PART 2
Seneca material collected by J. N. B. HEWITT in native text, in 1896, on Cattaraugus Reservation, New York, and translated by him, with two texts with interlinear translations.
SENECA FICTION, LEGENDS, AND MYTHS
108. THE LEGEND OF HAYANOWE (“HE-THE-FLEET-FOOTED”)
Once there dwelt together in a lodge in a village two brothers. The time of the story is autumn.
It so happened that the elder brother said to the younger, “Now, let us go to the forest to hunt deer.” The younger answered, “So be it. We will take our blowguns.” But the elder said: “As for me, I will not take a blowgun. I will make use of a tomahawk and a knife, for the reason that I am very fleet-footed.” The younger brother rejoined, “Let it be so. I am satisfied with what you suggest,” adding, “Come, now! let us start for the forest.”
So they started for their destination in a distant forest. They encamped on the way three nights before they reached the rendezvous where they knew game animals abounded. Then they erected at once a temporary shelter for their camp.
In the morning the elder said, “Now, early in the day we must go out to do our hunting.” But the younger brother replied, “You must follow me around in the forest, and then you will see how fleet I am on the course.” Then the two started out from their camp to hunt. Carrying only a tomahawk and a hunting knife, the younger brother took the lead, while the elder brother followed him, as requested. Just before starting from their lodge the younger brother said to the elder: “Do not take a blowgun with you, for just as soon as I kill anything you must bring it back to our camp.”
Having gone into the forest some distance, they finally saw a large herd of deer, which at once fled from them, whereupon, then, the younger brother said: “Whenever I kill one I will call out in a loud voice, ʻam, ʻam.” So saying, with loud shouts he pursued the deer into the forest, and by the time the sun marked midday he had overtaken and killed six deer, on account of his great fleetness of foot. Then the two brothers rested from hunting for the day.
When they had retired to their camp, the elder, addressing his younger brother, said, “Do not ever say that you are fleet of foot, because that quality is an essential of your character.” But the hot-headed younger brother answered, “I am fleet-footed, anyway.” At this the elder brother scolded him, saying, “Do not ever say that again, because something sinister will happen to us owing to that.” But the younger, heedless of the advice, rejoined: “Let it be so then. I shall match myself, however, with anything, be it an animal or a human being; it matters not what it may be.”
When night came they lay down to sleep. In the morning, after their morning meal, the two again went forth to hunt. After a long tramp they reached a place in which they saw many deer. At once the younger brother began to shout loudly in order to frighten the deer, so that they would run away from him, and he would have the opportunity of overtaking them. Hearing his outcries, the deer fled from him, and the youth pursued them. By midday he had overtaken and killed six deer.
As he was returning to his camp, he was surprised to hear the voice of a man speaking to him, saying, “Verily, is it not you who are fleet of foot and swift on the course?” Looking around, the now frightened youth saw at one side an opening—a roadway, as it were, through the forest—and standing in this roadway at some distance he saw a man, or what he took to be a man, gazing at him. Boastingly the youth replied, “It is certainly true that I am fleet-footed.” Then the strange man, or what the youth took to be a man, said: “I will run a race with you. You keep saying at all times and places that there is no one able to outfoot you, so let us make an agreement to run a race with certain conditions tomorrow. At midday we shall meet here in this place; right here. And we will agree to wager our lives on the issue of the race. One of the conditions of the race must be that I shall follow you for two days. When we start let us be as far apart as we are now—the distance from the spot where you are standing to this place where I stand. You shall choose the direction that we shall take in the race, whether we shall camp for the night, or not. When you decide that we shall camp for the night, you must say, ‘We will camp for the night’; and where you stop you shall make a mark from which you shall start in the morning, and then you can go aside to camp for the night. And there you may kindle a fire and prepare any food that you may have with you (said sneeringly).”
Then the youth who was swift of foot answered: “I agree to your proposition, and if at the end of two days you do not overtake me, then I shall pursue you.”
Then the strange man rejoined, “We have now come to an agreement on this matter, and you must tell your elder brother of it.” The fleet-footed youth replied, “Let it be so; I will tell it to my elder brother.” Thereupon the strange man admonished the youth, saying, “You must not fail in the least to be here just at midday tomorrow, and we shall stand here again.” Then the youth, answering, said, “So let it be,” and he started for the place where stood the temporary camp of his elder brother and himself.
When he arrived there he found his brother at home. As soon as his elder brother looked at him he said, “You look very dejected; possibly you are ill.” The younger brother said: “I am not at all ill. Perhaps the reason why I am looking as I do is that I saw a strange man, who said to me, ‘Are you the person who keeps on saying “I am swift of foot?”’ I replied that I am the person. Thereupon the stranger said, ‘I will run you a race just to test your words. So tomorrow when the sun will be at midday here in this very place you and I must again stand, and from this place you and I must start.’ Moreover, he told me that I must inform you, my elder brother. So I have now informed you.” And he continued to sit with his head bowed as if in deep trouble.
Then the elder brother said: “Oh! my younger brother, you and I are brothers, and we are about to die because of your doing that which I have frequently forbidden you doing, namely, your continually saying, ‘I am fleet-footed.’ I kept saying to you that your talking thus would bring us misfortune. Now that form of talking has this day severed our minds one from the other.” Thereupon the elder brother began to shed tears of bitter grief, saying between paroxysms of weeping: “Perhaps that thing with which you have made an agreement to run a foot race with your life as a wager is not at all a human being. Verily, no one knows of what abominable species of monsters it comes.”
Seemingly undismayed, the younger brother replied, “Oh! my elder brother, now you must make me two pairs of moccasins, and I shall take with me also two ears of parched corn, which I shall place in my bosom.” So the elder brother sat up the entire night to make the two pairs of moccasins which his younger brother required in his race on the morrow.
In the morning the two brothers conversed together. The elder said: “When you start away I shall go to notify our friends in their encampment; for perhaps the person with whom you are to run a foot race is not a human being. Perhaps, too, you are about to die, so you and I may be now talking together for the last time.” Then they parted there.
The younger brother went to the place where he had agreed to be at midday for the beginning of the two days’ foot race. In due time he arrived at the spot, and he was surprised to see standing there the strange man who had challenged him to the race, and who now addressing him said, “Now, truly, you have arrived on time.” In reply Hayanowe (“He-the-Fleet-footed”) said, “I have arrived all right, and I am ready for the race.” To this the stranger answered, “Come, now, which way shall we go?” The youth then said, “So let it be. We will go toward the east—toward the sunrise.” The strange man replied, “Come on then. Get ready; and when you are ready you must say, ‘Come now; I am ready.’”
In a short time the youth said, “Come on now; I am ready.” Then the two started on a run. The youth Hayanowe struck a steady gait. When the sun was at the meridian, and again when it was midway between noon and sunset, the strange man urged his youthful competitor, saying, “Exert yourself, my friend.” These admonitions caused the youth some perturbations of spirit; he even feared for his life; so he put forth his topmost speed and ran swiftly until nearly sunset, when the standing trees gave out loud sounds, which seemed to come as the result of a force which struck them hard. Thereupon the youth heard the strange man shout to him, “Exert yourself, my friend; I will overtake you indeed.”
Then it became night, and the youth, remembering one of the provisions of his agreement with the stranger, although he somewhat doubted the stranger’s sincerity in making it, said in a loud voice, “Let us two camp for the night, as we have agreed to do.” The stranger replied, “So be it. Have you marked the end of your run for the day, too?” The youth answered, “I have marked it, indeed.” To this the stranger rejoined, “So be it. You may eat your food now, and so will I. You also must kindle a fire if you need it.” So the youth kindled a fire, and so the strange man did likewise. The youth could plainly see the fire of the stranger, for it was not far away at all, indicating that his opponent was close at his heels in the race. He then took out his parched corn and ate it, after warming it at the fire. Hayanowe was ill at ease, for he fully realized that he had unexpectedly met his match, perhaps more than his match. While he was eating his parched corn the strange man said to him, “In the morning, just as soon as you are ready to take up the race again, you must say aloud, ‘I have now taken my stand on the scratch.’” The youth, answering him, said, “Let it be as you say.” But he could not sleep during the entire night. He spent the time in devising some plan by which he might win the race from the unknown stranger, whether man or beast. He thought of many things, finally deciding that he would choose deep thickets as the course of the race, to see whether they would not retard the fleetness of his antagonist.
The next morning very early he made his usual preparations and then went to the scratch. Standing there, he shouted to his antagonist, “I am now ready.” The stranger answered, “So be it. And you must also say as you start, ‘Come now.’” The young man, giving the required verbal notice of his start, leaped forward with a bound, as did his antagonist and challenger.
The youth exerted himself to the utmost, indeed, running at his topmost speed. Finally he came to a dense thicket, which was large in extent, which he entered at once. Stopping for a moment, he listened intently for sounds made by his pursuer. It was not long before he heard the sounds in the distance made by the stranger as he, too, entered the thicket. The crackling of sticks and boughs sounded to him as if the object pursuing him possessed great weight and strength.
In resuming his race for life, the youth said in his mind: “So now it is again my turn to flee. I shall go back to the place where abide my kinsfolk and my elder brother.” He then changed his course from the east to the southwest. Running at top speed, he came to a mountain, which he ascended and passed over. Then, not knowing whether his challenger was still on his track, he listened for any sounds which might indicate that he was being pursued. He had not been standing there long when he heard the voice of his pursuer in the distance say, “Exert yourself, my friend.” Again the youth put forth all his power, running as swiftly as it was possible for him to do. He was directing his course for the place where abode his kinsfolk and his elder brother, for he had repassed their temporary camp in the forest, but his brother had already fled. So he kept on thinking, “He has gone back to the place where dwell my kinsfolk.” Having arrived there, he found that they, too, had left their settlement, because his dear elder brother had informed them of the conditions of the foot race, whereupon they decided at once that their kinsman’s antagonist was not a human being. They had fled because the elder brother had said: “We shall all die if we remain here. I really do not know what kind of a being it is that has challenged my younger brother to this foot race. Come, then, let us flee from here.”
The youth, surmising where they had gone in their distress, followed a course which would take him to their asylum. While he was running he was greatly surprised to find a woman lying in his path. Stopping a moment, he asked, “What is the matter with you?” She replied, “I was ill when they decided to flee, so they built a cradle in which to bear me along with them. They bore me along in it. Finally I said, ‘Put me down here in this place, because I am ill in the manner of all women.’ [404] I will die here. Not having any women to bear me, I was left by them here. And you must beware for I am still ill in the manner of all women, and I am very, very ill thereby.”
The youth, answering, said, “So be it. Right here you and I are about to die. There is coming behind me an animal, and I do not know what it is or what it looks like. And I do not know whether we shall be aided by what I am about to suggest.” Then he came forward from the direction he had come and corpus ejus (mulieris) ille ita convertit ut pedes ad animal appropinquans spectarent; eoque tempore cruribus mulieris expansis omnibusque vestimentis ab ea sublatis corpus ejus sanguine mentruo opertum vidit. Then He-the-Fleet-footed said to her, “Now, you must remain perfectly quiet; do not move under any circumstances.” So saying, he concealed himself behind a large tree near by, behind which he awaited developments.
Looking back to the spot where the woman lay, he heard the sounds, Woqʹ, woqʹ, woqʹ, approaching nearer and nearer and resounding very loud. While looking back to see what was in pursuit of him, he saw at last an animal following his tracks on the run. It was very large, without a tail, and it had no hair on its body; there were only a few bristles, which stood along the center of its back.
It came up to the place where the woman lay and it stopped there [tum se gessit tamquam si aliquid insoliti odoraretur, cruoremque circa corpus mulieris concretum intuitum est. Jam brevi tempore corpus animalis tamquam frigore tremuit, iterumque sanguinem odorans]; its body again quivered violently, and the great creature became nauseated. It vomited a great quantity of blood, and in a short time fell over dead, and its feet resounded on the ground.
The youth, who watched these things from his position behind the great tree, now went to the place where the animal lay; when he placed his foot on the body the entire carcass moved to and fro, showing that the beast was dead. Then the boy removed the woman to a spot some distance from the place where she first lay, saying to her for her comfort, “Lie here a while. I will pursue our kinsfolk to learn whither they have gone.” Thereupon he started on the trail with great fleetness of foot. He had not followed the trail very far when he overtook them; they were in large number, and among them was his elder brother. Coming up to them, he said, “You must all turn back to see what kind of an animal it was against which I ran the foot race.”
So all the people turned back, going directly to the place where they had left the woman who was ill. When they reached the spot the ancients held a council and, after carefully examining the animal, said, “This is what is called Yăʼgwaiʻhē.[405] It is this thing which you overcame in the foot race, the conditions of which have now been fulfilled. You two wagered your heads on the issue of the trial of speed. So, then, we will now kindle a huge fire. Let each one bring a piece of dry fuel.” So, going out into the neighboring forest, each brought back a piece of dry wood; with this wood they kindled a great fire. As soon as the fire had become very large they cast into it the body of this animal, and then they threw dry wood on the top of the body, causing the fire to burn fiercely. When the fire died down only a few charred bones were left of the huge animal. Then the eldest man of the assembly said: “Let each one take a portion of these bones and make of it a fetish (otcinăʻkĕⁿʼʹdăʼ) for hunting some kind of game animal, which he must name; this fetish will give him the power to kill easily the animal thus named.” So each of the assembly did as the hochinagen had directed. One would take up a fragment saying, “I will employ this for hunting the bear.” Another would say, “I will make use of this in hunting deer.” A third person, “I will employ this for hunting raccoons.” A fourth, “I will use this for hunting the otter.” A fifth, “I will use this for fishing for sturgeon.” A sixth person, “I will make use of this for trapping minks.” A seventh, “I will employ this for hunting the raven.” An eighth, “I will use this for hunting women (i.e., for winning the favors of the women).” Lastly, some vulgar, worthless persons would say that they would employ the bones for various filthy functions of the body.
Then placing on a pack-cradle for carrying wounded persons the woman who was ill, they started for their homes, where they arrived safe. This is the end of the story of Hayanowe.
109. OÑGWEʻ HAÑGESʹʻHÄʼ AND GAJIHSONDIS (SKIN-OF-MAN AND SPIKE-HITTER [406])
In former times an uncle and his nephew dwelt together in a lodge. The name of the old man was Oñgwe Hañgesha and that of his nephew Gajihsondis.
It was the custom of the uncle when he left to be absent some time to fasten his nephew securely in the lodge. He was also in the habit of giving to his nephew the foot of a bear, with these instructions: “You must remain in here quietly, and you must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot. Whenever you hit the foot you shall say aloud, ‘Gajihsondis,’ but if it so happen that you do not hit the foot, you shall not say that name. So you must keep at this business during the entire day, but whenever you become hungry you must eat food which you know is here ready for you to eat. Just as soon as you have finished your meal, then you must again begin to shoot at the bear’s foot; you must not stop in this task, but must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot without ceasing.”
So the little nephew did as his uncle had instructed him to do, and whenever he was fortunate enough to hit the bear’s foot he would exclaim loudly, “Wagajihsondis!”
At last the nephew began to wonder what his uncle ate, for he had never seen him eating anything. So Gajihsondis finally decided to watch the old man and to continue doing so during the approaching night, as the young boy had concluded that his uncle ate his meals at night. The boy mused to himself, saying, “Tonight I will watch my uncle during the whole time.”
So in the evening, when Gajihsondis lay down for the night, he wrapped himself up in an old piece of skin; he lay on one side of the fire and his uncle on the other. There was a rent in the skin covering of Gajihsondis, probably a hole which he had made in it for the occasion, and through this he peered as he watched his uncle. This hole in the skin was very, very small. The boy did not sleep, but kept a watch on his uncle to learn on what the latter fed to sustain life, for they two had never taken a meal together.
At midnight, possibly a little past that time, the small boy, who was on the watch, was surprised to see his uncle blow with great force on the fire in the fireplace.[407] At once sparks shot up from the fire, some of which fell on the boy as he lay there. But the little hero kept quite still, although his uncle, in order to see whether the boy was awake, said, “Gwēʹʻ, my nephew, you will burn; look out!” But still the boy kept still. Then, after the lapse of a long time, the uncle arose and while watching the seemingly sleeping boy, drew from beneath his couch a bark case, such as was in use in the early times. He took therefrom a small kettle and from the kettle something which the watching boy did not recognize. The old man hung the kettle over the fire, and then he again blew on the fire and the flames began to burn briskly; and he kept on blowing the fire until it had become hot enough to cook a meal. He had placed water in the kettle when he set it over the fire—just the right amount for his purpose. Then the old man began to scrape some object and permitted the scrapings to fall into the kettle. The old man was acting just as one would have acted while making chestnut mush. All the time he was being watched by his nephew, who was called “Gajihsondis.”
When the mush was cooked the old man removed the kettle from the fire and set it aside, and then he took out what he had cooked in a bark dish and began to eat. When he had finished his meal, he blew on the kettle and it began at once to grow small in size; then, blowing on it a second time, the kettle became as small as it was at first, which was very, very small. When it had returned to its normal size the old man wrapped it up in something which the watching nephew did not recognize, but before doing so he placed in the kettle the something out of which he had made the mush which he had just eaten. Then he again drew out the bark case from beneath his couch and replaced therein the kettle and its contents. Having done this, he pushed the case back into its hiding place. Thereupon the old man lay down again. His nephew had observed him carefully in all that he had done—this for the first time since they two had lived together, and while the boy was growing up.
The morning after this episode the old man made his usual preparations for going out to hunt, and said to his nephew, “You must eat whenever you get hungry.” He repeated this saying often.
Then the boy began to sport, as he had been instructed to do by his uncle. Wherever he threw the bear’s foot he would attempt to hit it by shooting at it. Throwing it here, he would shoot at it, and throwing it there, he would shoot at it. When he hit it he would exclaim loudly “Gajihsondis,” as he had been told to do.
When it was the usual time for the uncle to return from his hunting trip, the boy would say to himself, “My uncle will soon be back now.” So one day the youth said, “I believe I will prepare food for my uncle against the time of his return.” Going at once to his uncle’s couch, he drew from under it the bark case and took therefrom the kettle, which was very small in size, and also an insignificant looking object contained in the latter, which his uncle had scraped down to about one-half its original size.
Next the lad blew on the kettle to increase its size, as he had seen his uncle do, and after it had become sufficiently large he put water into it and set it over the fire, musing to himself, “So be it. I will now prepare food for my uncle, for he soon will return very hungry.” The lad now blew on the kettle the second time, whereupon it increased slightly only in size; so he continued to blow on it until finally it was large enough to suit him, when he said, “It is now large enough.”
Then he began to scrape into the kettle from the small object, but soon he exclaimed, “Oh, pshaw! it is not enough. I will scrape it all into the kettle.” Having done this he said, “Perhaps this food is abundant in the place whence he obtains it, so I have used it all.” As he began to stir it briskly, using a paddle for the purpose, the mush commenced to boil with great violence. At last, realizing that the mush was rapidly increasing in quantity in the kettle, the boy merely kept on stirring it. As soon as he began to blow on it to cool it, the mush increased still more rapidly in bulk. While he continued to stir and blow on the mush, it began to overflow and to fill the room around the fire. Still he kept on as before (not realizing the effect of his blowing), until at last he had to run over the couches at the side of the room in his anxiety to stir the mush, for he was now thoroughly frightened at what he had done. As he again blew on the mush flowing from the kettle it still continued to increase in quantity until finally he was driven from the room by the great mass, and had to climb upon the roof of the lodge. Here he ran around while he vigorously stirred the mush, which, with the kettle, entirely filled the lodge.
Suddenly he noticed his uncle approaching in great haste, anxiously looking up at the lodge, for he saw his nephew Gajihsondis running around on the roof. When the uncle reached the doorway, which, as was the custom in those times, was closed by two pieces of bark, he found these ajar, for the inside of the lodge was, as already said, filled with the mush and kettle. The uncle began to blow on the mush, whereupon it at once diminished in quantity, and after he had blown on it many times it was reduced to small bulk.
The nephew still stood on the roof of the lodge, greatly frightened. The uncle said to him, “Come, now, Gajihsondis, get down from there.” At this the nephew descended from the roof and reentered the lodge. Thereupon his uncle said, “Now you have killed me. I did not think that you would do this, although fear that you might is the reason why I never permitted you to see me prepare my food, because you have no sense.” Then covering himself with a skin robe, he lay down, adding: “So I shall die here. I do not know that there is anything left for me to eat. Hunger will kill me, and you have brought this about by your acts.” Having said this he covered himself up completely.
Thereupon the boy arose and standing beside the couch of his uncle, said beseechingly, “Oh, my uncle! my mother’s brother, only have pity on me. But tell me where the place is in which abounds that on which you live?” The old uncle replied commiseratingly: “It is no use for me to tell you. You are not able to go to obtain it, on account of the great difficulties along the path; there are all manner of discouraging perils along the way, for all manner of demoniac creatures lay in ambush along the path.[408] And so for these reasons I think you are unable to undertake the task of trying to get me more of my food.” The boy simply asked, “What is the name of the substance you eat?” “It is called Chestnut. Far from here it is planted by personages, beastlike in appearance, which are full of evil magic power or otkon in their
## actions.” “Oh, mother’s brother! it is needful for you to tell me the
direction that the path takes going to that place,” said the lad. The uncle answered, “It is impossible for you to do anything in that direction; you are powerless. You can not make the attempt and live.” Then after some reflection he added, “The path leads directly west from here.” To this the boy Gajihsondis answered: “I will make the attempt. I will start, and I will get this thing called Chestnut that you are in the habit of eating. So now I go. I have fastened together two limbs. You must look at these from time to time. Whenever they break apart, you will know that I have had ill luck away from here; that probably I shall be killed by them. So only keep a watch on this thing, and if it chance that they do not break apart, you may expect me to return after the lapse of some time, bringing chestnuts.” So saying, the boy started on his journey.
After going some distance he found a very narrow path which led directly westward, and remarked, “This is perhaps the path indicated by my uncle.” Finally he started to run, when all at once he heard sounds seemingly made by a rattle. Keeping on, at last he came to the place whence the sounds proceeded. There he found two huge rattlesnakes, one on each side of the path, blocking it in such manner that he could not pass. Going aside, he killed a large number of chipmunks, which he bound into two equal bundles. Returning to the place where the two rattlesnakes were on guard, he said to them, “You two seem to be in need of food, and so I think that you two would like to eat these things.” With these words he threw a bundle of chipmunks to each of the rattlesnakes, which they ate.
After the two rattlesnakes had devoured the chipmunks the boy said to them in a commanding tone: “You two must withdraw from this place, for, you know, you are slaves, indeed; you must go from place to place to hunt for your food, for this is always pleasant; and He who gave faculties to our bodies did not intend that anyone should be held in bondage.” Thereupon the two rattlesnakes withdrew and went aside from that place; thus were they freed from their bondage to sorcerers.
Then the boy left on a very swift run, carrying only his bow and arrows. Again, after having gone a long distance, he heard sounds in the distance. Having reached the place whence came the sounds, he was surprised to find there a great bear just beside the path, and, looking on the other side of the path, he saw another of equal size and ferocity; they were in ambush and barred the passage of the path. The noises that he had heard were made by the tusks of these animals, which projected far from their jaws and could be heard at a long distance, thus—dūʼ, dūʼ, dūʼ, dūʼ.
Then the boy, taking his bow and arrows, went aside to hunt. He killed two fawns, one of which he threw to the one bear, and the other to the other bear, in order to occupy their minds and mouths. He said to these guarding beasts: “It is too bad that you two are barring the way. One might think you would be glad to eat this food which I now offer you.” The bears ate what had been given to them and were quiet for the time being. The youth then gave them this command: “You must withdraw from this place; what you are now eating is abundant, as is well known; and you must eat this kind of food regularly hereafter. You shall be free to go and come as you choose, for He who made our lives did not intend that you should be enslaved by sorcerers and confined to one place.” The two bears at once fled from the spot, one going in one direction and the other in another.
Then the boy went on his way. He had not gone very far when he heard other sounds—dūmʻ, dūmʻ, dūmʻ. He soon came to the place where the sounds were made, and he was indeed frightened, for then the sounds were fearful in volume and rapidity. He was astonished to see two great firedragons in ambush, guarding the pathway. Thereupon the boy said, “So let it be; I will make the attempt.” Running aside, he killed a large deer, and having dragged the body back to the place where the two firedragons were, he divided it into two portions. Then saying, “You two are guarding this pathway, and one would think that you might eat what I am offering you.” He threw a piece to each of them. They were pleased to get this food, which they ate ravenously; after doing this they were quiet for the time being. Then the boy again spoke, saying, “You two beings must withdraw from this place. This is food good to eat; it is called deer meat. You now go to some other place. You are indeed slaves, are you not? But He who completed our lives did not intend that anyone should be a slave to a sorcerer.” He ceased speaking, and the two firedragons fled from the spot, as they had obtained their liberty.
Now the boy passed on. After having run a long way from his home, he suddenly saw in the distance openings in the forest, which seemed to indicate that there might be people dwelling in those places. So he went along slowly and craftily, concealing himself as much as possible; he arrived at the edge of the clearing, where he stood for a while. He looked around to learn, if possible, what other antagonists he had to meet. Suddenly he saw hanging up not far away the skin of a dead woman watching the pathway. This woman’s skin [409] was guarding the trees of chestnuts which grew in the clearing into which the boy had come. In performing this duty the skin kept saying, “I espy (out-eye) you. You who are a human being, I suppose.” But the boy kept very still, standing at the edge of the clearing. He saw in the distance a lodge that stood on the farther side of the clearing, and he saw women going in and coming out of it. Most of these were maidens. On looking around the boy saw the chestnut trees that grew there, and he noticed that they bore many burs. He realized at once that within these burs were the chestnuts. And as he watched he saw some of the chestnuts fall from the trees.
But while he was thus engrossed he was surprised to hear the woman’s skin begin to sing, Giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu, giʹ-nu; “I espy a human being,” and then out of the lodge in the distance the boy saw three women and their mother emerge. The mother, addressing her daughters, exclaimed, “Exert yourselves, my children! I suppose, now, that some one has come to rob us of our chestnuts.” The skirts of these women reached to a point just above their knees, and they carried war clubs. They ran toward the place where hung the woman’s skin, which was guarding their chestnut trees. When they arrived there they found no human being. Thereupon the old woman angrily said, “Indeed, you have told a falsehood,” and struck the hanging skin with her war club, and each of her daughters, running up, did likewise. Then all the women went back to their lodge, and the boy said to himself, “How may I deceive this woman on the watch?” At last he hit upon a scheme which he thought would accomplish his purpose. Stripping off a piece of basswood bark as wide as his person, he removed the outside rough portion of suitable length. Spreading this out on the ground, he drew thereon with a piece of charcoal the outlines of many kinds of animals, all true to nature. He then filled the outlines with the animals he had drawn—the bear, the deer, the wolf, the fox, and the raccoon; in fact, with the forms of all the animals.
Then the youth returned to the edge of the clearing, where he again took his stand. He found the skin of the dead woman still hanging there, watching, looking this way and that, to detect, if possible, the approach of any stranger. In full readiness to execute his design, he finally started toward the skin, and, running swiftly, reached the spot before she was aware of his approach. Seizing it at once, the skin ceased swinging. Thereupon the boy said to it: “Do not report my taking this pile of chestnuts away with me. I will pay you for this favor; indeed, I will pay you a very high price; it is of the value of a man’s life. I will pay you with what is called a wampum belt, which is made of wampum beads.” Saying this, he gave her what he had made, and she accepted it. She opened her eyes wide in looking at it, exclaiming, “Oh! it is beautiful,” for it looked fine to her, and she laughed with delight. Then she said, “So be it; I will not give the alarm.” Answering, “Do not give the alarm,” he proceeded to take a bark case of chestnuts which had been left there temporarily. Placing this on his back by means of a forehead strap, he departed at once. He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard the voice of the hanging skin of the woman singing, “Giʹ-nuʻ, giʹ-nuʻ, giʹ-nuʻ; one has closed my mouth with a belt of wampum. Giʹ-nuʻ; at the edge of the clearing goes the pack of chestnuts.”
On hearing this, the old woman, the mother of the three women in the distant lodge, said urgently, “Take courage! Bestir yourselves, my children! I suppose some one has now robbed us of our chestnuts.” In a moment they rushed out of the lodge and ran toward the place where the woman’s skin hung swinging to and fro, singing the notes of alarm. They soon arrived there, and, lo! the skin swung to and fro, gazing intently at a wampum belt, and saying, “It is of the value of a human life, and by it one closed my mouth.” The women rushed up, and their mother snatched the so-called belt from her hands, exclaiming: “This is not a wampum belt; it is a piece of bark, and still you say it is a belt of wampum. You, indeed, have no sense.” And throwing the piece of bark away she struck the skin of the woman a cruel blow with her war club. Continuing her rebuke, she said, “It is too true that you have no sense. It is entirely your fault that one has robbed us of our chestnuts.” Then the woman, looking far away in the distance, saw the pack, consisting of the case of chestnuts, disappearing in the forest beyond the edge of the clearing. Then the old woman said: “Come! Let us pursue him. It is distressing to think that he has robbed us. On the other hand, it seems that he is a person who has more orenda (magic power) than his uncle Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ (“Human Skin”), this Gajihsondis. So, therefore, let us pursue him and kill him with blows of our war clubs. If, perchance, we may be able to overtake him, we will surely kill him.”
It so happened that Gajihsondis heard the footsteps of the women as they drew near in pursuit of him, and without further ado, he took his pack from his back and laid it down, and seated himself beside it.
When the women came close to him on the run, he struck the case of chestnuts with his arrow, saying: “It seems that I should sing you a song so that you may dance, because you come in so great anger. It is fine, indeed. The song that I will sing is pleasant to hear. So, now, you must dance.”
Then he sang: “One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not rob me of my song (the orenda of my song).” He kept on singing this song; and the women, the mother and her daughters, danced without ceasing as they circled around the spot where he was seated; and the mother kept on saying, “Exert yourselves my children; this is a very fine song.” But Gajihsondis kept on singing, “On the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, one shall not return thence”; and the women kept on rising in the air. Before long they had ascended half the height of the tallest trees, and they still danced on. Then Gajihsondis suddenly ceased his singing, and taking up his pack and slinging it on his back by the forehead strap, started on homeward leisurely. He had not gone very far when suddenly he saw the body of a woman falling, followed in quick succession by the bodies of three other women, all falling, head foremost, to the earth.
Then the young man started for home, but he stopped along the way to rest at times. Without further adventure he reached his uncle’s lodge, bearing the bark case full of chestnuts. On reaching the lodge he called out, “Oh, my uncle! Are you still living?” The old man, who was indeed feeble, replied: “Alas, my nephew, it can still be said I am yet alive, my nephew—you who are called Gajihsondis.” His nephew answered: “I have now returned, and I bring with me what I sought to obtain; I have a large quantity. So now you can eat again, and now I will prepare mush of chestnuts for you, and you will again become satisfied with a sufficiency of food, and will recover your health.” So saying, the young man set to work making a very large quantity of the mush for his poor old uncle. When it was cooked, he removed the kettle containing it from the fire and poured the mush on a piece of bark. Then he went to the side of his uncle, and raising him up and urging him to be of good cheer, fed him the mush, although his uncle could hardly move. The old man ate the mush, for he was nearly famished; his privations had reduced his body to a mere skeleton—just skin and bones. He ate a large quantity before he had enough. He did indeed recover his strength and health.
Later the old man said to his nephew: “My nephew, I am very thankful indeed that you were able to accomplish this great task. The only thing I did was to watch the branch, which was the index of your state and situation. I could only think that you were still alive. I now again thank you for being able to accomplish this great task. On my part, I am much delighted with our fortune.
“Now I am going to ask you by what unheard-of means did you accomplish this great task.” The young man answered: “I, of course, know, but I will tell you only this: That I have destroyed all those women, possessed of great orenda and moved by evil purposes.” The uncle said, “So be it. What a wonderful thing this is. You and I will return to that place.” To this the youth replied: “So let it be,” and then, after making their usual preparations, they departed. They stopped along the route and finally reached the spot where the women dwelt who had planted chestnut trees. The only one who was alive was the skin of the woman which was hung up to swing to and fro and to watch and to give the alarm should any person make his appearance.
When they arrived at the empty lodge of the women they unfastened and uncovered the bark cases containing chestnuts, which the women had stored and guarded from all mankind. Taking up a handful of the chestnuts, the old man exclaimed in a loud voice: “All people shall eat this food. Never shall it again be the possession of a single family, but it shall be for all human beings”; and they scattered the chestnuts in all directions by handfuls. When they had completed their task they went to the place where the skin of the woman was swinging to and fro. Arriving there, they took down the skin, and the old man said to her: “You shall go together with us to our home. You will recover, indeed, from that awful thing which the women had done to you, and you shall be restored to the likeness of a living human being.” So saying, he proceeded to rub her entire body with his hands reenforced by his great orenda (magic power). She soon was restored to her normal figure and condition, and she again had the appearance of a human being.
Then the old man, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ, said to her and his nephew, “Come now, let us start for home”; and after making suitable preparations, they departed. They stopped to camp many places on the way, but in due time they arrived at their home, whereupon the old man said to his nephew: “We have now returned to our home. You have now also grown to manhood, and it is a custom that when one attains to manhood, he marries. Marriage must take place in your case now. You must start on a 10-days’ journey. There are on the way 10 camping places with fireplaces, which are visible. That is the distance which you must go. To reach this place you must go eastward, and there you will find a valley. You must go along the path leading thither. You must summon all your courage and resolution in undertaking this journey, for along this path there are found all manner of difficulties and dangers. Along this path you will find one who is called Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ (the Abuseful Trickster), who continually haunts this pathway. Come, now! I will dress you for the occasion.” So he anointed him abundantly with sunflower oil over his entire body. He said to him: “You must take along with you this pouch of human skin, in which there is a smoking pipe which was the skull of a human being; and for a lighter there are a flint and a piece of tinder, or punk; and also an awl and a knife. These are the things this pouch contains, and with these you will provide for your needs on the way. You must now start. The trees along the way have been blazed, and you will find the camping places, although it is not certain that they are still easily discovered. But you must find them, and there you must spend the night. This you must do for 10 nights, and then your pathway will lead you to the valley. There you shall find assembled a large concourse of people, and you shall see there also the home of a woman who has a tall tree, on the top of which are perched mysterious Hawks (?), three in number, which are her servants and which obey her thaumaturgic commands; but these are three of her daughters. He who will hit one of these mysterious birds shall be privileged to marry her youngest daughter, who is a “down-fended” [410] virgin; that is to say, a noble virgin. So the fortunate one shall marry her. And so you shall go thither. It is known that in the days that have gone by no one has hit one of these mysterious birds, although those who shoot at them daily are very numerous. You it is who will be able to hit the bird. Come, then, now depart. But perhaps it might be better that another day should break on us together; that you and I should again eat together, for we know that it is very doubtful whether you shall return in health and peace. All manner of difficulties and dangers fill the way which you must follow.
“If it be so that you become a son-in-law, then you must say to your mother-in-law, ‘I shall now smoke my pipe.’ And when you have lighted your pipe you shall inhale the smoke twice, and your mother-in-law must spread a buckskin on the ground. Then you shall inhale the smoke only twice and shall expectorate wampum beads thereon. Together in one place you and I shall eat again and also sleep again.”
So they spent the night in the lodge together, and in the morning they ate together. When they had finished their meal the young man said: “I am all ready now. Oh, uncle! I start now. Put forth, therefore, your orenda (magic power = hope, in modern usage) that in peace and health you and I may see each other again.” The old uncle answered, “So let it be as you have said.” The young man replied, “Indeed, you did say that there are 10 camping sites indicated by signs of fireplaces on the way, and that it is 10 days’ journey.” So saying, he started on his journey.
After leaving the lodge the young man ran very swiftly. He had not gone very far, as he judged, when he was surprised to see the ashes and the dead coals of a former fire—the signs of a camping place. At this he exclaimed, “Ah! he did not say that some of the camping places were quite near.” He stopped and thought seriously for some moments, finally deciding to return to the lodge for further information from his old uncle. So he ran homeward, going to the place where lived his uncle, his mother’s brother. On arriving there the uncle said to him, “Well, what has happened to you?” The young man answered, “I have come to ask you again about my journey. You did not say that one of the camping places was near by.” The old uncle exclaimed, “Wuʻʹ! Did you go as far as that?” “I went as far as that,” replied the young man. The uncle answered, “Ho, you are indeed quite immune to the spells of sorcery. These camping places are all like this one along the way.” The young man replied, “So be it. I will stop there again. It does not matter, does it, that you and I see daylight together?” The old man was much discouraged. Daylight came upon them, and they ate their morning meal together. When they had finished eating, the old man, addressing his nephew, said, “You shall hereafter be called Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ. It shall be your custom when anyone asks you your name to say, Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ.” The young man answered, “So be it. I now start,” and he left the lodge of his uncle.
The youth came to the place marked for the first camping place, but he passed it and kept on, and thus he did with all the others, until he arrived at the tenth camping place, although the sun was low in the west when he had reached the first one. At the tenth camping place he saw that the forest edges were wreathed in long films of dew clouds, and he stopped there for the night. Quickly arising in the morning, he was startled to hear the voices of a number of men, who were laughing as they went eastward, and who passed by on the path.
The young man got ready and went on. When he reached the pathway he saw that all the tracks indicated that these persons were going eastward. He continued his journey along the path in the same direction. Suddenly he saw ahead of him a man, who was very old in appearance and very, very small in size. Just before overtaking him the young man decided that this must be Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ, who was in tatters. When the young man came up with him, the small man exclaimed; “Oh, my nephew! you have overtaken me, so now you and I will go on together. For all are going in pairs. All those who are going to the place where the Hawks (?), perched on the woman’s tree, forthtell for her. I shall follow you, as you can go so much faster than I.” Then Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ answered: “It is impossible for me to agree to that proposition. You yourself take the lead, because I am fleeter than are you.” The only reply the old man made was, Wuʻʹ, and then they two went on with the old man in the lead. All at once he began to run. Hohoʻʹ, he ran on ahead. He kept on for a long distance, and then suddenly he turned aside into the forest. In a short time he began calling, “Hō! come hither, my nephew. I have treed a fisher here, and you must get its skin for me. Come, come!” he kept on saying; “you must shoot it, too, and this is a good place to stand when you are about to shoot at it. Come on, come on!” he kept on saying. Finally, the young man said, “I will shoot it.” Then he went thither and shot at it, striking it fairly through the heart, and with the arrow still sticking into it the fisher fell dead to the ground. The old man exclaimed, “Come on! Come this way. I forbear touching your arrow.” Then Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said, “My arrow has lost its orenda (magic power).” Overhearing this remark, the old man said, “Wuʻʹ. One would think perhaps that he is a sorcerer,” and he then drew out the arrow from the dead fisher, and carried it to his companion, saying, “I am free from (magical) taint, you know, and so I can not de-magic-ize [411] your arrow. Here, take it!”
The young man took the arrow again and they went on to the spot where they would encamp for the night. When they arrived at the place the sun was low in the west. The old man said to his nephew, in order to remove any apprehensions from his mind as to his own good intentions, “I will now skin the fisher and prepare its skin.” At this time they heard in the distance the sounds of persons laughing. And, they say, these persons made their several camps there. Then Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ said, “Here let us, for our part, pitch our camp, because when among people I am much abused because I am quite old.” So Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ and his companion kindled a fire with fagots and soon had it burning briskly. Each took opposite sides of the fire and lay down to sleep for the night.
Some time during the night the crafty Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ sat up and blew the fire up in such manner that sparks and coals fell all over Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ as he lay asleep. But the latter arose suddenly and asked, “Why have you done this unreasonable thing?” The old man dissimulatingly replied, “Oh! that was probably caused by a gust of wind driving the sparks over your body.” Then they lay down again. Again, just before the break of day, the old man once more blew the fire on his seemingly sleeping companion. Thereupon the latter arose, and taking his bow and flint-pointed arrow, crossed over the fireplace to the place where his companion was lying. He was surprised to see him awake, looking at him. The old man deprecatingly said, “Oh, my nephew! you do not seem to know that you were nearly burned up, as the fire was falling on you; and you must not think that it was I who did this to you.” Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ was greatly astonished at what had happened and said to his companion, “If you do not refrain from what you are doing it is possible for me to destroy you.”
When it was nearly daylight sounds were heard in the camp ahead and the occupants started on their journey; then the two in turn started on their way. They had not gone very far when they heard sounds in the distance which told them that they had arrived at the place in which were congregated all the people who were shooting at the mark.
Sʻhodieʹoⁿskoⁿʼ and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ kept right on their way until they reached the spot. The nephew did not fear anything. Once on the ground they were quickly made aware that a tree stood there and that on its top sat a hawk (?) or hawks (?). There was a large number of people who were engaged in shooting at the prize, seemingly fastened to the top of the trees, which stood in the dooryard of the old woman who dwelt in this place; but all failed to hit the mark. A short distance from the place where the people were engaged in shooting at the mark there stood a lodge, in which the old woman, the mother of the family, walked to and fro, murmuring, “He who will hit that thing which is perched on the top of my tree shall marry my youngest daughter.” She kept on saying this as she went from place to place. Without cessation, day after day for many days the marksmen kept on shooting at the hawk (?) perched on the top of the old woman’s tree. Sometimes an arrow would fly very close to the bird, which would merely flap its wings; at this the assembly would give a loud shout of encouragement. At once the old woman would come forth on the run and would ask anxiously, “Who is it that hit the mark? Who is it that is my son-in-law?” But the people would reply, “It is not true that one has hit it. No one has done so.” Then she would return to her lodge somewhat disappointed.
Now the people began to say among themselves, “Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ has arrived, and he is immune (from the influence of hostile orenda).” Then he said to the assembly, “Now it is my turn to shoot. It is not certain what will take place when I shoot. You will see what happens.” He strung his bow, and all the people became quiet and attentive as they watched him. Assuming a suitable position and taking aim, the young man drew his arrow to the very point and then let it fly. Without a hitch, the arrow struck fairly in the center of the bird’s body, causing the bird to fall over on the opposite of the tree, whence, with wings feebly flapping, it fell to the ground. At this the assembly broke out in a loud shout of applause—so loud that one would think the sound struck the heavens. The old woman came up on the run, anxiously asking, “Who is he that has become my son-in-law?” All the people rushed forward to the place where lay the bird with the arrow still sticking in its body.
It so happened that one of the marksmen would run up and attempt to withdraw the arrow, but would fail,[412] and then another, and then another; but they all failed. Again Godwĕñniăʹʻdănĭʻ, coming up, said, “Who has become my son-in-law?” As the marksmen failed to withdraw the arrow, she continued, “He who shall be able to withdraw the arrow shall be my son-in-law.” Just then Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ came up, saying, “All stand back. This is my arrow.” The people drew back, and he walked up to the bird and, as he walked along, he drew out the arrow. Then the old woman said, “Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ has become my son-in-law,” and, taking him by the arm, she led him back to her lodge. Then the people dispersed in all directions. Then the old woman and her companion reached her lodge, in one side of which was a sort of apartment occupied by her daughter, who was born with a caul, and hence was regarded as of noble birth. The epithet applied to such maidens and young men is “down fended.” The old woman, leading the young man into this apartment, said to her daughter, “This man has become my son-in-law. He is called Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ, and he is immune from enchantment.”
The young man then took up his abode in his wife’s family. Hō! He remained there for a long time. Then he said, “I shall go on a hunt,” and Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ said to his three brothers-in-law, “Come with me to hunt.” Having accepted his invitation, they started on their hunting trip, but they had not gone very far when they were surprised by a small herd of deer, which fled from them. Then the young bridegroom said to his brothers-in-law, “Remain here, and I alone will pursue them from place to place.” In a short time he shot at one and hit it, and it fell. Then, following the remaining deer, he killed them one by one. Thereupon he stopped, and hailing his brothers-in-law, said to them, “Come hither, my brothers-in-law, and let us dress these deer.” So they went to him and took part in the skinning of the deer. When they had finished dressing the carcasses they began at once to pack the pelts and the venison into suitable bundles in such manner as was customary in the early time. When they were all ready they bore these bundles on their backs by means of the forehead strap—the usual and the most convenient method of carrying heavy burdens; and they started for their home with Oñgweʻ Hañgesʹʻhäʼ in the lead.
Having arrived at their lodge, they laid their packs of venison and pelts at the feet of their mother, who wept for the great joy she had in receiving so much venison, saying: “I am very thankful to my son-in-law for this bounty, and on my