Jeremiah Curtin

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 [342]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 [343]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 [344]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 larger308 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 [345]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 [346]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 [347]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.

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 [348]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 [349]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 [350]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. [351]

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 [352]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 pushed314 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 [353]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 eyes315 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 [354]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. [355]

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.

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 dance318 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 [356]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.

One day a man while out hunting met Hot?ho and said to him, “You can not make me freeze, no matter how cold you can make it.” Hot?ho 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. [357]

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 Hot?ho, 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 Hot?ho, the god of cold weather.

There lived in a lodge in the forest S?hagodiyoweqgowa and three brothers. In their larder they had an abundance of oil, venison, and bear’s meat. Of the brothers S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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.” [358]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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa, 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. S?hagodiyoweqgowa has volunteered to come to ask you tomorrow to be his wife.”

The next morning S?hagodiyoweqgowa, 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa struck him again Turtle increased in size as before and his bite grew more painful. But S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa until he had swallowed his entire body.

Two days later S?hagodiyoweqgowa came away, passing through Turtle’s bowels. Thereupon Turtle said to his sister: “In 10321 days S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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, S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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, [359]“S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa came along. As he walked over the fallen tree he stepped on Turtle without seeing him, whereupon Turtle promptly bit him again. At this S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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, S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa; 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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: “S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa as before, he went on in his flight.

At the expiration of 10 days S?hagodiyoweqgowa, 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: “S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 [360]she did as he said, and kept on her way. Once more, when S?hagodiyoweqgowa came along, Turtle, by means of his orenda, causing his adversary to pass within reach of his teeth, again seized him by the foot. S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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. S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa he continued his journey.

At the expiration of 10 days, when S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 [361]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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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, S?hagodiyoweqgowa. These four brothers are Whirlwinds.—Editor.]

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 [362]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 [363]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 [364]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 [365]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.

[Modern]

A number of Indians traveling northward from their village met a S?hagodiyoweqgowa, 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa. 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

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. [366]

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, [367]“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 [368]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 itself324 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 [369]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.

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. [370]

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 [371]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 [372]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.

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 [373]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 [374]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 [375]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 [376]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.

At Hetgen Tgastende329 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 [377]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) Ot?hegwenhda.

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. [378]

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 [379]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 Ot?hegwenhda, “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.”

Ot?hegwenhda, 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 Ot?hegwenhda 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 [380]out, ‘I, Ot?hegwenhda, 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 Ot?hegwenhda put back the fetish in his belt, he heard the old men talking. “It seems Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda 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. Ot?hegwenhda, leaping on the lodge, sat with his feet hanging through the smoke-hole. The old man looked everywhere but could not see him.

Ot?hegwenhda 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, Ot?hegwenhda went into the rock, whence he called out, “My name is Ot?hegwenhda.” 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, Ot?hegwenhda 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.

Ot?hegwenhda 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.

Ot?hegwenhda 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 [381]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, Ot?hegwenhda following closely until Djieien reached the lodge, which was slightly sunken into the ground. When the Djieien went into the lodge Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda, 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.” Ot?hegwenhda 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. Ot?hegwenhda 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.” Ot?hegwenhda did this, and his father became as well as ever, whereupon he said: “Now, I have become S?hodieonskon. I have heard old people say that when S?hodieonskon 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. [382]

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 Ot?hegwenhda 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, Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda 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 [383]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, Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda. “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.

Ot?hegwenhda, 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 [384]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.

Ot?hegwenhda 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 snakes334 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, Ot?hegwenhda 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. [385]“No,” said Ot?hegwenhda, “I will try your orenda or magic power.” “Oh, no! I will try first,” said the old man, whose name was Dewaqsent?hwÛs (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 Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda, 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 Ot?hegwenhda, 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, Ot?hegwenhda 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, “Ot?hegwenhda is coming, Ot?hegwenhda 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. [386]

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. Ot?hegwenhda said: “I must go to pay you a visit. You have twenty days’ journey before you.”

All went home. When they were gone, Ot?hegwenhda 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 Dewaqsent?hwÛs (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.”

Ot?hegwenhda 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. Ot?hegwenhda 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?” [387]The youth replied, “I have come just to visit you.” “Come inside then,” was the response. “Ot?hegwenhda 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, Dewaqsent?hwÛs, 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 Guro339 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. Ot?hegwenhda 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 Dewaqsent?hwÛs, 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 Ot?hegwenhda, “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.” Ot?hegwenhda, 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 [388]the lodge and all were happy. After he had been home a while Ot?hegwenhda 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.

Ot?hegwenhda 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 Dewaqsent?hwÛs, 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 Ot?hegwenhda, “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. Ot?hegwenhda, 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 Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda 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 Ot?hegwenhda stood up sound and well as ever.

When Ot?hegwenhda 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.” Ot?hegwenhda took the chief’s daughter to Hetgen Tgastende and they lived there. [389]

Okteondon was a youth who lived with his maternal uncle, HaieÑt?hwus, 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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,” HaieÑt?hwus ran home, where he found that Okteondon had raised his head by partially uprooting and overturning the sheltering tree. HaieÑt?hwus therefore pushed him back into his place, admonishing him, “I will tell you when it is time for you to arise.”

The next day HaieÑt?hwus 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. HaieÑt?hwus 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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. HaieÑt?hwus 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 Wadi?oniondies, 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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 [390]fire. About the time that the hominy was ready three young men came into the lodge, who were invited by HaieÑt?hwus to eat. When Okteondon, the young men, and HaieÑt?hwus 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. Hot?hoh,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 Wadi?oniondies342a 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. [391]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 [392]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. [393]

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, Gwa'' wa'oneÑioÑ'di', 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 [394]heat of the fire, whereupon she exclaimed, “Whu'! 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: “Whu'! 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 S?hadahgeah, 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, Hois?heqtoni,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 S?hadahgeah346 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 S?hadahgeah. Okteondon then started out to hunt for his victim, but he had not gone far from the lodge before he saw S?hadahgeah perched on a cloud. He let fly one of his arrows, which kept its course until it struck the bird. When S?hadahgeah [395]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 Hot?hoh, Okteondon’s friend, placed a kettle of water over the fire. When the feathers were burned off S?hadahgeah, 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 [396]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, Hot?hoh 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 [397]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. [398]

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 Hot?hoh 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 OÑ'gwe? heÑ'neks goÑ'neks-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, [399]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, HaieÑt?hwus. 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.)

(Another version of the first part of the legend)

Okteondon lived with his uncle, HaieÑt?hwus, 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 HaieÑt?hwus, 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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 [400]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 HaieÑt?hwus would go out to gather beans and squashes or to dig wild potatoes.

One spring morning, in the planting season, HaieÑt?hwus 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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, HaieÑt?hwus heard the song again, accompanied with the words, “Oh, uncle! I am rising; I am rising.” As soon as he heard these words, HaieÑt?hwus, 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 HaieÑt?hwus 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 [401]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,” HaieÑt?hwus 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 HaieÑt?hwus reached the lodge, the great elm tree had fallen and Okteondon was standing there, awaiting him.

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 [402]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 [403]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. [404]

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.) [405]

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 [406]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.

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—Deoyadastat?he. 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 [407]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 S?hagoiyagent?ha,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.” S?hagoiyagent?ha 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 S?hagoiyagent?ha 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 [408]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 Deoyadastat?he 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, Deoyadastat?he 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.

Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he 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,” Deoyadastat?he answered; “I want only shelter at night.” “It is well; you may remain,” said the grandmother. One morning when Deoyadastat?he 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, S?hagoiyagent?ha, 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 Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he entered the room his mother, scenting him, knew [409]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. Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he 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 Deoyadastat?he and his mother and dog continued their journey until they arrived at their own lodge. There they found the six brothers of Deoyadastat?he, 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.]

[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 Ongwe359 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 [410]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 [411]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 [412]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 [413]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 [414]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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa, who was told by the younger brother to go and eat up all the things that his elder brother had made. S?hagodiyoweqgowa started off to do this.

The elder brother in the sky, seeing what was going on, came down to earth to place S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 S?hagodiyoweqgowa 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 [415]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.

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. [416]

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 [417]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.”

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: [418]“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.” [419]“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 [420]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.

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. [421]

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.

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. [422]

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.

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, Kidji'de.” “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’Ä'ka';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’Ä'ka' and brought its body into the lodge. The grandfather sang and [423]danced again, saying, “Oh! my grandson will be a great hunter.” After dressing the body of Dju’Ä'ka' he hung it on the cross-stick before the fire to broil. When it was cooked both ate the flesh of Dju’Ä'ka'.

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 [424]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 [425]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 [426]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 [427]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 Gaasyendiet?ha 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 Heads364 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 [428]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.