, sitting on the trail, with its back toward him. Creeping up, the young man stood looking at it. It had no hair on its body, only a little on the end of its tail.[306] He struck it with his arrow, whereupon the bear rushed after the youngster, who ran away. The bear drew so near as they ran that the youngster could feel its breath. Now he dodged from tree to tree, then, darting off straight, he ran on swiftly, with the bear close behind him, until he came to a stream which looked very deep. They two could just jump over it. So the youngster sprang across, and the bear leaped after him. Then the youngster sprang back to the other side and the bear did the same. Thus they jumped across many times. Now as the young man ran he felt that his strength was growing greater, while he saw that that of the bear was failing. Seeing the bear failing fast, the youth, making a great loop, sprang once more across the stream, with the bear after him. Then he made a loop on the other side, and on going across the river, he saw the bear still weakening. Pursuing the same course once again, he passed the bear about the middle of the stream—he going one way, and the bear the other. The bear did not follow by sight but by scent alone. Lastly, the bear did not cross the stream, but followed all the boy’s tracks. Now, the beast had failed so much that the youth was just behind it as it kept tracking him. As the bear almost failed in trying to jump across the river, it scrambled to get a footing. Then the boy shot from the bank behind, the arrow entering the middle of one of the animal’s forefeet.307 At this the great bear scrambled to the bank; then reeling from tree to tree, it staggered and fell. Rising again, the beast struggled for a time, but at last it rolled over dead.

The young man left the bear’s carcass after he had taken three hairs from its “whiskers” and one tooth out of its mouth. Then going back to the spot where he had left his bundle and getting it, he followed the trail of the twenty men. Running fast, he overtook them, whereupon he said, “I have killed Ganiagwaihegowa, of which you were so much afraid.” They were naturally greatly astonished, for no man had ever been able to kill this creature, so they said: “If he has done this, he must have great orenda. Let us go back and see.” So they turned back, and after traveling until sunset they came to the place where the body of Ganiagwaihegowa lay. They saw that it was of enormous size, and said: “We will burn up the body; we will keep up the fire all night until it is burned. Then each man shall take a little of the ashes and a few of the bones, just enough for medicine to give him its magical power.” After the fire had gone out, the men went to sleep; in the latter part of the night they stirred the ashes with sticks until each found a piece of bone. The chief said: “You must be very careful about taking the remnants of this bear. Let each one before taking up his bone say what gift he wants, what power he desires.” Most of the men desired to be good hunters and brave warriors and some to be fast runners. One man said, however, “I want to be admired by all women.”

The things the young man had chosen were good for every purpose, but he did not let the others know that he had taken anything. The headman said, “We will go on in the same direction; that is, toward the north.” The men had changed their opinion of the young man; they now looked on him with respect as a person of great magical powers. The party traveled many days.

One night they camped and lay down to sleep. The young man dreamed again, and his dream said: “Tomorrow at noon you will meet an enemy of greater number than your own party, and among them will be a very large man of great magic power; he is so much larger than the rest that you will easily know him. You must all fight him. If your party does not believe you, when you tell the dream to them, do not mind that, but keep on in the same direction you are going, and at noon they will know the truth. When you see the enemy let every man hang up his bundle; let no one keep his bundle. Then begin to fight, and keep on until you conquer.” In the morning the young man did not tell his dream. He thought that it was useless to do so. They started on after eating their morning meal. When the sun was well up in the sky, they saw a bear get up, stretch himself, and look at them, saying, “We have now met, and we shall get what we want.” Thereupon the bear turned and disappeared. It was evidently one of the enemy, who had come to warn them. The headman talked to his men, saying that the enemy was probably near, and that they should be of good courage, and that they would conquer the enemy. So they went on. Before very long they saw the enemy, and the enemy saw them. A war whoop was heard; then the arrows began to fly. The young man said: “Now let every man hang up his bundle on the tree.” After this was done, the fight began. The young man, remembering his dream, watched for the large man. Soon he saw him, and noticed that he had a sort of medicine which he held up in front of his face like a shield, a little to one side, to ward off the arrows. The young man also saw that the man’s defense was larger [308] than the one he himself had (it was known that the smaller it was, the more power it possessed), and the youth felt sure of success when he became aware of this fact. (The magic power, or orenda, was born with the boy, as it was with all the Genonsgwas—a tiny hand to be put in the palm of his own hand.) Just at that moment the large man of the enemy, discovering the young man, said: “You will get what you deserve now, you Stone Coat. I will kill you, and thus punish you (for treachery).” They watched each other, paying no attention to the rest of the people, for each was eager to kill the other, but they could not hit until they came hand to hand. They began to strike with clubs and made a terrible fight.

Finally, the young man, snatching the stranger’s club, hurled it away and threw him down. When the enemy saw their chief man overpowered, they began to run. The youth kept on until he had killed the big man. A large number of the enemy were killed, but not one of the 20 men was injured. Having piled up the dead of the enemy, they burned them. The victors secured a great string of scalps (the big man was not a Genonsgwa; he was merely a very large and strong man with magical powers).

The warriors now had great respect for the young man, and when they came home and told everything, the respect of the people increased so that he was made a chief. The people thought of him as a Genonsgwa, though he did not look like one; they remembered only the big man’s words.

Now, another expedition was spoken of and many volunteered, but only 30 were taken, for that was as large a party as was required. All were ready. The women had provisions prepared for them. Starting out, they went toward the north, as before.

On the third night the young man, now a chief, dreamed that some one came to him, saying: “Tomorrow night when you camp the enemy will be camped near by, and you will discover each other. (It was not the custom of Indians in those days to attack in the night, but always just at daybreak.) Now be you ready, all of you, as soon as daylight is dawning and attack the enemy. Be sure that you attack and not they.” The next morning Stone Coat, the chief, told his dream (he knew the warriors believed him then) word for word. That night when they camped, they discovered the enemy not far away, also arranging a camp. During the night few of the warriors slept, for they felt anxious, and some were afraid of an attack, though it was not the rule to attack in the night.

Toward day the chief told all to get ready. When light was dawning they started. On stealing up they saw that the enemy also were making ready, whereupon Stone Coat told his men to make a circle around the camp, saying at the same time, “When we are almost around I will raise a whoop; then let all give the war cry and attack.” The chief discovered that the enemy had a warrior among them, who was a larger man than the others, and saw that he had a shield to ward off arrows. Noticing that it was about the same size as his own, he said to the men, “You must fight desperately, for I do not know how we shall come out.” The headman of the enemy shouted to him: “You are among these men; you are a Stone Coat! I am determined to kill you.” (The big man had no name. The chief did not hold up his shield.) As they came nearer and nearer and finally met, the chief and the big man first used their peculiar clubs. Then they grappled, and the chief of the 30, seizing his antagonist, pulled out his arm,[309] which he threw away; but immediately it flew back. The man in turned pulled off the chief’s arm, hurling it away, but it flew back to its place and it was as it was before. While they fought, the shouting of the enemy died away; once in a while there was a shout and it could be known from the sound that the people were being killed. Now the chief pulled off the man’s head and tore off the flesh; then he kept kicking away the pieces as they came back. It so happened that if the fragments of flesh could be kept away until cool, their strength died, so that they could not come back. Hence the chief continued to fight in this manner until at last he killed the big man. When the fight was over, and the few of the enemy remaining had run away, only 15 of the chief’s men were left, as 15 had been killed. The survivors piled up the bodies, and this time they threw earth over them, as so many of their own people were among the dead. Then all started for home, where they remained a long time.

When the chief had reached the prime of life he said: “I am getting well advanced in years and delight in warfare. I want to have one more expedition, then I shall be satisfied.” People volunteered to go and 40 were made ready, for that number constituted as large a party as was wanted. These started, going toward the south. (The people they fought with came from the south.) The young man had a dream, in which a man said: “I have come to tell you that you are to have a difficult time, for a man will be among the enemy who is very powerful, and I am unable to tell you whether you will conquer him or not. Tomorrow at noon you will meet the enemy, and just before noon an owl will come on your trail, saying, ‘Be ready; your enemy is at hand.’ Then you can get ready to fight.” Having told his dream in the morning, they started on. Toward noon they heard the hooting of an owl; it flew along their trail, and alighting on a tree, said: “The enemy is near, and they have made this expedition to fight, as you have. Then each of you will be satisfied.” The chief said: “Get ready immediately. Hang up your bundles. I do not know how we shall come out if the man keeps on throwing me; if he throws me twice, run.” While they were hanging up their bundles the war whoop was given by the advancing enemy. Now, as the dream had foretold, the chief saw the strong man, and realized that he was stronger than he was himself. As they were nearing each other, the opposite side kept calling out: “We have come to destroy you. You have destroyed all our other expeditions; now we will finish you.” The chief and the strong man met and fought first with clubs. Then, clinching, they struggled a long time. At last the chief was thrown; then the strong man struggled to keep him down, but the chief, arising, threw his enemy, who barely touched the ground before he was up again. The next time the chief was thrown his men began to run, but turning to look, they stood watching the two men fight. They saw their chief’s arm pulled off, but it flew back into place; then his head was thrown off, whereupon they saw he was weakening; so some ran home, but five remained in hiding. The enemy began to walk around, gathering up the pieces of the head, for they thought all the opposing party had run away. The five who were concealed saw them gather the flesh and limbs of the chief, for now they had killed him. Then the five heard the voice of the enemy saying, “We will hold a council and give thanks for conquering this man, who has destroyed so many of our people.” So saying, they began to get ready to do this; they made a circle and the pieces of the chief’s body were placed in the center. They were to give thanks by singing the war song. A man rose and sang, and as he sang he went toward the chief’s feet; when the song was ended he went to the head, saying: “You have been conquered. We shall have peace now.” Then he struck the pieces of the chief’s body with his club, saying, “Thus I will punish you.” At that moment the pieces flew together, becoming the chief again, who, springing up, killed five persons, and then, lying down, fell apart. Each one of the enemy said: “I think this man did wrong in wishing to punish a warrior after he was dead;[310] this is why we have lost five of our men. We would better kill this man before he brings us more bad luck”; thereupon they cut off his head. Then they sang the war song again, but no one raised a club or other weapon against any dead man while they were gathering up the corpses. Of the chief’s men 10 of the 40 got home. They said: “The friend whom we depended on is killed, and we would better remain at home hereafter and only defend ourselves. If our enemies desire to fight, they must come here to fight with us.” These people lived in peace after that.

60. THE GRANDMOTHER AND HER GRANDSON

An aged grandmother and her grandson lived by themselves in a lodge in the forest. When the grandson had grown to be quite a large boy his grandmother said to him: “Here are a bow and a quiver of arrows. They were formerly used by your uncle, who was killed by a great witch. So take the bow and the quiver of arrows and learn to use them.”

The next morning the grandmother said to her young charge: “Now, go out and try to kill some birds. You may go as far as you like, but do not go northward.” [311] Then she gave him a breakfast of parched corn, which hunters were accustomed to eat, for on such a meal they would not become hungry so soon as on any other kind of food. Starting out, the young grandson went through the woods shooting birds. By the middle of the day he decided to go home, feeling that his grandmother would be delighted because he had killed so many birds for their meat. Having returned to his home, the lad showed his grandmother the string of birds which he had killed. She was much pleased with his success, and dressed the birds, pounded corn for bread, and made hominy, in which she cooked the birds. When these things were done they two ate their evening meal.

The next morning the grandmother again gave her grandson parched corn to eat, and when he had eaten she cautioned him once more against going northward. By the middle of the day he had killed a larger string of birds than on the previous day, so he went home to his grandmother. She greeted him at the doorway with the words, “I thank you, grandson, for your success, for we are well off now and shall have plenty to eat.” That night, however, she talked seriously with him, cautioning him in these words: “My grandson, you must always hunt only to the southward from here. You must never go to the northward, for many dangers lurk there which may cut us both off, for you and I are the only persons of our family who are left from destruction by sorcery. So if you are obedient and listen to my words of caution to you, we shall probably live.”

The next morning after his usual breakfast of parched cornmeal the grandson started off. On that day he went farther away than on any previous days, and he saw many different kinds of game, such as he had not seen before. While animals of a certain kind were feeding he managed to get around in front of them, and taking good aim, he killed one with an arrow. The rest of these animals escaped. He went up to the dead game animal, and pulling out his arrow, cleaned it in the manner in which he had been instructed by his grandmother. Then stripping off bark from a neighboring tree and tying the game animal, so as to carry it the more easily on his shoulders, he started for home. When he reached the doorway of his home, he said to his grandmother, “I have larger game this time.” She was delighted with what he had brought home and thanked him for his prowess, saying, “This is what is called Ohsoon.” [312] Having carefully dressed the game animal, the grandmother, after reserving part of it for future use, cooked the remainder. When it was cooked they sat down together and ate it, while the grandmother continued praising her grandson.

The next morning she sent him off again, as she had done so many mornings before. But he had to go a long way this day before he was able to find any game. By the middle of the day, however, he again met with an Ohsoon, which he killed. Having secured it to his body with a bark sling, he started for home, remarking to himself, “Oh! how far away the game animals have gone from home.”

As usual, the next morning he started off to hunt. But after he had gone a short distance he began to think and wonder: “Why does grandmother forbid my going to the north? Yet game is getting scarce in the south?” Finally he came to the conclusion that he would then and there disregard the injunction of his grandmother. So he changed his course to the northward. Soon he found a large number of birds. But he had not gone much farther before he heard some one call: “Hallo, nephew! I have caught you.” Looking up, he saw a man sitting on a resting place formed of the tops of several trees, which had been drawn and tied together in a tuft or sheaf of branches. There the man sat as if he were in a basket. “Well, my nephew,” he continued, “what would you do if it should rain spears?” The young man replied, “Oh! we should be very thankful for them, for we need some.” Then the young man ran homeward as fast as he could. Having arrived there, grasping his grandmother by the hand, he dragged her along with the remark, “Oh! grandmother, we must run and hide.” She answered him, “Oh! my grandson, you have been to the north, where I told you not to go.” But he pulled her along as fast as she could go, until finally they came to a spring; leaping into this, they went along underground until they came to a rock. There they sat down and silently waited a long time. At last the boy said: “I think that the storm is over. Let us go home now.” When they reached home they found the lodge leveled to the ground. The poor old grandmother said, “This, indeed, comes of your going to the northward, where I told you not to go.” But the grandson coolly remarked: “Never mind. Oh! grandmother, I will soon have a lodge here.” Then walking around an area as large as he desired the lodge to be, he exclaimed, “Let a lodge at once fill this space of ground.” Hardly had his words died away before a lodge, complete in all its appointments, stood there. Then the grandmother and her potent grandson entered it and they two lived in it, more comfortable than they were before.

The next morning, after having eaten his breakfast of parched corn, the youth again started off southward to hunt. But taking a circuitous course, he finally headed toward the north, remarking to himself, “I had some fun with my uncle yesterday, so I must go to see what he will say this time.” Soon he saw so many birds and was so much occupied in killing them that he had forgotten about the man in the sheaf of tree-tops. Suddenly he was halted with the challenge, “Oh, nephew! I have caught you. What would you do if I should send a shower of stones?” The youth replied, “We should be much pleased, for my grandmother often needs stones for pounding her corn for meal.” So saying, the young man fled homeward. Having arrived there, he grasped his grandmother by the arms and rushed her to the river, and then up the river to the spring. The grandmother scolded him as they fled, saying, “Oh! this is too bad, grandson; you have gone northward again.” Then she would weep bitterly. At last, coming to the spring and descending into it, they crept along until they came again to the rock under which they took shelter before. There they sat until finally the youth said, “I think the storm is now over; let us go home.” On reaching home they found their lodge in ruins again. But the youth encouraged his grandmother with comforting words and commanded the erection of another lodge as he had done in the first instance.

The next morning after he had eaten his parched corn, he started out again to hunt. Taking a southward course for a time, he soon turned toward the north. As he went along he soliloquized, “I shall not hunt, but I shall make it my business to catch my uncle.” After going some distance farther, he called a mole, to which he said, when it came to him: “I want you to take me to that tree yonder. You must go almost up to the man who sits on it. After I shall have spoken to him, you must bring me back to this place.” The mole at once agreed to aid him. By shaking himself the youth reduced his size until he became as small as a flea; then he got on the mole. The mole went to the foot of the tree indicated, whereupon the youth called out, “Oh, uncle! I have caught you.” The man looked all around but saw nothing. Again the youth shouted, “What would you do if a whirlwind should come?” The man pleaded, “Oh, nephew! do not be so hard on me as that.” The youth replied, “Oh! I did not beg that way when you asked me about spears and stones.” Then the mole ran back to the place where he had found the youth, and the latter, assuming his natural size, ran home. Grasping his grandmother’s arm, he rushed her to the spring. They both disappeared in its waters, going to their shelter under the rock. The grandmother kept scolding her grandson, saying, “It is too bad; you have been at the north again.” There under the rock they sat until the youth had calmed the whirlwind, when they came up out of the water. They found the trees uprooted and their lodge in ruins. But the youth soon had a lodge in the place of the other by merely commanding his fetishes and walking around the space of ground, as he had previously done.

The next morning, after his usual preparations, the youth started out southward from his home. When out of sight of the lodge he suddenly turned toward the north, with the remark: “I must see my uncle. I find the trees are all uprooted, and it must be that my uncle is buried under these fallen trees. So I can go to hunt in safety now.” After keeping on his journey for some time he found a large number of partridges, which he killed; then he started home. His grandmother was pleased to see him return quietly with game. After laying aside his weapons he remarked: “Well, grandmother, I have destroyed my uncle. He is no longer on the tree.” The grandmother replied, warmly, “Well, you need not think that he was alone in the world. He has a brother, who lives in a lodge farther north.” The youth made no reply, but resolved what he would do in the matter.

Early the next morning the young man ate his breakfast of parched cornmeal, after which he started off, determined to find his other uncle, who lived in a lodge. Reaching the place where the trees were uprooted, he found his first uncle dead. But he kept on his course until he came to an opening in the forest, in which he saw a lodge with smoke rising from the smoke-hole. Somewhat pleased, the youth said, “Well, I must go over there and take a look into that lodge, for that must be the place where my second uncle lives.” Going directly to the lodge and opening the door-flap, he peered in, and said to an old man sitting inside, “Well, uncle, I have come to visit you.” The old man calmly replied: “Come in, nephew. I have a rule which all who come here to visit me follow; that is, that we must run a race across this field and back again. We bet our heads on this race.” The youth answered, “Well, if that is your rule, we will run the race at once.” So they went out of doors. Drawing a mark across the opening, the old man said to the youth: “We will run to that red post over there at the end of this opening. If I can get back and across this line first I will cut off your head; but if you return and cross it first you shall cut off my head. So be ready.” At the line they stood side by side; then the old man shouted, “Now, go!” They were off instantly and ran to the post. When halfway back to the line the youth suddenly fell to the ground, a sharpened deer’s horn having pierced his foot.[313] He sat down to pull it out. Having pulled it out, he threw it far ahead, and it came down right in the path of the old man, who had made considerable headway while the boy was sitting down. Now the old man, stepping on the horn, fell to the ground. While he was pulling out the horn, the youth, passing him, crossed the line ahead of the uncle, saying, “Oh, my uncle! I have won the race.” The uncle disputed this, but when he found that it was of no use he begged for another smoke, but the nephew refusing him, he subsided. The youth took out of his pouch a sharp flint knife and, seizing his uncle’s hair, cut off his head. Dragging the body into the lodge, he burned both lodge and body. As the fire died out the old man’s head burst and out of it flew an owl. Then the youth went home and told his grandmother what he had done. But she replied, “You still have a third uncle, who is also a great sorcerer.”

The next morning the youth started off again, this time to visit his third uncle. On his way he passed the uprooted trees and then the burned lodge. Keeping on, he saw some distance ahead a lodge standing in a clearing in the forest. When he came to the edge of the woods, he found that the opening was large and that the lodge stood on the farther side of it. This, he thought, must be the lodge of his third uncle. When he reached the lodge, he looked in it, saying to a man sitting inside, “Well, uncle, I am here to visit you.” The man replied: “Oh nephew! I am glad you have come. I have a game to play. Everyone who comes here plays it with me. We bet our heads on the issue of the game.” The youth replied, “Well, uncle, what is this game?” “We hide right here in this room,” answered the uncle. “I will hide, and if you do not find me before midday, you lose, and I will cut off your head; but if you find me, you will win, and then you shall cut off my head.” The youth replied, “It is well.” Then the uncle said: “Now you must lie down here on the ground, and I will cover you with an elk skin. When I am ready I will let you know.” Thereupon the youth lay down, but after he had been carefully covered with the elk skin by his uncle, changing himself into a woodtick, he got on his uncle’s neck. When the old man said, “I am ready,” the woodtick called out, “I have found you, my uncle.” The old man thought the voice came from behind, so he hid again. Again the woodtick called out, “I have found you, my uncle.” The old man looked everywhere, but he could not see his nephew; he saw no one. Once more the old man hid and was discovered. Thus he kept on until midday, as was his right. The old man, thinking all the time that the youth was still under the elk skin, wondered how he could find him so easily. He frequently ran outside to see by the sun how near midday it was; then he would hurry back to hide. At last he decided to hide outside the lodge, but the youth called out, “That will not do, uncle; you said that we must hide in the lodge.” It now being nearly midday, the old man was frightened, so with a long pole he pushed the sun off toward the east. Then running in, he hid again. But the youth shouted, “I have found you, my uncle.” Again the sun was nearly overhead, and again the old man, running out, with the long pole pushed [314] the sun toward the east and kept on hiding, but without success. He was discovered each time. At last when the sun was directly at midday, directly “at mid-sky,” the youth called out to his victim: “Oh, uncle! I have found you. I have won the game.” Thereupon the old man begged for one more smoke, but the youth, knowing his purpose, would not let him have another. Instead, he proceeded to cut off his head; then he dragged the old man’s body into the lodge, where he burned it. When the flesh had burned from the head of the old man, the head burst open and out flew an owl. Looking around this place, the youth saw large heaps of bones of persons whom the old man, having deceived, had killed and eaten.

Then the youth went home and told his grandmother what he had done. Her only reply was: “My grandson, you still have a fourth uncle, who is more evil and more potent in orenda than the others. I advise you not to go near him, for I greatly fear that harm will come to you.” The grandson said, “I shall not go, grandmother.”

The next morning, after eating his repast of parched cornmeal, he started, directing his course southward. But when he was out of sight of his lodge he changed his course toward the north. Making a circuit around his home, he passed all three places where he had visited his uncles, and finally came to a fourth opening with a lodge standing in its center. Arriving at the lodge, he peeped into it; there he saw a man who was still older than his other uncles. Making his presence known, he said, “Well, uncle, I have come to visit you.” The old man answered, saying: “It is well, my nephew. Come in and sit down. I have a game which I play with all those who come to visit me. I play the bone-dice game. Each has only one throw, and we bet our heads on the result. So get ready.” The youth replied: “It is well, uncle; I will play with you. I will go out for a moment, but will return in as short a time as possible.” Going to the river bank, and seeing a flock of ducks, the youth called them to come to him. When they did so, he said to them: “I have a bet, and I want you to aid me with your magic power. I desire six of you to lend me your right eyes [315] for a short time. I will bring them back as soon as I make my throw.” At once six of the ducks, removing their right eyes, gave them to the youth. On his way back to the lodge the youth said to the eyes, “When the old man throws, some of you drop into the bowl with your sight down, but when I play you must all drop with your sights turned up.” When he entered the lodge, he said to the old man, “We will play with my dice.” The old man objected to the use of the dice belonging to the youth, but the latter insisted on his right to use his own dice, as the person challenged. They spread a deerskin on the ground, on which they placed a bowl. When the youth had put his dice into the bowl, he asked his uncle to take the first throw, but the old man was not willing to do so. After disputing for some time, however, the old man shook the bowl, whereupon the eyes, as ducks quacking as they flew, rose slowly to the smoke-hole, and then fell back into the bowl as dice, some right side up and others the wrong side up. Then the youth shook the bowl, and the dice flew up as ducks, quacking loudly, and going out of the smoke-hole, they disappeared in the clouds. The old man, as was the custom, sat, saying: “Let there be no count. Let there be no count,” while the youth cried out: “Let the count be five. Let the count be five.” In a short time they heard the ducks coming in the distance, and then they soon dropped into the dish as dice again, all being right side up, at which the youth cried out, “I have won the game.” The old man begged to be permitted to take one smoke more, but the nephew, refusing him, proceeded to cut off the old man’s head with his flint knife. Then placing the head and body of the old man in the lodge, he set it on fire. When the head burst open, out flew an owl. Then the youth took the six eyes back to the river, and calling up the ducks to him, he moistened the eyes with spittle and replaced them in the heads of the ducks. Thanking the ducks for the aid they had given him, he dismissed them, and they flew far away.

The youth now went home, where he told his grandmother what he had done. After hearing his story she said: “I am well pleased with what you have done, my grandson. You can now hunt with freedom in all directions, for there is now no one to harm you. You had a number of brothers, but their uncles destroyed them without mercy.”

She sent him to hunt, as usual. Being now quite a man, he could kill deer, bear, and other large game, but he had to go so far away to find them that he always returned late at night. Not liking this, he thought of a method by which this might be avoided. He went into the forest, after telling his grandmother that he was tired of going so far to hunt, that he would merely sing, and that the game would come to him. In the forest he made arrows, and by the time night came he had as many white-ash arrows as he could well carry.

The next morning, bringing out a deerskin, he caused his grandmother to sit on it. Then, covering her head with the skin, he said to her: “Now, you must not look out. If you do I shall leave here, never to return.” First, placing the great bundle of arrows on the ground outside the lodge, he began to sing: “Come to me, you elk. Come to me, you bears. Come to me, you raccoons. Come to me, you deer.” As he stood singing, soon there arose a great commotion in the forest, caused by the sound of many feet running toward the singer. The animals were coming from every direction. As they were drawn near him by his singing he began to shoot his arrows. When he had shot away about half of his arrows, and while the animals were near him—bears, raccoons, deer, and elk—and while hedgehogs were climbing the lodge roof, the grandmother, becoming frightened at the strange sounds, removing the buckskin covering from her head, looked up through the smoke-hole to see what was the cause of the tumult. In an instant a great white deer sprang over the other animals, and, taking the youth on his antlers, ran off with him into the forest.[316] All the other animals followed the man, who was singing as they ran. Then the grandmother rushed to the doorway, and, looking out, saw all the game killed, but she did not see her grandson anywhere. Then she remembered his words, but it was too late.

While the great white deer was rushing through the forest a pack of black wolves came upon its tracks, and, soon overtaking it, killed both it and the man. The next morning the aged grandmother, in an attempt to repair the damage done through her lapse of memory and great curiosity, followed the tracks of the game in order to find her grandson. The game had beaten a broad trail through the forest as they ran. In the afternoon of the day the youth disappeared the sky and clouds in the west appeared very red.[317] Seeing this, the grandmother exclaimed: “This is certainly an evil sign. My grandson is surely in trouble.” This was the very time at which the great white deer and the man were killed. The grandmother followed the trail all that day until the evening at about the time she had seen the red sky and clouds the day before. Then she came on the spot where her grandson and the deer had been killed. There she saw pieces of bloody deerskin, but not a bone, nor a bit of his body. Then she returned home in despair, weeping all the way.

61. HEART SQUEEZING AND THE DANCE OF NAKED PERSONS

A woman and her son lived together in a lodge situated not far from a small settlement. The boy began his career by hunting small game, but he soon killed such large game that everyone was astonished at his prowess. As he grew older, he went farther and farther into the woods. His mother, however, always warned him against going toward the northeast, saying that an evil woman lived there.

One day while hunting the boy thought, “I do not believe there is anyone who can overcome me magically,” whereupon he determined to go toward the northeast. Starting thither, he soon came to an opening, where he saw a woman who sang out, “I have caught you, my brother,” and at that moment the boy, feeling her in his body squeezing his heart, screamed with pain. Then the woman stopped an instant and then squeezed his heart harder than before, causing him intense pain. Just then he heard a woman’s voice say, “Hurry home, and as you go, sing, ‘I am going to have a naked dance [318] and a pot.’” The young man did this, and as he sang he felt easier. When he got home his mother said, “You have been toward the northeast, although I told you that you would get into trouble if you went there.” The mother immediately sent a messenger to tell her uncle, her mother’s brother, what had happened, and he inquired what the boy sang. The messenger told him, and he replied, “Tell his mother to notify everyone that she is going to have a dance of naked persons.”

All the people were notified accordingly. The old man came, and one by one all the rest assembled. Then the old man asked whether all the guests were there who had been invited. The woman, the youth’s mother, after looking around, said, “Yes.” Telling the people to take off their garments, and to dance facing the wall, the old man, seating himself in the center of the room, began to sing. When he had finished the song, he said, “That will do.” Thereupon the dance broke up, the people dressing themselves and going home.

The young man felt better, but he was angry with the woman who had tormented him; so he decided to go again and say to her, “I have caught you,” before she had time to say it. The next morning he started off without telling his mother where he was going. When near the opening, halting, he called for a mole. In a short time the mole came, whereupon the boy said, “You must carry me to the spot where the woman is, but she must not see us.” Reducing his size until he was quite small, the young man entered the body of the mole, which went beneath the surface of the ground. After a while they peeped out, but the woman was still far off. They went on again, and when they looked out a second time, they were quite near the woman. She had large eyes, twice as large as those of anyone else, which were red as blood, and whenever she said, “I have caught you,” nothing had power over her.

The boy told the mole to go underground, so as to come out just beneath her feet. The mole did so, and then the boy, exclaiming, “I have caught you!” at that instant going into her body, squeezed her heart. She cried out with pain, “Do not squeeze so hard.” He answered, “I did not say, ‘Do not squeeze so hard,’ when you squeezed my heart.” Thereupon the woman hurried home. When near home she saw that her sisters were pounding corn for bread, and they noticed that she was crying, so one of them said, “I told you that that young man could not be beaten; you should not have touched him.”

One of the sisters, going to the same old man who had cured the boy, said, “Uncle, our youngest sister is very sick; she is singing, ‘I am going to have a dance of naked persons and a pot.’” The old man told her to invite the people to her pot. She did so, and when they were assembled the dance began. At the moment the old man said, “My song is finished,” the young man squeezed the girl’s heart so hard that she fell down dead. Coming out of her body, the young man went some distance before he became visible. He went home and was tormented no more. He could now hunt in any direction.

62. HOTʻHO, THE WINTER GOD [319]

One day a man while out hunting met Hotʻho and said to him, “You can not make me freeze, no matter how cold you can make it.” Hotʻho replied, “I can do that without much trouble.” They had a long discussion of the matter and at last agreed that they would have that night a trial of strength.

After reaching home the man carried in wood enough to burn all night; then building a huge fire, he made a large kettle full of hemlock tea. When night came he stood before the fire ready for the contest. All night long there he stood, turning first one side and then the other to the fire and often drinking a cup of the boiling hemlock tea. It was a terribly cold night and continued to grow colder until near morning. Just at the break of day Hotʻho, naked, and carrying his hatchet in a slit in the skin above his hip, came into the lodge, and sitting down on a pile of bark by the fire, said to the man, “You have beaten me;” and at that moment, growing warmer, it began to thaw.

This shows that man can conquer Hotʻho, the god of cold weather.

63. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA AND HIS THREE BROTHERS [320]

There lived in a lodge in the forest Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa and three brothers. In their larder they had an abundance of oil, venison, and bear’s meat. Of the brothers Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was the eldest. Not far from their lodge lived a brother and his sister. The brother, who was the elder, was also a turtle.

One day the youngest brother of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brothers, “I am going over to the lodge where the Turtle lives.” His brothers, knowing the motive of the visit, replied: “It is well. You may go,” for they thought it best that he should get married. So after making suitable preparations, he started, and soon he arrived at the lodge of their neighbors. He found the Turtle’s sister at home. The visitor had slung over his shoulder a pouch that contained bear’s oil. Sitting down near Turtle’s sister, he said to her, “I want to marry you,” but she made him no answer nor any sign of recognition. While he sat there waiting for her reply, he would dip his finger into the pouch on his back, afterward sucking off the oil. He patiently waited all day for her reply, and when it was nearly night she answered, “I have decided not to marry you.” He did not press his suit, but said, “It is well;” then he went to his home. Having arrived there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.”

Then the next elder brother said, “It must be I about whom she is thinking.” The next morning he said, “I shall now go there;” so he started. He found the sister of Turtle at home, and sitting down beside her, he said: “I have come for the purpose of marrying you. Will you consent to be my wife?” Like his younger brother, he waited the entire day for her reply. When it was nearly night she made him the same answer as she had given his brother; he then went home. Having reached there, his brothers asked him what success he had, and he told them. They answered, “It is well.” Then the third brother said, “It must be I of whom she is thinking. I shall go there tomorrow.” So the next morning he went to the lodge of Turtle, and finding the sister at home, he sat down beside her, saying, “I am here to know whether we can become man and wife.” She acted toward him just as she had toward his brothers; so he returned to his home, where he related to them how she had answered him.

Then Turtle, her brother, said: “I think that we are now about to die. The next man who will come is Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, the eldest of the four brothers. You have made a great mistake. You should have accepted the youngest brother. I would have consented had you asked me. The youngest brother is a good man, and he possesses great orenda. But the time is now past. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa has volunteered to come to ask you tomorrow to be his wife.”

The next morning Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, saying to his brothers, “It has become evident that it is I of whom she is thinking,” started to call on her at the lodge of Turtle. Finding her at home, he said, “My wife, I have come after you, so you must go home with me;” thereupon, seizing her arm, he attempted to pull her along with him. Being very angry, she bitterly resisted him. Turtle, her brother, was at one end of the fire, concealed under the ashes. While Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was struggling with the young woman as he held her by the arm, she managed her defense in such manner as to cause her captor to step on her brother, who at once bit his toe, causing him to release her. Then Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said, “Brother-in-law, let go of my toe,” but Turtle still hung to it. At that moment the visitor, taking his staff and putting his foot on the end of the firelog, struck Turtle on the head with the staff. As he did so, Turtle at once grew magically in size and in the strength of his bite. As Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa struck him again Turtle increased in size as before and his bite grew more painful. But Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa kept on pounding him, seemingly unaware that Turtle’s size increased with his blows. Turtle continued to grow larger and larger and continued drawing in Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa until he had swallowed his entire body.

Two days later Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came away, passing through Turtle’s bowels. Thereupon Turtle said to his sister: “In 10 [321] days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa will regain his consciousness, and then he will pursue us. To run away is our only safety; so let us flee hence.” Placing him in a basket, which she put on her back, Turtle’s sister started away as fast as she could go.

After the expiration of 10 days, as Turtle had predicted, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness and, looking around, saw no one there. Then finding the young woman’s tracks, he pursued her. The fugitives had gone a long way when Turtle said to his sister, “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is fast overtaking us and is now near us.” So the sister kept on in her flight, and as she got over a fallen tree Turtle said to her, “Leave me here, and you continue your course.” Obeying her brother, she hastened on her way.

Not long after her departure Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along. As he walked over the fallen tree he stepped on Turtle without seeing him, whereupon Turtle promptly bit him again. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa exclaimed, “Brother-in-law! let go of my foot; you are greatly delaying me on my course.” But as Turtle gave no heed to what his brother-in-law had said to him, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided to kill him, and raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat him against the fallen tree. But as before, striking Turtle only caused him to grow in size, until he finally became large enough to swallow his enemy again. Turtle waited there for two days until he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa; then he started on his way again. While the sister was walking along she was surprised to find her brother, Turtle, on a fallen tree. He had arrived there ahead of her by means of his orenda.

After the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa regained consciousness, and arising, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time and must continue my hunt”; so saying, he started in pursuit once more. The young woman was now growing faint and exhausted, and her brother said to her as she carried him along in the basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us, and is now very near to us. Once more drop me by the first fallen tree that we come to.” She obeyed and, leaving her brother near a fallen tree, kept on her way.

When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along in due time the orenda of Turtle caused him to pass within reach of the latter, who again seized his foot in his teeth. At this Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed hindering me greatly in my journey, so let go of my foot,” but Turtle paid no attention to this remonstrance. So Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa decided again to beat him to death against the fallen tree. So he began to do this, but Turtle only grew in size until he was again able to swallow his brother-in-law. Turtle waited there for two days, and then having gotten rid of Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa as before, he went on in his flight.

At the expiration of 10 days Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, on regaining consciousness, said to himself, “I have now been asleep a very long time, and I must continue my hunt”; so he resumed at once pursuit of Turtle and his sister. In time the young woman again grew faint and exhausted, so her brother said to her as she carried him along in a basket: “Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa is again overtaking us and is now quite near us. Still again drop me beside the first fallen tree to which you come on our way.” She was willing to obey him, so she did as he said, and kept on her way. Once more, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came along, Turtle, by means of his orenda, causing his adversary to pass within reach of his teeth, again seized him by the foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa thereupon said to his brother-in-law, “You are indeed greatly hindering me from continuing my journey in peace; so let go of my foot.” But Turtle did not free him, holding fast to his foot. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa therefore decided to kill him. Raising his foot with Turtle hanging to it, he beat Turtle against the fallen tree; but as he beat him, Turtle grew so rapidly in size that he was soon large enough to swallow him again. Then Turtle waited there two entire days, and when he had excreted Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa he continued his journey.

At the expiration of 10 days, when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa had again regained consciousness, he arose, saying, “I have been sleeping now a long time and must continue my journey”; so he once more resumed his pursuit of Turtle and his sister. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was again overtaking the woman, and while she was running onward, she saw a light ahead, which seemed to indicate that there might be an opening there. But she soon learned that this was a lake; and, having arrived on its shore, she looked over the water but could see nothing on the farther side. So she said to herself, “It seems that I have got to die; therefore I might as well die here.” With this remark she seated herself on a stone.

In a short time Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa reached her, and seeing her sitting there, he exclaimed, “My wife, you are waiting for me,” and he seemed to be very glad. He took out his pouch, from which he obtained a quantity of tobacco; this he began to burn as an offering to the stone on which the young woman was seated. Moreover, he addressed the stone, saying, “I thank you, because you have been the cause that has made my wife wait for me here.” He kept on thanking the stone as he went back toward the forest, also burning tobacco to the other stones.

Just then a man arose out of the waters of the lake, and addressing himself to the young woman, said, “Be quick! Come with me!” She immediately followed him into the water. When Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa turned toward the lake again, he saw at once that the woman was gone; all he found were her tracks, which led into the water.

Now, the strange man and the young woman soon came to a lodge in the depths, which they entered. The strange man had a sister, who lived in the lodge. The young woman hung up her basket, which contained Turtle. Whenever she ate anything she would drop pieces of food into the basket for her brother, Turtle. Noticing this, the young man’s sister said, “Why do you place food in there?” The young woman replied, “My brother is in there; that is why I place food there.” Then came the question, “Can I see him?” The newly arrived woman said: “Wait two days, and you can see him; then he will come out as a full-fledged man. He shall be a Turtle no longer.” This lodge was situated at the bottom of the lake. The young woman’s brother did come out a full-grown man. Afterward he lived with the strange man’s sister as her husband, and his sister became the wife of the strange man who had rescued her from Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa on the shore of the lake.

[It is not known by the story-teller who this man and his sister were, nor who the four brothers were, with the exception of one, Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. These four brothers are Whirlwinds.—Editor.]

64. THE MOOSE WIFE

A young man living alone with his mother concluded to go into the forest to hunt for a whole year, collecting and drying meat, and intending at the end of that period to return to visit his mother. So he traveled a long way into the forest to a region in which he thought there was plenty of deer and other game. There, having built a cabin, he began housekeeping by himself. His daily routine was to make a fire, get breakfast, and then start off to hunt. He would stay away hunting all day. Often when he got home at night he was so tired that he would not take the trouble to prepare supper, but throwing himself on his couch, he would go to sleep. He was collecting a great quantity of cured meat.

One evening when he was returning from a long tramp he saw as he neared his cabin smoke issuing from the smoke-hole in the roof. At this he became greatly troubled, for he thought that the fire may have spread and ignited his lodge. Running into the lodge as quickly as possible, what was his surprise to find a bright fire burning in the fire-pit, and his kettle, which had been suffered to boil, hanging on the crook in such a way as to keep its contents hot. He wondered who had come to cook for him, for during the time he had lived there and during his journeys he had never found a cabin, nor had he seen a human being. He searched all around to see whether he could find a trace of a person’s visit. He saw that the deer he had brought home the evening before was dressed and hung up, that a pile of wood that he had cut had been brought in, that everything had been put in order, and that even corn bread had been made. On the way home he had thought of going to bed the moment he set foot in the cabin, so he was greatly rejoiced to find a warm supper awaiting him. He sat down and ate the supper, soliloquizing, “Surely the person who got this ready will come back,” but no one came.

The next morning he started as usual to hunt. When he returned in the evening he looked to see whether smoke was coming out of the smoke-hole of his cabin. There was smoke issuing from it, and again he found supper ready for him. On discovering a partially finished braid of fibers of bark, he knew that a woman had been at work. He saw, moreover, that she had also put a large number of his green deerskins to soak, preparatory to making buckskin. Thereupon he thought how good she was, and he resolved to see her, whomsoever she might be, even if he had to give up hunting in order to do so.

In the morning he started off as though he were going to hunt, but went only a short way into the woods to a place whence he could watch the cabin. He had built no fire that morning, so that he might be able to tell the moment smoke began to rise from the lodge. Stealthily creeping back toward his home, he soon saw smoke rising from the cabin. As he drew nearer, he saw what to him was a woman come out of the lodge and take up an armful of wood. When she went into the lodge he followed her as quickly as possible. There he found a beautiful young woman, to whom he said: “You have been very kind to me, and I am very thankful to you.” She said in reply, “I knew you were starving for lack of a woman’s aid, so I came to see whether you would take me as your wife.” He accepted her offer, for he was very happy that she was willing to remain. She never left him after that. Every day she tanned the deerskins and cooked for him, working hard all the time. His wife was beautiful and he loved her dearly.

Before the end of a year a boy was born to them, and they were perfectly happy. When the time was near to fulfill his promise to visit his mother, she said to him: “I know you promised to visit your mother, and the time is now here. I have everything ready for you. I have made moccasins for you and for your mother.” He said in reply, “I wonder how I can carry her some meat, for she lives a long way off.” “You have only to choose the meat you want,” she replied; “I know how you can carry it.” He decided to take some of every kind. She warned him to be true and faithful to her while away, for many women when they saw what a good hunter he was would ask him of his mother. She said: “You must be true to me as I will be to you. You must never yield to temptation, for I shall know if you do, and you will never see me again.” He promised her everything she asked. Early the next morning she asked him to go to the river with her; it was not far from the cabin. She knew how he came, and that he would reach his mother’s home sooner by going on the river. When they reached the bank, she took out of her bosom a tiny canoe. He wondered what she was going to do with so little a plaything. She told him to take hold of one end and to pull away from her. On doing so, the canoe stretched out until it was a very large one. Then they brought on their backs basketful after basketful of meat, which they packed away in the canoe. Giving him a package, she said: “I have made these moccasins for your mother. Here is another package for you. I wish you to put on a pair every morning, throwing away the old ones.”

He promised to return in the fall, and then they parted. When he reached his mother’s lodge the news spread that a certain woman’s son had returned after a year’s hunting, and many came to see him and the great amount of meat he had brought. He did not tell even his mother that he was married, and many young girls asked for him as a husband. His mother had a beautiful girl in view for him, and continually urged him to marry her, but he would not consent. After a while he said to his mother: “I am going to the woods again. I have a cabin there, and sometime you will know why I do not wish to marry.” So saying, he started off.

When he reached the river he shook his boat as his wife had instructed him to do, whereupon it again stretched out. Getting aboard, he started up the river. When he neared his cabin, he saw his wife waiting for him and his little boy running around at play and they were very happy again. She told him she loved him better than ever, for he had withstood temptation.

Another year passed. They had all the meat they could take care of, and another boy had been born to them.

Again she got him ready to carry meat to his mother, just as she had done before. She seemed, however, to feel that this time he would yield to temptation, so she said to him: “If you marry another woman, you will never see me again, but if you love me and your children, you will be true to us and come back. If you are not true, I shall not be surprised if your new wife will soon be sucking her moccasins from hunger, for your magic power or orenda for hunting will vanish.” He promised her everything.

As before, on reaching home his fame as a hunter brought many beautiful girls to ask for him in marriage. Again his mother urged him to marry, and the temptation to yield then was far greater than the first time, but he resisted and was ready to start for his cabin, when one day a beautiful stranger, appearing in the village, came to his mother’s lodge. The mother urged him to marry her, as she was so lovely, and he finally yielded.

The wife in the woods, knowing the conditions, said: “Now children, we must be getting ready to go away. Your father does not love us and will never come back to us.” Though the children were troubled by their mother’s tears, still they were full of play and fun, but the poor mother was always weeping while preparing to leave her home.

After the man had taken a second wife, the meat in his lodge began to fall away strangely. He could almost see it disappear, though there was a good supply when he married. In a few days but little was left. He went hunting but could kill nothing; he went day after day, but always had the same ill luck, for he had lost his magic power (orenda) for hunting, as his wife had foretold. One day when he came home from hunting, he found his new wife sucking her moccasin, for she was famishing with hunger. He cried and sobbed, saying, “This is my punishment; she warned me that this would happen if I was untrue to her.” Thereupon he decided to go back to his first wife and children at once and never to leave them again.

He set out without saying a word to the starving wife or to his anxious mother. When he reached his cabin not a single footprint was to be seen. He went in, but only to find it empty—wife and children were not there, nor any meat, but their worn moccasins were hanging up. The sight of these made him very sad. As he was nearly starved, he searched everywhere for food. On the hearth he found three small mounds of ashes, of different sizes, the third being very small. Sitting down, he wondered what this could mean, for he knew that it must have been left by his wife as a sign to him should he ever come to the cabin. At last he made up his mind that he had three children now, and he determined to find them even if he had to follow them to the end of the world.

He mused, “My boys are very playful, and as they followed their mother they must have hacked the trees as they went.” Indeed, as the mother and the boys were starting away, the boys said, “We will make some sign, so that if our father ever thinks of us and comes back, he will be able to follow us.” But the mother said: “No, children, you must not; he will never come, for he has another wife, and will never think of his children in the woods.” Nevertheless, as they went on and played by the way, the boys hacked the trees and shot arrows in sport, so the father was soon able to trace them. He found that after a day’s journey they had camped for the night, for he discovered the remains of a fire, and on a tree nearby, four pairs of worn-out moccasins. Tying these in a bundle, he hung it on his arm.

Again he walked all day, finally coming to the remains of a fire, near which he saw four pairs of worn moccasins hanging up as before. He was very tired and hungry.

The next morning he traveled on and, as before, found the remains of a fire and four pairs of worn moccasins hanging on a tree. He always took these with him. Near noon the next day he saw smoke in the distance, seeming to rise from a cabin, and so it proved to be. He saw also two boys playing around, running, and shooting arrows; on seeing him they ran to tell their mother that a man was coming. On looking out, she recognized her husband, whereupon she told the boys to stay inside the lodge. He had not recognized the children as his sons, but supposed they belonged to people living in the cabin.

As he was very hungry and tired, he thought he would go in and ask for food. The woman turned her back as he entered, but the eldest boy, recognizing his father, ran to him and put his hand on his knee. The father, however, not recognizing the child, gently pushed his hand away. At this moment the mother, turning around, saw this action. “There,” she said, “I told you to keep away from him, for he does not love you.” Now the man, recognizing his wife, cried out, begging her to forgive him and to receive him home again. He seemed to be sorry, and begged so hard that she forgave him and brought him his little daughter, born after he had gone away. Ever afterward he was true to his Moose wife (for she was a Moose woman), and never again left his home in the woods. He and his little family were always very happy.

65. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

[Modern]

A number of Indians traveling northward from their village met a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, with whom they talked. He said, “Hawenniyo caused me to be around to assist you.” His mouth was drawn up on one side and down on the other. Continuing, he said: “If anyone mocks us in earnest, we will enchant him by sorcery. You may go to work making a mask representing a face like mine, and then you can cure by means of it the sick who are troubled by us, the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. In this way you may take my place.” So the people made wooden masks, to be used as directed. This, it is said, is the origin of the Society of False Faces, or Maskers, so prominent among the Seneca.[322]

66. THE PORCUPINE’S GRANDSON AND THE BEAR

A widower, who had a small son, married a second time. Soon after this event he took his wife and child into the forest to hunt. They lived very happily until the new wife began to think that her husband loved his child better than he did her. This troubled her beyond measure, so that she became very uneasy, thinking of nothing else. Then she began to study how to get rid of the boy, and at last resolved to destroy him.

So one day while her husband was out hunting, she took the boy into the woods to a cave, whose mouth was closed with a rock. She rolled away the stone from in front of the opening, at the same time telling the boy that there were bears in the cave, and that he must run in and scare them, so that they would run out at the other end. He crept in, and immediately the woman rolled the stone back over its mouth, and then deserted him.

When night came the father returned from hunting, and immediately missing his boy, asked where he was. The woman answered that he was at play when she went to gather bark, and that when she came home she could not find him, asserting further that she had been hunting in all directions for him, and that she was afraid he had been carried off by some wild beast. The father was nearly crazed by this event, and for many days hunted for his boy, but he could find only the tracks made by his little moccasins far into the woods—tracks which the wicked stepmother had (artificially) made to mislead and deceive the father.

When the child found himself fastened in the cave he began to scream and cry, and his strength was giving way and he was near fainting when he thought he heard a voice saying: “Poor child, stop crying! I am your grandmother. I will give you food.” This was a Mother Porcupine. Wiping away his tears with her paw, she brought him food, which he thought was very good, though it was only hemlock burs. She gave him some of the food which she had saved for herself. After eating he was contented, whereupon she said, “You are very tired, my dear little grandson; come and lie down.” In this way she fed and cared for him a long time.

One day she said: “My stock of food is exhausted, and as it is now spring, we should not be cold out of doors. Your stepmother has fastened us in here. I must call on our neighbors to let us out, and when we are out, I will leave you in their care and go in search of food for myself.” Approaching the opening, the Porcupine called aloud for help. Afterward the boy thought they went back into the cave, and the Porcupine said: “My dear grandson, we must now part. I feel very sad but it can not be avoided. I will give you this advice. They will come and let us out, and you will go with them. You must be obedient and do just as you are told to do, and all will be well in the end.” Soon they heard noises with the sound of voices outside the cave, and after a while a great crowd seemed to be collected. The imprisoned ones heard the chief of the assembly say: “All who heard the call have come.[323] Now we want to know who will roll the stone away?” Birds came and pecked at it in vain; they could do nothing. Then the smaller animals scratched at it. One after another failed. At last a wolf came forward, saying, “I can pull the stone away; I am the man to do it.” Pushing his long claws under it, he pulled and pulled, until at length he exerted so much strength that his hold gave way and he fell over on his back. Then the deer tried with his long horns to raise the stone. All tried, every one in his own way, from the smallest to the largest animal (for all were present that had heard the call), except the she-bear; she sat at a short distance with her little family around her, consisting of three young cubs. When all the rest had failed, she said, “Well, I will try.” Walking up slowly and majestically to the blocking stone, she examined the scratches made by the other animals until she made up her mind how to act, and then she very quickly got the stone away. Then peeping in, she saw a Porcupine and a human being, whereupon she hurried away from the opening as though she was greatly frightened. As the other animals looked in, they, too, took to their heels until they were far enough away to make sure of escape; then they waited to see what was to take place.

The Porcupine, coming out, told them not to be frightened. Said she, “We are very poor, my grandson and I.” She told them further how he came there and that her stock of food was exhausted, adding, “Many of you are well able to care for him, so I want you to take charge of my grandson.” All, even the birds, announced their willingness to do so. “Now,” she continued, “I want to know what you will give him to eat, and when I make up my mind that my grandson can live on the food that any one of you can supply, I will give him to that one. To my faithful friends, the birds, I give thanks; you may go, for I do not think my grandson could live on anything you could give him.”

All had brought specimens of what they could furnish and had laid them before the Porcupine. The wolf, coming forward, laid down what he had. The Porcupine examined it and then asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” “Of course we should run,” the wolf replied, thereupon running off to show her, and then coming back. “No, my grandson can not go with you; he could not run fast enough.” The deer came forward with the most suitable food, but when the Porcupine asked, “What would you do in case of danger?” the deer ran off at such speed that his horns could be heard rattling through the woods. Last of all the old bear came forward, saying: “You have all failed. Though I have a large family of my own, I will take the boy and will feed him as I feed my cubs, on blackberries, chestnuts, and fruit.” When asked what she would do in danger, going back to her little cubs, she gave them the sign of danger, at which they all crouched down beside a log while she lay at their side watching. She said: “That is what I do, and thus we lie still until I think the danger is past. I know where the berries grow in abundance, and I will take them there. I know also where my winter quarters will be; there my cubs will get nourishment by sucking my fat paws.” The Porcupine then said: “You are the one to care for my grandchild. I wish you to take good care of him. I am now going for food.” The boy never saw the Porcupine again. The child thought the bear took him by the hand, and that she was like a human being, and that they were all like real people.

She led the boy and the cubs to the place where the berries and chestnuts were abundant. They played as they went along. The young bears became very fond of the boy. When the old mother bear was lying asleep in the sun, and they were at play, the cubs would pull the boy’s nails to make them long like theirs, and they tried to teach him how to climb and run up the trees as they did. At last he was almost equal to them in skill in these exercises, his nails having grown long and sharp.

One day the old bear woke up and could not see the boy. At last she saw him high up in a tree a long way off. Then she scolded her cubs and was angry with them, and made the boy’s nails as they originally were. So the many days of summer passed. The cubs and the boy were great friends and they had him sleep between them and their mother.

When winter came, the old bear said, “It is time to go to our winter quarters”; so she took them to a tall, hollow tree, into which they all climbed, finding therein a comfortable place. Here they remained; and the boy thought they had plenty of room. He and the cubs played together and were very happy. The old bear slept most of the time, but when she heard a sound she would awake instantly and would say, “You must keep very still; there is a hunter near.” In the tree was an opening from which she had an outlook. Soon after the warning they would see a man coming toward the tree. Then the boy thought he saw the mother bear, putting her paw into her pocket, draw out an object that had two prongs. As the hunter approached she would thrust this out through the hole, moving it to and fro until he passed; then she would draw it in again.

All went well until one day toward spring, when the fatal moment came. The mother bear heard a hunter approaching again and, although they all kept very still, she said, addressing the child: “I think our time has come; our separation is near; you can remain here, but we must go, for we are bears, but you are a human being. They will take you out and care for you.” Then the child and the cubs saw the hunter coming. She put out her two-pronged bough but could do nothing; all her magic power was gone. When the hunter came up, seeing the claw marks on the bark of the tree, he concluded there must be bears within. The old bear knew all was over, so she said to the eldest of her cubs, “You must go first and the others must follow.” At this the eldest climbed up and out, and at that instant the boy heard the twang of the bowstring and impact of the arrow, and as he watched the little bear it seemed to throw off a burden, which fell to the ground, while the little bear itself [324] went straight on without stopping. Then the other little bears followed, one and all sharing the fate of the first; each time one emerged the boy heard the same sounds and saw the burden fall, but as he saw the little bears still running on, he was not frightened. Then the old bear said: “Now, I have to go. You must be good and obedient and all will be well with you”; then she went out. He heard the same sounds as before and saw her drop on the ground; knowing she was killed, he began to scream. The hunter, hearing him, was astonished. Then, remembering having heard that a child had been lost, he though it might be the child in this tree. So he set to work to get the boy out, and soon succeeded in doing so. He found the child naked and unable to speak a word, having forgotten how to talk. Skinning the largest cub, the hunter made leggings for the child from the skin. The boy was grieved to see his companions dead and cut up, but he could not speak to let his rescuer know how dear they were to him. The hunter took the boy to his father, who was overjoyed to see his child again. Ever afterward he kept the boy near himself, and in the future all was well.

67. GENONSGWA

An old woman, the eldest of her people, lived in the forest with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl. One day while the old woman was away a female Genonsgwa came into the lodge and picked up the younger child, the girl. After speaking kindly to her, saying that she was a good little thing, she swallowed her. Then she began to talk to the boy, telling him how well he looked, and that he was wholesome, but she did not kill him. Sitting on the bed, she told the boy that if he would get on her back, she would take him out to find his grandmother. After climbing on her back, he soon became frightened, whereupon he grasped her so tightly that he became fastened to her back so that he could not get off, though he tried hard to do so. The Genonsgwa, rising, went in a direction different from that in which his grandmother had gone. The boy told her of her mistake, but she said, “Oh! we shall come to the place where she is.” The Genonsgwa went very far into the woods. The boy began to cry for his grandmother, and cried so hard that the Genonsgwa told him to get off her back; she did not like to hear him cry, she said, but as she wanted to eat him, he did not get off; in fact, he could not do so. Fortunately, the Genonsgwa could neither get her hands around to pull him off, nor turn her head to bite him. She could not get at him in any way. Knowing this, the boy clung to the middle of her back, realizing that she would eat him up if he slipped down. They traveled on thus for many days.

When the grandmother came back to her lodge and found that the boy and the girl were not there, she became very uneasy. She searched for them but found no trace of either. After a while, finding the tracks of the Genonsgwa around the lodge, she guessed what the trouble was. The old woman followed the trail of the Genonsgwa, saying that she was bound to get her grandchildren back.

Genonsgwa tried to get the boy off by rubbing him against a hickory tree. The boy said, “Oh! I like that. Rub harder!” At this she stopped rubbing him against the tree and went on. The grandmother followed in the form of a Whirlwind, whereupon Genonsgwa said to the boy, “Your grandmother is coming as a Whirlwind, and she will strike and kill us both.” The boy was silent. Looking for refuge, she found a hiding place in a deep ravine, in which she dug a hole, and going in, covered herself with the earth which slipped down from above. The two heard Dagwanoenyent, the grandmother, coming. “Now,” Genonsgwa said, “you can hear your grandmother coming.” The Dagwanoenyent rushed over the place where they lay hidden. The boy shouted to his grandmother, who, hearing him, changed her course, coming straight back to the place they were in. She blew off the earth from the hiding place, so that Genonsgwa became just visible above the surface. Then the grandmother asked the boy whether he was there. He answered, “Yes.” The Genonsgwa lay still, whispering to the boy, “Be quiet! Your grandmother will see us.” The grandmother then called the boy by name, “Dagwanoenyentgowa,[325] get off Genonsgwa’s back.” Having done so, he went a short distance from the cliff. Then the old woman hurled rocks at the Genonsgwa, and after breaking all her clothes of rock, killed her.

The old woman now went toward home with her grandson. On the path she said: “Never allow yourself to be treated this way again. Never allow yourself to be maltreated by anyone. You can master all those Genonsgwashonon,[326] if you will only use your power, for you, too, are a Dagwanoenyentgowa.” The old woman remained at home a few days with her grandson. Meanwhile some of the Genonsgwa’s people found the trail of the Genonsgwa woman, which they followed until they came to the place where her stone clothes were rent, and she was killed. When they asked of it, the spirit of the Genonsgwa told how she had been killed and how her coat had been rent.

The headman of the Genonsgwa now resolved to muster a large company of their people and kill the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa. While they were preparing for this, the old woman found out their plans when she was out on her journeys and said to her grandson, “We must go to get your sister out of the belly of the Genonsgwa woman, for she is sitting there crying for me all the time.” So they set out for home, and when they reached the place where the Genonsgwa woman lay dead, the grandmother, having built a small fire, began to burn tobacco on it for her granddaughter, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” They burned perhaps half a pouch full of tobacco, meanwhile fanning the smoke toward the Genonsgwa woman all the time, and saying: “This is what we like. Do you come out of Genonsgwa’s belly.” There was no sign yet of her granddaughter. She had not yet come forth. At last the old woman said to her grandson: “We must have more help. You have a great many relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins. We must call them here.” Thereupon the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa, called repeatedly. They came one by one. Soon there was a great number of them. Having broken up and removed all the clothes of the Genonsgwa, they threw them away, leaving the dead body naked. Then the old woman, building a fire at Genonsgwa’s head, burned tobacco on it. All the Dagwanoenyent people walked around the fire, each throwing tobacco on it and saying, “This is what we like.” After each one had gone around once and had thrown tobacco into the fire once, the young girl started up in the Genonsgwa’s belly, and panting for breath, walked out, saying, “How long have I been here?” They gave her more tobacco smoke, which she inhaled until she gained full strength. Then all went home, the old woman and her two grandchildren to her own lodge, and the other Dagwanoenyents each to his or her lodge.

After they had been home a while a Genonsgwa came to the old woman’s lodge, who talked pleasantly, inquiring how they were. Having found out that they were only three in number, the Genonsgwa went back home, thinking it would be a small work to kill them all. After the Genonsgwa went away the old woman said: “We are in trouble now. There is a great number of these Genonsgwa people leagued against us. They are assembled somewhere, not far away. When this struggle commences we do not know whether we shall be able to come home here again or not.” As soon as she had finished talking with her grandchildren, the old woman, going out, called, “Dagwanoenyents!” The girl, not knowing what that meant, asked her grandmother, who said: “I am calling your relations to help us. You are a Dagwanoenyent, too.” The Dagwanoenyents came one by one. When all had come, there were 60 besides the old woman and her two grandchildren. Dagwanoenyentgowa now said: “Each one must have a stone to strike with, just heavy enough to handle with ease.” When they had gathered stones the Genonsgwa began to come, thousands upon thousands in number. The Dagwanoenyents were frightened when they saw them, but the old woman who led them said: “We must separate and attack them singly. Have faith to kill each one with but one blow, and you will do it. You must keep the stones in your hands. Be firm and retreat slowly in different directions.” The Dagwanoenyents took her advice. Whenever they had a chance, they struck and killed a Genonsgwa, retreating all the time and killing the Genonsgwa for a long distance. The old woman then told all her people to go up a high mountain toward the south, ahead of them, fighting as they went. She continued: “When we all reach the top, we shall go down a short distance on the other side. The Genonsgwa will come to the top and we shall strike them. One lot of us must strike from the east, and the other from the west side, and we must get behind them and drive them forward into the great ravine on the south side of the mountain, where a river runs by. There they will all perish.” The Genonsgwa came to the mountain top, where there was a large clear space. Looking around on every side, they saw nothing of the Dagwanoenyents, hence they thought the Dagwanoenyents had gone for food. They had not stood there long, however, when they heard the sound of the wind below them on both sides of the mountain. The noise grew louder and louder, until presently the Dagwanoenyents struck them on both sides, and uniting in their rear, fell upon them from behind also. So terrible were the attack and the power of the Dagwanoenyents, that they tore all the trees out by the roots and swept the earth off the top of the mountain, hurling the rocks and trees and Genonsgwa into the ravine and river below. The Genonsgwa were piled upon one another like the rocks on the banks and in the bed of the river. The Dagwanoenyents were now dancing on the mountain top, and the old woman said: “We have hurled the Genonsgwa down there and we would better finish them. Half of you go along the ridge running south from this mountain east of the river, and the other half along the western ridge, and blow all the trees and stones and earth into the great ravine.” They did this, and when they came together they had stripped the mountain spurs naked. Meanwhile the river forced everything to the end of the ravine, where it piled up the débris of fallen trees in a great dam, so that the river became a lake on the south side of the mountain. This lake is called Hadiqsadon genonsgwa ganyudae; that is, the grave of the Genonsgwashonon, or Genonsgwa people.

68. HINON, HOHAWAQK [327] AND HIS GRANDMOTHER

There was a very poor little old woman, who lived in the woods. She was so destitute that she was nothing but skin and bones. She dwelt in a smoky little lodge and cried all the time, both day and night. Her robe of skins was so old and dirty that one could not tell without difficulty of what material it was made. She had seven daughters, six of whom were carried off one after another by hostile people, while the seventh died.

The daughter who died had been buried some time when one night the old woman heard crying at the grave. Going to the grave with a torch, she found there a naked baby. The child had crawled up out of the grave through a hole in the earth. Wrapping the baby in her blanket, the old woman took it home. She did not know, she did not even suspect, that her daughter was with child when she died.

The little boy grew very rapidly. When he was of good size the old woman came home one day from gathering wood but could not find him. That night it stormed, with thunder and lightning raging. In the morning the child returned to her. His grandmother asked, “Where have you been, my grandson?” “Grandmother,” said he, “I have been with my father; he took me to his home.” “Who is your father?” “Hinon is my father; he took me home first, then we came back and were all about here last night.” The old woman asked, “Was my daughter, your mother, in the grave?” “Yes,” said the boy, “and Hinon used to come to see my mother.” The old woman believed what he said.

As the boy grew he used to make a noise like that of thunder, and whenever Hinon came to the neighborhood he would go out and thunder, thus helping his father, for he was Hinon Hohawaqk, the son of Hinon.

Some time after this the boy asked his grandmother where his six aunts were, and the grandmother answered: “There are an old woman and her son, whose lodge is far away; they live by playing dice and betting. Your aunts went one by one with a company of people, and played dice (plum pits); being beaten, their heads were cut off. Many men and women have gone to the same place and have lost their heads.” Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I will go, too, and will kill that woman and her son.” The old woman tried to keep him home, but he would not remain with her. He told her to make two pairs of moccasins for him. He was very ragged and dirty, so she made the moccasins and got him the skin of a flying-squirrel for a pouch.

Setting off toward the west, soon he came to a great opening where there was a large bark lodge with a pole in front of it, and on the pole a skin robe. He saw boys playing ball in the opening, and going on a side path, he heard a great noise. After a while the people saw him, whereupon one of them said, “I do not know where that boy comes from.” The old people were betting and the boys were playing ball. Soon an old man came up to Hinon Hohawaqk and gave him a club; he played so well that the old man came again, saying, “We want you to play dice; all the people will bet on you.” A bowl was placed on an elk skin lying under the pole. The woman and her son were there and the other people stood around. Hinon Hohawaqk answered, “I do not know how to play the game.” The old man replied, “We will risk our heads on you;” so he followed the old man. He saw a white stone bowl as smooth as glass. The old woman was sitting there on the elk skin, ready to play, and Hinon Hohawaqk knelt down beside the bowl. She said, “You play first.” “No,” answered he, “you play first.” So she took out her dice, which were round and made from plum stones, and blowing on them, cast them into the bowl, which she shook, at the same time calling out, “Game! game!” The dice flew up into the air, all becoming crows and cawing as they went out of sight. After a while they came down, still cawing, and resumed the form of plum stones as they settled in the bowl. The old woman had three plays to make a count of seventeen. She threw three times but got nothing. Then Hinon Hohawaqk in order to win took dice out of his pouch of flying-squirrel skin. The old woman wanted him to use her dice, but he would not touch them. Placing his dice in the bowl, he shook, whereupon the dice, becoming ducks, flew upward. They went very high, and all the people heard them as they rose; when they touched the bowl again they were plum stones, and scored 10. Then Hinon Hohawaqk shook the bowl again, calling, “Game! game!” while the old woman called out, “No game!” Back came the dice, scoring another 10. He cast the third time and scored 10 more. He had won. Then he called the people to see him cut off the heads of the old woman and her son. “No,” said the old woman, “you must play again. Here is my son; you must play ball with him, and if he loses we shall both forfeit our heads.” At this Hinon Hohawaqk asked the old man what he thought. The people, seeing how skillful he was, said “Play!” whereupon he went to the ball-ground, ragged and looking poor. There were but two playing, one on each side. Hinon Hohawaqk jumped, knocking the club far out of his opponent’s hand. Then the old woman’s son ran for his club, but before he could get it back Hinon Hohawaqk had sent the ball through the goal posts. This was repeated seven times and Hinon Hohawaqk won the game. “Now,” said he to all the people, “you can have the heads of the old woman and her son.” The two heads were cut off, and the boys played with the old woman’s head over the whole field.

“Now,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “I am going to bring my grandmother to this place, and we must all come here to stay and have this long dwelling in which to live.” All went home to their lodges, and as the Son of Thunder went, he sang praises of himself, and his grandmother heard him on his way. He told her what he had done, saying, “We must all go there and live in that fine dwelling and field.” She prepared provisions and they went. It took them a long time to reach the place. All the other people having reached there also, they built dwellings around the field. When all had settled down, Hinon Hohawaqk called them to the council lodge to have a dance. After they had finished the dance, all went to their homes. Putting away her old blanket, the grandmother began to dress. Having put on the clothes left by the old woman who lost her head, soon she looked like a young woman and lived happily. After a time Hinon Hohawaqk went off with Hinon, his father, with whom he stayed all winter.

In the spring the old woman was uneasy in her mind. She heard thunder in the west, and soon afterward her grandson came to the lodge. She was very glad to see him. “Where have you been?” she asked. He answered: “At the great mountain far off in the west. I have been with my father helping the nations and protecting men.” After that he remained with his grandmother all summer. Once in a while he would go away when it began to storm but would come back again when the turbulence of the weather ceased.

He lived a long time in this way, until at last he said to his grandmother: “I have an uncle living in the west; some witch stole him from you. I must go to find him.” So he went to the west to search for his uncle. He went on till he came to a lodge in which he saw a woman sitting by a fire, with her head resting on her hands. She would not answer when he asked where his uncle was. Soon afterward he went out, and taking his war club from his pouch, he knocked her on the head, killing her. When he had killed the woman he went out and walked all around the lodge, mourning and looking for his uncle. At last he heard the moaning of a man. He looked into the trees, for he could not see any one on the ground, but could not find him. Soon he came to a large slippery-elm tree, the great roots of which held down a man, his head coming out between two roots on one side and his feet between two on the other side, while the tree stood just on the middle of his body. He was calling to his nephew to give him a smoke. The latter answered: “Oh, poor uncle! how badly off you are. Oh, poor uncle! I will give you a smoke very soon.” Then he kicked over the tree, saying, “Rise, uncle!” at which the uncle rose, well. Taking out his pouch, Hinon Hohawaqk gave the old man a smoke, which pleased and strengthened the uncle very much. He told his nephew how the woman had beguiled him to go with her, pretending that she wanted to marry him. When she had him at her lodge, however, she ate him, putting his bones under the elm tree. Then both the uncle and the nephew went home to the long lodge. The old grandmother was surprised and glad to see them.

All lived happily in their home till one day when the Son of Thunder went off in a storm. When it was over he brought home a wife. After that, when he went away in a storm his wife was uneasy, not knowing where he was, for her husband had brought her home on his back such a long distance in the storm. In due time she gave birth to a son. When the boy was large enough to run about, the old man, the uncle of the Son of Thunder, whose bones had lain under the elm tree, began to teach him, and soon he was able to make a noise like thunder. One day the boy followed his mother out of the lodge. They had a small dog, and as the boy was running after his mother, somebody seized him and rushed away; but the dog ran after him, and, contriving to seize his feet, pulled off his moccasins, which he carried home. This was the first indication the woman had that her boy was gone. Hinon Hohawaqk was off with a storm at the time, and when he came home his wife asked whether he had taken the boy. “No,” said he. “Oh! he is lost,” cried she. “Oh, no! he is all right,” said Hinon Hohawaqk; “he has many relations around the world—uncles and cousins.” The boy stayed away all winter. One day when the winter was over he came home with his father. Then Hinon Hohawaqk said to the people of his family, “We must all move away and live with my father.” The old woman said, “No, we can not go; it is so far and I am so old.” “I will carry you there in a little while,” said the grandson. Thereupon Hinon Hohawaqk began to thunder, and lightnings flew around. The lodge was torn to pieces and blazed up in flames. All the rocks and lodges in the opening were broken to pieces. Hinon Hohawaqk and all of his people rose in the air. The east wind began to blow, bearing them to lofty mountains in the west, where they found old grandfather Hinon. All live there in the caves of the rocks to this day.

69. HAGOWANEN AND OTʻHEGWENHDA [328]

At Hetgen Tgastende [329] lived a man named Hagowanen, who possessed potent orenda (magic power), and who belonged to the Donyonda people. One day he set out to hunt. In his canoe he sailed across a broad lake in front of his lodge, and then, leaving his canoe on the other side, he traveled five days toward the west. Then he collected wood and made a camp.

On the first day of his hunting he killed five bears and deer, which he brought into his camp, saying, “What bad luck I have had today!” On the second day he killed 10 bears and 12 deer and brought them home and skinned and roasted them to dry the meat of the 15 bears and 18 deer which he had killed, finishing the work before daylight. The next morning he said, “I must go after more meat.” That day he killed 24 deer and 20 bears and brought them into camp, and skinned them and finished roasting the meat precisely at midnight. Then he said, “I think I have enough now.” Putting all the meat into one heap, he tied it up with bark ropes. Then he shook the package, saying, “I want you to be small,” at which it shrank into a small package, which he hung in his belt. In the same way be made the skins into similar bundles, which he hung to his belt, and then set out for home.

When Hagowanen reached the lake he could not find his canoe; he looked everywhere, but he could see nothing of it. At last, he saw on the shore a man whose name was Handjoias.[330] When they met, this man asked, “What have you lost?” “My canoe,” answered Hagowanen. “Well, the man who lives on that island yonder was here yesterday, and he took your canoe,” replied Handjoias. “Who is the man on the island?” said Hagowanen. “He is one of the Ganyaqden331 people,” was the answer. “How am I to get my canoe back?” inquired Hagowanen. “Give me what meat you have, and I will get it for you,” said Handjoias. “What am I to eat if I do that?” replied Hagowanen. “I will do better, I will bring the canoe. Take your meat home, and roast it, keeping half and putting the other half outside of the door of the lodge for me,” declared Handjoias. “Very well,” answered Hagowanen. Handjoias, who himself had taken the canoe to the island, now brought it back, saying: “That man on the island is a very ugly fellow. He almost killed me.” Getting into his canoe, Hagowanen sailed home; on arriving he drew up his canoe safely on the rocks. Then he untied and threw down the bundle of meat, which in a moment regained its natural size. The meat he piled up inside of the lodge, and tanned the skins, but he never paid Handjoias for bringing back the canoe.

After a time a woman of the Hongak (Wild Goose) people came to Hagowanen’s lodge, bringing a basket of marriage bread, and saying, “My mother has sent me to Hagowanen to ask him to take me to wife.” Hagowanen hung his head a while thinking, and mused, “I suppose nothing ill-starred will come of this.” Then, looking at her, he said, “It is well; I am willing to do what your mother wants me to do.” On hearing this reply the woman was glad. She placed the basket of nuptial corn bread before him. In accepting it he said: “I am thankful. For many years I have not tasted bread which was made by a woman.” So he ate some of the bread, whereupon they became husband and wife.

At the end of the first year the Hongak woman bore a son to Hagowanen, and so she did every year until at last they had ten sons, whom they named in their order from the eldest to the youngest, as follows: (a) Tgwendahenh Niononeoden;[332] (b) Hononhwaes; (c) Haniodaqses; (d) Hagondes; (e) Dahsihdes; (f) Dahsinongwadon; (g) Daheqdes; (h) Oeqdowanen; (i) Donoengwenhden; and (j) Otʻhegwenhda.

They lived together for some time at Hetgen Tgastende, until one morning when Hagowanen, who was sitting on a stone outside the lodge with drooping head, said to himself: “Well, I have many children now. I did not think that woman would have so many. I must go home again.” So he rose, and going aboard his canoe, sailed away across Ganyodaeowanen (“The Big Lake”). After a while his wife, missing him, said, “Where is my husband?” She looked out and around everywhere but could not find him. The eldest son was then a youth and the youngest a lively little boy.

One day the eldest said, “I am going to look for my father, and see where he is.” The mother rejoined, “You will get lost on the way.” “Oh, no! I will not get lost,” he replied. At this the mother continued, “Then you may go.” So he set out, traveling northward. While going across a rocky place he found a trail. “This looks just like my father’s trail,” said he, following it. Soon he came to a cross-trail, and after examining it, he said: “I wonder where this path comes from and where it goes. Well, when I return, I shall find out.” Not far from the cross-trail he came to a lodge, and as the trail led up to it, he entered. Looking around, he saw an old man in the southeast corner of the room; another in the southwest; a third, in the northwest; and a fourth, in the northeast. All sat smoking. The youth looked for his father, saying, “He must be here somewhere.” The first old man, raising his head, looked at him and asked: “Well, my grandson, what are you doing here? Come this way, if you want to see your father. I will show him to you; he is right here.” On the youth approaching, the old man took him by the hair, and bending his head forward over a bark bowl, cut it off, saying: “I am glad that a young game animal has come. It must be good eating, as it is just the right age.” So saying, he began to quarter the body.

After the people at Hetgen Tgastende had waited for some time without tidings of the eldest brother, Hononhwaes, the second son of the Hongak woman, said, “I want to follow my elder brother.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “do not go away; something evil has befallen your brother.” “I must go,” said the boy; “I can not resist the desire. I must see my brother and father.” So he began to prepare for the journey, putting on a hunting shirt, leggings, and moccasins of buckskin, and taking his bow and arrows. His mother cried all the time, but she could not stop him from going. He went northward, as his brother had done, going over the same trail, until he arrived at the cross-trail and the lodge, where he saw the four old men smoking in the four corners of the room. He of the northwest corner spoke, saying, “My grandson, do you want to see your father? Come here and you shall see him.” He went forward and, looking into a large bark bowl half full of water, he saw the faces of his father and brother. As he was gazing on them, the old man cut off his head also, rejoicing as before.

Nine of the Hongak brothers went, one after another, in search of their father and brothers, and all were killed by the four old men in the same lodge. At last the tenth and youngest, Othegwenhda, who was still small and young, said to his mother, “I should like to follow my brothers.” “Oh, my son!” said the mother, “you must not go. There are four brothers, old men, living on the road, who are called Hadiiades (Blacksnakes). They have great magic power.” “But,” said he, “I must go. I want to see my brothers very much.” “You will never see them,” she replied. “They are dead.” “Well, can not I kill the old men?” he said. “Maybe you can,” she replied, “if you take my orenda (magic power) with you.” “Well, mother,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “give me your magic power. I want to kill these men.” “I will go and bring my magic power, my son,” said his mother. Thereupon the Hongak woman went westward to a rough and rocky place, where she got a small figurine of slate rock, about half the length of her little finger, with which she returned to her home. When she had reached home the boy was ready to start. He had armed himself with a bow of hickory and arrows of red willow pointed with wasp stings. “Here,” said the mother, “I will tell you what to do. Gird on a belt and put this fetish in it.” He placed the fetish between his buckskin belt and his body. “You are now ready,” said the mother. “Now you can do what you like. You can change yourself to whatever form you please.”

Otʻhegwenhda, going northward as his brothers had done, found a fresh trail looking as if made only a few minutes before. “This must be my father’s trail,” thought he; “perhaps I will find him somewhere.” After a while he came to the cross-trail running east and west; he stood thinking whence it came and whither it led. “I will see,” said he. Going toward the east, he soon reached a wide opening in the forest, near the end of which was a cloud of dust moving in his direction. “I will hurry back,” thought he, “or something may happen to me.” The moment he turned back the great dust cloud approached very quickly, and when it touched him, from weakness he fell to the ground. Soon after this he heard a noise, and, looking up, saw a person with long legs, rushing on toward him. Springing to his feet, the youth climbed a tree; and then he shot his wasp-sting pointed arrows, thus killing the stranger in the cloud of dust. This stranger was a Djieien (Spider).

Now Otʻhegwenhda went eastward again, and another cloud of dust rushed against him, but he got outside of it, and after the cloud had passed, he hastened westward to the point where the trails crossed. Thence, going northward, he soon reached the lodge where the four old brothers, Hadiiades (Blacksnakes), sat smoking. After standing outside a while, he found a crack in the lodge; peeping in, he saw the four old men in the four corners, at which he soliloquized: “I wonder whether these are the men of whom my mother spoke. I will kill them if I can, and if I can not, I will burn the lodge.” Taking out the fetish, he placed it on his head, whereupon it stood up, and he said, “I am going to ask you a question; I want you to tell me what to do; I want to kill these old men.” The fetish answered: “If you want to kill them, you must get on that high rock and call out, ‘I, Otʻhegwenhda, am on this high rock.’ You will find very sharp flint stones up there; take a handful of these and throw them this way, saying, ‘I want it to be hot.’ This is your only course to succeed.” As Otʻhegwenhda put back the fetish in his belt, he heard the old men talking. “It seems Otʻhegwenhda is about here,” said the old man in the northwest corner to the one in the southeast. “Oh!” replied the other, “I thought you said all that family were killed.” Then the old man in the southwest remarked, “It was my opinion that one was left.” “Well, I think they are all gone except the old woman Hongak,” said the old man in the northeast. “Well,” added the old man in the northwest, “it seems to me that Otʻhegwenhda is lurking around here somewhere.” “If you think so, you should look for him,” replied the old man of the southwest. “Yes, I must look to see if I can find him,” rejoined the man of the northwest. Otʻhegwenhda, leaping on the lodge, sat with his feet hanging through the smoke-hole. The old man looked everywhere but could not see him.

Otʻhegwenhda with his bow and arrows now shot down through the smoke-hole at each of the four old men, the arrows piercing their bodies deeply, but the old men were not hurt; they did not even know that they were hit. Leaping off the lodge and landing about forty rods away, Otʻhegwenhda went into the rock, whence he called out, “My name is Otʻhegwenhda.” As he stood there a while one of the old men said: “My back is sore. It feels as though my bones were broken.” Picking up a handful of sharp fragments of flint, Otʻhegwenhda threw them at the lodge, saying, “I want you to be red hot and burn up these old men and their lodge.” The flint went straight to the lodge, a few pieces flying beyond. Those that struck the lodge set it on fire, and those that fell beyond set the forest on fire. Everything was blazing in and around the lodge. Then the boy threw another handful of flints, saying, “I want you to cut these old men’s heads off,” whereupon the flints pierced their necks, causing their heads to fall off.

Otʻhegwenhda stood on the rock, watching the fire burn until nothing but coals remained. Suddenly he heard an explosion—a Dagwanoenyent flew toward him, knocking him off the rock; then rising high in the air, it went straight west. Quickly springing to his feet and looking up, the boy saw the Dagwanoenyent going higher and higher. Soon he heard a crash as it struck the Blue (Sky),[333] after which it came rushing down again, soon reaching the earth. Thereupon the youth crushed its head with a white flint.

Otʻhegwenhda now searched all through the coals with a pointed stick, but he found nothing but fire. At the northwestern corner of the burnt heap he found a trail leading toward the northwest, and following this, he came to an opening in the forest where he saw a cloud of dust rushing toward him. Swerving aside into the woods, he peeped out from some sheltering shrubbery; presently the cloud stopped at the edge of the woods. Then he saw a Djieien (Spider) 6 feet tall. “Oh! I thought,” said Djieien, “somebody was on the trail. It must be my master fooling me. I thought he was here and had found some more of the Hongak family.” The Djieien, turning back, ran as fast as he could, Otʻhegwenhda following closely until Djieien reached the lodge, which was slightly sunken into the ground. When the Djieien went into the lodge Otʻhegwenhda listened outside. Soon he heard crying within and thought that the sound resembled that of his father’s voice, and that his father must be in there. Then he took out the fetish, which came to life, and stood up; he asked of it, “How am I to kill the Djieien who lives in here?” The fetish answered: “Go to that tree just west of here, and climbing high upon it, call out, ‘I am Otʻhegwenhda, and more powerful than anything under the Blue (Sky). I can kill any kind of game (ganyo) on earth.’ When you have spoken, cut a limb from the tree and throw it with the command to split the Spider’s heart in two (the heart was in the ground under the lodge). When Djieien is killed, you can come down and see your father before burning the lodge.” Otʻhegwenhda did as directed by the fetish. He cut off a limb of the tree, and spat on it; straightway it became alive, and he cast it toward the lodge, saying, “Split Djieien’s heart in two.” The limb went under the lodge to the place where the heart was hidden, and the instant its heart was split Djieien stretched out, saying, “This is the end of me,” and died. The boy heard the words and laughed. Then he slipped down, and entering the lodge, said: “I must go in to see my father. I heard him cry, so he must be inside.” So saying, he went in. There Djieien lay dead in the middle of the room. Under the couch was someone nearly dead. On raising the couch, he found his father in a dying condition with the flesh gone from his legs and arms. Otʻhegwenhda exclaimed, “Oh, my father! you must go home; my mother wishes to see you.” Hagowanen whispered (he had lost his voice), “My son, you will die if you come in here.” “Oh, no!” answered the boy; “there is no danger now.” Putting the fetish on his hand, he asked it, “What shall be done with my father?” The fetish answered: “He is only a skeleton now. Spit on your hands and rub the spittle all over him, and flesh shall come on his bones again.” Otʻhegwenhda did this, and his father became as well as ever, whereupon he said: “Now, I have become Sʻhodieonskon. I have heard old people say that when Sʻhodieonskon dies he comes to life again immediately.” The boy laughed, and Hagowanen added, “Let us go home.” “You go, but I must find my brothers,” replied the youth.

When Hagowanen reached home, his wife, looking at him, began to cry: “Oh! my dear son, I wish you were here. I think I have seen something mysterious.” Hagowanen asked, “Why do you talk so?” She cried the more, and he added: “Why do you cry? Are you sorry that I have returned?” “No, but you are not alive,” she said. “Oh, yes! I am,” he replied. “No; I can not believe that you are,” and, thinking he was a ghost, she drove him out to the rocks, where he sat down.

After his father had gone Otʻhegwenhda burned Djieien’s lodge. When nothing but coals were left, something shot up out of them, and flying westward, it finally alighted on the plain, becoming a Dowisdowi (Sandpiper). “That is the way I do, and that is why I claimed, ‘I can kill anybody,’” said the boy. Going around the edge of the clearing on the eastern side, he found a broad trail on which he traveled for half a day, until he came to a cross-trail leading from north to south. He stood at the four corners made by the trails, and putting the fetish on his hand said, “You are the one I need.” “What do you wish?” asked the fetish. “I wish you to tell me what I am to do now.” “If you go to the foot of that pine tree,” answered the fetish, “you shall find a bark bowl, beyond the tree a medicine spring, on the other side of the spring, a plant. Dig up this plant, put it into the bowl, which you shall fill with water from the spring, and then at this spot where the trails intersect, dig a hole, and in it put the bowl with the plant standing in the water. This done, step aside and see what will happen. Now, be quick!” Hurrying to the pine tree which grew in the northwest between the northern and western trails, Otʻhegwenhda found the spring, and farther on, the plant awéaundagon (in full bloom), with bright red blossoms. He did as directed, putting the bowl with the plant therein in the ground at the crossing of the trails; then stepping aside, he watched and listened. Presently he heard a noise in the forest like that made by a heavy wind from the north. Nearer and nearer it came, accompanied with a great cloud of dust. Nothing could be distinguished until the cloud stopped at the crossing. Then, in the middle of the cloud he saw the skeleton of Djainosgowa standing near the bowl. The skeleton, walking up to the plant, ate one of its red blossoms. Though it had no stomach, no place to hide the blossom, it nevertheless vanished, at which the boy wondered greatly, saying: “It is nothing but bones. Where does the food go?” Presently, the skeleton growing sick, jumped around until it fell to pieces—arms, legs, head, ribs, all the bones falling apart. Now Otʻhegwenhda laughed, standing in his hiding place. But before he had stopped laughing he heard the rushing of another wind from the south; after it came a cloud of dust, which stopped at the crossing, and he saw the skeleton of Tsodiqgwadon near the bowl. This also, going straight to the plant, ate a blossom. In a moment it began to shake all over; soon it fell to pieces, becoming a pile of bones. Soon the sound of a third wind was heard approaching from the east with a great cloud of dust. This came rushing on until it stopped at the crossing. In the middle of the cloud was the skeleton of Ganiagwaihegowa, which ate a blossom, after doing which it began to tremble and to become disjointed until, finally, it was a mere heap of bones, like the other three.

Taking out the fetish again, Otʻhegwenhda asked it, “Is the work all finished now?” “Yes,” said the fetish; “all the trails are clear. Now you can go to the end of the southern trail. Perhaps you may find your brother there. If you do, treat him as you did your father.” Immediately he started toward the south. When he reached the end of the trail, he could see nothing; but he searched until at last he found a rock with an opening in it. Entering this opening, he went down into the ground, looking around very closely. It was dark, and he thought, “There may be more skeletons here, but I must go on.” At last he came to a room. There was no fire in it; only plenty of light. He saw also another room, on entering which he found three of his brothers—the eldest and the two next to him. The eldest called out: “Oh, my brother! are you here? You would better run away. The skeleton will come soon.” “Oh! I will kill it,” he said. “My brother, I do not think you can live if you stay here,” the elder brother continued. “I have come to take you away,” answered Otʻhegwenhda. “We can not walk,” answered the three brothers; “the skeleton has eaten our flesh.” On looking at them, he saw that their limbs were bare bones. After he had rubbed them with his spittle, they were covered with flesh as before, and his brothers were well and strong again. Thereupon he said: “I want you to start home now. I will go to find our other brothers.”

The three brothers now went home. When their mother saw them, she began to cry, thinking they were ghosts, and, seizing a club, she drove them out. They found their father, who was very glad to see them, and they sat down on the rocks with him.

Otʻhegwenhda, now returning to the crossing, went along the eastern trail to the end. There he saw nothing and wondered whence Ganiagwaihegowa came. At last he noticed an opening in the ground, and, entering it, he went down. It was very dark within. “There must be a skeleton here,” thought he, looking around. Going farther, he came to a room in which was abundant light from rotten wood all around. Farther on he came to a second room, in which were three of his brothers too weak to move, all their flesh having been eaten away. Having brought flesh to their limbs by means of his spittle, he sent them home. Their mother, thinking that they were ghosts, cried; then she drove them out to the rocks, where they found their father and brothers.

Otʻhegwenhda now went along the northern trail until he came to a small opening, where he stopped a moment. At this time a whirlwind came straight upon him, causing him to run to the shelter of a great maple tree near by. In a short time he heard the sound of a blow on the other side of the tree. Looking toward the spot, he saw an Onwi (Winged Snake) lying dead, for coming in the whirlwind, it had struck the tree and in this way had been killed. The boy now went to the edge of the opening, where he heard the noise caused by a second great whirlwind. “I shall die this time surely,” thought he, as he saw a multitude of winged snakes borne by the whirlwind. Again as he stood behind a tree, they rushed far beyond. Thereupon he ran to the other side of the opening. Presently the whirlwind of snakes [334] came back; this time he lay down on the roots, on the opposite side of the tree, until the snakes rushed by and far away. Now, putting the fetish on his hand, it stood up alive; he asked, “What am I to do with these snakes that are chasing me?” “Oh! make a large fire across their trail,” was the reply. Gathering boughs and sticks into a great pile, he set fire to the western end of it, saying to the wind, “Oh, my grandfather! send a breeze on the western end of this pile.” His grandfather heard him, and soon there was a mighty fire. When well kindled, he said, “Let the breeze be still.” Immediately it died out. Very soon the snakes came on again in the whirlwind, and rushing into the fire, every one was killed.

Now free, Otʻhegwenhda hurried along the northern trail again until he came to a second one leading toward the northeast. Once more taking out the fetish, he asked, “Which way shall I go?” “North,” was the answer. So he went on. Soon he saw a trail going toward the northwest, but he kept straight on his own trail to the end. At first he saw nothing there, but after a long search he found an opening near a birch tree which stood at the end of the trail. On entering, he came to a room in which an old man sat smoking. “What can that old man be doing,” thought he. Presently the old man straightened up, saying: “I am weak this morning. It seems to me somebody is around here. I thought the man who guarded the opening said the Hongak family were all dead.” Raising his head, the old man looked, and as he looked, his eyes seemed to stand out from his head. At length he saw the boy, to whom he said: “My nephew, I am glad you have come to visit me. I am going to try whether I can find what luck (or orenda) you have. So saying, he shook a rattle made of Dagwanoenyent, saying sáwa. “No,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “I will try your orenda or magic power.” “Oh, no! I will try first,” said the old man, whose name was Dewaqsentʻhwûs (Flea). Thereupon they disputed until they came to blows. Throwing down the rattle, the old man struck the boy with one hand. Immediately the old man’s arm fell off; he struck with the other hand, whereupon the other arm fell off. Then he kicked at the youth with one leg, and that broke off; he kicked with the other leg, which likewise dropped off. The old man was now merely head and body. The arms and the legs tried to get back into their places, but Otʻhegwenhda rushed around to push them away, and shot an arrow through the old man. Immediately the arrow, taking root, became a small tree. Though fastened to the earth, the old man tried to bite Otʻhegwenhda, but the moment he did so, his head flew off. The boy pounded the body to bits. Jumping and dancing around, he said, “Oh! my uncle is all in pieces.” In the old man’s lodge he found a second room, in which were the last three of his brothers, who were as weak and wretched as were the others. These he cured in like manner and sent home. Their mother drove them out of the lodge, whence they went and sat down on the rocks with their father and six brothers.

After his brothers had gone home Otʻhegwenhda, taking out the fetish, asked it, “Is there anything on the northeastern trail?” “Not much. Still you will save some people, if you go there,” was the reply. “Is there trouble in the northwest?” the youth asked. “Yes; but not very much,” was the answer. Keeping on to the end of the northwestern trail, Otʻhegwenhda found a lodge without a door, at which he thought, “How can I get into this lodge?” Peeping through a crack, he saw within an old woman of the Onweaunt people, who was singing, “Otʻhegwenhda is coming, Otʻhegwenhda is coming.” “Well, she knows I am here,” thought the boy. Presently, saying, “I will go out and play,” she went into a small but very deep lake, called Dyunyudenodes, also Dedyoendjongoqden,[335] going way down into the water. After a while her tail appeared moving around in a circle on the water. As the lake was very small she was near the shore. The boy saw on the tail two small objects like fins, which in rubbing against each other made music. After the old woman had played a while, she started to come out. Seeing the boy, she said, “My grandson, do not kill me; I never killed any of your people.” “If you give me something, I won’t kill you,” answered the boy. “Well, I will give you one of these points on my tail;” and taking off one, she said, “Keep this; it is good to find out your luck with.” “What shall I do when I want to use it?” asked the youth. “Put it under your head when you go to sleep; you will have a dream, and the dream will tell you what you want to know,” she replied.

Now the boy went home with the old woman. On entering her lodge and looking around, he saw an opening in the ground; going through this, he found a great many people almost dead. To these he said, “My friends, I have come to help you, so you may live a little longer.” Having spat on his hands, he rubbed each one of them, whereupon all were well straightway, and went out into the open air. He asked all where they came from and told them what direction to take to go home. One said, “I came from Hetgen Tgastende.” There were ten with him; they were Donyonda people. “Go toward the southwest for five days,” the youth told him. Another said, “We came from Gawenogowanenne.” “Go westward five days’ journey,” he ordered. Twenty followed him; they were Teqdoon people. A third person said, “We came from Dyoenhdanódes;” these were Díhdih people.[336] “Go toward the northeast,” he directed them. A fourth person said, “We live in Dyonondadenyon;337 our chief’s name is Honigonowanen.” These were Djoqgweani338 people. Otʻhegwenhda said: “I must go to pay you a visit. You have twenty days’ journey before you.”

All went home. When they were gone, Otʻhegwenhda went back to the old woman, whom he asked, “Why did you shut up these people?” “I did not shut them up,” she replied. “Well, they were in your lodge,” he continued. “Yes, but my husband, who is a man-eater, did it,” she responded. “Does he live here? What is his name?” he asked. “He lives on another trail,” she replied; “his name is Dewaqsentʻhwûs (the Weeper, or Flea).” The boy, laughing, asked, “Was that old man your husband? Oh! I killed him some time ago.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” he said. “Well, then I am glad. I never liked him. Your people are safe now, for you killed the man who always hunted them.” The boy said, “I will let you live this time, but I will kill you if you ever chase my people.”

Otʻhegwenhda now went on the northeastern trail until he came to a lodge in which he heard singing in a very low voice: “The youngest son of Hongak is going all over the world. We wish he would come to visit us.” Then the song ceased, and a woman’s voice said, “I feel worse this morning.” “Let us go out and play and feel well,” answered the man’s voice. Coming out, with the boy following them, they went to some white flints as large as a lodge. Picking up one of these stones, the woman threw it into the air. It fell on her head but did not hurt her a bit. Then she threw it to the man who, having caught it, threw it back. Thus they played some time until the woman said, “Let us go home.” “Very well,” answered the man. Otʻhegwenhda hurried on before them. After they had entered the lodge, the man said: “It seems as though some one were here. I will go and look outside.” On going out and finding the boy, he said, “My grandson, what are you doing here?” The youth replied, “I have come just to visit you.” “Come inside then,” was the response. “Otʻhegwenhda has come,” said the man to his wife, who turned, saying: “My grandson, I am glad you have come. We have been waiting for a long time to see you. Now we will tell you why we wish you to be powerful. We know that you have killed the man-eater, Dewaqsentʻhwûs, and the skeletons of Tsodiqgwadon and Ganiagwaihegowa. There are many people under our lodge and we want you to free them.” At one corner of the room was an opening through which the boy passed into a second very large room, in which he found a multitude of people without flesh and almost dead. He rubbed them with spittle, thus curing them, after which he brought them out. “Now,” said he, “you are all free and need have no further fear, for the evil people are all dead.” He then asked all where they came from. One party, the Djoñiaik people, said they came from Diogegas he Tgawenonde (Hickory Point). “You go southward fifty days,” he told them; and they went. The second party, the Gaisgense people, said they came from Gendowane (Great Meadow). “You go toward the southeast,” he told them. A third party, the Djagwiu people, said they came from Gahadowane (Great Forest). “You go toward the southeast,” he told them. A fourth party, the Ogenhwan people, said they came from Diodonhwendjíagon (Broken Land). A fifth party, the Gwaqgwa people, said they came from Hehdon dyóondaien (Juneberry Tree Grove). “Go directly westward a day and a half,” was the command. A sixth party, the Guro [339] people, said that they came from Nitgendasédyea (Beyond the Narrow Opening). “You travel toward the south five days’ journey,” he said. Three were left who did not remember at first where they came from. Then they said, “We think that the old people called the place we came from Steep Opening.” “Then you go northeastward,” said the youth. Otʻhegwenhda was left there alone. The man and woman who had been guarding the people just liberated now thanked him; they, too, were then free from Dewaqsentʻhwûs, the man-eater, who, being master of the skeletons, had forced them all to work for him in capturing and confining people for him to eat. “Now,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “let all the trails disappear. Trails are not to be made across the world to deceive people.” Thereupon the trails all vanished.

Then the youth went to his own lodge, where he found his father and his nine brothers, sitting on a great flat stone. “Oh!” said the youth, “why do you not go inside where my mother is?” Hagowanen answered, “Your mother drove us out.” Otʻhegwenhda, going into the lodge, asked: “Mother, what have you done? Are you not glad that I brought my father and brothers back?” “Did you find and bring them home?” asked his mother. “Yes, I did,” he replied. Then the woman was sorry. She invited them in, and they came into the lodge and all were happy. After he had been home a while Otʻhegwenhda said to his family: “I must visit my friends, the Djoqgweani in Dionondadenion. It is not far from here,” he said. They had to let him go and do what he liked, for he possessed the most potent orenda.

Otʻhegwenhda soon came to a lake called Onyudetdji (Rough Lake). Putting on the water a piece of slate, he said, “I want you to take me across.” Sitting upon the slate, it carried him quickly over the water to the other side, where he left it, saying: “Wait here until I return. Then I shall need your help again.” Soon reaching Dionondadenion, a beautiful country, he inquired until he found the chief’s lodge. When he entered he saw an old man, to whom he said: “I have come to see you.” The old man was silent. The youth spoke again, but received no answer. “Why do you not speak?” thought he. A third time he spoke, whereupon the old man replied, “Why do you not hurry and eat up all my people?” “I have never killed any of your people. I have saved many of them from Dewaqsentʻhwûs, and I thought you would be glad,” said the youth. “Well, there is a man around here eating up all my people. He looks like you, though he is an old man.” “I came to help you,” said Otʻhegwenhda, “and I will kill this man.” “Well, he is coming now,” said Honigoneowanen. Presently a man kicked the door open and came in, saying, “I have come to see you a few moments.” His mouth was smeared with fresh blood. Otʻhegwenhda, standing up, said: “I have come to fight with you. You will have to conquer me before you kill these people.” “Very well,” said the man-eater, whose name was Djiniondaqses;[340] “come out.” Thereupon they went out, and they fought until night; then until dawn. Next morning Otʻhegwenhda was nothing but bones, while the man-eater, too, had lost all his flesh. The two skeletons fought all that day, and when night came, their bodies were broken up, nothing being left but the two skulls. The skulls fought all night, and when daylight came the skull of Djiniondaqses was crushed to pieces. The skull of Otʻhegwenhda was sound, and it kept on rolling over the ground where he had fought. As it rolled around, the bones of his body began to reattach themselves to it, and soon the skeleton was complete. Then the skeleton rolled in the blood and flesh where he had fought, and straightway the flesh and blood grew to it, until at last Otʻhegwenhda stood up sound and well as ever.

When Otʻhegwenhda went into the chief’s lodge, Honigoneowanen said: “I am very glad and thank you. I will now give you my daughter, and when you are old enough, you shall marry her.” Otʻhegwenhda took the chief’s daughter to Hetgen Tgastende and they lived there.

70. OKTEONDON AND HAIEÑTʻHWUS [341] (THE PLANTERS)

Okteondon was a youth who lived with his maternal uncle, Haieñtʻhwus, in an arborlike lodge in the forest. From his earliest babyhood Okteondon lay carefully hidden from the eyes of the people, having been for this purpose securely fastened under the roots of a large tree, around which his uncle had erected his lodge.[341a] Okteondon had now reached the age of puberty.

One day while Haieñtʻhwus was in the neighboring field planting corn, he heard his nephew singing in a loud voice: “Now, I am rising. Now, I am rising.” Dropping his planting-stick and shouting, “No, my nephew, you are not ready yet; you are in too great a hurry,” Haieñtʻhwus ran home, where he found that Okteondon had raised his head by partially uprooting and overturning the sheltering tree. Haieñtʻhwus therefore pushed him back into his place, admonishing him, “I will tell you when it is time for you to arise.”

The next day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to plant corn. He had hardly reached the field when he heard once more his nephew begin to sing and to strive to arise. Haieñtʻhwus at once started for the lodge, running with so much haste that he lost on the way all his seed corn from his seeding basket. When he reached home he found the tree half uprooted and leaning far over to one side. So he pushed his nephew back into his place, but he was unable to reset the tree as firmly or as nearly upright as it was before.

On the third day Haieñtʻhwus again went out to finish his corn planting, but the moment that he began to drop the grains of corn he heard still again the singing of his nephew. So Haieñtʻhwus without delay rushed back to the lodge, but while running he heard an awful crash and crackling of limbs, from which he knew that the tree had fallen. When he reached the lodge he found Okteondon sitting on the ground. Haieñtʻhwus did not return to the field to complete his corn planting, but remained in his home to look after his nephew and to make the necessary preparations for the coming marriage of the young man.

Early the next morning they heard sounds outside the lodge, and shortly afterward a woman and a beautiful younger woman, who were Wadiʻoniondies, entered the lodge. One of the women, addressing Okteondon, said, “I have come purposely to take you home with me.” “It is well. I consent,” answered the youth, who started at once to cross the lodge to accompany her and her companion. But Haieñtʻhwus stopped him with the remark: “You must not go yet. You have friends who are coming to escort you, and must wait for them.” Then “The Planter” hastened to prepare some food to eat, and for this purpose placed a large kettle of hominy over the fire. About the time that the hominy was ready three young men came into the lodge, who were invited by Haieñtʻhwus to eat. When Okteondon, the young men, and Haieñtʻhwus had eaten the boiled hominy, the old man began to pack some garments in a small bundle. When he had finished his parcel, he said to his nephew, “When any one of your friends is in need of things such as these you will find them in this parcel.”

Then Okteondon, after putting on his snowshoes, instructed his friends, saying: “You must follow me, and in doing so you must step in my tracks;” then he started. The three young men in stepping in his tracks found that it was like walking on solid ground, although the earth was covered deep with snow. Toward evening they came to a place where they saw smoke floating like clouds among the trees. When they drew near to an opening they saw a number of fires, around which were four young women. Thereupon Okteondon, addressing his companions, said: “We will stop here and kindle our fires near these women.” When their fires were burning briskly Okteondon, going up to the four young women, who had kettles of hominy boiling over their fires, overturned the kettles and scattered the fires with his feet. This greatly angered the women except the last, who was the youngest. After doing this Okteondon returned to his friends, and remarking that he was going out to hunt for fresh meat, started off into the forest. He had not gone far when he came to a tree on which he saw marks made by the claws of a bear. Walking up to the tree he exclaimed: “Thou who art in this tree, come forth.” In a moment a bear came forth, which he killed; after dressing it he brought the meat to the camp. Then he said, “I am going to fetch my uncle’s kettle,” and passing around a big tree standing near the camp, he returned with a large kettle. In this kettle they placed the meat to cook over their fire. When the meat was cooked they sat down and ate it. After they were through eating Okteondon said: “Let us now go to our wives. I wish you to follow my advice, too. Take none of this meat to your wives, for if you do we shall have bad luck. Some misfortune will befall us.” When they reached the camp of the young women they found that the latter had hominy cooked and were cooling it. They sat with their backs turned toward the men. The youngest sister, whom Okteondon claimed as his wife, asked him to come over and eat with her. The others said nothing. Okteondon ate, but the other men did not. That night they slept with the women. Hotʻhoh,[342] one of the three men who accompanied Okteondon, was naked. He had a hole slit through the skin of his hip, in which he carried his war club. He chose the eldest of the Wadiʻoniondies342a sisters, and Okteondon the youngest. The women kept their canoe near the four fires, and when they undressed they placed their outdoor garments in the canoe. The next morning the men returned to their fires. One of the men, however, had lost his leggings and his moccasins, for the woman with whom he had slept had robbed him of them. The sisters warmed up the cold hominy for their breakfast, and after eating it went aboard their canoes and sailed away through the air, leaving a trail343 therein.

In the camp of the men Okteondon opened his pouch and, taking therefrom a pair of leggings and a pair of moccasins, he gave them to the man who had been robbed of his own. When the men had prepared and eaten their breakfast, and had made the necessary provision for their journey, they started off, following the trail of the canoe of the women, which was plainly visible in the air. Toward evening they again saw smoke in the distance ahead. When yet some distance from it Okteondon said: “We will encamp here.” Again going over to the camp of the women, he walked through their fires and upset the kettles of hominy. Then returning to his own camp, he went out to hunt, in order to get meat for the supper of his friends. But he had to go a long distance before finding any game, for the woman who stole the foolish man’s leggings had stretched them out over the country, her very long arms describing an imaginary circle with them, at the same time telling the game animals included therein to go outside of this circle. So Okteondon had to do likewise before he could find a bear. Finally he killed one, the carcass of which he brought into camp. When he returned to camp he upbraided his three companions with the words: “You have been the cause of my being tired by your folly. You know that I forbade you taking anything to the women, even a small portion of meat. But you failed to obey my advice, and I have now experienced some of the effects.” Procuring a kettle in the same way as he had done before, Okteondon then proceeded to cook the bear’s flesh. When it was done he and his companions ate their evening meal. After they were through eating they went over to the camp of the women, where they found them sitting each with a bark dish of hot hominy on her knees, which she was cooling. They sat with their faces turned toward home and with their backs toward the camp of the men. The youngest of the sisters asked Okteondon to eat with her. Later, separating into pairs, they all went to bed together. As the night passed Okteondon grew angrier and angrier, and so he lay awake. At last, when he thought that all were asleep, he said, addressing a tall tree standing near the canoe which contained the clothes of the women: “I want you, Tree, to bend down to me.” Thereupon the tree bent down to him and Okteondon placed the canoe among its topmost branches. Then he said, “Now I want you to stand upright again,” and the Tree again resumed its erect position. He immediately added, “I desire you, Tree, to be covered with ice,” and it soon so happened. Okteondon did this because he was angered by the action of the women in driving the game away, thus causing him to go so far to hunt to find the bear he had killed, and in having stolen the leggings and moccasins of one of his companions.

Early the next morning Okteondon and his companions returned to their camp fires. When the women arose they could not find the canoe in which their outdoor garments were kept. So they had to run around from place to place naked, trying in vain to find them. At last they discovered the canoe in the top of the tree; whereupon the eldest of the sisters said, “I will try to get it down.” Moistening both her hands and feet with saliva, which she rubbed thoroughly into them, the nails on her fingers and toes presently grew long and powerful, resembling the claws of a bear. Then the woman began to climb the tree. She succeeded in getting halfway up the icy trunk when, losing her grip, she slid down, her powerful nails tearing the ice as she slipped, until she struck the ground in a sitting posture. She made several attempts to reach the canoe but each time failed. All the sisters talked together over the situation, finally deciding that no one but Okteondon had played them this mean trick. When they asked him about it, he replied, “I put your canoe on the tree top because you insulted me and so made me angry.” The women all promised that they would not do such things again if he would get the canoe for them. So, relenting, Okteondon asked the Tree to bend down a second time. As the top reached the ground, Okteondon took the canoe therefrom, which he gave back to the women. They were then able to dress themselves. After doing so, they took their food out of the canoe, and, having cooked and eaten their morning meal, they continued their journey homeward in the canoe. Shortly the four men followed them, keeping the trail all day.

Toward evening the men noticed before them smoke in the distance. When they drew near it they saw that it arose from the middle of a great lake covered with smooth ice. The four sisters were encamped in the middle of this lake, and Okteondon told his friends that he would make ready to camp on the ice, too. Gathering a handful of dry leaves and hemlock boughs, he said to his companions: “Be cautious and follow my steps. Be sure that each of you step exactly in my tracks.” When near the camp of the women Okteondon remarked, “We will camp here.” Laying down his handful of wood, it at once increased in size, becoming a great pile, whereupon he said, “I want a fire to be here”; and there was there immediately a fire. Then he scattered the handful of hemlock boughs on one side of the fire, saying, “In this place shall be our lodge and beds,” and straightway there was a lodge, and within were beds for every one present.

Now, the home of the sisters was on the shore of this lake, but they had camped in the middle of its waters in order to see how the four men would act and to ascertain what orenda they had.

Early in the night the women came to the camp of the men but did not sleep with them, returning to their own camp instead. In the morning the women went to their home on the shore of the lake. When they arrived there their mother asked them, “What husband has the most orenda?” They answered unanimously, “Okteondon.” When the men awoke in the morning they saw the shore of the lake lined with great crowds of people, who were expecting the return of the women with their husbands. When ready to start, Okteondon said to the three men, “We will now go to the women, but you must be very cautious and must not look up at the people.” Then the four men started from their camp on the ice for the shore. When they had gone but a short distance, three of them heard a voice singing, Gwăʼʹ wăʼonĕñioñʹdĭʼ, which means, “Lo! It is raining bones.” These words were heard a second time, sounding nearer; then suddenly the men heard a swift rushing sound, and a mass of dry bones swept rustling past them on the ice.[344] Okteondon steadied his remaining friends with the curt remark, “One of us has looked up.” At that moment all the people on the shore suddenly disappeared, with the exception of the old woman [Kahenchitahonk], a noted witch, the mother of the girls who were bringing home their husbands. She walked back and forth along the shore, singing: “Okteondon is my son-in-law. Okteondon is my son-in-law.” When Okteondon and his two remaining companions reached the shore, the old woman, after inviting the men to follow her, started for her home. Having arrived there, she said, “I am going to see whether my daughters have prepared something to eat; so you wait here until I return.” Now the lodge of the old woman was built of ice. So while she was away, Okteondon, taking a small bundle of sticks, said, “Let these burn!” Straightway the pile of sticks became large and took fire, burning so briskly as to give out great heat. Then Okteondon said to the two men: “The old woman will bring food for us to eat, but you two must not eat it. I alone will eat it, for it will not hurt me.” So saying, he made a hole through the ice into which he thrust a reed. In a short time the old woman returned, saying: “Son-in-law, I have brought you a small quantity of something to eat. It is the custom, you know, to eat only a little after a long journey.” Taking the bark bowl, Okteondon ate all the food, which ran through the reed into the ground. This food was hominy (snow) and bloodsuckers (clouds). In a short time the old woman returned with another bowl, saying: “I have brought more for you to eat. This is hominy cooked with maple sugar” (it was wild flint that floats on water). Now the lodge of the old woman was becoming full of holes from the heat of the fire, whereupon she exclaimed, “Whuʼ! My son-in-law has spoiled my lodge. Let us go to the lodge of my daughter.” Going thither, they found something good to eat (i.e., food which was not the product of the arts of sorcery).

In the night when all had retired the wife of Okteondon told him in confidence: “My mother will try to kill you (by testing your orenda). She does not care much about the other two men, for she knows just what powers of orenda they have, and that she can take their lives whenever she wishes to do so.” So toward evening of the next day the old woman, Kahenchitahonk, said: “Whuʼ! I think that it is going to be terribly cold tonight. I will get some large logs to make a fire to warm my back during the night.” So bringing great logs into the lodge from the woods, she made a hot fire. The wife of Okteondon said to her husband: “My mother will say tonight, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law must go to hunt to kill the Sʻhadahgeah, and that he must return to this lodge before the door-flap, which he swings shut behind him in going out, stops swinging, because if these things are not performed something direful will happen.’” There were then only two men besides Okteondon in the lodge, for the third companion of Okteondon, Hoisʻheqtoni,[345] had been turned into bones on the lake by the collapsing of the power of his orenda. In the middle of the night the old woman, Kahenchitahonk, began to groan horribly and to writhe and toss in her sleep. Finally she rolled out of her bed into the fire with such force that she scattered the firebrands and coals about the lodge. Quickly rising from his bed, Okteondon struck his mother-in-law on the head with the corn-pounder, to awaken her, calling out, “Well, mother-in-law, what are you doing, and what is your trouble?” Thereupon the old woman, sitting up, said: “Oh! I have just had a dream. I dreamed that you, my son-in-law, must kill Sʻhadahgeah346 tomorrow and bring his body in here, before the door-flap, which you will swing shut behind you in going out, stops swinging, because if these things are not performed something direful will happen.” “Oh, mother-in-law! Go to sleep now; we will attend to this matter in the morning,” answered Okteondon. So Kahenchitahonk lay down again and slept.

The next morning Okteondon was ready to perform his task. Taking hairs from his wife’s head, he tied them end to end, making a cord long enough for his purpose; then tying one end of this cord to the door-flap, he gave the other end of it to his wife, bidding her to pull the door-flap to and fro, so as to keep it swinging, until he came back from shooting Sʻhadahgeah. Okteondon then started out to hunt for his victim, but he had not gone far from the lodge before he saw Sʻhadahgeah perched on a cloud. He let fly one of his arrows, which kept its course until it struck the bird. When Sʻhadahgeah fell to the ground Okteondon picked it up and carried it back to the lodge.

Now when the old witch saw that the door-flap did not stop swinging, she was very angry. She pushed it to, but unknown to her the daughter kept it swinging to and fro. At this time Okteondon, striding in, threw the bird on the ground, saying, “There! you have him for your ‘eat-all’ feast (gaqsahon).” “Oh, son-in-law!” said the old woman; “you must give me one of the wings for a fan; my old one is now worn out.” “Oh no!” said Okteondon; “you can not have it,” and he threw the bird on the fire to remove its feathers. Then Hotʻhoh, Okteondon’s friend, placed a kettle of water over the fire. When the feathers were burned off Sʻhadahgeah, Okteondon, after cutting up its body, put all the pieces into the kettle. When it was cooked, he took out the flesh and skimmed off every drop of fat from the soup. “Now,” said the old woman, “you must invite all the men of distinction in the village.” “I will invite whom I please,” said Okteondon, “and do just as I like.” Going out of doors, he shouted, “I invite you, all Dagwanoenyents, to an ‘eat-all’ (gaqsahon) feast.” Soon they began to come one after another. When all were present, Okteondon said: “I have invited you to a feast in which everything must be consumed. You must eat the meat, drink the soup, chew the bones and swallow them.” So they began to eat, and soon they had devoured everything, leaving not a drop of grease or fat, nor a bit of bone; then the Dagwanoenyents laughed, feeling good when they had finished their task. They boisterously exclaimed, “It made a fine meal; it was her late husband’s flesh.”

Kahenchitahonk, the great witch, notorious and cruel, was now ferociously angry. Seizing the wooden pestle, or corn-pounder, she struck the Dagwanoenyents with it, whereupon they fled at once from the lodge, some going out of the smoke-hole, some through the doorway, and others in their great haste making large rents in the walls of the lodge, through which they escaped. When she had driven them all out of the lodge, she said: “I think the coming night will be very cold; so I must fetch wood for the fire.” Bringing much wood, she then made a great fire, saying, “Now, I will be able to warm my back”; then she went to sleep with her back to the fire. The wife of Okteondon said to him: “My mother will dream again tonight and will exclaim, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law killed the White Beaver and brought it here before the door-flap, which he will fling back in going out, stopped swinging, and that if he does not return before the door-flap stops swinging, something direful will happen to us.’” Late in the night all over the lodge they heard the old woman groaning, and rolling and tossing about; finally she fell into the fire, scattering the coals around the lodge. Jumping up and seizing the corn-pounder, Okteondon struck the old woman on the head to awaken her, saying to her, “You must be dreaming about me, mother-in-law?” “Oh, yes! I am dreaming about you,” she muttered in reply. “You dream about no one else, I think,” said Okteondon. “Well,” she said, “I do dream about you, for I fear something may happen, but you are powerful through your orenda (magic power). I will tell you what the dream said to me; it said that my son-in-law must kill the White Beaver, and that if the door-flap which he flings back in going out stops swinging before he returns with the dead Beaver, something direful will happen.” “Oh, mother-in-law! go back to sleep; that is a small matter, nothing,” said Okteondon.

Early in the morning Okteondon fastened the string made from his wife’s hair to the door-flap, as he had done in the former ordeal, and bade his wife thereby keep it swinging to and fro while he was gone, as she had done before. Then he went out, flinging the door-flap back as he passed through. Then, running to a knoll on which stood a butternut tree, and taking a nut from it, he hurried to a neighboring lake, where he cast the nut into the water, shouting a challenge, “You who live in this lake come forth.” At once the water, rising, rushed toward him, following him until it reached the knoll, where it stopped. Okteondon saw the White Beaver looking out over the water, and, taking an arrow from his quiver and drawing his bow, shot the White Beaver, killing it. Seizing its body, he hurried home with it. When he reached the doorway he found the old woman trying to hold the flap to prevent it from swinging to and fro and uttering words charged with her orenda to accomplish her purpose. When Okteondon threw White Beaver into the lodge the old woman said: “Oh, son-in-law! you are to make me a pouch of the skin of White Beaver.” “Oh, no! I will do what I like with it,” he replied, casting it on the fire to singe off the hair. Putting a kettle over the fire, Hotʻhoh soon had water boiling. Then the body of White Beaver having been cut up, the pieces were placed in the kettle to cook. Thereupon Okteondon’s mother-in-law said to him: “Oh, son-in-law! I want you to invite all the men of importance of this place to the feast.” Okteondon answered: “Oh, no! I will invite only such persons as I choose.” When the flesh of White Beaver was cooked Okteondon removed the pieces from the kettle to cool; then he went out of the lodge, calling aloud: “I invite you, all Dagwanoenyents, to come to a feast of ‘eat-all’ (gaqsahon).” Soon they came crowding into the lodge, as they had at the first feast, and Okteondon said: “You must eat up everything to the very last bit. Here are the meat, the soup, and the bones; you must eat all and even lick the bowls.” So they began to eat; they ate the meat, drank the oily broth, and the crunching of bones could be heard as they devoured them. Lastly they licked the bark bowls. When they had finished their task they were satisfied and began to laugh: “Hi, hi, hi! That was good meat, the old woman’s brother.” The old woman was very angry and, taking up the corn-pounder, attacked them, driving them from the lodge.

After the feast was over, the wife of Okteondon told him that the next trial was one among all others the most severe and exacting. She said to him: “My mother will say tonight, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law was killed and skinned, and that I made a pouch of his skin.’ I do hope you can survive this ordeal.” In reply Okteondon said, “When she kills and skins me and places my flesh in a bark bowl, you must set the bowl on the top of the lodge.” Toward evening Kahenchitahonk, the old witch, muttered, “The sky is clear, so we shall have a very cold night, and I must get logs to make a big fire.” At night she made a great fire in the lodge, and after all had retired she began to moan and toss in her sleep; finally she rolled into the fire, scattering the firebrands around the room. Quickly rising and seizing the corn-pounder, Okteondon struck her on the head, saying: “Oh, mother-in-law! What is the matter? What are you doing? What are you dreaming about?” She replied, “I dreamed that I killed you and made a pouch of your skin.” Okteondon replied, “Oh! go to sleep now; we will see to that in the morning.” So the next morning Okteondon said, “Now, mother-in-law, I am ready.” Thereupon the great witch laid on the ground a piece of bark sufficiently large for the purpose, telling Okteondon to lie down upon it. When he did so, she knocked him on the head with a club, killing him. Then she carefully flayed him,[347] removing the skin with the hands and feet attached to it. Afterward she placed all the flesh in a large bark bowl. As soon as the wife of Okteondon saw her put the last piece into the bowl, she placed the bowl on the top of the lodge. Then the old woman next cheerfully sewed up the skin in the form of a pouch, which she distended by blowing into it. This done, she hung it over the flames, poking the fire to make it blaze. As the pouch swayed to and fro over the fire, the old woman gleefully began to sing, “Oh! what a nice pouch have I; no one living has such a pouch.” Every time she poked the fire the pouch swayed more quickly to and fro, until at last it began to sing, “Oh! were the wind only out of me.” The old woman kept on stirring the fire while the pouch swayed to and fro faster and faster. “Oh, what a beautiful pouch have I,” said she; “it even sings.” After a while the pouch made a noise, and with a bhu! went flying up through the smoke-hole. As it flew out, the old woman cried, “Oh! I have lost my pouch; it has run away from me.” She hurried to the doorway, and in going out she met her son-in-law coming in alive and well.

It was now Okteondon’s turn. That night he had a dream, groaning and rolling around until his mother-in-law, arising, struck him on the head with the corn-pounder, saying: “Wake up! What is the matter? Are you dreaming?” “Oh! I had a dream,” said he. “Well, what was it?” said the old woman. “I dreamed,” he told her, “that I must hunt and kill the great Ganiagwaihe and give a feast. I will invite all the people in the village.” The next morning Okteondon killed the Ganiagwaihe, and having brought it into the lodge, singed it and cut it up while Hotʻhoh set a kettle of water over the fire. When the flesh of Ganiagwaihe was cooked, Okteondon said to his mother-in-law, “Go and invite all to come.” So going out, she invited all those personages whom she herself liked. While she was gone, Okteondon said to his wife and his two friends who had accompanied him from his uncle’s home, “You must get out of this lodge at once”; so they fled from it. Then all the newly invited guests entered—the old woman, her other two daughters, and the people of the place. Addressing them, Okteondon said: “Here is the flesh, the fat, and the bones. Eat all up clean; I leave all to you.” One of the chiefs said to the people, “We have now all eaten.” Passing out of the lodge, Okteondon ran around it, singing, “Let this lodge become stone and the ground under it stone, so that the greatest witch can not get out of it, and then let it become red-hot.” So while the people were inside the lodge eating and drinking and saying, “Hoho! this is a grand feast,” the building began to grow hotter and hotter, until finally it became red-hot. Some one on the inside exclaimed so loud that he was heard without, “Let us get out of here as fast as we can; something is wrong!” They tried to do so, but they could not get out. One leaped up to the spot where the smoke-hole had been, but those outside heard him knock his head against the solid stone roof and fall back. Soon another said, “I will go out through the ground.” After a while the sound of the voices and the screaming inside began to die away, and all was quiet. Then the lodge of stone burst, falling to pieces, and the heads of the people inside burst, one after another, and out of them sprang screech owls, horned owls, common owls, and gray and red foxes, which rushed away, out of sight. The people invited to the feast were all Oñʹgweʻ hĕñʹneks goñʹneks-kho.[348] The sisters sailing in the canoe deceived men all over the country, luring them to this village to be devoured by the inhabitants. All except the wife of Okteondon were thus burned up with the old woman.

When all was over, Okteondon and his wife and his two friends went to the shore of the lake, where they found a large heap of bones of men. These they gathered into some order near a large hickory tree, whereupon they pushed the tree over toward the bones, saying, “Rise, friends, or the tree will fall on you!” At this warning, and by the great orenda (magic power) of Okteondon, all the bones sprang up living men. “Now,” said Okteondon to them, “You have come to life, friends, and you can now go to your homes.” [349] At this they departed.

“We will go home, too,” said Okteondon to his wife and two friends; so they went to the lodge of his uncle, Haieñtʻhwus. When Okteondon left his home his uncle hung up in a corner of the lodge a wampum belt, with the remark, “The deeper you are in trouble, the nearer will this belt come to the ground, and if you die, it will touch the ground.” Of course it had been low and had even touched the ground; hence the old uncle had concluded that his nephew was dead and had mourned for him. But at this time the belt was again hanging high. While the nephew was absent many persons had come, pretending to be Okteondon, in order to deceive the old man; so now when the real nephew asked him to open the door-flap he would not believe his ears, but said, “Put your arm through the hole in the door.” Okteondon did so, whereupon the old man tied it, saying, “Now, I have you,” unfastening the door-flap so he could strike. But seeing Okteondon and his wife and his two friends, he exclaimed with delight, “Oh, nephew! wait a moment, until I clean up somewhat inside.” Saying this, he went inside and pushed away the ashes and dirt. (End.)

71. OKTEONDON AND HAIEÑTʻHWUS—II

(Another version of the first part of the legend)

Okteondon lived with his uncle, Haieñtʻhwus, in the forest. Beside his uncle’s lodge stood a large, tall elm tree. Okteondon, the nephew, always remained at the foot of this tree, and finally its roots grew over and around his body, thus binding it firmly to the ground.

Now Haieñtʻhwus, being very fond of his nephew, always brought him everything that he liked to eat and drink—roasted venison, boiled squashes, dried berries, broiled fish, and all kinds of shellfish. The first thing that Haieñtʻhwus did in the morning was to put corn into a wooden mortar for the purpose of making cornmeal for boiled cornbread; then with a wooden pestle he struck it a single blow, which crushed the corn to fine meal. The people far and near, it is said, heard this blow, and would say, “The uncle of Okteondon is well-to-do and strong.” The old man made bread with the meal which he boiled; when it was cooked he brought some of it to his nephew and also ate some himself. On certain days he went to the forest for firewood. It was a practice with him to burn logs into pieces of such length that he could bring them to his lodge. When the fires on one log were burning well he would light fires on other logs, and so would go from one to another, keeping them in order. When the pieces were burned off and ready, the old man would carry them or drag them home, and as he threw them down they made a deep, pleasant sound on the earth. Thereupon all the people of the region round about, even to the most distant places, heard the sound, and would say, “The uncle of Okteondon is well-to-do and strong.” On some other days Haieñtʻhwus would go out to gather beans and squashes or to dig wild potatoes.

One spring morning, in the planting season, Haieñtʻhwus went to his clearing in the woods with two baskets of seeds strapped to his belt. Before starting he left plenty of food with his nephew, saying, “I am going to put these seeds into the ground.” The old man was in the field engaged in making holes in the earth with a stick forked at one end and sharp at the other. Into these holes he dropped seeds, closing them with fine earth. All at once he heard a song accompanied with the words, “Oh, uncle! I am going to rise; I am going to rise.” He knew at once that what he had heard was his nephew’s song; so dropping his pointed stick for planting, and forgetting all about the seeds in his two baskets, he rushed home. As he ran the baskets struck the trees on both sides of the narrow trail, scattering the seeds so that all were lost on the trail. When Haieñtʻhwus reached the lodge he saw that his nephew was resting on one elbow and that the tree was inclined toward the earth, with its roots starting from the ground. “Well, nephew, what is the matter?” asked the old man. “I am getting thirsty, uncle,” said the youth. The old man gave him some water and pushed the tree back into its upright position; then looking into his baskets, he saw that they were empty. So Haieñtʻhwus spent the rest of the day on his knees, picking up what seeds he could find along both sides of the path.

On another day he went out to strip bark from the slippery-elm trees for the purpose of making cords. Before starting he gave Okteondon everything that he needed. After he had stripped off a large quantity of bark and was tying it into bundles, Haieñtʻhwus heard the song again, accompanied with the words, “Oh, uncle! I am rising; I am rising.” As soon as he heard these words, Haieñtʻhwus, slinging a bundle of the bark on his back, swiftly ran home. As he hurried along the bundle struck against the trees, first on one and then on the other side of the trail, causing pieces of bark to slip out every here and there, until there was nothing left of the burden on the old man’s back but the ends of the forehead strap. On reaching home Haieñtʻhwus asked, “What is the matter, nephew?” as he saw Okteondon resting on one elbow and the tree leaning over to one side. “Oh, I am thirsty, uncle,” replied Okteondon. The uncle brought him water, and then straightened up the tree, after which he returned to the woods. He picked up the pieces of bark on both sides of the path until he arrived at the place where he had stripped it from the trees. Just at that moment he again heard the song, “Oh, uncle! I am rising; I am rising.” At this, soliloquizing, “Poor boy, I wonder what he wants,” Haieñtʻhwus again ran homeward. When he was about halfway there, he heard the song a second time, and almost at the same moment came to his ears a tremendous crash of the falling tree, which was heard over the entire country, so that all the people said one to another, “Okteondon has now grown to manhood and has arisen.” When Haieñtʻhwus reached the lodge, the great elm tree had fallen and Okteondon was standing there, awaiting him.

72. UNCLE AND NEPHEW AND THE WHITE OTTERS

An uncle and his nephew lived alone far off in the woods. In former times there had been a great many of their people, but with the exception of these two all were dead.

One day the uncle said: “My nephew, you have grown to be a large lad, and now you must attend to hunting. You must take the bow and the quiver of arrows with which I used to hunt.” So saying, the old man took from the wall his bow, which was grimed with smoke, and cleaned it very carefully. Then he said: “We will now make a trial at shooting.” Having gone out of the lodge, the uncle by way of example first shot into a tree, and the nephew with another arrow made a good shot. Thereupon the uncle said, “That kind of shooting will do; you must now begin hunting.”

The next morning very early, when they were ready, the uncle said, “You must go out between sunrise and sunset, and you must always keep on the sun side; never go north.” The lad started to hunt, and had not been out long when he killed a deer, and soon afterward another, both of which he took home. The uncle thanked him, saying, “We can live now, for we have plenty of meat.” He hung the meat up in pieces, with bark strings, throughout the lodge.

The lad brought in game every day for some time. After a while he had to go a long way toward the south to find any game; his uncle always cautioned him against going northward.

Once after he came home and was sitting around the lodge, the uncle said: “When I was young I used to have an object with which to amuse myself. I will get it for you and when you are home you can play with it.” Then bringing out a flute, the uncle taught the boy to play it. As the uncle blew on it the flute said, “Tomorrow I shall kill a deer, a bear, etc.,” greatly pleasing the boy who also played on it. In the morning he started off hunting, and, indeed, he killed just such game as the flute said he would. That night after he had rested from hunting he played on his flute and again it said, “I shall kill an elk tomorrow,” a different kind of animal from that of the previous day. The next day the lad killed exactly what the flute said.

The morning after he went out he wondered why he must go so far toward the south; he made up his mind to go northward; so making a circuit, he was soon north of his lodge. Finding tracks of game animals, he followed them until he came to a broad opening. Here he ran after the elks, which he saw in a circle in the woods; at last he came out in the opening again, where he had started. All at once he heard a woman’s voice calling, “Here! Hold on!” but he ran on at full speed after the elk. Around again he went after these animals. When he got back to the same place a second time the woman’s voice called out, “Wait and rest!” Looking around, he saw the woman sitting on a fallen tree, whereupon he stopped. She said to him: “Sit down here and rest. I know you are tired; when you have rested you can run again after the elk.” He sat down near her, and pretty soon she took his head on her knees. He had very long hair—so long that he kept it tied up; whenever he let it down, it swept the ground. He tied one of his hairs to a root in the ground, but the woman did not see him do this. After a while he fell asleep, whereupon she put him into a basket; swinging this on her back she started off on a run. Rising soon into the air, she traveled very fast.

The hair which had been made fast to a root stretched till it would stretch no longer; then they could go no farther, for the hair pulled them back to the place from which they had started. The lad woke up, and the woman said to herself, “I think there is some witchcraft about you; we will try again.” Once more she began to search in his hair. At last he closed his eyes, and she asked, “Are you asleep?” “No,” he replied. She continued untying his hair, again inquiring, “Are you asleep?” He did not answer this time, for he was indeed asleep. Putting him into the basket and flinging it on her back, she ran off very fast, after a while rising in the air. When she had gone a long distance she came down by the bank of a river; rousing the lad, she asked, “Do you know this place?” “Yes,” said he; “I have fished in this river.” “Well,” said she, “hold your head down, and let me look at it again.” She took his head on her knees, and after a while spoke to him, but he did not answer, for he was once more asleep. Putting him into the basket, she went up in the air, coming down at last on an island. Then, rousing the youth, she asked, “Do you know this place?” “Yes; my uncle and I used to come here often,” he replied (he had never been there, but he wished to deceive her). Again she put him to sleep, afterward taking him up in the air in her basket. Finally, removing the basket from her back, she laid it on the edge of a ravine, which was so deep that the tops of the tallest trees which grew in it could just be seen below the brink. Then, upsetting the basket, down the lad went headlong into the depths, but he fell slowly, for he had orenda (magic power) and hence came to the ground unhurt. But he could find no way of escape. The sides of the ravine were like a wall and he was alone.

Meanwhile the boy’s uncle waited and waited, saying to himself: “It is late. Something has happened, for my nephew is not coming home tonight. I must find out what the trouble is.” On taking down the flute he found the mouthpiece bloody,[350] whereupon he said, “They have overmatched my poor nephew in orenda, and trouble has come to him.” As there was not much blood on the mouthpiece, he thought that perhaps the lad would free himself and come back in a few days.

Now the nephew lay down among the rocks in the deep, blind ravine and tried to sleep, but he could not. All at once he heard a great bird coming, and as it swept past it bit a mouthful of flesh out of his arm. Spitting on the arm he rubbed it and thus cured the bite. When the bird had been gone some time, he heard it coming again, and as it flew past in the opposite direction, it took a large bite out of his other arm. This he cured in the same manner as before. When daylight came he arose and on looking around he saw skeletons on every side. Two men were barely alive. The lad said to himself, “I suppose that I shall die here in this same way.”

That night the boy’s uncle saw on looking at the flute that the mouthpiece was bloodier than before. He then gave up his nephew as lost; sitting down at the hearth’s edge he cried and scattered ashes on his head in despair.

The second night the bird twice flew past the lad, each time taking a piece of flesh out of one of his arms. Thereupon the boy would spit on the arm, thus healing it as he did on the first evening. When the huge bird had gone he fell asleep and dreamed that he heard an old woman’s voice saying: “Grandson, I have come to help you. You think you are going to die, but you are not; I will save you. Just at sunrise in the morning you will vomit, and if you throw up anything that looks like a hemlock leaf you may know that you will be saved. Pick up the leaf and stick it in the ground. Then sing, and as you sing the leaf will become a tree. Sit on one of the limbs and keep on singing. The tree will grow until it reaches beyond the top of the bank. Then jump off and run away.” In the morning the boy vomited as the old woman of the dream had predicted, and he found the small hemlock leaf. Sticking this in the ground near the wall of the ravine he began to sing. The leaf soon grew into a tree, and as he sang the tree grew higher and higher. He did not get on the tree but remained below singing until the tree was higher than the brink above.

Gathering all the bones carefully into a pile and placing on the pile the two men who were almost dead, he went to a great hickory tree which stood near and pushing against it called out, “Rise, people, and run, or the tree shall fall on you.” Thereupon all the bones became living men and springing up they ran away from the tree. Two of the men had legs of different lengths by reason of the bones having become interchanged. The lad said: “Now, follow me, all of you, up this tree to the bank above. You must not look back, for if you do you will fall.” The last two were the men with unequal legs. The rearmost, after climbing a little way, looked back to see how far up they were; immediately he turned to bones, which fell rattling through the limbs of the hemlock tree to the ground. As the only remaining man with unequal legs got near the brink, he also looked down, whereupon he likewise fell rattling down through the branches to the ground a mere heap of bones.

When all were some distance away from the brink the young man said: “You stay here, and I will go and bring the woman who has done all this mischief to us. She has a mother, who is also a witch. We will punish both. I shall be back in a few days.” Starting off, he soon came to the lodge of the woman who had deceived him. Sitting down by her, he said, “I have come.” Soon her mother came out of another part of the lodge, saying, “Oh! my son-in-law has come.” Early the next night they heard the old woman groaning;[351] finally, crawling out of bed on her hands and knees, she rolled over on the floor. The lad struck her with a corn-pounder, saying, “Mother-in-law, wake up and tell us your dream.” Thereupon she stood up and said, “I dreamed that my son-in-law must go and kill two white otters in the lake.” He replied: “Go back to sleep, Oh! mother-in-law. I will do that tomorrow.” The old woman went back to her couch. In the morning she said: “You must run and kill two white otters in the lake and return with them before the door stops swinging after you have slammed it. If you do not do this, something strange will happen; but if you get back, you shall live.” Unknown to her, he tied one of his long hairs to the door and kept pulling the hair. On reaching the bank of the lake, he called to the otters, which came out and ran to him; he threw one of two round stones which he had in his pouch, killing one of the otters. Then great waves of water began to rush after him, and the second otter came near to him on the top of the wave. Throwing the second stone, he killed the second otter. At this the wave went back. He had kept pulling the door-flap to and fro with his hair all the time. When he reached the lodge, he called out, “Here, mother-in-law! here are your two otters.” She said, “Where, where?” (The two white otters were her two wizard brothers.)

The uncle, who was alone, felt sure that his nephew was dead. Often as he sat in front of the fire in the evening, taking a handful of ashes in each hand, he held them over his head, letting the ashes drop on his face. At night he would hear someone coming, then a rap and a voice calling out, “Well, uncle, I have come.” Jumping up and brushing off the ashes he would go to the door, only to find a fox or an owl. In this way he was deceived a number of times, so he had resolved not to be deceived again.

The night after the death of the otters the old woman again dreamed, and her son-in-law hit her again with the corn-pounder. Waking up, she said, “I dreamed that my son-in-law must kill the bird on the top of the great tree.” He answered, “Oh, mother-in-law! I will attend to that in the morning, so go to sleep now.” In the morning his mother-in-law said, “If you get back after the door, which you have slammed in going out, stops swinging, something strange will happen.” Again tying a hair to the door, he darted off. When near the tall tree he saw on the very top a black eagle. The first arrow he sent went almost to the tree, but was driven back by the magic power of the eagle. Then he shot a second arrow, which struck the eagle right in the heart, bringing it to the ground. Taking the eagle, he rushed back to the lodge, meanwhile keeping the door swinging with his hair. When he returned home, he called out, “Mother-in-law, here is the eagle.” She said, Whu, whu! astonished at what he had done (this eagle was the old woman’s third brother, which had always fed on the men thrown into the ravine).

Now the lad, having taken his wife outside, said, “I want this lodge to turn into flint, and let it become heated to a white heat.” [352] The old woman and her three daughters were inside at the time. The former cried out, “Have pity on me, son-in-law,” but he answered, “You had no pity for me, mother-in-law; so let them all within burn up.” Having gone back with his wife to the men near the ravine, he said: “I have brought back this woman. Now we shall be revenged. This is the woman who threw us off this bank to die in the ravine below.” Stripping off a wide piece of bark from a tree and tying the woman thereto with bark thongs, he placed it in a leaning position against a tree. Then all gathered fuel, which was piled around the woman, and a fire kindled by which the old woman’s daughter was burned to death.

The youth found two of his brothers among those whom he had rescued. It appeared that all the men were related, some as brothers, others as cousins. The young man went with his brothers to his uncle’s lodge. Before starting he had told all the other persons to go to their homes. When near the lodge of the old uncle they heard the aged man weeping. They listened for some time. When the old man stopped weeping he began to sing, “Ten summers I shall mourn for him.” In attempting to enter the lodge they found the door-flap fastened. The lad called out, “Oh, uncle! I have returned.” But the uncle, long annoyed by wizards in the form of animals, replied: “Be off! You have deceived me enough.” But the young man begged him to unfasten the door-flap, assuring him that he had brought his brothers. Again the uncle shouted: “Be off! You shall not get in here.” Finally, the old man relented, and making a hole in the skin door-flap, called out: “Thrust your arm in. I shall see if you are my nephew.” The nephew willingly complied with the uncle’s request, whereupon the uncle tied his arm with a bark thong. The youth finally cried out: “Oh, uncle! do not tie my arm so tight. You hurt me.” Opening the door-flap, the old man saw that it was really his nephew, and exclaimed, “Oh, nephew! wait a moment until I clean up a little.” Then, having brushed off the ashes, he welcomed his nephew and his party.

73. DEOYADASTATʻHE AND HADJOWISKI [353]

Hadjowiski lived with his family, consisting of his wife and seven children, in a large lodge in the forest. Only the youngest of the seven children had a name—Deoyadastatʻhe. He was so small that he never went outside the lodge, nor did he play within it. He remained under the bed at all times, where he played with his dog, which was a flea. The father of the family, Hadjowiski, was very poor, for although he went forth to hunt at sunrise, sometimes even before, he brought home but little meat.

One morning his wife, who was chagrined by the failure of her husband to provide a sufficiency of food for herself and little ones, said to him: “Can you not bring home more meat than you do? We are very, very hungry.” Hadjowiski, dissembling, replied, “No; I can not kill more game, for I have not efficient orenda (magic power).” But the suspecting wife persisted in her questioning: “Well, your back always looks as if you had killed plenty of game. What do you do with it after you have killed it?” To this the husband answered: “Nothing. I never have good luck.” The wife did not believe him, however, so she retorted, “I think that you are doing something wrong with what you kill.”

That day Hadjowiski did not bring any game home, but his back bore traces of fresh blood. In further chiding him his wife said: “There is fresh blood on your back, so you must have killed some game today.” But he replied: “No; I killed nothing. That blood came from my getting hurt by a hemlock tree falling on me.” But she did not believe him at all.

The next morning he was on the trail long before sunrise. His wife, now thoroughly aroused, stealthily followed him. Just at midday she saw him kill with a small stone a large bear. Taking the bear on his back, he started off, trailed by his wife. He soon reached a lodge, which he entered, wholly unaware that his wife was following him. Creeping up to the lodge, she listened outside to what was being said within, and overheard the voice of a woman, saying, “The next time you come you must stay here, and you must not go back home again.” Hadjowiski replied, “It is well; I shall do so.” Thereupon he came out of the lodge, in which he left all the meat he had killed that day, and started for home.

His wife ran on ahead, and, reaching home ahead of her husband, she said to her boys, “Sons, your father has another wife, so I shall not remain here any longer.” Then putting on her panther-skin robe, she departed. When Hadjowiski arrived at his home, not finding his wife, he asked: “What is the matter? Where is your mother?” One of the boys told him that his mother had been gone all day, and that, returning but a short time before, she had put on her panther-skin robe, declaring that she was going away. Hadjowiski hung his head, but at last he asked, “Why did she go away?” The boy replied: “She told us that you have another wife.” To this the father answered: “It is well. My sons, I shall follow her. I want you to remain in the lodge while I am away. If I am alive then, I will be back home in 10 days.” Hadjowiski departed and traveled all night. The next morning he found his wife’s tracks, and discovered that she had doubled on them, but he kept straight ahead, knowing well that she had done this in order to deceive him. Soon afterward he was again on her trail, going directly westward. After traveling for some time he came at last to a lodge in which lived an old man, who said: “You are traveling, my friend?” Hadjowiski replied: “Yes. I am following the woman whose tracks come to this lodge.” Then Sʻhagoiyagentʻha,[354] for such was the old man’s name, who belonged to the Nosgwais people, answered, “I do not know where she has gone.” Hadjowiski again declared, “Her tracks come here, anyway.” Sʻhagoiyagentʻha replied: “It is well. You can look for her, if you like.” So Hadjowiski searched for her everywhere, but he could not find her. Finally the old man resolved to send him off, so he asked him, “Do you want me to tell you which way she went from here?” Hadjowiski replied, “Yes; I do.” Thereupon Sʻhagoiyagentʻha brought a small canoe made of flint, telling the man to sit in it. When Hadjowiski had done so the old man shoved the canoe out of the doorway, and at once it rose into the air, through which it passed with great rapidity. Finally the canoe collided with a high rock, and the renegade Hadjowiski was flung out; falling among the rocks, he was killed. The canoe, which was endowed with life, returned to the old man.

When the sons of Hadjowiski had been at home for several days the eldest went out to hunt. When night came he did not return to his home. So the next morning the second brother started off to find him, if possible. The brothers who remained at home waited all day, but he, too, failed to return. The second morning the third brother went to look for the two others, but he likewise did not come back. Thus, day after day passed, until at last the six brothers had gone out and not one had returned. Only Deoyadastatʻhe was left of the family of seven sons.[355] He was always under the bed playing with his dog, which was a flea. Finally, judging from the unbroken silence reigning in the lodge, Deoyadastatʻhe exclaimed: “It seems to me that there is no one in the lodge, for I hear no one moving around. I shall see about it.” So saying, he came forth from under the bed and looked around, but saw no one; then he listened for some sound, but he heard none. After listening for a long time, he exclaimed: “It seems to me that I hear my mother crying. It must be that she is weeping in the far west. I shall therefore go to her.” Going outside the lodge, he stood still, listening, while his dog stood behind him. He now heard quite distinctly the sound of weeping in the far west. By low half-uttered growls his dog showed that it, too, heard some unusual sound.

Deoyadastatʻhe finally declared: “That is my mother who is weeping, for I recognize her voice. I must go to her.” As he started, both he and his dog, rising in the air, flew along over the highest trees, directing their flight toward the west. At last in the far distant west they alighted at the edge of a village. Making their way into it, they finally entered an old hut in which they found two women, an aged grandmother and her granddaughter. To the grandmother Deoyadastatʻhe said, “I have come to visit you.” She replied: “We are too poor for that. We have nothing to eat, and you would get very hungry.” “Oh! I do not care for food,” Deoyadastatʻhe answered; “I want only shelter at night.” “It is well; you may remain,” said the grandmother. One morning when Deoyadastatʻhe had been there several days some one came on the run to the lodge, and kicking the door-flap aside, said: “You are invited tonight to the burning of the woman’s feet and to pick up wampum beads from the tears that she sheds. All are pressed to be at the lodge of assembly tonight.” When the messenger had gone, the grandmother exclaimed: “Oh! how very wicked are the people of this village. That old man, Sʻhagoiyagentʻha, is the evil servant of the Chief Dihdih.[356] (The rest of the people belong to the Gaqga357 family.)” Now, the grandmother, whose name was Yeqsinye, also belonged to the Gaqga family. She was in the habit of making bark thread by rolling it on her legs. When night came Deoyadastatʻhe went to the lodge of assembly, where he saw a great multitude of people. Entering the lodge, he saw his mother tied to a post—the war post of torture. And as soon as Deoyadastatʻhe entered the room his mother, scenting him, knew that he was there. Then Chief Dihdih arose and said: “Now all be ready. Look out for the beads.” He had two daughters, who lighted the torches for the people who were intending to burn the woman’s feet. When they held the torches under the woman’s feet tears flowed from her eyes which fell on the ground, where they became beautiful wampum. The people rushed forward to pick up the beads. Deoyadastatʻhe was watching for an opportunity to rescue his mother; so when the people were on their knees gathering the wampum, quickly unbinding his mother, he led her out of doors. Then he said, as he ran around the devoted lodge, “Let this lodge become flint and let it become at once heated to a white heat.”358 This at once took place, and the people within the lodge, becoming too hot, ceased picking up wampum and tried to escape, but they could not. There were fearful shrieks and wails, but these continued only for a moment before all were dead. The heads of the dead people burst asunder and from them came owls, which flew out of the smoke-hole of the lodge.

Then Deoyadastatʻhe told his mother that they must leave that place. So calling his dog, they started for the lodge of old Yeqsinye. In passing through the village a blue lizard attacked Deoyadastatʻhe and his little party, but the young man tore it to pieces. As the pieces fell to the ground the dog carried them away so that they would not fly back into place again before they became cool. Then the young man said, “You thought that you were going to kill me, but I have destroyed you.” When Deoyadastatʻhe arrived with his mother at the lodge of old woman Yeqsinye, he said to her, “I have killed all the people of the wicked village, so you shall now live in peace.” For this the old woman thanked him.

Then Deoyadastatʻhe and his mother and dog continued their journey until they arrived at their own lodge. There they found the six brothers of Deoyadastatʻhe, who had returned during his absence.

[The relator of the story evidently did not know the entire legend, for nothing is said as to where and as to why they had been so long away, nor how they came back.—Editor.]

74. A GENESIS TRADITION

[A modern version; a fragment]

Before this earth came into existence there were human beings who dwelt in the center of the sky above. In the middle of the village in the sky stood a tree which was covered with white blossoms.

It so chanced that a woman of that country dreamed a dream. In that dream an Ongwe [359] said to her that the great tree bearing white blossoms must be pulled up by the roots. When this tree was in bloom its flowers gave light to the people there, but when its flowers fell, darkness came over the people. When the woman related her dream all the people kept silent, because they felt that the suggestion was that of a visionary and because the tree was sacred to them. In the course of time the woman dreamed again, and in the dream the Ongwe declared to her that a circular trench must be dug around the tree, which must be pulled up by the roots; that then something giving more and better light would come to them. Notwithstanding this second dream, the people remained obdurate, paying no attention to the advice of the Ongwe of the dream. Time went on and the woman had a third dream, in which the injunctions of the other two dreams were repeated, that the tree must be pulled up by the roots. Then one of the men said, “I believe that if we give heed to the words of the dream we may receive better light, and that the people will have cause to rejoice for having obeyed the words of the dream.” His advice was adopted by the people at large.

So a number of men began digging and cutting around the roots of the tree. Suddenly, when the last root was cut, the tree sank into the ground, disappearing from sight. Thereupon the chief of the people there said, “I have never given any heed to this dream, because I knew that something strange would happen to the people if I did.” Then he ordered that the woman who had had these dreams should be cast into the hole left by the tree. The order was carried out. The pit seemed to have no bottom. Nothing could be seen in it, for all was darkness within. The woman continued falling through the hole for a long time; at last she saw that below her it began to grow light. When finally she had passed through the hole she emerged into bright light in our sky. Looking down, she saw beneath her a great expanse of water, on which floated loons, ducks, and various kinds of water folk, but no land.

Of these the loon was the first to see the dark object falling from above, at which he exclaimed, “I believe that a human being is falling down from above, and I think that it is best for us that all join together and give aid to her, for if we do not she will sink when she strikes the water.” So all the water folk were notified to help save the woman. They all came together—Loon, Fishhawk, Beaver, Water Serpent, Turtle, and all who dwell in the water. Then Loon said to Fishhawk, “Go with your warriors and meet the woman in the air; receive her on your backs, and thus hold her in the air until we shall be ready for you to bring her down here.” Instantly this request was performed. While the others watched they saw the woman fall on the backs of the fishhawks, and they were delighted to see that the fishhawks were able to hold her in the air. Then the Loon said, “What are we going to do with her?” to which the Turtle replied, “I will take care of the woman.” But Loon answered, “You can not take care of her, for you are too fond of eating flesh.” Next the Water Serpent said, “I will volunteer to help this woman and to take care of her; she can come and sit between my horns, and so I shall carry her wherever I go.” Loon rejoined, “You can not take care of her, for you are endowed with too much evil orenda (magic power), which would kill her.” The Turtle spoke a second time, saying, “I think I can care for her, if you can find some earth to place upon my carapace.” This suggestion satisfying Loon and the other leaders, Loon replied, “You may take care of her if we can obtain the earth.” There were there many kinds of water folk, all of which were sent into the water in an attempt to obtain some earth. They dived down, but, one after another, they soon floated up to the surface dead. Hell-diver at last brought up a small quantity of earth. The Loon being the chief, when Hell-diver came up with the earth he sent all of that kind of water folk after more earth. Then Beaver mounted on Turtle’s back, and as the Duck people brought up the earth he used his tail like a trowel, fastening the earth on the carapace of the Turtle.

The earth at once began to grow, spreading out large. Chief Loon soon decided that it had acquired a sufficient extent for their purpose, so he called to the Fishhawk and his men to bring down the woman. This they did, placing her on the newly made earth on the carapace of the Turtle. In the meantime Beaver and the Duck people kept at work making the earth larger. As it grew in size, a still greater number of Beaver and Duck people were set to work around the edges of it. The Turtle floated with ease. Then on the earth bushes began to grow, little red bushes like water reeds. The woman walked around the edges of the earth to see how the workers were succeeding in their labors and to encourage them. She was pregnant, and in a short time after this descent a girl baby was born to her. The child grew rapidly to womanhood. She was very

## active, and soon took her mother’s place, walking around the island

inspecting its growth. It was now very large, and she would be away all day on her tour of the island.

One day it chanced as she was walking along that she met a very fine-looking young man. Promptly falling in love, they decided to live together as husband and wife. It is said that by this union Day and Night came into the world. Her mother was not consulted. It was the custom of the young woman to go out in the morning to look for the young man at their trysting place, and in the evening to start for home. One evening when they had parted she resolved to look back to have a view of him. On turning around, she saw a large turtle walking along where she knew her husband had just been, hence she reached the conclusion that a turtle was deceiving her; then she went home. The next day she remained at home and, indeed, did not go out any more after that time. Her mother saw from her appearance that she was pregnant. Being questioned about her condition, she told her mother the whole story of her marriage, concluding with the statement that the last time they had met she had turned to look at him as they parted, whereupon she saw only a great turtle walking where she expected to see her husband.

The time for her confinement having arrived, the prospective mother heard a conversation being carried on within her body. One speaker said: “Let us go out now,” but the other replied: “You go first, and I will follow you.” Then she heard one say, “Let us go out by the way of the armpit, for I see a little light there,” but the other answered, “No; we should kill our mother in doing so.” Finally, one came into the world in the natural way, but she heard the one who was left say, “I am going out through the armpit, for I can go quicker in that way.” This statement he repeated a number of times, and at last he tried to issue through the armpit with his head. Twice he failed, but the third time he succeeded, although his mother died immediately. He possessed a peculiar head, in the form of a rough flint. The grandmother had to draw this child out of his mother’s body, for he could not get out unaided. Both children lived.

Before the twins were born, while they were conversing in her body, the woman told her mother that she was going to die and that she should be buried and covered well with earth. She said further that a stalk would sprout out of the ground over her which would produce white corn; that a second stalk would grow which would produce red corn; that one of these stalks would grow from each of her breasts; and that each stalk would bear an ear of corn, which the grandmother must pluck, giving one to each of the children. A short time after her burial the two stalks appeared above the ground, just as she had foretold.

The boys grew up strong and healthy, but the younger was an awkward, ugly, disagreeable fellow; he was ill-tempered, often striking his brother in anger.

One day while the elder brother was away, the younger one became lonely, so he decided to make something. Seating himself on the ground, from a portion of earth he formed an object which was in shape like a grasshopper. After he had finished it, he set it down, saying, “Can you not jump?” Then he blew on it until at last the grasshopper did jump. As the grasshopper flew away, the youth decided to try to make a creature that would fly higher. So he made a bird of red clay, which is the cherry bird. After he had finished it he set it up, telling it to fly. Obeying him, the bird flew up in the air, alighting on a bough. This was the first land bird. Thus the youth made one after another all the birds of the air. Then he resolved to make a creature that would run on the ground. So forming a deer out of earth, he brought it to life. Thereupon, saying to it, “Now you shall run swiftly and go everywhere around the world,” he caused the deer to live by blowing upon it. In this manner he made all the various kinds of wild animals, and also formed a human being out of the earth.

The elder brother had a chosen place where he sat while making these things. When he formed the human being, his brother chanced to find him. Then the younger brother, deciding that he, too, would form a human being, went off by himself. Having formed a human being as best he could, he brought his creation to life, but it did not look like the human being his brother had formed; it was a strange looking creature. When he saw that it was not a human being, but an ugly-looking object, he said: “My brother has made a human being over there; you may eat the human being made by my brother.”

The elder brother, suspecting the younger, went near him and found him making animals of various kinds, and he also heard him instructing them to eat human beings. So, going back to his own place, the elder brother caught the cherry bird, and pulling out the hind leg of a grasshopper, he gave it to the bird, saying, “Go and scare my brother.” As the bird held the leg it became in form like that of a human being and bloody. Flying near the younger brother, the bird perched on a near-by bough and began to cry out, “Gowe! Gowe!” When the younger brother saw what the bird carried and heard what it cried, he left his work and fled home to his grandmother, to whom he said: “A bird came and perched just where I was at work. I believe my brother made it to frighten me, for I was afraid that it would pull my leg out, so I fled from there.” When the elder brother returned the grandmother said, “You should not frighten your brother.”

Finding that the first human being made was wandering around alone, the elder brother decided to make a companion for him in the form of his grandmother. So he did this, and when the new being was finished he breathed into her, telling her to walk, and then he took her to the man, saying to him: “I give you her. You must always go together.” During the night the human beings found that one of the man’s arms and one of the woman’s were in the way, so the man said, “We will cut them off,” and this they did. When their maker came along in the morning and saw what they had done he said: “This will not do. I shall give them blood and pain”;[360] so from himself he gave them a portion of blood and a measure of pain. He also put back the arms which they had severed from their bodies. Before this they had no blood nor pain. To the man he said: “I have made you two, and now you shall have children like yourselves. You may also hunt the animals which I have made for food. Kill them and eat their flesh; this will be your food. I have decided to go above in the sky. You will not live here forever. You shall die, and your spirit shall come up to me where I will live hereafter.” After the younger brother found that the elder brother had gone up into the sky he went forth and, seeing the man and the woman, he talked with them. Then he said to himself, “I am going to make a human being at any cost.” So, taking earth, he shaped it as best he could; and when it was completed he blew into its mouth and ordered it to arise and whoop. Thereupon it shouted, “Ho, ho!” He shoved it from behind and it took a great leap. It was a green frog which was as large as a man. The younger brother was now angry and said: “I can not make a man. My brother has made a human being and she-human being and many animals. May what I have made become man-eaters and eaters of animals—eaters of whatever my brother has made.”

The elder brother, looking down from the sky, saw that all the animals which his brother had made were trying to eat up the human beings and the animals which he had made. So he placed all these monsters of his brother’s creation down in the ground and ordered them to stay there so long as the earth remained. Having done this, he returned to his home in the sky.

When the younger brother learned that his animals had been placed underground by his brother, he was very angry, and exclaimed, “I shall try again to make a human being.” So he worked a portion of clay to make it pliable and responsive, going at times to take a look at the human being which his brother had made. But when his own human being was finished and he had brought him to life, he was indeed a horrid-looking creature. The younger brother told him to whoop, but he could only say, “Ho, ho!” This creature was Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who was told by the younger brother to go and eat up all the things that his elder brother had made. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa started off to do this.

The elder brother in the sky, seeing what was going on, came down to earth to place Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa under the ground. But the latter spoke first, saying: “I desire to live on the earth. I will be your servant and will help you. I will go around in the woods and rocky places. The ashes of the fires shall be my medicine for human beings. Should anyone be taken ill, I will scatter ashes over the patient, who shall be made well at once.” The elder brother could not put Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa underground, for he had spoken first, so he had to allow him to remain on the surface of the earth.

Now, the younger brother, going to his grandmother, said: “I have tried my best to make a human being, but have failed. I shall now cause people to be evil-minded. I shall go away and shall have a home, too. And all the evil people who die shall come to me and I shall torment them because I could not make a human being.”

If one who is good shall die, he shall go to the elder brother, in his home in the sky.

75. THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE MICE FETISHES

In times past there lived two brothers in a lodge which was built in a secluded place in the forest.

Most of the time the elder brother was lying down in order to mature some design which he was developing in his mind. From time to time he would say to his brother: “Now, my younger brother, be very careful of everything, and be on your guard against the evil that others may try to do us. Whenever some person comes here to see us, remember what I am now telling you. And do not forget that under my bed, in a secret place, are a human skull and some other sacred things, which it is not proper for you to show any other person.”

Some time afterward two young women came to the lodge of the two brothers to look around in order to learn what the two young men had. After showing them many things, the younger brother said, “I must tell you that there are some things which are sacred, and which, therefore, I cannot show you.” But after a while, as the two women appeared to be so kind and agreeable, and so much pleased with what they had seen, and as they shyly pleaded to be shown the things which the younger brother said he was not at liberty to show, at last yielding, he brought out the human skull. Snatching it out of the young man’s hands, one of the young women flew away quickly, while the other followed her at once. Thereupon the elder brother said, “Now, you must chase these women with the corn-pounder and see whether or not you can overtake them.” So he ran after them with the corn-pounder, and soon overtaking them, pounded them to death; then he carried the skull back to his elder brother. The latter asked him, “Have you recovered the skull?” The younger brother replied, “Yes, and I have also killed the women.”

Not long afterward, two other young women came to the lodge to see what the brothers had that was curious. The younger brother showed them various common articles, but the women said that these were not the articles they wanted to see. Finally he showed them the human skull, at which one of the women, snatching the skull away from the young man, flew out of the smoke-hole, the other woman following her at once. When the younger brother cried out at what they had done, the elder brother told him to bring his bow and quiver of arrows. The younger instantly obeyed, whereupon the elder brother shot an arrow up through the smoke-hole.

Some time after the woman had taken the skull away, the elder brother told the younger that he was going to the place to which the women had carried it. While on the way there the elder brother asked himself the question, “How shall I disguise myself?” He finally concluded to transform himself into an aged man; so, making the necessary change, he became a wretched-looking old man. On his journey he reached at last a place where there was a large assembly of people, some of whom came to him, saying, “We will aid you”; but he replied, “I do not want to mingle with the crowd, for I am too old to do so; but I shall lie down a little way from the assembly.” While lying there he discovered what he wanted—information concerning the woman who had carried off the skull. He learned that she was there, and that she was ill and suffering great agony. On inquiring casually what was the trouble with the woman, he ascertained from another woman that she had been shot with an arrow, which was still in her body, and that no one had been found who could draw it out. She was in terrible distress from it. Every one in the assemblage was asked to attempt to draw out the arrow, but no one was able to do it. Finally, the pretended old man was asked to make a trial of his power and reluctantly consented to make the attempt; but he only feigned to be averse to performing this act. So, bearing him to the place where the woman lay in a lodge, they brought her on a piece of skin and laid her near him. Thereupon the old man, seizing the arrow with his teeth, drew it out little by little. At this, some who stood by, exclaiming that it was almost out, seized the arrow to extract it the more quickly, but it shot back into the woman’s body as soon as they had touched it. With one accord they exclaimed, “We are sorry for what we have done.” Seizing it with his teeth, the old man again drew the arrow slowly forth. Each time that he stopped to rest he cautioned the people with the words: “Do not touch it. Keep your hands off of it.” Then he would say, “I will try again.” After a while he got the arrow out. Then he said, “This is my arrow.” The woman arose from the skin and was well.

The old man was taken back to the spot where he had lain in the first place, although the people asked him to enter some lodge. He told them, however, that he preferred to remain outside in the place which he had first chosen. They brought him food and drink. Now, the woman who was cured went to her own lodge.

Then the old man asked the people to make him a present of corn, bean, and squash seed, which he desired to plant the next spring. So they brought to him the seed carefully wrapped in a skin. But he did not leave the place where he first lay down. After a while he opened the bundle and, calling the mice, said: “Little creatures, here is enough for you to eat. I desire to have you dig a tunnel underground to that woman’s lodge, so that you may go under her bed and get a skull which is there. Seize it and bring it through the tunnel to me.” Shortly an army of mice came to eat the corn, beans, and squash seed. When they had finished eating they began to tunnel, and they did not cease their work until they had made a hole through the ground to the lodge. There they found the skull, which they drew out slowly. Then the old man stealthily crept to the place where they had left the skull, and, taking it, after dismissing the mice with thanks, he started homeward. He had told the mice to eat all they desired, and so they did eat what they could in the lodge. As soon as the pretended old man was out of sight of the lodge, he again became a young man. Turning toward the village, he spoke a curse upon it, saying, “Let fire break out and destroy all that belongs to that wicked woman, the lodges, and the people.” Instantly the whole was in flames and was soon entirely consumed.

Then the young man resumed his journey toward home. When he arrived there he said: “Now, my brother, after much trouble I have recovered this skull; so do not permit any person to see it again. I have destroyed with fire the entire village and substance of that wicked woman. Hereafter we may live in peace and contentment. So heed my words.”

76. THE ORPHAN

In times past, in a certain village of the Seneca there was an orphan boy, about sixteen years of age, who went around among the people, going from lodge to lodge to live on the charity of owners, and living wherever people were willing to keep him. Sometimes he slept by a brush fire on the ground and ate whatever was given to him.

When the youth was about twenty years old he was still as much a boy as ever. A chief who was very rich lived in the same village. He had a daughter and two or three sons. One day the boy stopped near the chief’s lodge, where they were burning brush. One of the chief’s sons came out and said to him, “Oh, my friend! how long have you been here?” “Not long,” said the orphan boy. “Well, do you not feel poor and lonely sitting as you do?” was the next question. “No; I feel just as rich as you do,” replied the orphan. “Do you sometimes think that you would like to have a wife?” asked the young man. “Yes; I sometimes think that I should like to have one if I could get one,” answered the orphan. “Well, what would you think of my sister for a wife? Many men have tried to marry her, but she has refused all.” “Oh!” said the orphan boy, looking up, “I should as soon have her as anyone else; she is handsome and rich.” “I will go and ask her,” said the young man, thinking that he would have fun with his sister. Entering the lodge, he said to her: “There is a young man out here who says he would like to marry you. Will you have him?” “Why, yes! I would rather marry him than anyone else,” she replied. “Shall I tell him so?” her brother persisted. “Yes,” she answered. Thereupon he told the orphan boy, who said, “I shall be glad to marry your sister and live with her.” The brother in fun repeated this to his sister, who said, “I will go myself and ask him.” She asked the orphan, “What did my brother tell you about me?” He told her everything. She then said: “I will live with you as your wife. Come tomorrow night at this time and I will take you for my husband.” The next morning she hunted up leggings and moccasins for the orphan boy. As was the custom with youths, he had never worn moccasins in summer. The young woman made ready everything for him. In the evening she went to the meeting place, where she found him. She brought water with which he washed himself; he then put on the garments and she tied up his hair. This time she told him to come to her home and to go straight to her bed, without talking with any of the men, because one of her brothers was always playing tricks. He did as he was told. The waggish brother looked at him and laughed, and calling him by name, said, “Come and sleep with me.”

In the fall the sons of the chief were ready to go on a deer hunt, and the young married woman thought that she, too, would like to go, inasmuch as she had a youthful husband, who, perhaps, would become a good hunter. The husband said, “Yes; I will go and try,” for he had never hunted. When they had traveled some distance, they camped and began hunting. The husband, having found a place where there were wild grape vines, made a swing. There he swung all day, never hunting, as the others did. At night he would go home without game, but he did not tell what he had seen in the woods. The brothers killed many deer. One day one said to the other: “Our brother-in-law gets no game.” The other replied: “Perhaps he does not hunt.” So they agreed to watch. On following him, they found him swinging, and they noticed that the ground was worn smooth around the swing. Thereupon they said: “We will not live with this man and feed him. We will leave him and camp a day’s journey away.” So they started, leaving the man and woman only one piece of venison.

The boy never ate much, so his wife had most of the meat. When all was eaten she began to fear starvation. One day while the boy was swinging he saw a great horned owl alight in a tree near by. Having shot it, he put the body under the swing, where he could look at it as he swung. His wife was getting very hungry, and when he went home that night she said, “If I have nothing to eat tomorrow, perhaps I shall be unable to get up; you ought to kill something.” “Well, maybe tomorrow I shall kill something,” replied the orphan.

The next day he went as usual to the swing. While swinging he heard a sound like the crying of a woman. He was frightened and stopped swinging. Soon he saw a female panther coming toward him with three cubs. As they approached he heard a great noise in the north, the direction from which the panthers had come, and a Dagwanoenyent appeared, tearing down all the trees in his path. He stopped on a tree near the swing. “There! you know what harm you have done,” said the Dagwanoenyent. (The old panther and cubs had been in Dagwanoenyent’s lodge on the rocks and had run away.) “Why are you so angry at the panthers?” asked the young man; “what have they done to you?” “They have torn up my best feather cap,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “What makes you think so much of your cap? It must be very fine,” said the orphan. “Yes; it was fine,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “Of what kind of skin was it made?” was the next question. “It was made of the skin of a horned owl,” said the Dagwanoenyent. “What would you think if I gave you another one?” queried the orphan. “How can you get one?” asked Dagwanoenyent. Going to the foot of the tree, the young man tossed up the owl which he had killed. The wind had stopped blowing as soon as Dagwanoenyent lighted on the tree. The old mother panther stood at hand, listening to what Dagwanoenyent and the young man said to each other. As he tossed up the owl, Dagwanoenyent caught it and said, “I thank you; this is better than the old one;” so saying he flew away. The panther thanked the young man, saying: “I am very glad you had this owl. You have saved my life and the lives of my children; now I will try to help you. Go to that knoll yonder, and just behind it you will see a couple of buck deer fighting. You must try to kill both. The one you shoot first will not run; they will fight until they die.” Running over to the knoll, the orphan found the two bucks and killed both. Taking a large piece of the venison, he went home to his wife, for she was almost starved to death. “I have brought you meat,” said the husband. “I have killed two buck deer today.” Jumping up, she threw the venison on the fire to broil, and hardly waited for it to cook before she began to eat it. The young man and his wife dragged the two deer home, and having skinned and dressed them, had plenty of venison. The young woman also dried the meat and tanned the skins. The panther told the orphan that now he must hunt, and that he must never swing, because he would kill much game.

When they had a great deal of meat the young man said: “I should go to see your brothers now. Probably they have a large quantity of meat, for they are good hunters.” He started on his journey, which took an entire day. Having killed a deer on the way, he carried along the venison. He found the lodge of his brothers-in-law, which looked very desolate. Peeping in, he saw all the brothers, who appeared weak and miserable; so he walked in, saying, “How are you, my brothers-in-law?” One said, “There is our brother-in-law.” They answered, “We are nearly starved; we have found nothing to kill.” “Well,” was the response, “we have plenty at our place. Come and live with us. I have meat here on my back. Eat and then go with me.” Thereupon he gave them the venison, which they ate almost raw. The food made them strong, so they started with him for his home.

The young man got home very quickly and told his wife, “Your brothers are badly off; they are worse off than you were.” During the night the brothers arrived. They were satisfied, and afterward lived with their sister and brother-in-law. Soon all went back to the village, loaded with skins and venison. Now the man and his wife were rich. They lived in the Genesee Valley.

77. THE GREAT WORM [361] AND HINON

One day a boy was wandering about hunting in the woods. While he was looking around for birds he noticed on the limb of a tree a large, many-colored worm. He thought it very beautiful and he watched it for some time. The next day he went to the woods again, thinking all the time of the worm and wondering whether it still would be there.

When he came to the tree he saw the worm on the branch, but in another place. The boy had a string of birds which he had killed that morning. Tearing off a small bit of the flesh of one and fastening it to a stick, he tried to feed the worm. It ate a little and the boy was greatly amused. The following day the boy again found the worm and fed it. The worm always remained near the place where he had first discovered it. Each day the worm ate a little more and larger portions. After a while the boy gave it a whole bird at a time; then soon two birds, feathers and all. The worm had now become very large, too heavy for the limb of the tree on which it had been staying, so it fell to the ground. It never looked for food, but seemed to wait for the boy to bring it.

One day the youth was out with a number of boys hunting. When they started for home he said, “I shall give all my birds to the worm.” Thereupon the other boys questioned him about the creature and wanted to see it, so he led them to the worm, and they had great sport seeing it eat. At every turn it seemed to change color and grow more beautiful. The boys were delighted to throw birds at the worm that they might see it snatch and eat them. Finally they said, “Let us go hunting tomorrow and bring it all the birds we can find.” This they did.

For a long time the boys brought the worm birds, then rabbits, all of which it ate. The worm grew very rapidly, became very long and thick—a huge monster. The boys never told their parents or relations about the worm, for they were afraid of losing their sport. They would go early every morning to see the worm. The creature swallowed everything that came within its reach.

One day while the boys were throwing the worm food they began to wrestle, and in the excitement the youngest boy was thrown near the creature. In an instant the boy was swallowed. At this the rest of the boys were terribly frightened. When the child was missed the parents looked for him everywhere; they went among the boys to see whether he had not spent the night with one of them. But they could not get the slightest clue to the whereabouts of the boy. The other boys said that they had seen him the day before; that was all they pretended to know.

After this the boys pushed two or three others of their number near the worm, which devoured them, too. It had become very large and ferocious, and ruled the boys by a spell. One day they found that the worm had killed and eaten a deer. Thereupon they were seized with great fear, for the creature had grown so immense, and they ran away without having their usual sport.

Now the village was built on a large mound-like hill, sloping on all sides. The morning after the boys had failed to feed the worm the people were alarmed to find the village surrounded by a terrible monster. They were afraid to go near it, although they knew that they must die if they remained shut up in the village. At last the greater number, having found on one side what seemed to them to be an opening, all rushed in. It was the mouth of the worm and all were swallowed. Then the boys told those who remained that it was this worm that had eaten the missing children.

When they saw that all who had tried thus to escape were devoured they were terrified, and counseled together to save themselves. Only a few were left. These decided to appeal to their grandfather, Hinon. So, burning tobacco, they called on their grandfather, Hinon, the Thunder god, imploring him to save them from this awful worm. As soon as the tobacco was burning, they heard him approaching in a great black storm cloud with terrific noise. With his lightning he struck the worm, tearing it to pieces. These pieces rolled down the hillside into the valley below, which became a lake.

78. THE CHIPMUNK AND THE BEAR

The Bear thought herself a very powerful creature in the exercise of orenda (magic power), and hence was always trying to exhibit this power before other animals.

One day she got into a hot dispute with a Chipmunk. Finally the Chipmunk said: “Why do you boast so much? You have no remarkable orenda.” At this sally the Bear, becoming very angry, asserted that she had so great magic power that she could, if she wished, prevent the sun from rising in the morning. The Chipmunk retorted, “No, you have not; you can not do that.” “Wait and see,” replied the Bear. The Chipmunk, not to be fooled, declared he would wait, saying, “We shall have the sun at the usual time.” When the sun rose, as usual, the Chipmunk, laughing, made sport of the Bear and her boasting. Finally, the Bear got so terribly angry that she turned on the Chipmunk, who made his escape by flight, for fortunately his burrow was near; but as he reached it, the Bear was so close upon him that she stretched out her paw to clutch him, and the Chipmunk just slipped from under it into the hole. The next day the Chipmunk appeared with three marks on his back—marks of the Bear’s claws, which the Chipmunk carries to this day.

79. THE GREAT WHITE BEAVER AND THE LAKE OF THE ENCHANTED WATER

Once in old times there lived a grandfather and his grandson in a lodge in a forest far from any village. All the other people of their tribe had been carried away through sorcery practiced by their enemies. The grandfather therefore carefully guarded from witches and wizards his grandson, who was the only hope and comfort of his declining years.

One day the little grandson, almost breathless, ran into the lodge exclaiming: “Oh, grandfather! I have heard something which is very wonderful, crying out, Kidjiʹde.” “Oh!” answered the grandfather, “that is the bird which is called Chickadee; it is the first kind of game that a young hunter kills.” Taking his cue from this reply, the lad, seizing his bow and arrows, went out and after many fruitless attempts killed the chickadee and brought its body into the lodge to his grandfather. Thereupon the grandfather set up in the ground in front of the fire two small forked sticks and laid across another stick in the two forks. Having dressed the chickadee, he hung it on the cross stick to broil, singing and dancing with great joy, saying, “Now my grandson will become a great hunter.”

At another time the grandson ran into the lodge, crying out: “Oh, grandfather! I have seen something with four legs, a black face, and with four stripes around its tail; it was large and fat.” “Oh!” answered the grandfather, “that is what is called Dju’äʹkăʼ;[362] it is the second kind of game that a young hunter kills. It has good meat and fine fur.” Renewing his hunting, the lad soon killed the Dju’äʹkăʼ and brought its body into the lodge. The grandfather sang and danced again, saying, “Oh! my grandson will be a great hunter.” After dressing the body of Dju’äʹkăʼ he hung it on the cross-stick before the fire to broil. When it was cooked both ate the flesh of Dju’äʹkăʼ.

A few days later the lad ran into the lodge, exclaiming, “Oh! grandfather, I have seen a very strange thing, which was walking on two legs; it had red skin on its head, a black coat, and made a great deal of noise.” The grandfather told the lad what this new thing was, saying: “Oh! that is Ohsoon. It makes the best kind of soup, and it is the third kind of game that a young hunter kills.”

Running off into the forest, the lad soon saw a flock of the Ohsoon and ran after them until he had caught one. He thought that the soup of which his grandfather spoke must be in its legs. But after examining them thoroughly and finding no soup, he exclaimed, “My grandfather must have tried to deceive me”; with that remark he let the bird go free. Then he ran back to his grandfather, complaining that he had caught one of the Ohsoon and, after carefully examining its legs, had found no soup in them, and that therefore he had let the bird go free. His grandfather pityingly said, “Oh! you foolish boy. The soup is not in its legs but in the body. You must kill, dress, and cook Ohsoon, and then you will have very fine soup.” With this information the lad again went out into the forest, and, having caught another of the Ohsoon, brought it home. The old man was highly delighted with the success of his grandson, so he himself killed, dressed, and cooked Ohsoon. Again he sang and danced, frequently saying, “Now, my grandson will be a great hunter.” When the bird was cooked, they ate their fill and were both satisfied.

On another day the lad went out to hunt. In the forest he saw a very strange creature, with long thin legs and something on its head resembling the branches of a tree. Being very much afraid of this creature, the lad ran home to his grandfather to tell him what he had seen. His grandfather said: “That is Neogen,[363] which is the fourth and greatest kind of game that a hunter kills. When a man can kill Neogen he is a good hunter.” Taking his bow and quiver of arrows the lad went into the forest to look for Neogen. After long hunting he killed Neogen and dragged its body home to his grandfather. But on this occasion the old man did not dance, for this was an event for solemnity in conduct. With due respect to the amenities of the occasion he carefully instructed the growing lad in the art of dressing the deer and of preparing its skin for use. Then he told his grandson that he had evinced the qualities of a good hunter, and that, “Hereafter you need not run back home to tell me what you have seen. You now have the right to kill anything that may come in your way. A man that can kill a deer is a great hunter, and he then can kill all kinds of game.”

The next time the youth went to hunt he brought back a fine bear. His grandfather was now very happy, for they had an abundance of meat. Assuring the youth that he had arrived at the age of manhood, as indicated by the change in his voice, he said to him: “My grandson, I am much pleased with you. You may go when hunting in every direction except toward the east. You must not go toward the east, for there dwell very wicked women, who have killed through sorcery all our people. So give heed to what I tell you.”

The next time that the young man started off to hunt he directed his course southward. But as he traveled on he kept thinking of those wicked women in the east, who had destroyed all his kindred. Finally, he decided to change his course from the southward to eastward, and he kept on for some time in the latter direction. At last he came to a tree which was covered all over with what appeared to be the scratches and nail marks of raccoons, whereupon he said to himself, “There must be a large number of raccoons in this tree.” So he removed his outer garments and laid aside his bow and arrows; then taking a stout club, he climbed the tree until he came to a hole very near the top. Peering into this opening, he saw many raccoons down in the hollow trunk. By thrusting his club down among them, he killed a number. Drawing them up, he threw them on the ground at the foot of the tree. Finally he chanced to look down—there at the very foot of the tree he saw a beautiful young woman sitting on a log. As soon as she caught his eye she exclaimed, “Come down here. I wish to talk with you, so do not delay.” The young man paid no attention to her at first, but kept on killing the raccoons and casting them down to the ground. She hailed him again, urging him to come down to talk with her. To avoid her, he crept around the tree, and there he changed himself into a red-headed woodpecker. Next he climbed up higher into the tree, pecking at the bark as he went for a short time. Then he shot his arrow off toward home; it whizzed through the air making a sound like a woodpecker. The young woman, who thought that he was the arrow, flew after him with all her might. But the young man, assuming again his own form, slipped down the tree, and after putting on his garments and gathering up the raccoons and his bow and arrows, he started for home.

His grandfather was greatly delighted to see so great a number of raccoons, but when he learned where the young man had got them he became very angry and chided him severely, saying, “You must not go there again, for if you do great harm and evil will befall us.”

The next day the young man started off from home, going directly southward. But when he was out of sight of the lodge he suddenly turned, going directly eastward. On the course he passed the tree where he had killed so many raccoons, and finally came to a second tree, which was also full of raccoons. Stopping there, he killed a large number, and while throwing them to the ground from the tree, he again saw the woman who had accosted him at the other tree. She urged him to come down, and did not fail to use very enticing terms. As he recalled his grandfather’s words, the young man well knew that he should not go down to her, but a feeling came into his heart which urgently prompted him to comply with her request. So reluctantly descending halfway, there he stopped. But the woman kept urging him to come down. Finally, having reached the ground, he sat on the end of the log, near the middle of which the woman was sitting. She asked him, “Why do you sit so far away? Young people customarily sit near each other when they talk together.” At this the young man drew a little nearer to her. But she still urged him to come close to her, so finally he took his seat right at her side. Now she began to tell him stories of wonders and magic power, talking to him until at last, becoming wearied, the young man fell asleep. Then the young woman, placing him in a bag which she threw over her shoulder, hurried away through the air. At the end of a long journey she alighted on the ground, and taking the young man from the bag, she aroused him and asked, “Do you know this place?” Looking around, he replied, “Yes; my grandfather and I have fished here.” The young woman replied, “I do not believe what you say. Point out something you remember.” The young man (willing that she should see these things) said, “Oh! there are the poles we set up, and there is an old kettle in which we cooked.” He had bewitched her eyes, so after seeing these objects she believed what he had said.

Again the woman told him stories until she had put him to sleep; then putting him into her bag she carried him far away, finally alighting on the ground. Taking him out of the bag and causing him to open his eyes, she set him on a narrow cliff under a mountain, where he had room only sufficient for him to lie down—a place not wider than a small deerskin.

Looking upward, he saw the mountain extending far above him, and looking downward, he saw that the earth was many hundreds of feet below. Nearer to him were other mountain peaks, narrow and pointed, on which were lying the bodies of men—some alive, some half dead, others half eaten, and still others reduced to mere skeletons. The sight of these things caused the young man many bitter reflections. He repeatedly said: “Oh! now I see that my grandfather was entirely right in the advice he gave me. There are indeed very wicked women who dwell in the east.” His feelings of chagrin were only heightened by what he learned from what one of the living men told. Calling to the man lying on the nearest cliff, he asked him how he happened to be there. The man in broken accents replied: “A woman deceived me and brought me here. Other women brought those other men to the spots where you see them lying. Their flesh is being eaten from their bones, yet they do not die. You and I shall be eaten when they get ready to come to us.” He ceased speaking, and the young man then thought long on some means of escape from such a lingering, horrid death at the hands of such wicked women and their agents. At last he remembered that in years past he had had a dream in which he had seen a Great Spider, which approached him, saying: “My friend, I will keep and protect you when you shall be in trouble. So call on me when you shall be in fear of death.” He therefore cried to this Great Spider for aid, saying: “Oh, Great Spider! help me now. I am in great trouble.” Hardly had his words died away before an enormous spider, which was as large as a man, came to him and at once began weaving webs and to form a rope. When it had finished the rope the Great Spider suspended it from the mountain above the man. The rope was quite strong enough to support the man, and thereby he climbed up to the top of the mountain above him. There he saw a large level country. Then by the aid of the Great Spider, lowering the rope to the men below on the cliffs who were still alive, he drew them up one after another. Having thanked the Great Spider for its aid, he dismissed it. The men thus rescued went to their homes.

Then the young man set out for the home of the woman who had so cleverly deceived him. After a long journey he found her living with her mother in an old lodge standing quite alone. Addressing the young woman, the daughter of the old sorceress, the young man declared his purpose in coming by saying: “I have come here to marry you. When I first saw you I was greatly pleased with you; and I now love you. Will you be my wife?” Replying, the young woman said, “Oh! I hardly know what to tell you, for I have a very disagreeable mother, and I am much afraid you will not be able to live in the same lodge with her. It was in obedience to her command that I carried you to the narrow cliff on the mountain peak. I am willing to make the trial if you wish it.” The young man accepted her even under these adverse circumstances, and so they became husband and wife.

One night some time after this the old woman, the mother-in-law of the young man, who slept at the back end of the lodge, pretending to be in an agony of pain, rolled around on the ground. Her daughter, knowing what the trouble was, said to her husband, “Strike my mother on the head with the pestle for pounding corn.” In doing this he said to her, “Oh! mother-in-law, what is the matter?” Seeming to have been awakened by the blow of the pestle the old woman said: “I have dreamed, and my Dream Being declared that it is necessary in order to avoid some unknown calamity that my son-in-law kill the Great White Beaver that lives in the Lake of the Enchanted Waters, and that with its flesh he must prepare a feast for the Dagwanoenyent.” The son-in-law replied: “It is all right, Oh! mother-in-law. I will attend to this to-morrow morning. So go to bed, and let it not worry you.”

The next morning the young husband set out for the Lake of the Enchanted Waters. Having arrived there he soon found the Great White Beaver. With but a single arrow he shot and killed it. But as soon as he lifted its body out of the lake the enchanted waters pursued him with great fury. These waters were reputed to be so full of evil enchantment that the flesh of any living thing coming in contact with them immediately fell from the bones. Knowing this, the young husband ran for his life, bearing the body of the Great White Beaver. At last, reaching the lodge in safety he triumphantly threw the carcass of the Great White Beaver down on the ground, and at that instant the waters of the lake quickly receded. The old woman was now in a great rage at the turn of affairs. At times she cried out, “Oh! he is a terrible man. I thought that surely his bones would now be in that lake. Oh, my poor son! Oh, my poor son!” It seems that the Great White Beaver was no other than her son, who was a great sorcerer, and who assumed this formidable shape to deceive other shamans and sorcerers and to lure them to certain destruction. But evidently his orenda had been overcome by that of the young brother-in-law, his sister’s husband.

Having dressed the dead Beaver in accordance with established custom on like occasions and having had its flesh cooked, the young man invited the Dagwanoenyent and the Gaasyendietʻha to come to the feast given in their honor. Coming, one and all, they filled the lodge to overflowing, the Dagwanoenyent being little else than great, horrid, round heads with long hair and with great flaming eyes. Their host commanded them to eat everything—flesh and bones—and to drink the broth, for it was an “eat-all” feast. When the feast had been devoured to the last morsel, the ugly old heads began to smack their lips, and they praised ironically the feast, saying: “What a splendid feast, a fine dinner, the old woman has given us. Oh! how sweet and toothsome was her son’s flesh.” Then the Great Heads [364] grinned at one another derisively. Now, beside herself with rage, the old woman, seizing a club, drove all her unwelcome guests out of the lodge.

The next night the old woman again rolled and tossed on her bed, finally falling into the fire, crying out, Agi! Agi! The wife of the young man had told him that this time her mother would dream that he and his mother-in-law must go into the sweat-lodge—the man first, and the old woman after him. So when the old woman rolled into the fire, the young wife said, “Now, strike her with the pestle for pounding corn.” At this he struck her a blow with the pestle while she was rolling about among the ashes and fire, and groaning as if in great agony. The old woman, pretending to awake, said, “Oh! I have dreamed that my son-in-law entered the sweat-lodge—he first, and then I.” Making light of her dream, the young man said, “Oh! go to bed, mother-in-law. I will attend to this matter in the morning.” Early the following morning the sweat-lodge was heated hotter than it had ever been before. When the son-in-law entered, the old woman sang and danced around it, saying, “Let there be heat enough in there to smother him.” In a couple of hours she cautiously pushed aside the door flap of the sweat-lodge, remarking, “He must be dead by this time.” But she was deeply chagrined to find that he sat inside very comfortably, and that he had not even perspired. It was now the old woman’s turn to enter the sweat-lodge. As she did so, the son-in-law began to sing and to dance around it. He sang, “Let this lodge become flint; let it be red hot at first; and then let it be at white heat.” As it grew hotter and hotter the old woman begged for mercy, but none was shown her, and thus she was burned to death.

Now the young husband, addressing his wife, said, “As you brought me the most of the way hither on your back, and as you know the way, take me home.” So she bore him on her back over the fields, over the forests, past the fishing-grounds where he said he and his grandfather had fished, past the raccoon trees, and at last brought him to the lodge of his grandfather. The aged grandfather welcomed his grandson and his wife, being very glad that his grandson had lived through all the difficulties which he knew he had met while he had been absent. There they lived in peace and contentment.

This is the story of the Great White Beaver and the Lake of the Enchanted Waters.

TRADITIONS

80. GANON, THE SENECA WAR CHIEF

Ganon was a Seneca war chief. Having called a council, he said, “We must go to see the Cherokee, and find out whether we can not agree to be friendly and to live in peace hereafter.” The people consenting, the chief continued, “We must purify ourselves thoroughly before we start; this will take ten days.” Thereupon a great many went off into a deep forest. All were men. There was no woman in the company. When they got into the deep forest they took medicine to make them vomit. This they did every morning for ten days, in addition to bathing and swimming and washing their bodies each day.

At the end of ten days the chief said, “We shall go now on a high hill and there make a trench the length of a man’s body. Then we will put a man into it, placing boughs across so he can not be seen, and on top of all the whole carcass of a deer.”

Now, they had invited Sʻhadahgeah to come down, and the people staid near the trench. The man under the bush heard a noise, and saw a common eagle come, eat a little, and then go off; then the eagle came back again, ate, and went away in another direction. It seemed as if it notified other birds, for they also came. The man who was lying underneath the brush scared them away, for they did not want common birds to eat the meat. After a while the concealed man heard a tremendous noise, which he knew was made by Sʻhadahgeah, the bird they wanted. Sʻhadahgeah is a very cautious bird; it looked everywhere before beginning to eat the meat. The man got his hand carefully around the bird’s tail, which he held firmly, and when the bird flew away he pulled out one feather. It took two years to get a full tail of feathers; hence they had to entice down a good many birds in this way before they got enough for the purpose. When secured, the party was ready to start for the Cherokee country.

Many days were required to reach the land of the Cherokee, who had built a fort around them so that an enemy could not enter. The Seneca got there early in the morning, when the gate was open. Two of the Seneca dancers, adorned with feathers, made a noise like a whoop. When the Cherokee heard this they came out, whereupon they saw the two men singing and dancing. “These men must have come on some errand,” said the Cherokee chief. When the two men came nearer they said: “We wish to meet in council, as we come to talk about something important.” All turned and went toward the lodge of assembly. All the Seneca had come directly there, but only the two were singing and dancing. The lodge of assembly was crowded. The Seneca sang and danced until tired, when they stopped. The Cherokee did not dance. The Seneca chief said: “Now I will tell you for what purpose we have come to you through the forest. We have thought among ourselves that it is time to stop fighting. You and we are always on the lookout to kill one another. We think it is time to stop this. Here is the proof, if we agree to be friendly. Here is the wampum. If you and your people are willing to be friendly, you will take this.” With these words he held out the string of wampum as their credentials. The Cherokee chief, coming up, met the Seneca chief, saying: “I will take it and hold it in my hand, and tomorrow we will tell you what we have decided to do.” Then turning, he said to his people: “Go home and bring food to this lodge of assembly.” Thereupon all brought from their homes so much food that there was a great pile lying across the lodge of assembly. All ate together, but could not consume the whole amount.

The next day they ate together again. “We have decided among ourselves,” said the Cherokee chief to the Seneca, “to accept this wampum, to be friendly with you, and to bury all the weapons of war so no man may reach them again.” In response the Seneca chief said: “I thank you. We are very glad that you have accepted our offer, and now all of us have put our weapons together, and the white wampum shall hang between us, and the belt shall be as long as a man, reaching down to the ground.” The Cherokee said to their people: “Now is the time for any of you who wishes to do so to pick out relatives from among the Seneca to be adopted.”

When the notice was given the Cherokee women picked out one man, saying, “You are to be our uncle, our mother’s brother.” Some other woman took another for a brother; and finally all were taken except Ganon,[365] the chief. Then Ganon, being above a Cherokee, said, “No one has a right to take Ganon away, for a young man is here who will claim him as his father.” At this, the young man, walking up to Ganon, said, “Father, I am glad to see you. Now, father, we will go home.” Speaking thus, he went to his mother’s lodge, taking his father with him, and it was found to be he. He took him to the lodge where Ganon spent the first night, and the young man was really his son. When Ganon came to the lodge he recognized the woman. Everyone was pleased with the place and relationship.

A good many days later a man came to the village from the East—the Great Salt Water. He came from the Seoqgwageonon [366] tribe to challenge them to a ball play, and he told how many days it would be before his people would come. They came at the time appointed. The head man was dressed in skins which were so long that they touched the ground. Next day the Seoqgwageonon began to bet with the Cherokee. The Seneca were there. The bet was two very heavy, costly skins, and other valuables. The Seneca and the Cherokee said, “We can not say that we shall win this game, but we are willing to play.” The play began. The Cherokee lost the game. Then the Seneca said, “We shall try this time,” and they bet again heavily. All were ready. They put their netted clubs to the ground. After a little swift running, the Seneca brought the ball to their goal, making a point. After the game had continued a while, having made all the points agreed on, they won the game. They now doubled the bet, and again the Seneca won. They won the third game also. Now the Seoqgwageonon said, “We will try the race with you.”

The ground was quite level, and the opening was very broad. The Cherokee chose a Seneca runner. They were to run the first time without betting, and to bet on the second running. The men ran to the post, and his people, seeing that the Seneca runner was just the thickness of his body behind as they reached the post, asked him whether he had done his best. He replied, “No; I have not.” Now they bet and the second, the real race, began. At the middle of the course the Seneca runner said to the other, “Do your best, for I am going to do mine.” The Seneca left the other far behind, winning the race. Now the Seoqgwageonon said, “There is yet one race, the long race, which we shall try.” The Cherokee said, “We have won everything from these people. I believe it will be best to let them win one game. If they lose all, they may make trouble.” So they selected a Cherokee to run, who was beaten, whereupon the Seoqgwageonon went home.

In two days another man came to say in behalf of the Seoqgwageonon that he had come to challenge them a second time, and that they were to meet halfway and have a fight. The Cherokee said to the Seneca who were with them: “You are so few in number here with us that we do not want to have you killed, so we think you would better go home.” When the time came, the Cherokee met and fought with the Seoqgwageonon and were beaten. Three years later the Seneca went to visit the Cherokee. On this occasion they heard all about the fight, and the Cherokee told them that the Seoqgwageonon had said, “We should like to fight with the Seneca, for I am a double man; I have two virile members.” So the Seneca held a council and decided to fight them, saying, “We shall try and see whether he has two virile members.” The Cherokee volunteered to guide the Seneca. They traveled many days until they came to a place where the Cherokee said, “This is as far as the Seoqgwageonon usually come to hunt.” They came to a path, and finding a footprint, they waited there for the man who had made it. Soon they saw a man carrying meat on his back. “We must take that man,” said the Seneca, “but let us be careful lest he hurt us.” When he came near they ran at him. As soon as he saw them, he whooped and dropped the meat. Then he drew his bow and arrow to shoot, but before he could select his arrow, he was taken captive. They caused him to stand in the middle of the assembly, saying, “Let us see whether he has two virile members. “When they saw he had only one, they said, “Now we want your people to stop saying they have two virile members.” Thereupon the Seneca went back to the Cherokee village.

Soon a runner came from the Seoqgwageonon, who told the Cherokee that they wanted to have war with the Seneca and that he had come to challenge them. The Seneca answered, “We will try to gratify them;” so they started for the Seoqgwageonon village, guided by the Cherokee. They came to an opening, from which it was one day’s journey to the first village. Stopping at a hill in this opening, they were about to send two messengers to the Seoqgwageonon when the Cherokee said, “You must send them so as to arrive at the village about sundown.” They did this. When the messengers arrived near the village they saw that the Seoqgwageonon were playing ball. The messengers then went around to the south side and threw sumach darts, so as to deceive the other Indians into thinking them of their own people. The Seoqgwageonon so regarded the messengers, hence they did not take notice of them. The messengers having killed a man, scalped him, and rushed off whooping. On the way home the Seneca kept saying to one another, “Djágon—brace up, take courage.” About dusk they saw dust rising from the ground a good distance behind. The Seoqgwageonon on horses were pursuing them. The Seneca saw that they would be overtaken in the open, so they hurried to a dry creek with overhanging banks, where they hid. Soon the horses and dogs drew near, but the dogs failed to find the Seneca and the pursuers went on. Shortly they returned, but again failed in their search.

The next morning the Seneca went on to Odaiadon, where there was an opening into a forest. The messengers soon saw the dust a second time and knew from this that they were being pursued. In a little while they could see the horses which were coming on them; soon the horses were near. The arrows of the Seoqgwageonon whizzed past them, and now their enemies were almost on them, but the runners were at the opening, where their people were arrayed in the form of a horseshoe. As soon as the pursuers got into this formation the Seneca closed in on them, capturing and killing all but one, who, being in the rear, turned and fled in time. The two Seneca now followed the horseman until they saw that he met a crowd. He talked to his people, and he and they went back together to the country of the Seoqgwageonon.

The Seneca and the Cherokee now went to the Cherokee country, and in a month the Seneca returned to their own place.

After a while the Seneca said, “Let us go again to our friends, the Cherokee.” When they arrived there all were glad and invited them to their lodges. They said to the Seneca: “We hear that the Seoqgwageonon think the Seneca are dangerous and bad people. They themselves are fortune-tellers and can see what other people are going to do, but they can not tell what the Seneca are going to do. They are magically more powerful than the others.” During this visit they merely amused themselves with games and other sports.

81. HATCINONDON:[367] A HISTORICAL TRADITION

Hatcinondon was a great warrior, the greatest among the warlike Seneca of the Iroquois Confederation.

Once Hatcinondon led a large company of warriors to the Cherokee country on a raid. In time they arrived at a place called Oyada [368] Thadinongeh, which was within the Cherokee country. They knew well that the Cherokee were on the lookout for them. Having reached this place, Hatcinondon told his men to remain where they were, and that he would go ahead to spy out the land and to learn what could be done. Then he departed from the camp of his men. Soon it was discovered by the enemy that he was in the Cherokee country, and he was closely pursued by them. He fled into a region covered with a heavy growth of reeds, which was in two great sections, with a narrow strip of comparatively clear land between them. Hatcinondon managed to escape into one of these stretches, unobserved by the enemy, who believed that he had concealed himself in the other part. So they set guards at the narrow strip of land dividing the two sections of reedy land. After they had set fire to the reeds and burned them up they made a careful search for his charred body; but Hatcinondon had fallen asleep from exhaustion in the other stretch of reeds. During the night, however, two men came to him, who seized him by the arms, saying: “We have come for you.” When they had brought him to the place whence they had been sent, they said to him: “We have now brought you to this man who sent for you.” Whereupon the two men pointed out a lodge, with the words: “There is where the Heron lives who sent for you.” Hatcinondon went up to the lodge, but could find no doorway; but after he had searched for some time without success he heard a voice on the inside say, “Come in!” and a door opened of itself, and Hatcinondon entered the lodge. Within he found a man, who said: “I sent for you, and you have now come. Are you not hungry?” At this Hatcinondon thought: “This is a strange way; this is not the way I do. I would give the food at once.” But Ne Hononhsot, knowing the thought of Hatcinondon, laughing, remarked: “I said that only in fun.” Arising, he got half a loaf of bread made of corn meal, half a wild apple, and half a pigeon, which he offered to his guest. Hatcinondon said, laughing: “How little it is that will satisfy me.” To which Ne Hononhsot answered: “If you eat this I shall give you more.” As soon as Hatcinondon began to eat he saw that as he ate everything became whole again, so that he was not able entirely to consume anything. He was finally satisfied with what he had eaten. Then Ne Hononhsot said: “Now that you have finished eating I will speak with you further.”

While Hatcinondon was speaking he heard footsteps of someone approaching on a run, and suddenly the door was thrust open, whereupon the Sun came in so quickly and with such brightness that he had to hold his head down to shield his eyes. The newcomer conversed with Ne Hononhsot but Hatcinondon could not understand a word that was said. In a short time the visitor started off toward the east. Then Ne Hononhsot said to Hatcinondon: “This man is the one whom you Seneca call Endekha Gaahgwa.[369] It is night now down on the earth, so he is hurrying toward the east. He told me of a great battle that is now ended.”

Ne Hononhsot was indeed Hawenniyo, and he said: “This is what I expected when I created human beings. I thought they would fight. The man who has just been here is the one who watches on the earth below. I want you to know that when you meet an enemy who shoots at you, you must not run away but must walk straight up to him. He shall not hurt you. An arrow shall not kill you. It is something else that shall kill you. Now you shall eat again.” Ne Hononhsot next gave him the same kind of food, one half of each object. Then he continued: “I am the cause that the Seneca do not now fight with the Cherokee, for I love both tribes. When you return home you will find all your people there, and they will know that you are alive. When you get back to your party of warriors you must tell them that they must leave the warpath at once and cease fighting, returning to their homes and remaining there until they shall find something to satisfy their wants. Now my messengers are ready to lead you back to your camp.”

Going out of the lodge, and directed by the messengers, Hatcinondon passed through an opening and soon found himself in the reeds where he was before he had been called away, and then the messengers departed.

Returning to his party of warriors, Hatcinondon told them what he had seen and heard. All went home, where they held a great council, and it was there agreed that the party should go to the Cherokee country in a couple of days. At the appointed time they started, while Hatcinondon went directly to the Cherokee lands again. He was not afraid, for he knew that an arrow would not kill him. In time the Seneca met the Cherokee, and a fierce fight took place. Remembering what he had been told, Hatcinondon, going straight to the enemy, killed and scalped a Cherokee warrior, whereupon he immediately proclaimed, “I have killed and scalped a warrior. My name is Hatcinondon.” He did this before any of the Cherokee knew that he was there. They had a great battle and many were killed. After the fight the party of Hatcinondon retreated to their homes. The news soon spread that this party had returned home with scalps.

Shortly after this affair another Seneca party started away to fight the Cherokee, and Hatcinondon accompanied it. They soon encountered the Cherokee, and in the ensuing fight Hatcinondon was captured. He was led away, bound, to the Cherokee village, where a great council of war was held. It was a standing rule with the Cherokee that when any person from the Six Nations of the Iroquois was captured his or her fate was left to the decision of two women, whose privilege it was to determine how such a person should be tortured. These two women at this council decided that Hatcinondon should be hung up and tortured to death by fire. So he was securely bound to a tree, the war post, and wood was carefully piled up under and around him. He had given himself up as lost. They were about to set fire to the pyre of wood when a violent rainstorm came up, causing the women to defer the execution until the storm should have passed over. All the people sought shelter from the storm, leaving Hatcinondon tied to the war post. While there alone he saw an old woman coming toward him, who said: “My grandson, you think that you are going to die, but you are not. Try to stir yourself.” Thereupon, moving himself about, he found that his bonds were loosened and that he was free. “You see now that you are free,” she said; “I thought that I would come to return your kindness. You remember your people once made a circle of fire and I was in the middle of it. You recall, perhaps, that you saw a toad in the middle, and that you saved the toad, placing it in your bosom. I was that toad. You carried me until you came to water, in which you placed me. This is the reason I am returning your kindness, for I see that you are in trouble now. I brought that rainstorm and now I want you to run in the direction of the next stream, and you must continue down the stream.”

When the rainstorm was over the two women returned to the war post, only to find that Hatcinondon had escaped. They gave the alarm at once, and the warriors assembled, calling the dogs, which forthwith took up the trail. Soon they reached the stream and followed the current. As Hatcinondon fled he came to a tree that leaned over the water. He found that the trunk was hollow and that he could get into it from the water and then crawl farther up. Here the dogs lost the trail and finally the pursuit was abandoned. When the pursuers had departed he heard two people approaching the spot, talking. Presently they sat on the tree at the very place where he was concealed. He overheard them say, “It is wonderful how that man escaped from us.” Hatcinondon was very careful not to cough lest he should be discovered. But at last he heard them depart and there was no further sound of talking. At last, having come out of the hollow in the tree, he went southward, down the stream. When night was approaching, while walking along he heard a blow which sounded like that of an ax on a tree. Being greatly frightened, he became very wary in his movements. While standing listening, he saw three men, who had made a fire where they were going to camp for the night. When darkness had fully set in he crept up stealthily, shielded by a very large tree. Standing behind this tree, he saw that the men were sound asleep and were snoring. Without disturbing them he secured their weapons, with which he armed himself, carefully hiding those he did not need. Then with an ax he killed the three men, whom he scalped. Thereupon he said: “The blood is too strong, so I shall go aside from this place.”

Taking their provisions, he went to a neighboring stream, where he made a fire. Having done this, he went back and dressed himself in the best of the garments of the slain men, for he was entirely naked; then he returned to his fire, and, having cooked his meal, he ate it. When he had finished his meal he prepared and painted the three scalps.

The next morning Hatcinondon, taking with him what provisions they had, traveled in a great circle until he had found the path by which he and his party had come to that country. Discovering fresh tracks leading both ways, he learned that his friends were still in the country. As he went along the path he saw smoke ahead, at the sight of which he stopped and listened to see whether he could hear Seneca speech. He was delighted to hear Seneca terms, and displaying the three scalps on a stick he called out, Goʹweh, goʹweh! three times. When his friends heard this, shouting for joy, they ran to meet him. They saw indeed that he had three scalps and brought him to their camp fire. They were glad that he had been found for they had watched day and night for his return, but had about concluded that he had been killed. Setting out for home, they found all their people well. This is the story.

82. GODIONT [370] AND THE SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

In Genesee Valley is Dedioitgeon—the mouth of a gully. In that place lived the Seneca people. Godiont, the principal woman in the village, had a meeting with a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who said to her, “We think it would benefit your people for us to settle permanently at Dedioitgeon.” Godiont thought it was good and kind in them to do this, and so she was glad. Afterward when anyone was sick she went to that place and called on the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa for assistance. She invited them to come to her lodge, and got a pot of corn soup ready for them. They came in person, and having asperged the patient with ashes and having blown on him, they ate the corn pudding. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to Godiont, “Whenever you invite us to come, you must have the pot ready, for we do not wish to wait. After we have arrived we want to do our work quickly.”

Once there was a man who had not much substance, who thought he would fool the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. Going to their place, he invited them, saying, “Your help is required at a certain place” (naming it). They went there, but found no one, and nothing was ready. After waiting a while, the chief one said: “We have been trifled with. This will not do. Godiont did not do this. Some other person has trifled with us. The one who has done so must die. We are not to be trifled with. The people must understand this. It is best for us to move away from this place.” “I will tell you,” said he to Godiont, “what I want you to do. Make masks as near like our faces as you can, and let men wear them, and we shall work through these masks and thus help the people.” “Soon the man who has trifled with us must come here,” said the oldest Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, “and you shall see what will happen to him.” Soon the man came on a run. He was in a kind of crazy fit. Coming right to the spot where the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa were, he fell down and began to vomit blood, and finally died. After that day the people knew it was wrong to make fun of the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa.

83. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

The inhabitants of a village saw an enormous Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa approaching, whereupon they were very angry and provoked to see that it could think of coming; so they got their bows and arrows ready to shoot. But the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa called out: “Your arrows can not kill me. I have not come to harm you. I have come for tobacco, and you must collect voluntary contributions of it and give me all that you can spare.” They did not shoot, for they well knew that their arrows would have no effect except to make the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa angry and revengeful. So they collected a quantity of tobacco, which they gave to him. Then he left them with the promise that he would never trouble them again if during their tobacco harvest they would always set aside a portion of this soothing plant for him. He kept his promise, as he never molested them after this.

84. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

The Onondaga say that Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa live in a cave among rocks near their reservation. They assert as a fact that they have seen Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa going along in front of these rocks and entering the cave, and they believe that many Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa live in that place. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa are represented by the so-called False Faces, or maskers, of the Iroquois.

85. GENONSGWA

Three men were hunting in the woods. One of them, who was married, had his wife and child with him. While the men were off in the forest the woman and child remained in the lodge. The child was small and swathed to a cradleboard.

One day when the woman returned to the lodge with water from a near-by stream, she heard talking, and, looking into the lodge, she saw a woman dressed in stone. The woman had taken up the baby and was rocking it on her knee, singing, Aʼuwah, aʼuwah (such good eating). Every little while she would take a bite out of the child’s cheek. The child screamed. Then spitting on her hand and rubbing the cheek, it became whole again, and the child stopped crying. The mother stood near the door, and seeing all this, was terrified. “Now we are going to die,” said she to herself. The Genonsgwa (Stone Coat Woman) looked up, and on seeing the mother bade her come in and be not afraid, as all would be well. Toward night the hunters returned. When they saw the woman dressed in stone, they were afraid, but the Stone Coat Woman said, “I have come to help you in hunting.”

So they all lived together. The men went hunting day after day and had good luck in finding game and bringing home meat.

One evening during this hunting season the men said, “We have found a pond not far away that has a great many beavers in it.” The Stone Coat Woman said, “I will go with you tomorrow.” The next day she went to the pond, and having cut a small circular hole in the ice, called to the beavers to come out. A number came out; these she caught and killed. Then she called again and more came out; she killed them, too, and so she continued to do till the hunters had as many as they wanted. The men skinned the beavers and kept the furs. The Stone Coat Woman fell to eating the bodies raw.

One morning the Stone Coat Woman said to the hunters: “A visitor is coming, and you must do all you can to defend yourselves. My husband is mad, and perhaps he will kill us all. When I left him, I ran away and came to you; he is angry, and when he comes I will fight with him as well as I can. You must be ready with a basswood stick. Sharpen it and harden it in the fire a little to make it effective. When he throws me to the ground, as he will do, you must spear him from behind and kill him. He will come some time this afternoon. Then you must be on the lookout for him continually.” At last they saw him approaching; he came up and talked with his wife. She begged him not to make any trouble, saying she would go home with him, but he would not listen to her words. He saw there were two men there; so he became jealous and began fighting. He knocked down his wife, and as he leaned over to beat her, the men ran the basswood spear into his body, thus killing him. Then the woman, having gotten up, said: “I do not know what will happen to us now, for my husband has two brothers, who know he is dead, and who will come here and kill us. The river is open; you have canoes and must escape that way.”

The Stone Coat Woman then went off alone; the others took to their canoes. As they were pushing out into the river, a man came to the shore, calling to the oarsman to come back a moment; refusing to do so, he pushed farther out. Thereupon the other man called out, “It is lucky for you that you did not come back, for I came to eat you.” So these people had a narrow escape.

86. GENONSGWA

A long while ago, while some Seneca were out hunting, a Stone Coat came up to them, saying: “I should like to remain here with you, and I think that you will derive good luck from me. You can have all the skins you need and meat enough to live on. I will take the rest.” The Seneca agreed to this.

The next morning the hunters had great luck in hunting. When it was time for them to go home for the season, the Stone Coat said, “I will pack each man’s load of meat and skins.” They had dried meat, buckskins, and furs. The Stone Coat packed in a single bundle what he thought each man could carry; then he shook each bundle till it became small. He told the men to cast their bundles on the ground when they got home, and that they would become as large as when he began to pack them. Bidding them good-by, the Stone Coat said, “I hope you will all come to this place next winter; then we can all be together again.”

The next winter these hunters went back to the same hunting-ground, whereupon another Stone Coat came to them, who said, “My father has sent me here to bring one of you hunters to his home; he wants him as a son-in-law.” One of the men volunteered to go, saying, “Probably we shall be better off; perhaps we shall live longer by doing as he wishes”; so he accompanied the Stone Coat. When they came to the Stone Coat’s house, the old man said, “I sent my son to bring you here. I want you to marry my daughter. You must not be afraid. I will make my people understand that they must not touch nor harm you.” So the man married the Stone Coat’s daughter, although the old man said that his people would be surprised at his giving his daughter to a Seneca.

The Stone Coat rubbed his son-in-law’s hands, feet, and body with an object like a bone, and then told him to go out hunting. The young man felt himself growing so strong that he felt he could carry off everything he laid his eyes on. There was a certain young man of the Stone Coats who loved the old Stone Coat’s daughter and wanted to marry her. Being angry with the Seneca, he came up to him, saying, “You and I must have a foot race. If I should outrun you, thereby winning, I shall cut your head off and take your wife. If you win you may cut my head off.” The appointed day came, and all the Stone Coat people assembled to see the race. The young man’s father-in-law said, “You need not be afraid. I will help you.” Taking some substance out of a stone box, he rubbed it over the man’s body. Thereupon he and his opponent, locking arms, ran until they reached a tree, when they were to have let go and run on, but the Stone Coat held on to the man’s hand, so that their locked arms bent over the hemlock tree. When they got nearly to the end of the tree the Stone Coat let go, causing the tree to spring back, throwing the man backward a good distance. The young man, hurrying forward, outran the Stone Coat, and cut his head off in the presence of all.

87. GENONSGWA

Once while a man was out hunting in the woods he saw that a Genonsgwa was following him, and thereupon he began to run for his life. Finally, when closely pressed, he ran up on a tree trunk which in falling had become lodged on another. The Stone Coat stopped and stood looking around, but he could not find the man, for his body was rigid on account of his Stone Coat, so he could not look upward. Then the man saw him draw from his pouch a magical finger, which he placed in the palm of his hand. The finger at once raised itself, pointing to the man in the tree. When the man, who was a fast runner, saw the magical finger pointing at him he knew that he could slip down from the tree, snatch the magical finger, and escape with it. He did so. Stone Coat shouted after him, begging, praying, and promising to be his friend forever if he would give back the magical finger. The man was afraid to go near Stone Coat lest the latter might deceive and seize him; so finally he threw the magic finger back to the Stone Coat. Ever after this particular man and the Stone Coat were on friendly terms.

88. GENONSGWA

At times men got lost while hunting in the forest, and it was supposed by their friends that Stone Coats ate them.

Once three Seneca went out on the warpath against some other tribes. They journeyed directly westward from the place where the Seneca lived. After a day’s journey they encamped in a deep ravine at the head of a stream. When they had made their fire they saw a fine-looking man coming toward them. When he came up, he said: “I think it well to do what I am going to do. I have come to tell you that there are hundreds of people on the warpath who intend to eat people. Tonight you must camp here. They will make their camp in sight of yours. One of you three must go to their fire and say: ‘Hallo, I have discovered your fire. Where are you going?’ They will answer: ‘We are on the warpath.’ Your man must reply: ‘I, too, am on the warpath,’ to which they will respond: ‘Well, we must fight.’ Then your man must leave them and come back to your camp.”

The Seneca soon afterward saw men come and make a camp a short distance away. Thereupon one of the three hunters, drawing near them, said: “Hallo, I have discovered your fire. Where are you going?” “We are on the warpath,” they replied. “So am I,” he answered. Looking around, he saw stone clothing lying against one of the trees, while the owner of the clothes was resting on the ground. The people were all Stone Coats. The next morning the Stone Coat army went up the ravine toward the Seneca camp. They made a terrible noise, for all the army sang, “We are going to eat the Seneca tribe.” When the Stone Coat force had gone about halfway up the ravine, filling the entire space between them and the Seneca, with a great whoop they rushed forward. But at that moment great rocks rolled down on them and great trees fell on them, killing them, and the Seneca saw a strange, wonderful man running along on the top of the rocks and trees. Whenever he saw a Stone Coat head in sight, he would hit it, killing its owner. Only one Stone Coat was left alive, and he, having escaped, was never seen again. The man who was throwing down the rocks sang all the time that the Seneca tribe could stand against anything—against the world. When the contest was over, the strange man came to the three men, saying: “I am the one whom you call Hawenniyo. It is I who saved you. I did not make these Stone Coats. Something else made them.” And Hawenniyo said further: “I want you, the Seneca people, to be the most active of all tribes in every kind of game or contest and in hunting.”

89. GENONSGWA

When the Seneca lived at Canandaigua one of their medicine-men notified them that something terrible was about to happen, something which would cause many to lose their lives. At this they were greatly frightened; they quarreled with one another and became suspicious even of their own children.

One night a great uproar was heard in the village, and jumping up from their couches, men, women, and children, running out of their lodges, fled as fast as they could in every direction. The weather was very cold. Among the people of the village was a woman who two days before had given birth to a child. She ran for her life, holding the infant in her arms; it was wrapped up and she carried it as a bundle. On the way she determined to throw the bundle down so as to be able to run faster, and on coming to a tree having a hole in one side, not far from the ground, she dropped the bundle into it. This was a bear’s den, and as the bundle fell into the hole the old bear found it. The woman, running for her life, overtook some of her people, who asked her what she had done with the child, but she made them no answer. After many had been killed, the enemy (who were Indians) disappeared, and the Seneca made new homes for themselves.

In the spring, while on a hunting expedition, a man came to a chestnut grove, where he camped. The next day while hunting he saw a she-bear with cubs. He killed the old bear. As she fell over, she struck one of the cubs, which cried like a child, while the other cubs ran up a tree. The hunter, hearing the cry, thought it very strange. When he came near the spot, he saw a small boy, who ran away crying. The boy was so wild that the man could hardly catch him. He cried all the time. The hunter said: “Stop crying, nephew; nothing will harm you. Stop, nephew!” The little fellow answered: “You made me cry. You killed my mother; you have made me very miserable. Over there are my brothers” (pointing to the tree). “I should not have killed your mother had I seen you first,” said the man; “but how came that bear to be your mother?” The boy, who was covered with hair, replied: “I will tell you. When your people fled from Canandaigua in the evening of the attack on them, I was thrown away. I was then only two days old, but I remember everything. I knew my mother’s mind. I was a burden to her when she was trying to escape, so she dropped me into the hollow trunk of that tree over there, where a bear happened to live. The bear caught me as I fell, and said that I should live with her children, and that she could keep us all. My mother threw me away to die. The bear is the mother who nursed and cared for me.”

“Very well,” said the man; “I know this is true. You will be my son now.” The boy did not like this, but he agreed to it at last. The man promised that all he had or would get should be his. He stopped crying, and the man, strapping him on his back, carried him to camp. After this, whenever the man went out to hunt, he tied the boy so that he could not get away, until one day the boy said, “Do not tie me. I will never leave you” (his nature had now become human). The hunter had buried the mother bear without taking off her skin. As the boy had promised not to run away, the man let him go with himself to hunt. The boy seemed to have some way of knowing where bears lived, but he never told his father where a female bear was, only where male bears were to be found, and his father shot them. This man had always been a poor hunter until he found the boy; afterward he had wonderful luck. Some time having passed, the man said, “We must go back to our own village.” When they reached home the boy said, “That woman (meaning his mother) will see and know me.” “Pay no attention to her,” said the man; “she threw you away.”

They had been home two days, when the woman heard that the hunter had brought back a little boy (the hair had fallen off the boy and the man had made him clothes). Visiting the hunter’s lodge, she watched every movement of the boy. He was afraid of her; he knew her thoughts when she threw him into the tree and knew them now. He said, “This man is my father; he brought me home.” But she made up her mind the boy was hers and urged him to go home with her. One day, when she knew the hunter was away, going to his lodge, she tried to catch the boy, but he ran into the woods, crying from fright. She followed him. The hunter came back, and not finding the child, looked for tracks, soon discovering that the boy had fled from his mother into the woods. The man was sorry, for he was afraid he would never see the boy again. He searched for him for several days. Then he happened to think that perhaps he had gone to their old hunting lodge. On finding him there, he asked, “Why did you leave me?” The boy answered: “A woman followed me. I thought she was going to kill me. She called me her son. I did not like it. I told her I had no mother, but she tried to catch me. I would rather live here all the time.” The man was willing, so, having built a better lodge, they remained there. The boy was an industrious worker and the man became very fond of him. One day the boy said, “I want a playmate.” “All right,” replied the hunter; “your mother is going to have a child. I will bring it.” This did not satisfy the boy, who wanted a companion near his own age. So, going to the settlement, they brought back the man’s sister’s child, who was only a little younger than the bear-nursed boy.

Now there were three in the lodge. When he went off hunting the man often left the boys at home, telling them not to go far from the lodge. After the lapse of time, however, they began to venture farther and farther away from the lodge, until one day, when they were quite far off they saw that the leaves and grass and hills and valleys and everything else were moving together westward. Looking more closely, they saw a large body of land moving, even with game on it and moving as if it were a river. Presently they noticed a coon sitting on the moving ground and going along with this stream, or river, of land.[371] Watching it made them forget everything. As the coon looked at the boys they were about to shoot it with their bows and arrows; one indeed drew his bow, but the coon held up his paw against his face to ward off the arrow. At last the elder boy said: “Let us go home now; we will come here tomorrow and play all day.”

When the hunter came back he had killed several bears and had driven one to the lodge. Calling the boys, he said, “I drove this one home only to let you have a hand in killing it.” Instead of killing the bear at once they plagued and tormented it. When they had killed it the man was well pleased and told them that was the way they must do thereafter.

The next day, as usual, the man when starting off cautioned the boys not to go far from the lodge, for if they did they would meet with trouble. But they were so anxious to see the place where they had been the day before that he was scarcely out of sight when they started off. They found that the river of land flowed on the same as it had the day before, the only difference being that it was running more rapidly. They resolved as they saw the animals riding on it that they would do likewise. The younger boy rode some distance on the land stream (it was dry land, but moving just like a river; it was not wide, for a person could jump across it). When the boy came back he said to the other, “Go and try it; it is great fun.” “Well, go with me,” replied the other. They tried it together. It was like sliding down hill; instead of stepping off the “river of land” they would fall over on the land that was not in motion, and then they would get up again. The smaller boy said, “Let us continue on this stream as far as it goes.” The other agreed to this. It was necessary that they should be always of one mind. The smaller one said, “You go ahead.” “All right,” replied the other. He ran on the stream and the other followed. They were having a good time, as they could hear each other shout and laugh. After going some distance the younger one decided to get off and run back, so he called out to the other, “I will go back but will come down again.” It seemed to them exactly like sliding down hill; it was fun to run upstream as well as ride down. As the younger one got on again to go down, his companion passed him, running up. It seemed that they were going faster this time, and when both were on again, one called out to the other, “Let us go as far as we can.” Soon they came to a place where everything seemed to be passing in at a doorway. The boy behind saw his companion go in at the doorway on the stream of land, and he thought it was great sport. At that moment he heard a noise from within which sounded as though some one had killed his friend; then he too went in at the doorway, only to find that it was a place to snare game, and that no one could get off after he had gone so far. All the game went of their own volition, even as they themselves had gone. The instant the elder entered the doorway the man of the lodge hit him on the head with a hammer, killing him. Both boys were now dead.

Two Genonsgwa lived in this lodge, and it was through their great orenda (magic power) that everything was drawn to them. One of the two said to the other, “Hai! now we will have something to eat,” and running splints through the bodies of the boys, each took one to roast. The two Genonsgwa did not seem to be of the same family, for each sat on his own side of the fire and cooked for himself. As the bodies began to cook the fat came out, falling on the fire and simmering. A body was standing on each side of the fire, and one called out to the other, “You are burning.” “Guah!” said the Genonsgwa, “that one has a voice, but this one is roasting finely; it can not burn. When one begins to burn the other tells him of it.” One of the Genonsgwa then began eating. “Oh! how delicious this is,” he said, smacking his lips. After he had eaten off all the flesh that was well cooked, he put the rest back to finish roasting; thereupon the partially eaten boy said to the body on the other side, “You are burning.” “How good they are; they won’t let each other burn. It is queer game that talks like this,” said one of the Genonsgwa. The Genonsgwa kept on roasting and eating until one and then the other finished, neither leaving a particle uneaten.

As the first finished he began to be in terrible pain; the other told him that he must help himself, for he was eating his last morsel. Soon he, too, began to groan, and he said to the other, “There is some mystery about this game; it must be that which makes us so sick.” All night long they groaned, each lying on his own side of the fire. Toward morning one quieted down, and at break of day the other also ceased groaning. The two boys were born again, and both Genonsgwa had died from the terrible pain of giving birth to them. One boy said to the other, “If these men had not bothered us, we should have been far from here. Let them be as full of witchcraft as they can be, they do not amount to anything in comparison with us. We have gotten through with them. I have always heard that these men, our uncles, were very potent magically, but they are not. This is why our father warned us not to go far from the lodge. We will go back and tell him all.” While they were there everything was moving. The game which was not killed passed through the lodge. The elder boy said, “Let us go!” As they were starting he saw his mother passing through the lodge; they stood there laughingly, but did not speak to her. The younger said, “Now we will destroy the lodge. Our uncles have done great harm to people. A man should not eat another man. There shall be no more of this. Henceforth men shall eat only game.” [372] The younger boy said this. Of the two boys he had the greater power of witchcraft and was the first to be born after being eaten by the Genonsgwa. He walked around the lodge, throwing red paint such as they used to paint their faces; this action stopped the movement of the stream of land and everything became quiet. He then said, “Now, let us run!” They ran a short distance; on halting and looking back they saw the lodge in flames. The Genonsgwa one after the other burst with a loud report.

When the boys arrived near home they heard singing, whereupon the younger said, “Our father is feeling bad because he thinks we are dead.” The other replied, “When we get to the lodge, you will tell him of our adventure.” “No; you must tell him. He will believe you sooner than he will me, for you are older,” was the answer. When they entered the lodge, the hunter was sitting by the fire; his song was about the loss of his children. “Father,” called out the boys, “we have been hunting and we have come back. We have not been killed and we shall not die. There is no trouble in the world for us, for nothing can harm us.” The elder man, looking around, greeted his boys, whom he was very glad to see. At night they began telling their adventures: How far they had been; how they had seen a stream of dry land and had ridden on it to the Genonsgwa lodge; how they had killed the two Genonsgwa and burned their lodge. “And now,” said the younger, “we are going farther.” The hunter said: “Your uncles are ferocious men; they have killed all my people except you. You will find beyond the lodge you burned other lodges; they are all inhabited by your uncles.” The younger boy said: “I do not care about them. I meet all people with pleasure; their

## action or treatment matters not. I am determined to try everything.”

The man made up his mind to say no more; he was astonished at their resolution and became aware that his children were possessed of potent orenda (magic power), and that, though there were many witches and wizards, they were far above them all. The younger boy seemed to have control of his father’s mind, and it was through his influence that the father let them do as they liked. The advice of the younger was: “You stay at home and never worry about us. We will go to see our uncle who lives beyond Genonsgwa lodge; perhaps he will tell us some stories. We are lonesome.” Their father said, “I am afraid that if you go you will never come back. Your uncle is full of orenda, and it is his custom to kill his visitors.” The little fellow answered: “Let us go. I want to know all persons who possess orenda.” The hunter replied: “Beyond the lodge you destroyed is another. Your uncle lives there, and beyond that other uncles dwell. The first lodge is ‘three looks’ from here; the lodges are all ‘three looks’ apart.” Having heard this, the boys departed.

When they came to the Genonsgwa place they halted; looking around, they could see some object at a distance. There was the end of the first “look.” Getting near to that object, they looked again, and seeing a similar object, they went to it; then looking off at a distance and seeing an opening in the woods, they said, “Our uncle must live there.” They advanced cautiously, in the hope of surprising their uncle. As they got out of the woods they saw a lodge, and as they came near it there seemed to be no one in it, all was so quiet. The younger boy crept up carefully, and making a sudden leap, sprang into the house, calling out, “I have caught you, uncle!” “How are you, nephew?” said the uncle; “I am glad you have come. I am sick; you shall give me medicine.” “All right,” replied the younger boy, “whatever you wish shall be done. What is it you take most pleasure in?” “It is this, nephew,” said the uncle. “When a person comes to see me I play hide and seek. If you find me, I lose my head; if I find you, I take yours.” The boy looked around everywhere. The lodge was entirely empty, but he saw hanging from the rafters where they met in a point, a very small bag, and concluded it was there that his uncle would hide. The uncle told the boys to hide first. The younger said, “All right,” for he had decided where to hide. As was usual in those days, there was a very large log on the fire, and the fire was all there was within the walls of this lodge. The old man said, “The finder must go over the top of the hill, and when the hider is ready he must call.” Thereupon the old man went out, fastening the door behind him. The boys heard the clatter of his bones as he ran beyond the hill. The younger boy said: “I will go into the log and you go behind the sun. When you are ready I will give the word.” The elder boy, flying off through the air, hid behind the sun. Then the other called out, “Now, ready!” “This is what I do to my nephews,” said the old man, as he came running into the lodge. He expected to find them sitting around somewhere, but seeing no one, he caught up his club and singing out, “Here you are; come out of this,” he struck at the wall. He went to every part of the lodge, saying, as he hit the wall with the club, “Here you are; come out.” The boy in the log was looking at his uncle, laughing; the boy behind the sun was also watching him, and could see the club as it hit the walls of the lodge. When the old man’s time was up, he said, “Come out. I can not find you. I give up.” As he said this, the nephew behind the sun showed himself, and laughing at the old man, came down to the lodge. The other boy crawled out on his hands and knees from the heart of the log. The old man, laughing loudly, said, “Now I will hide; you go beyond the hill, and when I am ready I will call.” They started off and had been waiting some time when they heard the old man call, “Now, ready!” At this they ran to the lodge. The younger, picking up the old man’s club, did as he had done. At every crack and crevice he gave a thump, saying, “You are here; come out.” He was sure the old man was in the bag, but he kept on as though he did not suspect it. The man was so large that, even after making himself small, he was so crowded that the boy could see the bag move occasionally. At last, going up to the bag, he gave it a heavy thump with the club, saying, “Come out, uncle!” The old man came out, laughing, and said, “My little nephew, you are full of sorcery; no one ever found me before.” The boy said, “It is customary when a person makes a bet to live up to it. You have lost your head.” The man begged his nephews to give him time to smoke. “No,” said the younger; “if you had won, I should not have asked it.” Upon this he ran up, and catching his uncle by the hair, cut off his head. Thereupon the elder boy picked it up, and striking it against a tree, commanded that trees should hereafter have heads (knots) on them, which could be used to make ladles and bowls (to this day all trees with knots have the uncle’s head fastened on them). Then they burned the home. The elder boy said, “Our uncle has delayed us; otherwise we might have been a long way on our journey by this time.”

The youths traveled on until they found tracks, and not long afterward they came to the edge of the woods, where they saw a lodge near by. The younger said, “You stop, and I will go to this lodge alone.” The elder boy saw his brother go into the lodge; then he waited a long time. There were four witches in this lodge, and as soon as the boy went in the old woman said, “Hurry up! get the pot over the fire.” The boy looked on, thinking that very likely they were going to make a feast for him. The girls were sisters of the boys’ uncles. The elder boy getting out of patience waiting, at last called his fetish, the mole. When it came, he said: “I have called you to take me to that lodge. My friend went there, and I wish to see what has become of him.” They went together into the ground. He told the mole to stop in front of the younger boy, but underground. The women were such witches that they knew when anyone was approaching. When the old woman was ready, she said to the boy, “Come and sit on this side,” and to her eldest daughter she said, “Lay a skin on the ground and put on the skin the game that has come to see us.” The boy knew that she intended to kill him. Another of the women took a mallet from the wall, but as she raised it to strike him, the youth said, “Let the mallet strike the old woman.” As the mallet came down, it struck the mother; and as the girl raised it again, he commanded it to strike one of the sisters, whereupon they began immediately to fight among themselves. The boy sat commanding the mallet to strike first one and then another. There was a terrible struggle, a great sound of blows, and at last there was silence. All the women were dead. Then a voice from under the ground asked, “What are you doing, brother?” Knowing that it was his comrade who spoke, he said, “Oh! the women have had a little sport of their own.” “All right,” said a voice behind him, for there stood the other boy. “I got out of patience,” said he; “we might have gone a long way on our journey if it had not been for these women. We will burn up their lodge, after which I think we will go home. We have done harm enough.” “What have we done?” said the other; “we have only put an end to man-eaters, who have killed many of our people.” “Very well,” answered the other, “I do not want my mind to be different from yours.”

“There is one thing still to be done,” said the younger brother, “and when we have finished that, everything will be right; but before we undertake it we must purify ourselves. We will go to the river; you must be very careful. I will go first, and you stay on the bank. Unless we bathe and purify our bodies, we shall meet with misfortune, for many of the people where we are going are filled with evil magic power.” Coming to the river, they found very thick red water. The elder youth, seeing the younger go into this water, thought it must be a great pleasure; so without heeding his companion’s word of warning, he went in also, whereupon the filth of the water gathered on his body and he sank out of sight. His brother had great trouble in saving him. “Perhaps we are sufficiently purified,” said the younger; “though if you had waited until I called you, it would have been better. You have caused me to fail in my purpose.” All the filth that had gathered on his body dried, so he could hardly close his eyes. It was as much as the other could do to get him washed clean. At last he was as before he jumped into the red water. Then his companion said: “Now, let us go. We shall come to a large village where there is ball playing.”

They soon came to an opening, in the center of which stood a pole, and many people were scattered around. As the two went forward the younger said to the chief, “We have come to challenge you. What are your rules?” “We wager our heads in betting,” replied the chief. “I thought you had something else to wager. Everyone seems to bet heads,” said the challenger. He saw there were many animals around, which these people fed with heads. “There must be two on a side,” said the boy. The chief told his people that the strangers challenged them to a game of lacrosse ball and that there were to be two players on a side. “But you must take part yourself,” said the boy; thereupon commanding a spider to weave a web across the ball ground, so that the ball could not pass it. When the game began the ball flew off in the direction of the spider’s web and, hitting it, was thrown back. The elder boy, catching the ball, ran for the first point, which he made, thus scoring one point, at which he called out, “The game is mine; we have won, and the game is finished.” “No; it is not,” replied the chief. “That is the way we play,” retorted the younger boy; “whoever gets one inning has the game.” The chief assented, saying, “You have won the heads of the men you played with.” “Not true,” said the boy; “we bet with you; no matter who did the playing for you.” Thereupon the elder boy, running up, caught the chief by the hair and cut his head off, saying, “Do not let us talk with the fellow; if it had not been for him we might have been far along on the way.” The chief had wolves, panthers, and all kinds of carnivorous animals. Going up to their dens, the younger boy ordered a panther to come out, which it did, and then he said to it: “Your masters wanted to feed you with human flesh; that is not the desire of Hawenniyo. He put you on earth to be free; henceforth you must never allow yourselves to be captured and fed with human flesh.” All the animals rose and separated. To the bear the youth said: “I wish you to eat that dead man’s body that lies yonder. Then go and never be seen in this part of the country again; your place is among the cliffs and mountains.” The people there asked the boys to be their chiefs, saying that they had never liked the old man. The boys, having agreed to this, commanded the people to remain where they were, as it was not the will of Hawenniyo that his people should leave their old homes.

The two brothers now started back, saying to the people: “Our father will wonder why we do not return. You stay here. We will come sometime to see you.” When they got home the younger one said, “We have finished our work in the west; we have killed all the man-eaters. There will be no more trouble of this kind hereafter.”

90. BALD EAGLE SENDS MUD TURTLE AROUND THE WORLD

A bald-headed old man lived on the top of a mountain, while his wife, who had three children, lived near a lake about half the way to the summit. It was the old man’s daily custom to go down to fish in the lake. On his way home he gave some fish to his wife, and thus they lived well and prosperously.

After he had lived in this way many years, the old man became curious to know how large the world is. Being the chief of his people, having called a council, he said to the people: “I should like to know the size of the world, and I wish some one would volunteer to go and get this information.” One young man said, “I will go.” “All right,” answered the old man; “how long will you be gone?” “I can not tell, for I do not know how far I shall have to go,” was the answer of the young man. “Go on,” said the old man; “and when you return, tell us all about your journey.”

The young man started on his journey, and after traveling two months he came to a country where everything was white—the forests, the ground, the water, and the grasses. He could not go farther. It hurt his feet to walk on the white substance, so he turned back. On returning home he sent word to the chief, who said, “I do not believe he has been around the world, but we shall hold a council and hear what he has to say.” The council was held, at which the young man said that he had not gone very far, but that he had proceeded as far as he was able, and he told all he knew about the White Country.

The people, not satisfied with his relation, said, “We must send another man”; so they despatched a second man, who was gone four months before he returned. The old man again called a council, at which he asked him, “Did you go around the world?” “No, but I went as far as I was able,” answered the man. “Everything was as it is here until I came to the White Country. I traveled two months in the White Country and could go no farther. I could not have lived if I had gone on.”

So the people sent a third man, who went on until he reached the White Country, where he traveled longer than the second man. On coming back he reported that the people there lived in white houses and dressed in furs (looking like the animals).

Encouraged by this, the old man sent a fourth man, who went on, noticing everything, until he came to the White Country, whereupon he crossed white rivers and white lakes, keeping on the run. He was gone eight months. He said, “I returned more quickly than I went, for in coming home I cut across in a straight line, reaching the green land sooner than if I had come on the road by which I went.”

The old chief now sent a fifth messenger, who ran nearly all the time. He crossed the White Country and beyond found a place where there was nothing but rocks, rocks, rocks. He had to climb very high and then go down; so he went up and down until he wore off all his moccasins. After being gone ten months he came back. At a council called by the old man this fifth man said: “I have passed over the whole country and have crossed rocky places. In returning I came straight home. The route was not quite so long as the road by which I went. It can not be very far across the world.” “How did you know the way?” asked the old man. “Oh! I took notice of the trees. The tops of the hemlocks lean toward the east, and our home is in that direction, so I followed the bend of the hemlocks,” was the man’s reply.

The old man, the bald-headed chief, was learning something all the time. Various people went, one after another; each came back with a story slightly different from those told by the others, but still no one satisfied the chief until one man said: “I will start and will go around the world before I return.” The old man looked at him; he was very uncouth but strong. The chief said: “I think you will do, and you may go.” Thereupon the man went home to his people, who held a council of their entire tribe. Each one of their best travelers agreed to make a journey by himself in a different direction, and afterward to come home and tell all he had seen to the one who had promised the bald-headed man to go around the world. So the man and his whole tribe journeyed for forty months. At the end of this period they returned, and, at a council, each told what he had seen. Then the old man whom the chief had sent out announced his return. The chief called a great council, before which the man appeared, telling all that he had seen himself and all that each one of his nation had seen and related to him. He finished with the words: “I have been all around the world; I have seen all kinds of people, all kinds of game, all kinds of woods and rivers. I have seen things which no one else has ever seen.”

The old bald-headed man was satisfied. “Now I am chief of all people, and you will be next to me. You will be second chief.” This was the reward the man got for his journey. So he immediately took his position as second chief.

The old chief was the Bald Eagle. The man who became the second chief was the Mud Turtle. The first man who went out was the Deer; his feet could not stand the ice of the White Land. All the others were different kinds of people (animals and birds).

91. THE POOR HUNTER AND DJOGEON [373]

Once there was a man who went hunting every autumn. In order to have better luck he was in the habit of taking medicine and emetics for 10 days before he started. The medicine he employed was made from the bark of various trees. Notwithstanding this long preparation by fasting and medication, he was not a successful hunter. For this reason he was accustomed to carry a heavy load of parched cornmeal, so that if he killed no game he would at least not starve to death.

When starting out one day he passed on the outskirts of the village a lodge in which an old woman and her granddaughter lived. As he passed, the granddaughter was standing outside the lodge, and when she saw him coming she shrugged her shoulders, saying, “Hu, hu! there goes a poor hunter.” Running into the lodge she told her grandmother that “All-kinds-of-trees” had just gone past, giving him a nickname which derided his medicines, which were made from the bark of “all kinds of trees.” But the grandmother chided her, saying, “Why do you make fun of him? He is a good man—the best in this village. He keeps on hunting, no matter whether he kills anything or not. I wish he were your husband.” The young woman answered, “If you say so, I can go with him.” Her grandmother told her that she would better go. So they made bread in great haste, and when it was ready they put it in a basket, which the girl placed on her back; then she followed the trail of the man. When night overtook her she lay down beside a log to sleep. She had not been there long before she heard some one at a distance calling in a pleasant voice. As the sound of the voice approached the girl became frightened. Shortly Djogeon came up to her, saying, laughingly, “Ha, ha! There is Gadata [374] sleeping, and she is following the trail of a very poor hunter. Get up. Do not sleep. Your man is near here, and you should go to meet him.” But the girl, covering her face, kept quite still. He shook her, called her names, and teased her in all manner of ways to seduce her, but without result. When daylight came he ran away. Thereupon Gadata arose, and after making a cold bite do for breakfast, she again took up the trail. Just as she had been told, she found the camp of the hunter not far from the spot where she had slept the night before. When the hunter saw her, he said to her, “Are you following me?” She replied, “Yes. My grandmother told me that I should try to become your wife, as she said you are a good man.” He then welcomed her, and they went on together. At midday he ate some of the bread which the young woman had brought, and in the afternoon he killed a deer. After this he had very good luck at all times, for he had a wife.

One day while he was hunting he saw a small lodge, whereupon he said to himself, “How strange it is that I never before saw this lodge.” On entering a small woman welcomed him and gave him a bowlful of fine green-corn hominy. While he was eating it he saw a wee, tiny baby. Seizing the infant and placing it in his bosom, he ran away with it, the little woman pursuing him. Immediately there was a tempest. The wind twisted trees and tore them up by the roots, sending them flying through the air in every direction. Gripped with great fear, the hunter now thought that he was surely about to die. As he was running past a fallen tree a small man, springing upon it (it was he who had tormented Gadata), called out to the hunter, “You have stolen my baby. Give it back to me at once.” The hunter stopped, saying, “Yes, I stole it because I never saw before anything so pretty. Here it is—take it.” So saying, he handed it back to the little man, who was Djogeon. Then Djogeon carefully unwrapped the baby, and taking a tiny arrow from among its wrappings, gave it to the hunter, saying to him: “Take this and keep it. It will bring you good fortune and success in all your undertakings—in hunting, in warfare, or in any other pursuit.” As soon as the hunter had returned the baby, the tempest ceased and the winds calmed down. Then the hunter returned to his home with his wife and always after this episode had the best of fortune.

92. THE MAN KILLED BY THE THREE HUNTERS [375]

A man with his wife and child lived happily together in a village. One day the man said to his little family, “We will start off to the woods tomorrow to hunt.” They set out the next day and were two days and nights on the road. Having reached their destination, they built a fire, and the man started off hunting, telling his wife to boil samp and that he would be back in time to put meat with it. He went up a stream and came back in time with game. Having cut up some of the meat, his wife put it with the samp. About dusk supper was ready and they ate heartily. The man continued to hunt every day, killing one to three deer, and also bear, so they soon had a great deal of dried venison and bear meat, whereupon the man said, “We shall soon have plenty of meat.”

One night he said that he dreamed there were other hunters near by who could kill nothing. Now this man had four dogs. One day he met a man who said that he could kill nothing; that he had three companions who could find no game in the wood; and that the three had nothing to eat. Another day the man met the same three hunters in the woods. They asked him whether he would not give them some meat, something to eat. “No; I will not,” said he; “I have told my wife that we would stay long enough to get a sufficient quantity of meat. I have nothing to give away.” So saying, he went home.

The next morning his wife went for a load of wood, leaving her child in a swing in the lodge. When she returned she heard somebody talking to her baby. She was frightened at this, for she thought it must be Genonsgwa. The words were, “You look very sweet to me.” On going in, the mother saw a large naked woman sitting by the swinging cradle, who said: “I know just what you thought when you heard me singing. You gave yourself up for lost. I am not going to harm you. I came in to get something to eat. Perhaps you would give me some meat.” She replied, “I will give you some, for you seem very kind and good.” With these words she took two or three pieces of meat from the side of the lodge, saying, “I will cook them for you.” “No,” said the naked woman; “I will eat the meat as it is.” After eating three hams of venison she asked for more, “For,” said she, “I eat a great deal when I get started.” When she had eaten enough, she said, “I have finished now. I shall go and come again.” The woman watched her as she went out, saying to herself, “That woman looks very savage.” The naked woman, turning to her, said, “I am Genonsgwa.” When he came the woman told her husband what had happened.

Early the next morning her husband went hunting. At night the dogs began to bark and became terribly frightened. The husband said, “I think that Genonsgwa is going to come and kill us. You would better go home with the child.” “I will stay with you and will be killed, if necessary,” replied the woman. She begged her husband to go with her, but he said, “No; I will stay and save our meat.” Then he heard the bushes around the lodge breaking and a wind blowing down the smoke-hole.

The next night they heard something again coming nearer and nearer, and the dogs were greatly frightened. Then a face looked down through the smoke-hole from the top of the lodge—the face of one of the three hunters. Making a hole through the bark wall of the lodge, the man said to his wife, “Creep through and escape,” but she did not want to go. The dogs began to bark at a distance on the side opposite the hole in the wall, coming closer to the lodge, and again he told his wife to creep through the hole and hurry away on a side trail. Having done so, she started off with the baby on her back. She went on, and by and by she heard a dog howl. The dog, coming up to her, said, “Your husband is killed.” Keeping on a little way farther, she heard a second dog making a noise as though dying. The first dog said, “Go on as fast as you can; save yourself.” Only two dogs were left now. The woman remembered a place through which they had come on the way to the woods—a hollow log—but she feared that when the men came up they might run a stick into it, causing the baby to cry. Next day she climbed a hemlock tree, hiding herself and the child in its branches. She said to the little one, “Now you must be good and keep quiet.” After the woman had become somewhat rested, she saw the three men coming with loads of meat on their backs, engaged in talking about how they got the good venison. They stopped under the hemlock tree in which the woman and her baby were resting. While the men were lying below the child made water, whereupon the woman, thinking how she could save herself and the little one, caught the water in her hands and drank it. One drop, however, fell on a man directly beneath her, at which he said, “There must be a hedgehog in this tree; we will cut it down in the morning.” At daylight one of the hunters said, “Let us go on.” When they were out of sight, the woman, coming down from the tree, went homeward.

On the way the mother said to her child, “You have now no father, poor baby.” When she was near home she saw that there was a light there. The three men, having parted, went to their homes. The woman hurried on, crying, Goʹweh! goʹweh! meaning that a man had been killed. The people who heard the cry hurried to meet her. She told everything. Taking her home, they put her in her lodge. An old man came to the lodge and asked, “Are you telling the truth?” “Yes,” she replied. “Well, we will have a dance,” said he, “and call the neighbors together. You must hide so that nobody will see you.” He hung up a blanket in a corner of the Long Lodge, and when the people were coming in she hid behind it. When the people were dancing one of the three hunters came with blood on his clothes, while the other two had blood on their backs. The old man said to them, “Your backs are all bloody.” “Yes; we are good hunters,” they replied; then they danced a while—the women first, then the men. After fastening the door the old man asked the three men about their hunting. He said they should dance once more, and then they would talk a little. All felt free and happy, and one of the three men was talking pretty loud. The people danced again, and having finished, sat around a while. Then the old man said, “I will ask these three men whether they are free of crimes during their absence.” They replied, “We are; we hunted all the time.” Thereupon the old man brought out the woman, who told all. The old man next called on the warriors present to kill these three men, and they did so, afterward scalping them one after another. Then the people, going to the lodge in the woods, brought home the body of the dead man in a robe.

93. HINON [376] AND THE IROQUOIS

In olden times there was in a certain village an orphan lad, who had always been regarded as a very peculiar child by all his friends. He was, moreover, without relatives and very destitute, so he was cared for largely by the kindness of the people in general.

The boy seemed to know intuitively many things that other and older people did not know, and it was a custom for him to bring up and talk about many mysterious topics. Quite often when it rained he would say that he could see Hinon walking about in the clouds above their heads, and he would ask those who might be near him whether they, too, did not see Hinon, at the same time pointing him out to them.

At last the orphan requested the people to be so good as to make him an arrow of red willow and also a bow, assuring them that he would shoot Hinon. So they made him a bow and an arrow out of red willow. One day, while standing in the doorway of the bark lodge which he called his home, during a passing storm he suddenly shot at Hinon, the arrow swiftly winging its way into the clouds. Soon the people saw it come down near a large tree some distance from the lodge. Rushing to see it, they found it sticking in the ground, but there was no man nor other object near it; but they could not pull the arrow from the ground, no matter how much they tried. Thereupon, returning to the boy, they told him what they had discovered, and that they could not draw his arrow from the ground. As an answer to them he accompanied them back to the tree and, taking hold of the arrow, drew it forth without trouble; but as he did so there appeared the body of a dead human being, which had been shot through the heart by his arrow. It was the body of a small person, not more than four or five feet in height, beautifully ornamented with the finest feathers they had ever seen. The people constructed a neat little lodge of bark, which they lined with fine skins and furs. In this they carefully and reverently laid the body of the strange personage. From time to time they would go to this lodge to view the body. When they were going to war they would take two or three feathers from his arms, in the belief that these would secure them success. If they wished for rain, they had only to carry these feathers along after dipping them in water. All their trails were obscured in this manner. The people kept this body many years, and the feathers served them during this time; but after the advent of the whites these Indians, being driven from their home in the south (North Carolina), lost both the body and the feathers.

TALES

94. A SHAMAN’S DEED

A medicine-man managed to get one hair from the head of a man he wished to kill. Then, having caught a snake, he tied the hair around its neck, and digging a hole in the ground, he put the snake therein, not leaving an opening large enough even for an ant to get through. After putting a stone over the hole, he left the place.

It was impossible for the snake to escape, so after a while it grew weak, and the man whose hair was around its neck grew weak at the same time. At last the snake died, and in consequence of its death the man also came to his end.

95. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

(MODERN)

There is a man now (1883) in Canada who sees real Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa—False Faces. He goes around a great deal among the various tribes of Indians.

One day while on his travels he met a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who spoke to him. The man handed him a plug of tobacco, telling him that he might have the tobacco to smoke. After the man had gone to the end of his journey and was coming home he met a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa near the same spot, with his back toward him. Seeing that this was a different one, he passed by without speaking. Soon afterward he met the one he had encountered before. Saluting him, the man gave him another plug of tobacco, whereupon the False Face said, “I think you would better come and see where we live.” “I shall be glad to go,” said he in reply. Arriving at a cave in a rocky place, they went in. The man saw a great many Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa there who were very old, and a good many very young ones. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa gave the tobacco to the oldest one, who said, “You would better give a piece of this to each one present.” So he cut it into small pieces for the purpose. Then the oldest one said, “Give thanks,” whereupon they gave thanks to the Tobacco, and all danced, the little ones, too, and asked this man to dance, and he did so. When the man was going away the oldest Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said, “I want you to remember us, so you must come and see us when you are on your travels.”

[The foregoing incident took place on the Canadian side of the Niagara River, near the mouth.—The Relator.]

96. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

A few years ago (previous to 1884) two young men started for a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa dance. They had their wooden masks or “false faces” with them in a bundle. On the way they stopped at a white woman’s house. The woman asked, “What have you in your bundle?” “Our masks, or false faces,” they answered; “we are going to a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa dance.” “If you will put on the masks and let me see them, I will give you two quarts of cider,” said the woman. Going outdoors, they put on the masks, and came into the house again. The woman’s child, a boy of six or seven, became so frightened that he acted as if he had lost his mind; he could not talk. The mother sent to Perrysburg (N. Y.) for a doctor. He came, but he could not help the boy. The mother then went to an Indian shaman for advice, who said to her that she must get the maskers, or false faces, to cure him. They came at her request and danced, and they rubbed the boy with ashes, also blowing some in his face; soon he was well. According to custom, the woman had ready a pot of pounded parched corn, boiled with pork and seasoned with maple sugar, for the false faces, or maskers.

97. THE VAMPIRE SKELETON

A man with his wife, starting from a Seneca village, went from it two days’ journey to hunt. Having built a lodge, the man began hunting. When he had obtained a sufficient store of meat, they started for home. They packed all the meat they could carry and left the rest at the lodge. Setting out in the morning, after traveling all day they came to a cabin in which they found all the people dead. The last person to die was the owner of the lodge. The people of the village had put the body on a shelf in a bark box which they had made. When the man and his wife came it was already dark. The husband thought it better to spend the night there than to continue the journey. He gathered a quantity of wood with which he made a fire. The woman began to cook, broiling meat and making a cake of pounded corn, which she placed under the hot ashes to bake. The man lay down to rest a while and fell asleep. While cooking the woman heard a noise behind her, near the place where her husband lay; it sounded like the noise made in the chewing of flesh. She began to think about the corpse on the shelf and remembered that the dead man was a wizard. Putting on more wood and making the fire blaze up, she looked toward the bunk, where she saw a stream of blood trickling out. From this she knew at once that her husband had been killed by the dead man.

The bread under the ashes was baked. She then spoke, saying, “I must make a torch and bring some water.” Thereupon she prepared a torch of hickory bark taken from the lodge, making it long enough to last until she could run home. Taking the pail, she stole out, but once outside of the door she quickly dropped the pail, and ran through the woods with all her might. She had gotten more than halfway home when the dead man, the vampire, found that she was gone. At once he rushed out, whooping, and ran after her. She heard him, and knew that he was following her. The sound of the whooping came nearer and nearer, and for a while, unnerved completely by fear, she could scarcely move, but at last, having regained her strength, she ran on. Again the vampire whooped, and the woman fell down from fear and exhaustion; but she arose again and ran on, until finally she came within sight of a place near her own village where there was a dance. The pursuing man-eating skeleton was gaining on her, and her torch was almost gone; but, running ahead, she fell into the lodge in which the dancing was in progress, and then fainted. When she came to her senses, she told what had occurred to her and her husband.

In the morning a body of men went over to the cabin, in which they found the bones of her husband, from which all the flesh had been eaten. Taking down the bark box, they looked at the skeleton of the dead man and found his face and hands bloody. The chief said it was not right to leave dead people in that way; therefore they dug a hole, in which they buried the man-eating skeleton, and took the bones of the other man home. The chief had him buried and ordered that thereafter all dead people should be buried in the ground. At first the dead were put on scaffolds, but the people used to see sights which frightened them, for the dead would rise and run after the living. Then it was resolved to build bark lodges for the dead and to put them on shelves therein. This plan did not work well, as the foregoing story shows. About one hundred years ago, says the relator, the present system of earth burial was begun. Before the burial system was adopted they used to put the corpse on the ground, into a chamber like a room dug into a hillside. If the deceased was married, the husband or wife had to watch with the corpse in this place, and every ten days for a year friends brought food to the watcher. If the watcher lived through the year, he or she was then brought out and became free to marry again. The watcher often died in the excavation, however, for it was dark and foul.

Once a man left with the body of his wife heard, after a time, an occasional noise of craunching and eating. The next time his friends came with food he told them of this. Thereupon they held a council, and the chief sent several men into the excavation to ascertain the cause of the noise. They found that the bodies had been eaten, and that a deep hole led down into the ground, which must have been made by a great serpent. After that the Seneca ceased to bury in this way and put their dead into the ground as they do at present.

When it was the custom to place bodies in the bark lodges the husband or wife had to remain in the lodge and look after the dead for a year. At the end of this period the bones were taken out and fastened to a post in an erect position, and a great dance was held around them.

MYTHS

98. A TALE OF THE SKY WORLD

A long time ago human beings lived high up in what is now called heaven. They had a great and illustrious chief.

It so happened that this chief’s daughter was taken very ill with a strange affection. All the people were very anxious as to the outcome of her illness. Every known remedy was tried in an attempt to cure her, but none had any effect.

Near the lodge of this chief stood a great tree, which every year bore corn used for food. One of the friends of the chief had a dream, in which he was advised to tell the chief that in order to cure his daughter he must lay her beside this tree, and that he must have the tree dug up. This advice was carried out to the letter. While the people were at work and the young woman lay there, a young man came along. He was very angry and said: “It is not at all right to destroy this tree. Its fruit is all that we have to live on.” With this remark he gave the young woman who lay there ill a shove with his foot, causing her to fall into the hole that had been dug.

Now, that hole opened into this world, which was then all water, on which floated waterfowl of many kinds. There was no land at that time. It came to pass that as these waterfowl saw this young woman falling they shouted, “Let us receive her,” whereupon they, at least some of them, joined their bodies together, and the young woman fell on this platform of bodies. When these were wearied they asked, “Who will volunteer to care for this woman?” The great Turtle then took her, and when he got tired of holding her, he in turn asked who would take his place. At last the question arose as to what they should do to provide her with a permanent resting place in this world. Finally it was decided to prepare the earth, on which she would live in the future. To do this it was determined that soil from the bottom of the primal sea should be brought up and placed on the broad, firm carapace of the Turtle, where it would increase in size to such an extent that it would accommodate all the creatures that should be produced thereafter. After much discussion the toad was finally persuaded to dive to the bottom of the waters in search of soil. Bravely making the attempt, he succeeded in bringing up soil from the depths of the sea. This was carefully spread over the carapace of the Turtle, and at once both began to grow in size and depth.

After the young woman recovered from the illness from which she suffered when she was cast down from the upper world, she built herself a shelter, in which she lived quite contentedly. In the course of time she brought forth a girl baby, who grew rapidly in size and intelligence.

When the daughter had grown to young womanhood, the mother and she were accustomed to go out to dig wild potatoes. Her mother had said to her that in doing this she must face the west at all times. Before long the young daughter gave signs that she was about to become a mother. Her mother reproved her, saying that she had violated the injunction not to face the east, as her condition showed that she had faced the wrong way while digging potatoes. It is said that the breath of the West Wind had entered her person, causing conception.[377] When the days of her delivery were at hand, she overheard twins within her body in a hot debate as to which should be born first and as to the proper place of exit, one declaring that he was going to emerge through the armpit of his mother, the other saying that he would emerge in the natural way. The first one born, who was of a reddish color, was called Othagwenda; that is, Flint. The other, who was light in color, was called Djuskaha; that is, the Little Sprout.

The grandmother of the twins liked Djuskaha and hated the other; so they cast Othagwenda into a hollow tree some distance from the lodge.

The boy that remained in the lodge grew very rapidly, and soon was able to make himself bows and arrows and to go out to hunt in the vicinity. Finally, for several days he returned home without his bow and arrows. At last he was asked why he had to have a new bow and arrows every morning. He replied that there was a young boy in a hollow tree in the neighborhood who used them. The grandmother inquired where the tree stood, and he told her; whereupon then they went there and brought the other boy home again.

When the boys had grown to man’s estate, they decided that it was necessary for them to increase the size of their island, so they agreed to start out together, afterward separating to create forests and lakes and other things. They parted as agreed, Othagwenda going westward and Djuskaha eastward. In the course of time, on returning, they met in their shelter or lodge at night, then agreeing to go the next day to see what each had made. First they went west to see what Othagwenda had made. It was found that he had made the country all rocks and full of ledges, and also a mosquito which was very large. Djuskaha asked the mosquito to run, in order that he might see whether the insect could fight. The mosquito ran, and sticking his bill through a sapling, thereby made it fall, at which Djuskaha said, “That will not be right, for you would kill the people who are about to come.” So, seizing him, he rubbed him down in his hands, causing him to become very small; then he blew on the mosquito, whereupon he flew away. He also modified some of the other animals which his brother had made. After returning to their lodge, they agreed to go the next day to see what Djuskaha had fashioned. On visiting the east the next day, they found that Djuskaha had made a large number of animals which were so fat that they could hardly move; that he had made the sugar-maple trees to drop syrup; that he had made the sycamore tree to bear fine fruit; that the rivers were so formed that half the water flowed upstream and the other half downstream. Then the reddish-colored brother, Othagwenda, was greatly displeased with what his brother had made, saying that the people who were about to come would live too easily and be too happy. So he shook violently the various animals—the bears, deer, and turkeys—causing them to become small at once, a characteristic which attached itself to their descendants. He also caused the sugar maple to drop sweetened water only, and the fruit of the sycamore to become small and useless; and lastly he caused the water of the rivers to flow in only one direction, because the original plan would make it too easy for the human beings who were about to come to navigate the streams.

The inspection of each other’s work resulted in a deadly disagreement between the brothers, who finally came to grips and blows, and Othagwenda was killed in the fierce struggle.

99. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA AND HOTʻHOH [378]

There were a mother and two daughters living in a clearing. When the daughters became women the mother said: “You must now get married. Make twenty loaves of green-corn bread, tied up in husks in the usual manner.” The girls made the bread, and the next morning the mother said to the elder daughter: “Fill a basket with the bread and go to the lodge of a man who lives not far from here. It is a double lodge. Go in at the first door and say to the man who is there: ‘I have brought you bread. I am going to marry you.’” To the younger daughter she said: “Go in at the back door and say to the man who is there, ‘Here is marriage bread. I have come to marry you.’ The two brothers will take your bread and will tell you to stay. The path branches to one side before you reach the place, but keep on the straight path, which leads from here.”

The girls started, and when they came to the fork they kept on the straight path, and after a long time they came to a lodge. Looking through the cracks, they saw a number of False Faces dancing, whereupon, becoming frightened, they ran away. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa followed them, and when they were getting near one of the girls, she threw down her basket of bread. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa ate the bread and then he ran on. The second sister threw down her basket, and then piece by piece they cast off their clothes. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa in pursuit would stop and examine every piece. By this delay the girls kept a little ahead and finally reached their mothers lodge, but they were naked. The mother said: “You did not do as I told you. You must try again.” Having made bread again, the next morning they started the second time. This time they reached the right lodge. The elder sister, setting the basket of bread before the man, said: “I have come to marry you.” After eating the bread, he thanked her. The younger sister went in at the other door, and placing the basket of bread before the man, said: “Eat; I have come to marry you.” He thanked her and ate the bread, and so they were married.

There was a partition in the lodge, and in the morning when the brothers got up the elder brother always cried out, “I am up.” The younger brother would answer, “So am I.” “We are eating breakfast,” would be the elder brother’s response. “So are we,” was the younger brother’s answer. “I am going hunting,” would be the next sally. “So am I,” would be the reply.

Before starting off to hunt each brother said to his wife, “You must stay in the lodge for ten days. If you do not, our brother Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa may carry you away.” For nine days the sisters remained indoors; then the younger said: “It is bright and pleasant. Let us sit outside a few minutes.” The elder consenting, they sat down outdoors near the lodge. They had not been there long when Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa came. The sisters did not see him in his real character, and when he asked them to go and eat with him, they readily went. When the two brothers returned they missed their wives, and they knew that their brother had captured them. The elder of the two, going to Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, said, “I have come to ask you to give back our wives. You can keep watch over them, but let them live with us.” At last Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa gave them up.

Now Hotʻhoh (Cold Weather) was a brother of these men who lived not far away. He always went naked. His only weapon was a tomahawk, which he carried in a hole or slit in the skin of his hip. It is he who makes the trees crack with such loud noises in winter, for he is striking them with his mallet or tomahawk. The two men now went to Hotʻhoh, whom they asked to protect their wives from Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. Some time after this they went hunting again. On this occasion Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, coming to the lodge, said to the sisters, “Come and eat with me. I live near here. You can eat and return in a little while.” Not recognizing him, they went. He took them to his lodge in the woods, where he shut them up. The youngest sister escaped and had gone some distance before Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa found it out. Then he followed, screaming as he ran. She was terribly frightened and ran directly to Hotʻhoh. He told her to go home, and that he would meet Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. They met, and then began a terrific battle. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa fought with his rattle and Hotʻhoh with his mallet. They uprooted the trees for miles as they went toward the east. At last Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa was conquered and promised never to trouble his brothers’ wives again.

100. THE MORNING STAR AND THE CANNIBAL WIFE

Once far off in the woods there lived by themselves a husband and wife. It was the custom of the husband to hunt, while the woman devoted her time to raising corn and beans.

One day, while the wife was baking a cake in the ashes, a large spark from the fire fell on her hand as she sat in front of the hearth. The pain caused her to rub the spot with her finger. Soon it began to blister, whereupon she wet her finger in her mouth and rubbed the burned spot; in this way she got a taste of her own blood, and strange as it may seem, she took a liking for it and craved more of it. So with a knife she cut out pieces of the burned flesh, which she ate ravenously. The taste for the flesh grew on her so that she put a coal of fire on another spot on her hand, where it burned more flesh; thus she continued to cut out pieces of her own flesh and eat them. She persisted in this unnatural practice until she had eaten all the flesh from her legs and arms.

The husband had a dog, which was very wise and faithful to him. Now this dog eagerly watched what the woman was doing. When about half through eating the flesh off of her limbs, the unnatural wife, turning to the dog, said: “You would better go and tell your friend and master to escape from this place at once. You must go with him, for if you do not hurry away I shall eat you both.” Obeying this warning, the dog started and, running as fast as he could into the forest until he came to the place where the husband was hunting, he told him at once that his wife had become an Ongwe Ias (cannibal), and that she would eat them both if they did not flee immediately. The man and the dog started without delay on a keen run. After a while the man, knowing that the dog’s legs were short and not strong, decided to put him into a hollow tree. The dog consented to this in order to save the man, as he knew what was in store for both. So the hunter placed the dog in a hollow tree, at the same time bidding him to become punk. The hunter went on as fast as he could run, continuing until he came to a river with high banks, where an old man lived. He said to the old man: “Grandfather, I am in great trouble. Take me across the river to save me from peril of my life. My wife, who has become a cannibal, is pursuing me in order to devour me.” The old man said in reply: “Oh! I know what you are telling me, but she is still a long way behind you. She will not be here for some time to come. But you must bring me a basketful of fish from my fishpond.” The hunter at once went to the pond, which was enclosed, where he found a wickerwork dip net, with which he soon filled the basket with fish. As soon as the basket was full he hastened back with it to the old man, who soon said, “Sit down and eat with me.” So they ate together the fish, which had been prepared and cooked by the old man in such manner as to give the fugitive hunter more orenda (magic power) to resist the hostile influence of that of his wife. When they had finished eating the fish, the old man said, “I now want you to bring me a basketful of groundnuts.” The hunter went at once to the garden of the old man, and digging up the groundnuts as quickly as possible, brought them to him. After these were prepared and cooked they sat down and ate them. Then the old man said, “I will now take you across the river.” Going to the river bank, the old man lay face downward, resting on his elbows at the edge of the water, and stretching out his neck to the farther bank. He said to the hunter, “Now you may walk over on my neck, but you must be very careful, for I am not as strong as I have been in the past.” The hunter walked over on the old man’s neck with great care. When he had reached the other bank, the old man bade him good-by with the remark, “Far away in the west you will see a large lodge, which belongs to three aunts of yours, who will help you further; so call on them for aid.” On hearing this, the hunter hurried away.

After the woman had sent the dog away she ate all the flesh from her bones; then with small sticks she pushed all the marrow out of her bones and devoured that, too. Finally she filled the hollows in her bones with small pebbles, which rattled as she moved around. From time to time she sang and danced, causing the pebbles in her bones to rattle; whereupon she would exclaim: “Oh, that sounds fine!” Having become ravenous, she fell to devouring everything in the lodge—meat, bread, corn, beans, skins; in fact, everything that could be eaten. When she had eaten everything in the lodge, she started in pursuit of her husband. She soon discovered his tracks and followed them. Once in a while on the way she would stop and dance, listening with delight to the rattle of the small pebbles in her bones. Afterward she would take up the trail again.

Shortly after the hunter had fled from the lodge of the old man his wife came running along. Coming up to the bank of the river, she screamed: “Old man, take me across this river. I am pursuing my husband to seize him and eat him. Come! Be quick!” The old ferryman, not being accustomed to hear words like these, slowly turned toward the woman, saying: “I can not take you across. There is no walk for you, who are chasing your husband to eat him.” But the woman begged and begged him to comply with her request. At last the old man replied: “It is well. Go bring me a basketful of fish and also dig me a basketful of groundnuts.” Going out, the woman caught a basketful of fish in the old man’s pond; then from his garden she dug a basketful of groundnuts and brought them to the old man. When he had prepared and cooked them, she would not eat them, for she now craved nothing but human flesh. After eating by himself, the old man went to the bank of the river and, getting into position, stretched his neck across the water like a turtle, making a very narrow, high, arching span. Then he told her to walk across. But the woman became angry and said: “How do you suppose I am going to cross on that kind of walk?” The old man replied: “Oh! you can do just as you like about it. I am old now and can not make my neck flat. If I did, it would break down. As it is, you must walk very carefully.” No matter how the woman raged she had to go on that narrow path; so she picked her steps carefully, scolding as she went along. The river, which was very angry and deep, was full of terrible creatures. When the woman reached the middle of the river, she made the old man so angry by her scolding that he suddenly jerked his neck, making her fall into the water; whereupon she was devoured instantly, with the exception of her stomach, in which was her life, which floated downstream, passing the lodge of the three aunts of the hunter, her husband. Seeing it on the surface, the three aunts, having caught it, chopped it up fine, thus killing the woman.

In the meanwhile the husband came to the lodge of his three aunts, who told him to keep on his way and that they would watch and do what they could to aid him. So he kept on until he came to a wood, in which he saw a young woman gathering sticks for fuel. She asked him: “Where are you going?” He replied: “I am going on until I find pleasant people to live with.” The young woman answered: “You would better remain here with me as my husband. We can live very happily if you can manage my grandmother, who is a little old woman, but very troublesome.” As the young woman was pleasant and good-looking, the hunter decided to remain with her. When they arrived at the lodge of the young woman the little old woman, her grandmother, was outside. She was about one-half the height of an ordinary person, but very stout. She exclaimed: “Oh! you have brought a husband, have you?” Continuing, she added: “You would better bring him into the lodge to let him rest. You should also give him something to eat.” The young woman replied: “It is well; you ask him to come into the lodge.” So the grandmother told them to enter the lodge; following her inside, they sat down. Thereupon the grandmother, getting a club from the farther end of the room, began beating her granddaughter, saying: “Oh! you like too well to have a husband.” She struck her many blows, which the granddaughter endured without making any defense. When bedtime came the old woman said to her granddaughter: “Your husband must sleep with me tonight.” There was nothing to be done but to comply with her demand. So the husband went to the old woman’s bed. The latter covered herself and the man with a skin, fastening it down on all sides in such manner that it was air-tight, so the man could scarcely breathe. Then the old woman made an attempt to smother the husband; she would have done so had he not had a small false face [fetish] hidden away in his bosom. At once he told this aid to absorb all the odor into itself, and thereupon it did so. When morning came, contrary to the expectation of the grandmother, the husband was alive and well. The old woman now for a time left him in peace, and he enjoyed the company of his wife.

Several days later the old woman said to the man: “We must go to an island today to hunt.” They found that the island was low and that in the middle of it there was a very deep lake. Having made a landing, they drew their canoe up on the island. The old woman said to the man: “Take your position here on the right,” indicating with her finger a spot away from the canoe, “and I will drive the game toward you.” The man had gone about halfway toward the place when, hearing a sound in the direction of the canoe, he turned back, only to see the old woman in the canoe paddling away as fast as she could. He called to her to return, but it was of no use.

The man remained on the island all day long; there was no escape for him. He noticed the marks of water high up on the trees, which were very tall. He knew well what these marks meant. When night came the water began to rise, and thereupon the hunter climbed the highest tree he could find on the island. The water kept rising, and he continued to climb as it rose. With the first streak of dawn in the east the hunter saw that all the shorter trees were covered with water, while around him on all sides were great numbers of monsters waiting to devour him. He sat at the top of the tallest tree on the island. While looking around for some avenue of escape he saw the Morning Star shining brightly in the east. Remembering that the Morning Star had promised him in a dream in the days of his youth to help him in the time of trouble or peril, he prayed that the Morning Star would hasten the coming of the day, for he believed that with the advent of daylight the waters would subside and he would be saved. He cried in the anguish of his mind: “Oh, Morning Star! hasten the Orb of Day. Oh, Morning Star! hurry on the daylight. You promised when I was young that you would help me if I ever should be in great peril.” Now, the Morning Star lived in a beautiful lodge, with a small boy as a servant. Hearing the voice of the hunter appealing to him for aid, he called out to the servant, “Who is that shouting on the island?” The small boy replied, “Oh! that is the husband of the little old woman’s granddaughter. He says that you promised him in a dream when he was young that you would help in the time of trouble.” The Morning Star answered, “Oh, yes! I did promise him to do so. Let the Orb of Day come at once.” Immediately daylight came, and the water on the island subsided.

When the waters were dried from the land the hunter slipped down from the tree, and going to the landing place he buried himself in the sand, leaving only his nostrils and one eye exposed. Early in the forenoon the old woman came again to the island. Drawing up the canoe on the beach, she said to herself: “The flesh of my granddaughter’s husband has been eaten up by this time, but I suppose his bones are left. Being very young, they must have good marrow in them, so I think I will have some of this marrow.” So saying, she started to search the island for the bones. The man was watching her, and when she had gone far enough away he sprang up out of the sand, and boarding the canoe pushed off and paddled away. When he had gone some distance from the island the old woman saw him, whereupon she cried out in agony of despair, “Oh, grandson, come back! I will never play another trick on you. I will love you.” The hunter replied in derision, “Oh, no! I will not return. You shall play no more tricks on me,” and continued to paddle away.

When night came the water on the island began to rise. Then the old woman climbed the tall pine tree to escape the monsters waiting to devour her. Between midnight and sunrise the water, still rising, was nearing the treetop where the old woman was, when she called out to the Morning Star, “You promised me when I was young that you would help me when I should be in distress.” The Morning Star asked the boy, “Is that man down there on the island yet?” The lad replied, “Oh, no! He got off yesterday. This is the little old woman herself. She says you promised her in a dream to help her.” The Morning Star replied, “Oh, no! I never had any conversation with her. I never made any promise to her.” With these words the Morning Star fell asleep again and slept on, letting the Orb of Day come at its own time. The water on the island kept rising and rising until it had reached the top of the pine tree, when the inhabitants of the lake ate up the little old woman.

The man was at home with his young wife and they lived ever after in peace and happiness.

101. THE WOMAN AND THE CANNIBAL [379] THUNDER

One day a stranger came to a lodge in which a man, his wife, and four children lived, and asked leave to marry the young daughter of the family. Both father and mother consenting, he married her.

The man remained there for a time, and then he wished his wife to go to his own lodge. The old people were willing, so the two started. They soon reached a large cabin, whereupon the young man said, “This is my cabin.” When they arrived there was no one in it, but toward night the woman heard some person approaching on the run. Soon afterward a man entered and sat down by the door; again she heard the sound of someone running, and another man entered and sat down; then a third person came. They began talking one with another, relating how far they had been. One of them said, “I had good luck; I killed a bear.” Finding that he was the only one of the three who had killed anything, they said, “Go, bring it in; we will cook it.” The young woman sat watching at the end of the room. The man brought in what he called a bear, which she saw was the trunk and head of a man. Having cut it up, they put it into a kettle to boil; when cooked, they ate it. The three walked to and fro in the room without once looking toward the woman. Her husband was there, but he did not talk, nor eat with the men. Although they were his brothers, he never ate their kind of food. The next morning, and on succeeding days, after making the usual preparations, the three went hunting; in the evening they returned, and sitting down by the door, talked over their journey. If they had killed any game they brought it into the lodge, and cooked and ate it; if they had killed nothing, they ate what was left from the meal of the previous evening.

One day when the young woman went to draw water she found a man standing by the spring. He addressed these words to her, “I came to tell you that your husband is going into the ground tomorrow. He is magically a very powerful and evil man. As soon as he is gone, you must put your moccasin exactly in the center of your lodge, telling it to answer for you every time your husband speaks. When you have done that, hurry to this place.” The next morning the husband said, “I am going into the ground. I want you to stay in the lodge all the time I am away,” and turning around where he stood, he disappeared in the ground. After doing as she had been told to do by the stranger, the wife went to the spring, where she found the man. Putting her into the top of an arrow, and saying, “When the arrow falls, get out and hurry along the lake as fast as you can,” he shot it into the air.

Soon the husband called to his wife, “Are you there?” at which the moccasin answered in her voice, “Yes.” After a time he called again, “Are you there?” “Yes,” was again her reply. He was away several days, during which many times did he ask, “Are you there?” always receiving the same answer. When he appeared above the ground and asked, “Where are you, wife, are you here?” a voice answered, “Yes.” Looking around, he could not see her; then suddenly he discovered what had been talking to him. He was very angry and began to search for the woman’s tracks. He followed them to the spring, where they disappeared. After looking for a long time he became discouraged, and calling his dog Onhagwio,[380] he said, “You failed to watch my wife while I was gone. Now you must find her.” Then he watched the dog as it ran round and round, coming back to the spring; finally it stopped scenting the ground, and looking into the air, it sniffed. All at once the dog ran off northward, looking up all the time as if it saw tracks (but trailing a faint scent in the air). The man followed. After a while they came to the spot where the arrow fell. There were tracks on the ground. The dog barked and began to run faster, the man urging it on. As they neared the woman, the man who had been at the spring stood before her. He put her again into an arrow, saying, “You will come down on an island in a lake, and you must run across this island in all directions.” When the husband and the dog came to the place where she met the man they lost her track. Again the dog scented, and finding the trail in the air, followed it. When they reached the lake, the man changed himself into a flea, and going into the hair behind the dog’s ear, held on. Then the dog swam to the island, on reaching which the flea turned to a man again. Coming to the spot where the arrow fell, they found her tracks, which they followed across and around the island. As they neared the woman, the man again stood by her, and putting her once more into his arrow, said, “You will come down on the shore of the lake; then run as fast as you can. I can help you no longer, but you will soon reach a village, where you will find some one to help you. You may see now who I am.” As he turned to go away, she saw that the man was a Djondjongwen.381

The dog arrived at the place where the tracks disappeared on the ground; here he found the woman had crossed the lake. Again the man turned to a flea and the dog swam with him to the shore. Having found the woman’s footprints, they followed them. As they were getting very near, so near that she could hear the dog bark, she came to a lodge in which a man was sitting, making flint arrowheads. His name was Hathegwendonnis.[382] The woman asked him to help her. He said. “Go on as fast as you can; the man in the next lodge will help you. I, too, will do all I can to aid you.” When the dog and man came to the lodge, Hathegwendonnis threw toward him a handful of flint. The flint flew in every direction; wherever it struck it tore up trees and earth. But the dog ran at Hathegwendonnis and, seizing him by the back of the neck, shook him until he was dead. The woman reached the second lodge, where she found a man making nets. His name was Hadaeonnis.383 To him she said, “I am running away; can you help me?” He answered, “Go on as quickly as you can; you will soon come to a cabin, and the people who live there can help you. I will do all I can.” When the man and dog came to the lodge Hadaeonnis threw his net, which caught them, winding round and round them. For a long time they struggled; at last, breaking through the net, the dog ran at Hadaeonnis, seizing him by the neck, and shaking him until he was dead. In the third cabin the woman found four men. When she had asked them for help, they began chopping down great dry trees, which they piled on her tracks. Soon they had a high pile, and setting fire to the wood, they stood waiting, two at each end. When the dog and the man came to the fire, the dog wanted to go around, but the man, seeing that the tracks led into the fire, said, “No; you must go through.” When they came out on the other side, both dog and man were nearly dead. The eldest of the four men said, “We will shoot and kill them,” but they found shooting had no effect. Then the older man said, “We will catch them and pull out their hearts.” Having caught and killed them, they pulled out their hearts; these they put into a red-hot kettle, which the old man had heated over the fire. The hearts flew around and around in the kettle trying to get out, but the men shot them until they were dead and burned up.

Now the old man, whose name was Deoneyont,[384] went to the cabin and told the woman she was safe. He said, “You must rest four days; then you can go home.” When the fourth day came the old man said, “It is time to go. Your home is in the south. As you travel, you will know where you are.” In the afternoon she met a man who said, “Toward night you will see something to eat.” She traveled all day, and in the evening she came to a stump, where she found a part of Ononda onoqgwa.385 She thought this must be what he meant, so she ate it; then she went on until dark. The next morning she started again. In the afternoon she met the same man, who told her she would soon find something to eat. Toward night she came to a stump, where she found a pot of hulled corn. On the following day, when she awoke, the man was standing by her; he said, “You are near home, so I shall leave you here. I am one of those whom you call Hadiwenodadyes.”386 Starting on, she soon came in sight of an old cabin. Then she came to a spring which she knew, for it was the spring where, when a girl, she used to get water. Going to the cabin, she found all her people, who looked very old. She said, “Mother, I have come.” All were very glad and said, Nyâwen.

[The narrator thinks the net-maker was a spider.]

102. GAQGA AND SGAGEDI [387]

A brother and his sister lived together in a lodge. The brother never allowed his sister to go outside. When he went hunting, he did not fail to tell his dog to stay at home and to bring whatever his sister wanted.

One day when her brother was hunting the sister wanted water; not seeing the dog she thought what harm could it do for her to go out and bring back water as quickly as possible. She ran to the spring, and stooping down, filled the bucket, but as she straightened up and rested, putting the bucket on the edge of the spring, someone, grasping her from behind, carried her away through the air. The dog came on the run, and barking loudly, made a spring into the air to catch her, but he could not reach her. On hearing the dog bark, the brother hurried home. Finding his sister gone, he said to the dog, “You have caused me great trouble.” The animal felt the rebuke so keenly that, putting his head beneath his body, he became a stone.

Gaqga, the man who had stolen the young woman, took her to an island in the middle of a lake, where she passed some time. Every day Gaqga would go away, returning with dry fish which he found on the shore. Sometimes he would bring pieces of human flesh, which he ate himself; afterward he would send the young woman to get water for him to drink.

One day when the woman went to the edge of the island for water, a man stood before her, who said: “I have come to tell you that the man who is keeping you is very hungry, and has made up his mind to kill you tomorrow. He will tell you to bring water to fill the kettle; as soon as you do this, he will seize his club to kill you. You must run behind the post on which the kettle hangs. He will strike the post and break his arm. Then come to this spot as quickly as you can.” The next day Gaqga acted as the man said he would. When the kettle was full, seizing his heavy club, he struck at the girl, who ran behind the post; as his arm came down with the club it struck the post and it broke. The woman ran to the lake. The man was there with a canoe. Both got into it, and the man pushed out into the lake. This man was Sgagedi. After a while Gaqga’s arm felt better, so he followed the girl to the water. Seeing the canoe far off on the lake, he was very angry, saying, “This is the work of Sgagedi.” As the canoe was approaching shore, the girl saw a lodge near by. When Sgagedi stepped into the canoe, he divided himself, one half sitting at each end of the canoe. As the canoe struck land, the half of the body which was at the stern was raised and thrown forward, whereupon, striking the front half, it was joined thereto, so that the two parts became a whole man. The girl was sitting in the bottom of the boat, when the mother of the man came to her, saying, “My daughter, come with me,” and led her to the lodge. She was now Sgagedi’s wife. Every time he went out on the water he divided himself, one half sitting at each end of the canoe. As soon as the canoe touched land he became whole again. All his life he had been traveling around on the lake in this way, liberating people captured by witches.

After a while the young woman gave birth to twin boys. As soon as they were born the old grandmother threw them into the lake; as they touched the water they began to paddle and quickly swam to shore. Again she threw them in the water, but in a moment they were back again; then she threw them far out into the lake. When they swam to shore she said, “That will do.” They now began to run around and play. They grew very quickly and after a while said to their father, “We think you ought to rest, so you would better stay at home and let us go out in the canoe and do your work.” “It is well,” replied the father.

Thereupon the twins started off in the canoe, and after rowing some distance one said to the other, “See! there is something on the land that looks as if it were falling to pieces.” “That is true,” said the other brother; “let us go ashore and find out what it is.” So they landed, and going to the spot they found an old lodge lying flat on the ground; within was something breathing, which they discovered was a very old man. They got him out of the lodge, and one of the boys said, “This is our uncle, and we must carry him home.” The man consented to go with them. As they were leaving the place he pointed to a large stone, saying, “That is my dog.” Striking it with a switch he said, “Get up,” whereupon the dog got up, shaking himself and stretching, as is the custom of dogs. They traveled on until they came to the water, with the dog following them. Then all got into the canoe and the boys paddled across the lake. When they reached home the boys said, “Grandmother, we have found our uncle.” On looking at the old man, she was convinced that he was her brother. Now the boys said to their grandmother, “You must marry our uncle.” “It is well,” replied she. After that they all lived together very happily.

103. DAGWANOENYENT AND GAASYENDIETʻHA [388]

There was a large village of people provided with plenty of meat, who lived happily. Among these people was a man who lived at one end of the village, whom few noticed.

One night this man had a dream, in which his Dream Spirit said to him, “Something is going to happen to the people of the village, so you must notify them to move away within ten days.” In the morning he went to the center of the village, and having gathered the people together, told them his dream. Some of them believed and some did not. Five days later, all those who had believed his dream joined those who had not believed and paid no further heed to the warning.

On the fifth night the man dreamed again. This time his Dream Spirit said to him: “We know that all the people do not believe you. Now save yourself. Start within three days, taking your bow and all your arrows with you. About halfway up the high hill east of the village you will find a large hollow rock; enter this cavern, and you will find a subterranean passage running toward the village. Look through this passage, and you will see all that is going on in the village. The people will be destroyed. At midday of the tenth day a great cry will be raised by the people, such a cry as you have never heard. When it begins to die away you must commence to shoot through the passage, for the monster that destroys the village will track you to this place. You will save your life if you shoot all your arrows before the monster reaches the underground passage. When your arrows are gone, come out of your hiding place and go to the place where the monster has fallen. Then take a small piece of its skin together with the hair (which is very long) from the back of its head; this will be of use to you, for it has great orenda (magical power). This monster is called Dagwanoenyent. You must wind the hair around your body next to your skin and declare at the same time that there is nothing that you can not do. At night when it is too dark for you to be seen, go northward a short distance, and you will find a tree upturned by the roots. Go around the roots—you must not be frightened, for I will give you something which will be of great service to you.”

The morning after this dream the man seemed very gloomy and unhappy. When the time came, taking his bow and bundle of arrows, he started; going eastward, he soon began to climb the mountain (he did not take his family, for all believed not in his dream). Just as the sun set he came to a large rock, in the opposite side of which he found an opening. Entering here, he kept on until, as he thought, he arrived directly under the center of the rock; there he found a room high enough for him to stand in. (There was stone all around, but the bottom was earth.) He now remembered the subterranean passage, and looking around, he found it; then he lay down to sleep. The next morning when he went out there was a deer standing close by, which he killed and skinned. Having roasted some of the venison, he ate it for breakfast.

Then the man went on top of the rock, which he found large and level. The tenth day, as he sat on the rock he heard a great noise coming from the south, but he could see nothing. After a while the sound seemed to approach the village, whereupon he saw something that looked like smoke. He saw, too, that the trees in a very wide area were uprooted and were falling toward the village. As the terrible noise neared the village, he went under the rock, where he took position opposite the underground passage. As he looked through it the village seemed to him to be right at hand. In a short time he heard a terrible outcry, which was the screaming of the people in distress. He could see that the huts were hurled up into the air and torn to pieces. He could also see the Monster eating the people. When all the rest were eaten, it missed one, and laughing, said, “The world is not large enough for him to hide in.” Then the man saw that the trees bent toward the east, and from this he knew the Monster was on his track. Stringing his bow, he began to shoot through the underground passage as rapidly as possible. When but few of his arrows remained the noise seemed to be rapidly approaching. Finally, when only two arrows were left, he saw a great Black Monster [389] approaching. Thereupon he shot the last arrow. At that instant the roar and noise ceased, and the Monster fell; he heard it say, “It is dismal (awendonyat); you have killed me.” The man said, “I will go and see this creature.” On going to the place where the head lay, and examining it, he discovered that every arrow he had shot was in the head. As he stood there, thinking, he said, “I must do as I was commanded,” so he took part of the scalp from the crown of the head, with the long hair hanging to it. This he tied around his body, saying, “You must always help me and not let me be overpowered by anything.” He then climbed the remainder of the hill, reaching the top quickly, for he could now go very fast. On looking around, he found a place to build a brush hut and began work. In a short time he had completed the hut. Then he said, “I must have plenty of meat,” and going out, he saw deer, bear, and all other kinds of game in great numbers. Having killed what he wanted, he skinned the deer and the bears. In doing this, he merely took hold of the skin of the head and pulled it off. After he had skinned the animals, he put up hurdles in brush arbors, on which he placed the meat to dry.

It was still the day on which he killed Dagwanoenyent. When it began to get so dark that he could not distinguish objects, he started, as his dream had said, toward the north. He had not gone far when he came to a fallen tree with the roots turned up. On starting to go around this, when halfway around, he saw Gaasyendietʻha, which had its great mouth open and seemed very angry. When the Gaasyendietʻha saw that the man was not frightened, it began to laugh; then, changing itself to a man (human being), it said: “You must take one of my teeth out. This will be of great use to you, for it will enable you to change yourself into any form you wish.” The man took out one of the double teeth, the one farthest back in the jaw. At this Gaasyendietʻha said: “You shall live. You shall have full magical power in your possession, but you and I must always counsel with each other, especially if you are in trouble; now we must part.” Immediately Gaasyendietʻha, resuming his natural form, flew off through the air.

Going back to his hut, the man made up his mind that this should be his home hereafter. He remained in the hut one year; at the end of that time, getting lonely, he thought of the people, and said to himself: “I will go and see whether I can find anybody.” As he started he turned himself into a Gadjidas [390] and flew toward the southwest. He did not know how far he might go before finding people, but, as he soared high, he kept looking down on the earth. After a time he saw something directly to the west which made him think people were living there, so he came lower and lower. When near the ground he saw a village and said: “Well, I shall eat up all the people that live here, but if I find a good-looking woman, I shall take her home.” Then he turned himself into a Ganiagwaihegowa, and, beginning at the first house, he ate all the people. When he thought he had eaten everybody and had seen no woman that suited him, he saw away off on one side of the town a little hut from which smoke came out. Going there, he found an old man and a woman with several children, all of whom he ate. Then saying, “I have finished,” he changed himself into a man. He stood around a while and then, seeing a little trail, followed it. He had not gone far when he met a woman who was very handsome and whom he liked at once. As they talked together he asked: “Where do you live?” “Oh! right over here at that lodge,” she replied. He said, “You would better go home with me, for there is no one living there; all the people are dead.” “I must see first,” she answered. They then went back to the village. She led him to the last hut, in which he had found the old man and woman with the children. She was their daughter. Finding only the blood on the ground, she began to cry. He laid his hand on the top of her head, and as he touched her she instantly became senseless; whereupon he shook her, causing her to become a small gnat. Changing himself into a hen hawk and putting the gnat (ogenhwan) under his wing, he flew off in the direction of his home. In a short time he was there, and, changing himself into a man again, he took the woman from under his wing and shook her back into her natural form and size. Then he said: “This is our home; you must stay here and take care of the meat and the lodge.” She obeyed, while every day he went off to hunt.

One night some time afterward, as they sat in the hut the man heard a noise outside, as though some one were coming on a run. Suddenly the door opened and a man came in. They greeted one another. “I have come again,” said the man. “I find that you have made yourself into two persons now. I am here to warn you. A great monster has become very envious of you and has said, ‘There is a man over yonder who has become magically very powerful, and I have determined to try to overpower him and to eat him.’ Tomorrow at noon this monster will come. You must go eastward until you reach a large hill of stones, half as high as the highest mountain, not far from here. The place will be your only refuge when this monster attacks you. Get up on these rocks, and when it approaches you, you must jump from one rock to another. It will jump after you, but when it fails to reach you and falls, you may feel safe. We will then take care of it. This is what I had to tell you, so now I shall go.” The man and his wife went to sleep. The next morning the woman, noticing that her husband was gloomy, said, “What is the matter?” “Nothing, except I am thinking of what will become of me today at noon.” (She had neither seen nor heard the strange man who had spoken to her husband, although she was present. They two were so powerful in orenda that only they heard what was said.) The husband, walking up and down, seemed to be very uneasy.

As it neared noon, leaving his wife, the man started for the rocks. Seating himself on the top of the highest rock, he waited. Just at midday he heard a great noise, a distant howl; then he heard another nearer; then a third howl, just at the rocks. Now by way of defiance he gave a whoop, calling out, “I am the strongest of the strong. Nothing can overpower me.” The source of the sound was a bear, the oldest and strongest of the great bears. As it came up, it leaped on the rocks where the man stood, whereupon he jumped on the next rock, with the monster close behind him. In this way they kept leaping from one rock to another, being ever about the same distance apart, until the man began to feel tired and faint, and as he looked ahead the next rock seemed farther off than any of the others had been. Making a greater exertion, he just reached it. The bear was close behind him, but as it sprang, it fell short, just striking its jaws on the edge of the rock. The man looked over the edge of the rock and then jumped to the ground. As he struck the ground, looking behind him, he saw the rock from which he had leaped turn over and fall on the monster, killing it. “That is what I said; there is nothing that can overpower me,” the young man thought. He then went back to his hut very happy. His wife asked what had happened to him. “I have killed a monster bear that came to destroy me,” he replied.

Now all went on as usual. One day after the man returned from hunting, as he and his wife sat by the fire they heard a man approaching the hut, and they kept listening until he came to the door. When the man opened the door, there stood his friend. For the first time now the woman saw him. They greeted each other. The guest said: “The time has come when your life is again in danger, but I will try to save you and your wife. I will tell you what to do. Rub your hands on your wife’s head and she will turn to Osʻhada;[391] then you must tell it to follow you wherever you go. It will not be well for you to stay here; you must go away, but remain here as long as you can after your wife has gone. She must start immediately after you change her into Osʻhada, and when you have given up all hope of being able to stay, then flee directly toward the south. Tomorrow morning as soon as you get up, you must do as I have told you. I shall go now and we shall meet again.”

Thereupon the visitor started off. The man and wife began to talk. They did not know what to do. In the morning the man rubbed her head, saying, “Let my wife become Osʻhada.” At once she became Osʻhada and rested on his hand, while with the other hand he rubbed it off in the direction it was to go. Then piling up all his meat, he said in a loud voice, “I give this meat to you, all flesh-eating animals that live in the woods.” He now went toward the southeast from his lodge to a very large elm tree, which was smooth up to a great height, where branches formed a crotch. Climbing the tree, he sat in this crotch. Soon he noticed that he felt faint and very weak at intervals, and he thought that there must be near him something mysterious. He looked around everywhere, but saw nothing. Taking out the tooth Gaasyendietʻha had given him, he dampened it with spittle; then having rubbed his finger over the tooth, he passed it over his eyes, saying, “Now I can see everything that is going on, even down in the ground.” On looking into the ground, he saw, deep down, a tree and on the tree a great monster. He sat still, watching it as it slowly climbed the tree. As it came near the top, the faint feeling grew stronger on the man. He saw that the animal was a Djainosgowa,[392] the greatest of the Djainos family of monsters. This Djainosgowa had determined to overpower the orenda of the man. It came up out of the ground and up into the heart of the tree on which the man was sitting. As it came nearer and nearer, the man leaped to another tree. At that instant the Djainosgowa, coming out at the place where the man had been sitting, said, “Guhge sedjinoⁿ (You are indeed somewhat of a man, but I am determined to overpower you in orenda).” Thereupon the Djainosgowa leaped toward the man, but the man jumped to another tree, and then from tree to tree, the Djainosgowa following. There was a great rock at the brink of the hill to which the man ran; from this he leaped through the air across the great valley to a mountain far away. Thence he ran directly southward, right along the top of the mountain, descending on the other side to another very wide valley. He ran across this valley and had begun to ascend the mountain on the other side when he heard the monster in close pursuit. It continued to run all night. In the morning he came to an opening, on the other side of the valley. It was nearly dark, but the man continued to run all night. In the morning he came to an opening, on the farther side of which he could discern a hill and smoke arising. As he came to the foot of the mountain, he stopped, and turning around, he saw that the monster Djainosgowa had gotten to the opening. Raising its paw, it struck the man’s footprint on the trail. Instantly the man fell to the ground. As he fell, his friend appeared and said: “Get up; you cannot live if you fall this way.” So saying, he pushed him into a run, telling him to hurry. The man then felt stronger and again ran fast from valley to valley, with the Djainosgowa always about the same distance behind. All at once the man fell again. Immediately his friend was there, and put him on his feet, saying, “Keep up your courage,” at the same time pushing him into a run. Again he felt stronger and ran fast. He ran all night. It was a very dark night and he struck a great maple tree, going straight through it; this happened many times during the night, whenever he hit a tree.

For eight days and nights the monster chased him. When it discovered that the man went through trees it threw its power ahead of him, making the trees so hard that the man could no longer go through them. On the ninth night the monster commanded a terrible rainstorm to come and the night to be so dark that the man could not see where he was going, but the man ran on until midnight without hitting a tree. Just at midnight he struck a tree and was thrown far back. At that moment his friend was there, who said, “Do all you can; exert yourself”; and taking hold of his hand he led him. The two went and traveled a great deal faster than the man had gone alone, unaided by his friend, Gaasyendietʻha, the Meteor. The two ran together until daylight, when the friend left and the man went on alone. This was the tenth day and he began to be very tired and faint, but still the monster was approaching and its strokes on his tracks were frequent, so that the man fell often. The chances seemed against his escape. Night came and the Djainosgowa made it terribly dark. Running against a tree, the man bounded far back, but fortunately the Djainosgowa was so near that he fell behind it. The Djainosgowa, having likewise struck the tree, was also thrown back. At once the man was up and running forward again. The Djainosgowa was just upon him and was reaching out to grasp him when the man fell, as it seemed to him, into a hole in the ground. He thought, “Well, I am near my end. When I strike I shall be dashed to pieces.” He kept falling, and as he fell he grew sleepy. Looking up he saw the monster coming down the side of the hole, winding round and round. Thereupon the man went to sleep. After a long time he woke and was still falling, and the monster was still pursuing him. At last the man landed on his feet. He seemed to have come out of the hole, and on looking around he saw a beautiful country. Saying to himself, “My friend told me to go toward the south,” he ran in that direction. As he went on rapidly he saw the Djainosgowa coming toward him very fast, and thought, “Now I shall die.” As it came near the monster turned itself into a man. The runner, closing his eyes, kept on thinking, “I will not be looking at him when he reaches me.” He ran until he thought it was a long time to wait to be seized; then he opened his eyes and looked around, but he could not see the Djainosgowa, but still he kept on running.

Soon the man came to a lodge, which he entered, finding within an old man, who, looking up, exclaimed: “Oh, my grandson! I am glad you have come. I have been waiting for you a long time. You are bringing with you what I have wanted to eat for a long time. So go back there and stay. The Djainosgowa and I will fight alone. We will see whether it is as powerful as it thinks it is.” Soon the noise of the monster’s approach could be heard. Coming to the lodge, it asked, “Where is the man I have been chasing?” The old man said, “Here I am.” “No; you are not the man,” Djainosgowa replied. “I am; but if you think it is some one else, you shall not find out until you overpower me,” retorted the old man. The Djainosgowa said, “Come outside; there is not room in here.” “Very well,” replied the old man, and, arising, he went out. Then they began to fight. Whenever the animal bit the old man, tearing open the flesh, it immediately came together and healed. The old man tore off the forelegs of the Djainosgowa. They fought until the Djainosgowa was torn to pieces and the old man convinced himself that the pieces were not alive. Then he hung up the meat in the lodge and said to his grandson: “Come out! I have killed the monster you were afraid of. I am very thankful, for I have been wishing for this kind of meat for a long time.” The old man boiled the meat in a large kettle, not leaving a particle. In a small kettle he cooked bear’s meat for his grandson. As the meat was boiling, he put corn into the pounder and with only a few strokes it became corn meal; then having made bread, he began to eat. He was constantly giving thanks for the meat he was eating. At last, when he had eaten every bit of the great Djainosgowa he said: “I thank you, my grandson, for this will last me for a great many tens of years. You must stay with me until you are rested and cured, for you have been infected by the orenda (magic power) of this great monster.”

One day the old man said, “I want you to see what I have planted.” A short distance from the lodge they came to a field where something was growing. The old man said, “This is called onĕñoñ.” There were great tall cornstalks with ears of corn on them as long as the man was tall and kernels as large as a man’s head. The field extended farther than the eye could see. The old man said, “Let us go on the other side.” There the young man saw another field, where all varieties of corn were growing. Going on, they came to a third field, whereupon the old man said, “These are squashes.” They were very large and in great variety. Passing the squash field, they went to the old man’s lodge.

The next day, after he had rested, the grandson, having bade the old man good-by, went on. He traveled many days and finally came to a large opening, where there was a village. After thinking a while, he went to the lodge of the chief, who received him well. The chief’s daughter, looking at him, asked, “Have you ever heard of a man sending his wife off in the form of Osʻhada, a vapor?” He thought and thought this over; he had entirely forgotten about it. After a good while, remembering the past, he said, “Yes; I myself did that.” “I thought I recognized you. I am your wife,” declared the woman. They were glad to be together again.

104. DAGWANOENYENTGOWA SʻHAGODIGENDJI [393] AND YENONSGWA

Dagwanoenyentgowa Sʻhagodigendji, the eldest woman of her people, lived in the woods with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl.

One day, when the old woman had gone on a journey, a Yenonsgwa came to the lodge. Picking up the younger child, after speaking kindly to her and saying that she was a pretty little thing, the Yenonsgwa swallowed her. Then she began to talk to the boy, telling him how well he looked, but did not kill him. Sitting on the bed, she told the boy that if he would get on her back she would take him out to look for his grandmother. Accordingly he climbed on her back; but soon becoming frightened, he grasped her so tightly that he became fastened to it, so he could not get off, although he tried hard to do so. The Yenonsgwa started off, but went in a direction different from that where his grandmother was. The boy told her so, but she said: “Oh! we shall soon come to the place where she is.” The Yenonsgwa woman went very far into the woods, and the boy began to cry for his grandmother; he cried so hard that Yenonsgwa told him to get off her back. She did not like to hear him cry, and, moreover, she wanted to eat him. But he did not get off, for he could not do so. Yenonsgwa could neither get her hands around to pull him off, nor could she turn her head to bite him; she could not get at him in any way. Knowing this, the boy clung to the middle of her back, for he knew also that she would eat him if he slipped down. They traveled thus for many days.

When the grandmother returned home she found that the boy and girl were not in the lodge, and she became very uneasy. She searched everywhere, but found no traces of either. After a while, finding the tracks of the Yenonsgwa around the lodge, she guessed what the trouble was. The old woman followed the trail of the Yenonsgwa, saying that she was bound to get her grandchildren back.

Yenonsgwa tried to get the boy off, even rubbing him against a hickory tree, but the boy said: “Oh! I like that. Rub harder.” At this she stopped rubbing and went on. The grandmother, in the form of a whirlwind, followed her, and Yenonsgwa told the boy that his grandmother was following as a whirlwind, and would strike and kill both. The boy was silent. Then looking around for a refuge, Yenonsgwa found a hiding place in a deep ravine. There she dug a hole, into which she went and covered herself with the earth which slipped down from above. Now Yenonsgwa heard Dagwanoenyentgowa coming, and said to the boy: “You can hear your grandmother coming if you listen.” Then the Dagwanoenyentgowa rushed over the place where they lay. The boy shouted to his grandmother, who heard him. Changing her course, she came back straight to the spot where they were, blowing the earth off the hiding place, so that Yenonsgwa was visible on the surface of the ground. When the grandmother asked the boy whether he was there, he answered: “Yes.” The Yenonsgwa, however, lay still, whispering to the boy: “Be quiet! Your grandmother will see us.” The grandmother then called to the boy by name: “Dagwanoenyentgowa, get off Yenonsgwa’s back.” Having done so, he went a short distance from her inside the cavern. Then the old woman, his grandmother, hurled great stones at Yenonsgwa, rending all her clothes of rock and killing her. Thereupon the old woman took her grandson with her toward home. On the road she said: “Never allow yourself to be treated in this way again. Never let anyone maltreat you. You can master all those people if you only use your orenda (magic power), for you are a Dagwanoenyentgowa like myself.” The old woman remained at home a few days with her grandson.

Meanwhile some of the Yenonsgwa’s people found her trail, which they followed until they came to the place where her clothes were rent and scattered, and she lay dead. When they asked, the spirit of the Yenonsgwa told them that the old woman had killed her and had rent her coating of stone. The men of the Yenonsgwa’s people now resolved to collect a large company of their people to kill the old woman, Dagwanoenyentgowa.

While they were preparing for this, the old woman, while she was out on one of her journeys, found out their plans. When she heard the news of the intended attack she said to her grandson, “We must get your sister out of the belly of the Yenonsgwa, for she is sitting within, crying for me all the time.” So they set out from home, and when they reached the place where Yenonsgwa lay dead the old woman, having built a little fire, began to burn tobacco on it for her granddaughter, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” She burned perhaps half a pouch full and kept pushing the smoke toward the Yenonsgwa’s body, saying, “This is what we like. Do you come out of Yenonsgwa’s body.” Still no sign of the granddaughter; she did not come out of Yenonsgwa’s body. At last the old woman said: “We must have more help. You have a great many relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins. We must call them here.” So saying, the old woman, the Dagwanoenyentgowa, called them loudly. They came one by one. There was a great number of them. They broke up and removed all the clothing of the Yenonsgwa, which they threw away, leaving the body naked. Then the old woman built a fire at Yenonsgwa’s head, on which she burned tobacco. All the Dagwanoenyentgowa walked around the fire, each throwing tobacco into it, saying, “This is what we like; this is what we like.” After each one of them had gone around once and had thrown tobacco into the fire once, the young girl started up in Yenonsgwa’s body, panting for breath. Soon she arose, and walking out, said, “How long have I been here?” The people gave her tobacco to smoke. She inhaled it until she gained her full strength. Then all went home—the old woman with her two grandchildren to her lodge, and the other Dagwanoenyents each to his own place.

After they had been home a while a Yenonsgwa came to the old woman’s lodge, who talked pleasantly and inquired how they were. Finding out that they were only three in number, the Yenonsgwa went back, thinking it would be a small task to kill them. After the Yenonsgwa had gone away the old woman said, “We are in trouble now. There is a great number of these Yenonsgwa people leagued together against us. They are assembled somewhere around here. When this struggle commences we do not know whether or not we shall be able to come home here again.” As soon as she had finished talking with her grandchildren the old woman went out and called loud and long, “Dagwanoenyentgowa! Dagwanoenyentgowa! Dagwanoenyentgowa!” The girl did not know what that meant, so she asked her grandmother, who told her, “I am calling your relatives to help us. You are a Dagwanoenyentgowa, too.” They came one by one. When all had come they numbered 60, besides the old woman and her grandchildren. Dagwanoenyentgowa Sʻhagodigendji said that each one must have a round stone to strike with, just heavy enough to handle well. They had barely gotten the stones when the Yenonsgwa began to appear, thousands and thousands in number. The Dagwanoenyentgowa were frightened when they saw them, but the old woman who led them said, “We must separate and attack them singly. You must keep the stones in your hands. Be firm and have the faith that you will kill with one blow each one you hit and you will do so.” [394] Then the Dagwanoenyentgowas ran off in different directions, with the Yenonsgwa chasing them. Whenever they had the chance the Dagwanoenyentgowa struck and killed a Yenonsgwa, and so they kept retreating and killing the Yenonsgwa for a long distance. The old woman told all her people to go up a high mountain on the south ahead of them and to continue fighting as they went, saying, “When we all reach the top we will go down a little on the other side, and the Yenonsgwa will come to the top, and we shall then strike them. One part of us will strike them from the east and the other from the west side, and we will get behind them and drive them into the great ravine on the south side of the mountain, where a river runs, and they will all perish there.” On coming to the mountain top, where there was a large space, and looking around the Yenonsgwa saw nothing of the Dagwanoenyentgowa. They looked on every side, but could see no one, whereupon they thought that the Dagwanoenyentgowas had gone for good. They had not stood there long, however, when they heard the sound of wind below them on the mountain on both sides of them. The sound grew louder and louder, and presently the Dagwanoenyentgowa struck them on both sides, and uniting in their rear struck them there also. So terrible were the attack and the power of the Dagwanoenyentgowa that they tore all the trees out by their roots and swept the earth from the top of the mountain, hurling the trees and earth into the ravine and river below. The dead Yenonsgwas were piled up on one another like rocks in the river bed and along its banks. The Dagwanoenyentgowa were now dancing on the mountain top, when the old woman said, “We have hurled the Yenonsgwa down there now and we would better finish them. Let half of you go along the ridge running south from this mountain east of the river and the other half on the western ridge and blow all the trees and stones and earth into the great ravine.” They did so, and when they came together they had stripped the mountain spurs naked. The river forced everything to the end of the ravine, piling up the débris in a great dam, so that the river became a lake on the south side of the mountain, which is called Hadiqsadon Genonsgwa ganyudae.395

105. THE TWELVE BROTHERS AND THEIR UNCLE, DAGWANOENYENT

Once there lived 12 brothers who were great hunters, and who dwelt very happily together. Everyone knew that they excelled in whatever they undertook, for they had great magical powers and were honest.

Every morning the brothers would start off in different directions to hunt, and would return in the evening. The eldest brother seemed to understand best the women, who went around the world to destroy men, so he always avoided them. One day, however, while he was hunting he saw a red-headed woodpecker drumming on the trees, making a great noise. As he watched the bird, it went around the tree and then flew to another tree and around that. Finally it flew to the ground, and, behold! a beautiful young woman took the place of the bird. She said to the hunter, “Are you not ashamed to point an arrow at a woman? Come and talk to me.” Thereupon he went up to her—this was the last thing he remembered. She took him to a high rock where stood another woman, who said “Let his bones come to the ground,” and his body fell, becoming a heap of bones. Great piles of human bones lay around this rock, for many men had been decoyed to the place by the first woman and destroyed by the other.

Night came, and as the eldest brother did not return, the remaining 11 said that some evil had befallen him, and that he would never return. As predicted, he never came home; his mat remained vacant, and they left everything as it was and mourned him as dead.

After a long time another brother was missing one evening and he, too, never returned. Later it was learned that while walking along in the woods he came upon two women, who with their wiles put him to sleep. One of them said: “Let us put him into the ground until mold appears all over him—he shall be alive—and let him remain there until his uncle finds out where he is and rescues him.”

Now, the 10 remaining brothers were greatly alarmed, and they told their youngest brother, whom they loved very dearly, that “he must stay at home and not go roaming about the forest, for he was young and did not know the world as well as they did.”

Again many moons passed, and then one night the third brother was missing. The others knew he must be dead, or he would not have failed to return when night came. Now, three mats were vacant, and the remaining brothers were almost heartbroken.

Time went on, and one brother after another had disappeared, until only two were left—the second and the youngest, and there were 10 empty places. Then the elder said to his younger brother: “You must not go out of doors. You must stay close at home, where no harm can come to you, for you are all I have to depend on when I grow old.” “But,” said the younger, “it may be that our brothers are still alive and are being kept captive and tormented by the spell of some magic power. I wish to go in search of them.” “No; you can not,” replied the elder; “you are still young. But we have a great uncle, who knows everything. He is a terrible man; no one can go near him. He could bring our brothers back, if we could get to him, but the trouble is he would not know that we are his nephews, so we would be destroyed. He is Dagwanoenyent. He lives on a rock. His long hair sweeps the ground, so that all around the rock it is as smooth as ice; and he has enormous eyes.” [396] “I must go to see this uncle,” said the younger, “and find out where our brothers are.” “You will travel the wide world over and never find them unless he tells you,” came the reply.

“What does he live on?” asked the younger. “He gnaws the bark of hickory trees,” answered the elder. “That is an easy living. I will get plenty of it,” said the younger, and having cut down the largest hickory trees he could find, he took off great blocks of bark for his uncle to eat. Then he made himself six arrows, each arrow being a great tree. He would lift the tree out of the ground by the roots. “I want you to be small,” and made an arrow of it; the blunt end of the arrow was the butt near the roots. The elder brother did not know that these arrows were large trees. He was afraid to have his brother go and put but little faith in his success. While the younger brother was making his arrows he practiced running. One day while so engaged he thought he heard a groan under his feet, as it were, and going back and forth he found the exact place whence it seemed to come. It was as though he ran over a man and each time hurt him fearfully; so digging down into the ground, he found a living man, whose features were perfect but whose face was covered with thick mold. He took him home to his elder brother, saying, “We have plenty of bear’s oil, and you can anoint him until he regains his natural skin.” The newly found man could neither see nor hear.

The elder brother told the younger to run toward the north. The next morning the latter started, having cautioned the elder to stay in the lodge while he was gone, as he would bring his uncle home with him. He ran for several days until he came near the place which his brother had described. Possessing magical power over a mole, he said to it, “You must carry me under the ground so that the leaves shall not rustle. When we are very near my uncle, Dagwanoenyent,[397] let me out.” Thereupon he entered the mole, which ran on until they were near the Great Head, when he looked out. He was almost afraid to come forth, so terrible was this enormous object, but he sprang out of the mole with his arrow drawn, crying as he did so, “Uncle, I have come after you!” Away sped the arrow! As it whizzed through the air it grew to the size of a large tree. When it hit the Great Head above the eyes, with a loud laugh the latter, rolling off the rocks, swept along in the air, making a broad track of fallen trees as it passed through the forest like an immense cloud. The young man kept ahead by running with lightning speed. As the Great Head was nearly on him, he turned and shot another arrow, which drove it back some distance, and again he got ahead. This act he repeated whenever he was in danger of being overtaken, otherwise he would have been killed by the big trees that fell in the track of the Great Head. So on he ran for his life, and as his last arrow was spent, he reached home. Each time the rebound of the Great Head decreased, so it gained on him continually.

While the pursued and the pursuer were still a long way off, the elder brother began to hear a frightful roar and to feel a great wind rising. Thereupon, saying, “My uncle is coming,” he opened the skin doors (there was one at each end of the lodge) and put great pounders on them, and made a big fire. When the younger brother reached the lodge he took up the pounder, and as the Great Head came down to the threshold and rolled in, both brothers began pounding it and kept on doing so until it rolled almost to the end of the lodge and became silent. At this the young man said: “I brought you here, uncle; now, you must stay with us and tell us where our brothers are.” “I can not stay,” replied the Head, “but I will help you, and your brothers will come back.”

By this time the elder brother, having rubbed nearly all the mold from the man’s face, found he was his brother. The Great Head blew on the body, whereupon the man became well and sound again. Now there were three brothers. At night the Great Head would remain outside the lodge, gnawing the hickory bark provided for it. After a time it said, “I can not remain and must be going home, but I will take you to the spot where your brothers are”; so they started off together. The Great Head would make long leaps, springing high from the ground. It conducted the young man to the woman on the rock. As they passed the first woman the Great Head said, “We shall have to kill this woman.” She tried to make the Great Head laugh, but it would not, saying, “Oh, woman! Come down and be bones.” Enraged at these words, she tried to spit at the Great Head, which repeated the words. The third time, both women rolled off, and as they fell their bones made a noise like the pouring out of many shells, and the Great Head said, “Scatter the bones.” So the young man, gathering them up by handfuls, threw them in every direction, commanding them to become such and such birds; and they became birds—horned owls, hawks, crows, and woodpeckers—which disappeared in the air. “Now,” said the Great Head, “you must work hard. Fit all these other bones together nicely, giving to each body its own bones by putting together as many bodies as you can. While you are doing this, I will go off a long distance and then come back straight over this forest. When I approach you will hear the roar of the wind, and thereupon you must cry out to these bones, ‘Arise, or the trees will fall on you.’ They will obey you. I will pass over them and go to my home; if you want me again, you may come for me.” The young man went to work with great haste and laid together many skeletons. Nearly all the bones were arranged when he heard the deep roar of the wind and knew thereby the Great Head was coming. Then he called out, “Arise, you bones, or the trees will fall on you,” [398] and as the Great Head swept with an awful noise over the skeletons, all sprang to their feet. The bones of two skeletons were interchanged. One who from the shape of his foot had gone by the name of Sharp-pointed Moccasins had but one of his own feet, while the second man had the other, so both were cripples. One of these men had been enticed from a great distance; he was a man-eater and wished to commence a meal at once, but the young man killed him with a single blow of his club. Among those now restored to life were the nine missing brothers. Each man found whatever he had brought with him and all separated; those who did not know where their homes were went with the brothers. Thus, again, after many years the 12 brothers were united.

106. ONGWE IAS [399] AND HIS BROTHER, DAGWANOENYENT

There was a man who had three nephews, and all lived in a lodge which was divided into two parts by a partition. The old man lived in one part and the young men in the other. There was no door between the two rooms; they could talk only through the partition. The old man, however, was an Ongwe Ias; he was a brother of the Dagwanoenyent who chased the panther and her cubs.

When the old man went hunting he always started on a run, and one could hear the sound of his going. The young men used to go hunting, too. Whenever the old man came home they could hear him throw down a person’s body and cut it up; then they could hear him eating. Afterward he would ask the boys whether they had all returned from hunting, whereupon they would say, “Yes.”

One morning after the old man had gone off the youngest of the three started by himself. At a short distance from the lodge lay a big tree, over which moss had grown everywhere. When he put his knee on this tree to get over it he saw a man who had grown to the tree. The man said: “I am glad you have come; I am tormented here. I think you would better take me to your lodge. I will be a brother to you and stay with you as long as you live.” “I do not think this would be well,” replied the young man, “for our uncle is a man-eater; but I will go home and talk with my two brothers, and tomorrow I will let you know our decision.” That night when the old man got home he asked whether all had gotten back. “Yes,” they answered. Then the youngest said to his uncle: “We have found a man who wants to come here to be our brother and live with us. You must not touch him.” The old man agreed not to injure him, saying, “I will give him a name; he shall be called The-Found-One.” [400] They brought the man in. When he had recovered his health he was a swifter runner than the old man-eater.

One morning all started off to hunt, the three brothers and The-Found-One. In the afternoon the old man came back home and stayed in his part of the lodge. At night he asked, “Are you all here?” One answered, “No; our eldest brother has not come.” The old man was astonished, and told the second brother that he must start early the next morning and follow his brother’s tracks.

In the morning the second brother started on the run to look for his elder brother. After a while he came to a clearing, in the middle of which sat an old woman; his brother’s tracks went straight toward her. He made up his mind to inquire of the woman about him. Going straight up to her, he asked, but she gave no answer. Then she struck him and straightway he turned into bones. Now, two of the brothers were gone. When night came and the uncle reached home, he asked the lone brother whether all had returned. The youngest said, “No,” whereupon the uncle said, “You must follow them and see what has happened.”

So the youngest went out the next morning, and soon reached the opening or clearing, where he saw the gray-haired woman. It came into his mind that she was the cause of the trouble; so taking a start he ran and then jumped on her back, asking “Have you seen my brothers?” Having said this, he jumped off. After trying in every way to hit him, at last the woman just touched him and thereupon the three brothers were gone; he, too, then becoming merely bones, like the other two.

At night when the old uncle returned he asked the fourth person, The-Found-One, “Have your brothers come back?” “No,” was the answer. At this the old man, astonished, said, “When you rise in the morning get crotched sticks and make a platform on them; put as many stones as possible on the platform, and then start in search of your uncle. You can not help finding him. When you see him you must shoot him in the forehead; then he will follow in the direction from which the arrow comes.” The next morning, having made a platform, the man put on it as many big stones as possible. After doing this, he started in the direction the old man had pointed out. During the forenoon he heard a big noise, and when he came out into a broad opening, or clearing, he saw his uncle, Dagwanoenyent, on a great rock which he was eating, biting off large pieces. On seeing him, The-Found-One shot an arrow at his forehead, saying at the same time, “I have come for you, uncle.” His uncle, the Great Head, followed him, and he shot another arrow. The Great Head always followed the course of the arrow. After shooting twice The-Found-One was back at the lodge, where he called to the old man-eater, “Uncle, I have come.”

Very soon they heard the noise of a great wind, and Dagwanoenyent came, and standing on the platform, began to eat stones;[401] the sound of his craunching could be heard a long way. The man-eater spoke to his brother Dagwanoenyent, saying: “I sent after you, and you have come. The three brothers have gone and have not come back. Now I am going for them, and if I do not return, you will come after me.” The next morning The-Found-One was alone. Dagwanoenyent came, and standing on the platform, ate a stone, and called out, “Have they returned?” “No,” was the reply.

“Well, I am going after my brother; he ought not to eat men, if he too gets lost.” With these words, Dagwanoenyent flew up high in the air. The old woman knew he was coming, so shading her eyes with her hand, she kept watch; presently she saw him approaching. Flying down where she was, he bit at her, but she had disappeared; then he bit gravel. On flying up he could see nothing. At last he hid behind a cloud and watched until he saw her; thereupon, plunging down, he bit deep into the ground, this time killing the old woman and letting out her blood. Then he said to himself, “My brother should not eat people, if he is such a coward that he can not kill an old woman.”

Dagwanoenyent had to bring to life his three nephews and his brother. The-Found-One came to the place where the old woman was killed, and Dagwanoenyent told him to put the bones together, and then to go to a big hickory tree near by and push against it, calling out, “Rise! you people, lest the tree fall on you.” Having put together the bones as directed, he pushed against the tree, at the same time calling, “Rise! lest the tree fall on you.” At once all came to life, whereupon the man-eater said, “I give up; I will never eat man again.” All went home together, and are said to be living in some parts of the Rocky Mountains now. Dagwanoenyent is living still.

MEDICAL NOTE

107. NOTES ON THE MEDICINE NIKAHNEGAAH [30] [402]

Solomon O’Bail, an aged Seneca, living on the Cattaraugus Reservation, in 1884 had about a tablespoonful of the Great Bird-medicine in the form of powder.

Only a minute portion of this medicine, mixed with water, was needed. In putting the small portion of the powder into the cup of water O’Bail sprinkled a little on the east side of the cup, another portion on the west side, and still another on the side nearest to the lips of the patient. If all the powder remained on the surface of the water instead of mixing with it, the indication was that the patient must die; but if the powder dissolved completely in the water, this was taken as a sign that the patient would live. When the powder would not mix with the water the latter became of the consistency of sirup; but if it mixed, the water remained clear. When the medicine would not dissolve in the water the hochinagen [403] knew that there was no help for the patient and would not give the medicine to him; but in case the powder dissolved in the water, the solution was given to the sick man to drink.

About 20 men on the Cattaraugus Reservation still had, in 1884, a small portion of this medicine. This medicine is the same as that which the birds made when they brought Bloody Hand to life. It is so powerful in orenda, or magic potency, that when it was given to the sick by the hochinagen the patient was forbidden to eat anything that was colored; he could eat, however, pure white beans and pure white cob corn. If anything black or in any manner colored was eaten, the taboo was broken, and the man or woman would die, as the medicine’s virtue was thus destroyed.

If another man came into the patient’s presence after having stopped to see a corpse on the way, and looked at the patient, the sick person would immediately grow worse and would die shortly thereafter. For this reason it was customary to hang up a skin or a blanket so that the patient should not by any chance see such a person.

It is said that medicine similar to this ancient bird medicine could be made, but no one knows how to make corn grow without seed corn.

When this Nikahnegaah was taken, the smell of burning or broiling meat had a bad effect on its virtues. During her catamenial periods a woman was not permitted to look at a person who had taken this medicine; if she did so he would surely die. Hence it was a standing rule that a patient who had taken this medicine should not be seen by any one for four days except the person who was caring for him.

When a person who was ill desired to try this medicine, he or some friend was required to give a handful of native tobacco and some other small present to the person who had the medicine. The hochinagen could do what he pleased with the presents. The hochinagen would cast into the fire a piece of the tobacco, at the same time saying to the medicine, which he then held in his hand, “Take a smell of this tobacco, for I am about to make use of you.” Then he would visit the sick man, and taking a small vessel he would go to a running stream, and after making an offering of tobacco to it in the name of the patient, he would dip up the water with the current, not against it. He took what water he could dip up in this manner.

If the sick man was not very ill, this one dose would cure him; but if he was very ill other hochinagen who have this same kind of medicine must come to assist in the cure. They must cook a kettle of white beans for themselves and the singers who come to sing that night; they would also give strength to the medicine by the burning of tobacco as directed by the birds.

The first sentence of the song is “Now, this is the medicine to be taken.” When the medicine is swallowed the words are, “Now, let it begin to work over all his body.”

If the patient recovered his health he must celebrate the event by preparing a feast, the chief dish of which must be a great kettle of hulled corn seasoned with meat or venison cut into small pieces.

The hochinagen who gave him the medicine must come to sing and dance in honor of the medicine through whose aid they were enabled to cure the patient. Some of the sentences employed in the songs are: “The spirits have come and they have cured the ill person”; “We now dismiss them with thanksgiving”; and then they sing the songs employed when preparing the medicine, of which some of the sentences are: “I have been to the place of the plant”; “I have been to the mountain”; “I have been at the falls”; “I have been beyond the clouds”; etc. After recess they use: “Now we have assembled where the tobacco is”; “Now they meet together, say the ducks”; “Now the deer with two prongs say, ‘We have assembled,’” and similar lines. Only hochinagen may sing at this feast.

SENECA FICTION, LEGENDS, AND MYTHS

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