Jeremiah Curtin

Once there dwelt together in a lodge in a village two brothers. The time of the story is autumn.

It so happened that the elder brother said to the younger, “Now, let us go to the forest to hunt deer.” The younger answered, “So be it. We will take our blowguns.” But the elder said: “As for me, I will not take a blowgun. I will make use of a tomahawk and a knife, for the reason that I am very fleet-footed.” The younger brother rejoined, “Let it be so. I am satisfied with what you suggest,” adding, “Come, now! let us start for the forest.”

So they started for their destination in a distant forest. They encamped on the way three nights before they reached the rendezvous where they knew game animals abounded. Then they erected at once a temporary shelter for their camp.

In the morning the elder said, “Now, early in the day we must go out to do our hunting.” But the younger brother replied, “You must follow me around in the forest, and then you will see how fleet I am on the course.” Then the two started out from their camp to hunt. Carrying only a tomahawk and a hunting knife, the younger brother took the lead, while the elder brother followed him, as requested. Just before starting from their lodge the younger brother said to the elder: “Do not take a blowgun with you, for just as soon as I kill anything you must bring it back to our camp.”

Having gone into the forest some distance, they finally saw a large herd of deer, which at once fled from them, whereupon, then, the younger brother said: “Whenever I kill one I will call out in a loud voice, ?am, ?am.” So saying, with loud shouts he pursued the deer into the forest, and by the time the sun marked midday he had overtaken and killed six deer, on account of his great fleetness of foot. Then the two brothers rested from hunting for the day.

When they had retired to their camp, the elder, addressing his younger brother, said, “Do not ever say that you are fleet of foot, because that quality is an essential of your character.” But the hot-headed younger brother answered, “I am fleet-footed, anyway.” [496]At this the elder brother scolded him, saying, “Do not ever say that again, because something sinister will happen to us owing to that.” But the younger, heedless of the advice, rejoined: “Let it be so then. I shall match myself, however, with anything, be it an animal or a human being; it matters not what it may be.”

When night came they lay down to sleep. In the morning, after their morning meal, the two again went forth to hunt. After a long tramp they reached a place in which they saw many deer. At once the younger brother began to shout loudly in order to frighten the deer, so that they would run away from him, and he would have the opportunity of overtaking them. Hearing his outcries, the deer fled from him, and the youth pursued them. By midday he had overtaken and killed six deer.

As he was returning to his camp, he was surprised to hear the voice of a man speaking to him, saying, “Verily, is it not you who are fleet of foot and swift on the course?” Looking around, the now frightened youth saw at one side an opening—a roadway, as it were, through the forest—and standing in this roadway at some distance he saw a man, or what he took to be a man, gazing at him. Boastingly the youth replied, “It is certainly true that I am fleet-footed.” Then the strange man, or what the youth took to be a man, said: “I will run a race with you. You keep saying at all times and places that there is no one able to outfoot you, so let us make an agreement to run a race with certain conditions tomorrow. At midday we shall meet here in this place; right here. And we will agree to wager our lives on the issue of the race. One of the conditions of the race must be that I shall follow you for two days. When we start let us be as far apart as we are now—the distance from the spot where you are standing to this place where I stand. You shall choose the direction that we shall take in the race, whether we shall camp for the night, or not. When you decide that we shall camp for the night, you must say, ‘We will camp for the night’; and where you stop you shall make a mark from which you shall start in the morning, and then you can go aside to camp for the night. And there you may kindle a fire and prepare any food that you may have with you (said sneeringly).”

Then the youth who was swift of foot answered: “I agree to your proposition, and if at the end of two days you do not overtake me, then I shall pursue you.”

Then the strange man rejoined, “We have now come to an agreement on this matter, and you must tell your elder brother of it.” The fleet-footed youth replied, “Let it be so; I will tell it to my elder brother.” Thereupon the strange man admonished the youth, saying, “You must not fail in the least to be here just at midday tomorrow, and we shall stand here again.” Then the youth, answering, said, “So [497]let it be,” and he started for the place where stood the temporary camp of his elder brother and himself.

When he arrived there he found his brother at home. As soon as his elder brother looked at him he said, “You look very dejected; possibly you are ill.” The younger brother said: “I am not at all ill. Perhaps the reason why I am looking as I do is that I saw a strange man, who said to me, ‘Are you the person who keeps on saying “I am swift of foot?” ’ I replied that I am the person. Thereupon the stranger said, ‘I will run you a race just to test your words. So tomorrow when the sun will be at midday here in this very place you and I must again stand, and from this place you and I must start.’ Moreover, he told me that I must inform you, my elder brother. So I have now informed you.” And he continued to sit with his head bowed as if in deep trouble.

Then the elder brother said: “Oh! my younger brother, you and I are brothers, and we are about to die because of your doing that which I have frequently forbidden you doing, namely, your continually saying, ‘I am fleet-footed.’ I kept saying to you that your talking thus would bring us misfortune. Now that form of talking has this day severed our minds one from the other.” Thereupon the elder brother began to shed tears of bitter grief, saying between paroxysms of weeping: “Perhaps that thing with which you have made an agreement to run a foot race with your life as a wager is not at all a human being. Verily, no one knows of what abominable species of monsters it comes.”

Seemingly undismayed, the younger brother replied, “Oh! my elder brother, now you must make me two pairs of moccasins, and I shall take with me also two ears of parched corn, which I shall place in my bosom.” So the elder brother sat up the entire night to make the two pairs of moccasins which his younger brother required in his race on the morrow.

In the morning the two brothers conversed together. The elder said: “When you start away I shall go to notify our friends in their encampment; for perhaps the person with whom you are to run a foot race is not a human being. Perhaps, too, you are about to die, so you and I may be now talking together for the last time.” Then they parted there.

The younger brother went to the place where he had agreed to be at midday for the beginning of the two days’ foot race. In due time he arrived at the spot, and he was surprised to see standing there the strange man who had challenged him to the race, and who now addressing him said, “Now, truly, you have arrived on time.” In reply Hayanowe (“He-the-Fleet-footed”) said, “I have arrived all right, and I am ready for the race.” To this the stranger answered, [498]“Come, now, which way shall we go?” The youth then said, “So let it be. We will go toward the east—toward the sunrise.” The strange man replied, “Come on then. Get ready; and when you are ready you must say, ‘Come now; I am ready.’ ”

In a short time the youth said, “Come on now; I am ready.” Then the two started on a run. The youth Hayanowe struck a steady gait. When the sun was at the meridian, and again when it was midway between noon and sunset, the strange man urged his youthful competitor, saying, “Exert yourself, my friend.” These admonitions caused the youth some perturbations of spirit; he even feared for his life; so he put forth his topmost speed and ran swiftly until nearly sunset, when the standing trees gave out loud sounds, which seemed to come as the result of a force which struck them hard. Thereupon the youth heard the strange man shout to him, “Exert yourself, my friend; I will overtake you indeed.”

Then it became night, and the youth, remembering one of the provisions of his agreement with the stranger, although he somewhat doubted the stranger’s sincerity in making it, said in a loud voice, “Let us two camp for the night, as we have agreed to do.” The stranger replied, “So be it. Have you marked the end of your run for the day, too?” The youth answered, “I have marked it, indeed.” To this the stranger rejoined, “So be it. You may eat your food now, and so will I. You also must kindle a fire if you need it.” So the youth kindled a fire, and so the strange man did likewise. The youth could plainly see the fire of the stranger, for it was not far away at all, indicating that his opponent was close at his heels in the race. He then took out his parched corn and ate it, after warming it at the fire. Hayanowe was ill at ease, for he fully realized that he had unexpectedly met his match, perhaps more than his match. While he was eating his parched corn the strange man said to him, “In the morning, just as soon as you are ready to take up the race again, you must say aloud, ‘I have now taken my stand on the scratch.’” The youth, answering him, said, “Let it be as you say.” But he could not sleep during the entire night. He spent the time in devising some plan by which he might win the race from the unknown stranger, whether man or beast. He thought of many things, finally deciding that he would choose deep thickets as the course of the race, to see whether they would not retard the fleetness of his antagonist.

The next morning very early he made his usual preparations and then went to the scratch. Standing there, he shouted to his antagonist, “I am now ready.” The stranger answered, “So be it. And you must also say as you start, ‘Come now.’ ” The young man, giving the required verbal notice of his start, leaped forward with a bound, as did his antagonist and challenger. [499]

The youth exerted himself to the utmost, indeed, running at his topmost speed. Finally he came to a dense thicket, which was large in extent, which he entered at once. Stopping for a moment, he listened intently for sounds made by his pursuer. It was not long before he heard the sounds in the distance made by the stranger as he, too, entered the thicket. The crackling of sticks and boughs sounded to him as if the object pursuing him possessed great weight and strength.

In resuming his race for life, the youth said in his mind: “So now it is again my turn to flee. I shall go back to the place where abide my kinsfolk and my elder brother.” He then changed his course from the east to the southwest. Running at top speed, he came to a mountain, which he ascended and passed over. Then, not knowing whether his challenger was still on his track, he listened for any sounds which might indicate that he was being pursued. He had not been standing there long when he heard the voice of his pursuer in the distance say, “Exert yourself, my friend.” Again the youth put forth all his power, running as swiftly as it was possible for him to do. He was directing his course for the place where abode his kinsfolk and his elder brother, for he had repassed their temporary camp in the forest, but his brother had already fled. So he kept on thinking, “He has gone back to the place where dwell my kinsfolk.” Having arrived there, he found that they, too, had left their settlement, because his dear elder brother had informed them of the conditions of the foot race, whereupon they decided at once that their kinsman’s antagonist was not a human being. They had fled because the elder brother had said: “We shall all die if we remain here. I really do not know what kind of a being it is that has challenged my younger brother to this foot race. Come, then, let us flee from here.”

The youth, surmising where they had gone in their distress, followed a course which would take him to their asylum. While he was running he was greatly surprised to find a woman lying in his path. Stopping a moment, he asked, “What is the matter with you?” She replied, “I was ill when they decided to flee, so they built a cradle in which to bear me along with them. They bore me along in it. Finally I said, ‘Put me down here in this place, because I am ill in the manner of all women.’404 I will die here. Not having any women to bear me, I was left by them here. And you must beware for I am still ill in the manner of all women, and I am very, very ill thereby.”

The youth, answering, said, “So be it. Right here you and I are about to die. There is coming behind me an animal, and I do not know what it is or what it looks like. And I do not know whether we shall be aided by what I am about to suggest.” Then he came [500]forward from the direction he had come and corpus ejus (mulieris) ille ita convertit ut pedes ad animal appropinquans spectarent; eoque tempore cruribus mulieris expansis omnibusque vestimentis ab ea sublatis corpus ejus sanguine mentruo opertum vidit. Then He-the-Fleet-footed said to her, “Now, you must remain perfectly quiet; do not move under any circumstances.” So saying, he concealed himself behind a large tree near by, behind which he awaited developments.

Looking back to the spot where the woman lay, he heard the sounds, Woq', woq', woq', approaching nearer and nearer and resounding very loud. While looking back to see what was in pursuit of him, he saw at last an animal following his tracks on the run. It was very large, without a tail, and it had no hair on its body; there were only a few bristles, which stood along the center of its back.

It came up to the place where the woman lay and it stopped there [tum se gessit tamquam si aliquid insoliti odoraretur, cruoremque circa corpus mulieris concretum intuitum est. Jam brevi tempore corpus animalis tamquam frigore tremuit, iterumque sanguinem odorans]; its body again quivered violently, and the great creature became nauseated. It vomited a great quantity of blood, and in a short time fell over dead, and its feet resounded on the ground.

The youth, who watched these things from his position behind the great tree, now went to the place where the animal lay; when he placed his foot on the body the entire carcass moved to and fro, showing that the beast was dead. Then the boy removed the woman to a spot some distance from the place where she first lay, saying to her for her comfort, “Lie here a while. I will pursue our kinsfolk to learn whither they have gone.” Thereupon he started on the trail with great fleetness of foot. He had not followed the trail very far when he overtook them; they were in large number, and among them was his elder brother. Coming up to them, he said, “You must all turn back to see what kind of an animal it was against which I ran the foot race.”

So all the people turned back, going directly to the place where they had left the woman who was ill. When they reached the spot the ancients held a council and, after carefully examining the animal, said, “This is what is called Ya'gwai?he.405 It is this thing which you overcame in the foot race, the conditions of which have now been fulfilled. You two wagered your heads on the issue of the trial of speed. So, then, we will now kindle a huge fire. Let each one bring a piece of dry fuel.” So, going out into the neighboring forest, each brought back a piece of dry wood; with this wood they kindled a great fire. As soon as the fire had become very large they cast into it the body of this animal, and then they threw [501]dry wood on the top of the body, causing the fire to burn fiercely. When the fire died down only a few charred bones were left of the huge animal. Then the eldest man of the assembly said: “Let each one take a portion of these bones and make of it a fetish (otcina?ken''da') for hunting some kind of game animal, which he must name; this fetish will give him the power to kill easily the animal thus named.” So each of the assembly did as the hochinagen had directed. One would take up a fragment saying, “I will employ this for hunting the bear.” Another would say, “I will make use of this in hunting deer.” A third person, “I will employ this for hunting raccoons.” A fourth, “I will use this for hunting the otter.” A fifth, “I will use this for fishing for sturgeon.” A sixth person, “I will make use of this for trapping minks.” A seventh, “I will employ this for hunting the raven.” An eighth, “I will use this for hunting women (i.e., for winning the favors of the women).” Lastly, some vulgar, worthless persons would say that they would employ the bones for various filthy functions of the body.

Then placing on a pack-cradle for carrying wounded persons the woman who was ill, they started for their homes, where they arrived safe. This is the end of the story of Hayanowe.

In former times an uncle and his nephew dwelt together in a lodge. The name of the old man was OÑgwe HaÑgesha and that of his nephew Gajihsondis.

It was the custom of the uncle when he left to be absent some time to fasten his nephew securely in the lodge. He was also in the habit of giving to his nephew the foot of a bear, with these instructions: “You must remain in here quietly, and you must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot. Whenever you hit the foot you shall say aloud, ‘Gajihsondis,’ but if it so happen that you do not hit the foot, you shall not say that name. So you must keep at this business during the entire day, but whenever you become hungry you must eat food which you know is here ready for you to eat. Just as soon as you have finished your meal, then you must again begin to shoot at the bear’s foot; you must not stop in this task, but must continue to shoot at the bear’s foot without ceasing.”

So the little nephew did as his uncle had instructed him to do, and whenever he was fortunate enough to hit the bear’s foot he would exclaim loudly, “Wagajihsondis!”

At last the nephew began to wonder what his uncle ate, for he had never seen him eating anything. So Gajihsondis finally decided [502]to watch the old man and to continue doing so during the approaching night, as the young boy had concluded that his uncle ate his meals at night. The boy mused to himself, saying, “Tonight I will watch my uncle during the whole time.”

So in the evening, when Gajihsondis lay down for the night, he wrapped himself up in an old piece of skin; he lay on one side of the fire and his uncle on the other. There was a rent in the skin covering of Gajihsondis, probably a hole which he had made in it for the occasion, and through this he peered as he watched his uncle. This hole in the skin was very, very small. The boy did not sleep, but kept a watch on his uncle to learn on what the latter fed to sustain life, for they two had never taken a meal together.

At midnight, possibly a little past that time, the small boy, who was on the watch, was surprised to see his uncle blow with great force on the fire in the fireplace.407 At once sparks shot up from the fire, some of which fell on the boy as he lay there. But the little hero kept quite still, although his uncle, in order to see whether the boy was awake, said, “Gwe'?, my nephew, you will burn; look out!” But still the boy kept still. Then, after the lapse of a long time, the uncle arose and while watching the seemingly sleeping boy, drew from beneath his couch a bark case, such as was in use in the early times. He took therefrom a small kettle and from the kettle something which the watching boy did not recognize. The old man hung the kettle over the fire, and then he again blew on the fire and the flames began to burn briskly; and he kept on blowing the fire until it had become hot enough to cook a meal. He had placed water in the kettle when he set it over the fire—just the right amount for his purpose. Then the old man began to scrape some object and permitted the scrapings to fall into the kettle. The old man was acting just as one would have acted while making chestnut mush. All the time he was being watched by his nephew, who was called “Gajihsondis.”

When the mush was cooked the old man removed the kettle from the fire and set it aside, and then he took out what he had cooked in a bark dish and began to eat. When he had finished his meal, he blew on the kettle and it began at once to grow small in size; then, blowing on it a second time, the kettle became as small as it was at first, which was very, very small. When it had returned to its normal size the old man wrapped it up in something which the watching nephew did not recognize, but before doing so he placed in the kettle the something out of which he had made the mush which he had just eaten. Then he again drew out the bark case from beneath his couch and replaced therein the kettle and its contents. Having done this, he pushed the case back into its hiding place. Thereupon the old man lay down again. His nephew had observed him carefully [503]in all that he had done—this for the first time since they two had lived together, and while the boy was growing up.

The morning after this episode the old man made his usual preparations for going out to hunt, and said to his nephew, “You must eat whenever you get hungry.” He repeated this saying often.

Then the boy began to sport, as he had been instructed to do by his uncle. Wherever he threw the bear’s foot he would attempt to hit it by shooting at it. Throwing it here, he would shoot at it, and throwing it there, he would shoot at it. When he hit it he would exclaim loudly “Gajihsondis,” as he had been told to do.

When it was the usual time for the uncle to return from his hunting trip, the boy would say to himself, “My uncle will soon be back now.” So one day the youth said, “I believe I will prepare food for my uncle against the time of his return.” Going at once to his uncle’s couch, he drew from under it the bark case and took therefrom the kettle, which was very small in size, and also an insignificant looking object contained in the latter, which his uncle had scraped down to about one-half its original size.

Next the lad blew on the kettle to increase its size, as he had seen his uncle do, and after it had become sufficiently large he put water into it and set it over the fire, musing to himself, “So be it. I will now prepare food for my uncle, for he soon will return very hungry.” The lad now blew on the kettle the second time, whereupon it increased slightly only in size; so he continued to blow on it until finally it was large enough to suit him, when he said, “It is now large enough.”

Then he began to scrape into the kettle from the small object, but soon he exclaimed, “Oh, pshaw! it is not enough. I will scrape it all into the kettle.” Having done this he said, “Perhaps this food is abundant in the place whence he obtains it, so I have used it all.” As he began to stir it briskly, using a paddle for the purpose, the mush commenced to boil with great violence. At last, realizing that the mush was rapidly increasing in quantity in the kettle, the boy merely kept on stirring it. As soon as he began to blow on it to cool it, the mush increased still more rapidly in bulk. While he continued to stir and blow on the mush, it began to overflow and to fill the room around the fire. Still he kept on as before (not realizing the effect of his blowing), until at last he had to run over the couches at the side of the room in his anxiety to stir the mush, for he was now thoroughly frightened at what he had done. As he again blew on the mush flowing from the kettle it still continued to increase in quantity until finally he was driven from the room by the great mass, and had to climb upon the roof of the lodge. Here he ran around while he vigorously stirred the mush, which, with the kettle, entirely filled the lodge. [504]

Suddenly he noticed his uncle approaching in great haste, anxiously looking up at the lodge, for he saw his nephew Gajihsondis running around on the roof. When the uncle reached the doorway, which, as was the custom in those times, was closed by two pieces of bark, he found these ajar, for the inside of the lodge was, as already said, filled with the mush and kettle. The uncle began to blow on the mush, whereupon it at once diminished in quantity, and after he had blown on it many times it was reduced to small bulk.

The nephew still stood on the roof of the lodge, greatly frightened. The uncle said to him, “Come, now, Gajihsondis, get down from there.” At this the nephew descended from the roof and reentered the lodge. Thereupon his uncle said, “Now you have killed me. I did not think that you would do this, although fear that you might is the reason why I never permitted you to see me prepare my food, because you have no sense.” Then covering himself with a skin robe, he lay down, adding: “So I shall die here. I do not know that there is anything left for me to eat. Hunger will kill me, and you have brought this about by your acts.” Having said this he covered himself up completely.

Thereupon the boy arose and standing beside the couch of his uncle, said beseechingly, “Oh, my uncle! my mother’s brother, only have pity on me. But tell me where the place is in which abounds that on which you live?” The old uncle replied commiseratingly: “It is no use for me to tell you. You are not able to go to obtain it, on account of the great difficulties along the path; there are all manner of discouraging perils along the way, for all manner of demoniac creatures lay in ambush along the path.408 And so for these reasons I think you are unable to undertake the task of trying to get me more of my food.” The boy simply asked, “What is the name of the substance you eat?” “It is called Chestnut. Far from here it is planted by personages, beastlike in appearance, which are full of evil magic power or otkon in their actions.” “Oh, mother’s brother! it is needful for you to tell me the direction that the path takes going to that place,” said the lad. The uncle answered, “It is impossible for you to do anything in that direction; you are powerless. You can not make the attempt and live.” Then after some reflection he added, “The path leads directly west from here.” To this the boy Gajihsondis answered: “I will make the attempt. I will start, and I will get this thing called Chestnut that you are in the habit of eating. So now I go. I have fastened together two limbs. You must look at these from time to time. Whenever they break apart, you will know that I have had ill luck away from here; that probably I shall be killed by them. So only keep a watch on this thing, and if it chance that they do not break apart, you may expect me to return after the [505]lapse of some time, bringing chestnuts.” So saying, the boy started on his journey.

After going some distance he found a very narrow path which led directly westward, and remarked, “This is perhaps the path indicated by my uncle.” Finally he started to run, when all at once he heard sounds seemingly made by a rattle. Keeping on, at last he came to the place whence the sounds proceeded. There he found two huge rattlesnakes, one on each side of the path, blocking it in such manner that he could not pass. Going aside, he killed a large number of chipmunks, which he bound into two equal bundles. Returning to the place where the two rattlesnakes were on guard, he said to them, “You two seem to be in need of food, and so I think that you two would like to eat these things.” With these words he threw a bundle of chipmunks to each of the rattlesnakes, which they ate.

After the two rattlesnakes had devoured the chipmunks the boy said to them in a commanding tone: “You two must withdraw from this place, for, you know, you are slaves, indeed; you must go from place to place to hunt for your food, for this is always pleasant; and He who gave faculties to our bodies did not intend that anyone should be held in bondage.” Thereupon the two rattlesnakes withdrew and went aside from that place; thus were they freed from their bondage to sorcerers.

Then the boy left on a very swift run, carrying only his bow and arrows. Again, after having gone a long distance, he heard sounds in the distance. Having reached the place whence came the sounds, he was surprised to find there a great bear just beside the path, and, looking on the other side of the path, he saw another of equal size and ferocity; they were in ambush and barred the passage of the path. The noises that he had heard were made by the tusks of these animals, which projected far from their jaws and could be heard at a long distance, thus—du', du', du', du'.

Then the boy, taking his bow and arrows, went aside to hunt. He killed two fawns, one of which he threw to the one bear, and the other to the other bear, in order to occupy their minds and mouths. He said to these guarding beasts: “It is too bad that you two are barring the way. One might think you would be glad to eat this food which I now offer you.” The bears ate what had been given to them and were quiet for the time being. The youth then gave them this command: “You must withdraw from this place; what you are now eating is abundant, as is well known; and you must eat this kind of food regularly hereafter. You shall be free to go and come as you choose, for He who made our lives did not intend that you should be enslaved by sorcerers and confined to one place.” The two bears at once fled from the spot, one going in one direction and the other in another. [506]

Then the boy went on his way. He had not gone very far when he heard other sounds—dum?, dum?, dum?. He soon came to the place where the sounds were made, and he was indeed frightened, for then the sounds were fearful in volume and rapidity. He was astonished to see two great firedragons in ambush, guarding the pathway. Thereupon the boy said, “So let it be; I will make the attempt.” Running aside, he killed a large deer, and having dragged the body back to the place where the two firedragons were, he divided it into two portions. Then saying, “You two are guarding this pathway, and one would think that you might eat what I am offering you.” He threw a piece to each of them. They were pleased to get this food, which they ate ravenously; after doing this they were quiet for the time being. Then the boy again spoke, saying, “You two beings must withdraw from this place. This is food good to eat; it is called deer meat. You now go to some other place. You are indeed slaves, are you not? But He who completed our lives did not intend that anyone should be a slave to a sorcerer.” He ceased speaking, and the two firedragons fled from the spot, as they had obtained their liberty.

Now the boy passed on. After having run a long way from his home, he suddenly saw in the distance openings in the forest, which seemed to indicate that there might be people dwelling in those places. So he went along slowly and craftily, concealing himself as much as possible; he arrived at the edge of the clearing, where he stood for a while. He looked around to learn, if possible, what other antagonists he had to meet. Suddenly he saw hanging up not far away the skin of a dead woman watching the pathway. This woman’s skin409 was guarding the trees of chestnuts which grew in the clearing into which the boy had come. In performing this duty the skin kept saying, “I espy (out-eye) you. You who are a human being, I suppose.” But the boy kept very still, standing at the edge of the clearing. He saw in the distance a lodge that stood on the farther side of the clearing, and he saw women going in and coming out of it. Most of these were maidens. On looking around the boy saw the chestnut trees that grew there, and he noticed that they bore many burs. He realized at once that within these burs were the chestnuts. And as he watched he saw some of the chestnuts fall from the trees.

But while he was thus engrossed he was surprised to hear the woman’s skin begin to sing, Gi'-nu, gi'-nu, gi'-nu, gi'-nu; “I espy a human being,” and then out of the lodge in the distance the boy saw three women and their mother emerge. The mother, addressing her daughters, exclaimed, “Exert yourselves, my children! I suppose, now, that some one has come to rob us of our chestnuts.” The skirts of these women reached to a point just above their knees, and they [507]carried war clubs. They ran toward the place where hung the woman’s skin, which was guarding their chestnut trees. When they arrived there they found no human being. Thereupon the old woman angrily said, “Indeed, you have told a falsehood,” and struck the hanging skin with her war club, and each of her daughters, running up, did likewise. Then all the women went back to their lodge, and the boy said to himself, “How may I deceive this woman on the watch?” At last he hit upon a scheme which he thought would accomplish his purpose. Stripping off a piece of basswood bark as wide as his person, he removed the outside rough portion of suitable length. Spreading this out on the ground, he drew thereon with a piece of charcoal the outlines of many kinds of animals, all true to nature. He then filled the outlines with the animals he had drawn—the bear, the deer, the wolf, the fox, and the raccoon; in fact, with the forms of all the animals.

Then the youth returned to the edge of the clearing, where he again took his stand. He found the skin of the dead woman still hanging there, watching, looking this way and that, to detect, if possible, the approach of any stranger. In full readiness to execute his design, he finally started toward the skin, and, running swiftly, reached the spot before she was aware of his approach. Seizing it at once, the skin ceased swinging. Thereupon the boy said to it: “Do not report my taking this pile of chestnuts away with me. I will pay you for this favor; indeed, I will pay you a very high price; it is of the value of a man’s life. I will pay you with what is called a wampum belt, which is made of wampum beads.” Saying this, he gave her what he had made, and she accepted it. She opened her eyes wide in looking at it, exclaiming, “Oh! it is beautiful,” for it looked fine to her, and she laughed with delight. Then she said, “So be it; I will not give the alarm.” Answering, “Do not give the alarm,” he proceeded to take a bark case of chestnuts which had been left there temporarily. Placing this on his back by means of a forehead strap, he departed at once. He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard the voice of the hanging skin of the woman singing, “Gi'-nu?, gi'-nu?, gi'-nu?; one has closed my mouth with a belt of wampum. Gi'-nu?; at the edge of the clearing goes the pack of chestnuts.”

On hearing this, the old woman, the mother of the three women in the distant lodge, said urgently, “Take courage! Bestir yourselves, my children! I suppose some one has now robbed us of our chestnuts.” In a moment they rushed out of the lodge and ran toward the place where the woman’s skin hung swinging to and fro, singing the notes of alarm. They soon arrived there, and, lo! the skin swung to and fro, gazing intently at a wampum belt, and saying, “It is of the value of a human life, and by it one closed my mouth.” The women rushed up, and their mother snatched the so-called belt [508]from her hands, exclaiming: “This is not a wampum belt; it is a piece of bark, and still you say it is a belt of wampum. You, indeed, have no sense.” And throwing the piece of bark away she struck the skin of the woman a cruel blow with her war club. Continuing her rebuke, she said, “It is too true that you have no sense. It is entirely your fault that one has robbed us of our chestnuts.” Then the woman, looking far away in the distance, saw the pack, consisting of the case of chestnuts, disappearing in the forest beyond the edge of the clearing. Then the old woman said: “Come! Let us pursue him. It is distressing to think that he has robbed us. On the other hand, it seems that he is a person who has more orenda (magic power) than his uncle OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' (“Human Skin”), this Gajihsondis. So, therefore, let us pursue him and kill him with blows of our war clubs. If, perchance, we may be able to overtake him, we will surely kill him.”

It so happened that Gajihsondis heard the footsteps of the women as they drew near in pursuit of him, and without further ado, he took his pack from his back and laid it down, and seated himself beside it.

When the women came close to him on the run, he struck the case of chestnuts with his arrow, saying: “It seems that I should sing you a song so that you may dance, because you come in so great anger. It is fine, indeed. The song that I will sing is pleasant to hear. So, now, you must dance.”

Then he sang: “One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not return from the upper side of the sky. One shall not rob me of my song (the orenda of my song).” He kept on singing this song; and the women, the mother and her daughters, danced without ceasing as they circled around the spot where he was seated; and the mother kept on saying, “Exert yourselves my children; this is a very fine song.” But Gajihsondis kept on singing, “On the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, on the upper side of the sky, one shall not return thence”; and the women kept on rising in the air. Before long they had ascended half the height of the tallest trees, and they still danced on. Then Gajihsondis suddenly ceased his singing, and taking up his pack and slinging it on his back by the forehead strap, started on homeward leisurely. He had not gone very far when suddenly he saw the body of a woman falling, followed in quick succession by the bodies of three other women, all falling, head foremost, to the earth.

Then the young man started for home, but he stopped along the way to rest at times. Without further adventure he reached his uncle’s lodge, bearing the bark case full of chestnuts. On reaching the lodge he called out, “Oh, my uncle! Are you still living?” [509]The old man, who was indeed feeble, replied: “Alas, my nephew, it can still be said I am yet alive, my nephew—you who are called Gajihsondis.” His nephew answered: “I have now returned, and I bring with me what I sought to obtain; I have a large quantity. So now you can eat again, and now I will prepare mush of chestnuts for you, and you will again become satisfied with a sufficiency of food, and will recover your health.” So saying, the young man set to work making a very large quantity of the mush for his poor old uncle. When it was cooked, he removed the kettle containing it from the fire and poured the mush on a piece of bark. Then he went to the side of his uncle, and raising him up and urging him to be of good cheer, fed him the mush, although his uncle could hardly move. The old man ate the mush, for he was nearly famished; his privations had reduced his body to a mere skeleton—just skin and bones. He ate a large quantity before he had enough. He did indeed recover his strength and health.

Later the old man said to his nephew: “My nephew, I am very thankful indeed that you were able to accomplish this great task. The only thing I did was to watch the branch, which was the index of your state and situation. I could only think that you were still alive. I now again thank you for being able to accomplish this great task. On my part, I am much delighted with our fortune.

“Now I am going to ask you by what unheard-of means did you accomplish this great task.” The young man answered: “I, of course, know, but I will tell you only this: That I have destroyed all those women, possessed of great orenda and moved by evil purposes.” The uncle said, “So be it. What a wonderful thing this is. You and I will return to that place.” To this the youth replied: “So let it be,” and then, after making their usual preparations, they departed. They stopped along the route and finally reached the spot where the women dwelt who had planted chestnut trees. The only one who was alive was the skin of the woman which was hung up to swing to and fro and to watch and to give the alarm should any person make his appearance.

When they arrived at the empty lodge of the women they unfastened and uncovered the bark cases containing chestnuts, which the women had stored and guarded from all mankind. Taking up a handful of the chestnuts, the old man exclaimed in a loud voice: “All people shall eat this food. Never shall it again be the possession of a single family, but it shall be for all human beings”; and they scattered the chestnuts in all directions by handfuls. When they had completed their task they went to the place where the skin of the woman was swinging to and fro. Arriving there, they took down the skin, and the old man said to her: “You shall go together with us to our home. You will recover, indeed, from that awful [510]thing which the women had done to you, and you shall be restored to the likeness of a living human being.” So saying, he proceeded to rub her entire body with his hands reenforced by his great orenda (magic power). She soon was restored to her normal figure and condition, and she again had the appearance of a human being.

Then the old man, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ', said to her and his nephew, “Come now, let us start for home”; and after making suitable preparations, they departed. They stopped to camp many places on the way, but in due time they arrived at their home, whereupon the old man said to his nephew: “We have now returned to our home. You have now also grown to manhood, and it is a custom that when one attains to manhood, he marries. Marriage must take place in your case now. You must start on a 10-days’ journey. There are on the way 10 camping places with fireplaces, which are visible. That is the distance which you must go. To reach this place you must go eastward, and there you will find a valley. You must go along the path leading thither. You must summon all your courage and resolution in undertaking this journey, for along this path there are found all manner of difficulties and dangers. Along this path you will find one who is called S?hodie'onskon' (the Abuseful Trickster), who continually haunts this pathway. Come, now! I will dress you for the occasion.” So he anointed him abundantly with sunflower oil over his entire body. He said to him: “You must take along with you this pouch of human skin, in which there is a smoking pipe which was the skull of a human being; and for a lighter there are a flint and a piece of tinder, or punk; and also an awl and a knife. These are the things this pouch contains, and with these you will provide for your needs on the way. You must now start. The trees along the way have been blazed, and you will find the camping places, although it is not certain that they are still easily discovered. But you must find them, and there you must spend the night. This you must do for 10 nights, and then your pathway will lead you to the valley. There you shall find assembled a large concourse of people, and you shall see there also the home of a woman who has a tall tree, on the top of which are perched mysterious Hawks (?), three in number, which are her servants and which obey her thaumaturgic commands; but these are three of her daughters. He who will hit one of these mysterious birds shall be privileged to marry her youngest daughter, who is a “down-fended”410 virgin; that is to say, a noble virgin. So the fortunate one shall marry her. And so you shall go thither. It is known that in the days that have gone by no one has hit one of these mysterious birds, although those who shoot at them daily are very numerous. You it is who will be able to hit the bird. Come, then, now depart. But perhaps it might be better that another day should break on us together; [511]that you and I should again eat together, for we know that it is very doubtful whether you shall return in health and peace. All manner of difficulties and dangers fill the way which you must follow.

“If it be so that you become a son-in-law, then you must say to your mother-in-law, ‘I shall now smoke my pipe.’ And when you have lighted your pipe you shall inhale the smoke twice, and your mother-in-law must spread a buckskin on the ground. Then you shall inhale the smoke only twice and shall expectorate wampum beads thereon. Together in one place you and I shall eat again and also sleep again.”

So they spent the night in the lodge together, and in the morning they ate together. When they had finished their meal the young man said: “I am all ready now. Oh, uncle! I start now. Put forth, therefore, your orenda (magic power = hope, in modern usage) that in peace and health you and I may see each other again.” The old uncle answered, “So let it be as you have said.” The young man replied, “Indeed, you did say that there are 10 camping sites indicated by signs of fireplaces on the way, and that it is 10 days’ journey.” So saying, he started on his journey.

After leaving the lodge the young man ran very swiftly. He had not gone very far, as he judged, when he was surprised to see the ashes and the dead coals of a former fire—the signs of a camping place. At this he exclaimed, “Ah! he did not say that some of the camping places were quite near.” He stopped and thought seriously for some moments, finally deciding to return to the lodge for further information from his old uncle. So he ran homeward, going to the place where lived his uncle, his mother’s brother. On arriving there the uncle said to him, “Well, what has happened to you?” The young man answered, “I have come to ask you again about my journey. You did not say that one of the camping places was near by.” The old uncle exclaimed, “Wu?'! Did you go as far as that?” “I went as far as that,” replied the young man. The uncle answered, “Ho, you are indeed quite immune to the spells of sorcery. These camping places are all like this one along the way.” The young man replied, “So be it. I will stop there again. It does not matter, does it, that you and I see daylight together?” The old man was much discouraged. Daylight came upon them, and they ate their morning meal together. When they had finished eating, the old man, addressing his nephew, said, “You shall hereafter be called OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ'. It shall be your custom when anyone asks you your name to say, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ'.” The young man answered, “So be it. I now start,” and he left the lodge of his uncle.

The youth came to the place marked for the first camping place, but he passed it and kept on, and thus he did with all the others, until he arrived at the tenth camping place, although the sun was [512]low in the west when he had reached the first one. At the tenth camping place he saw that the forest edges were wreathed in long films of dew clouds, and he stopped there for the night. Quickly arising in the morning, he was startled to hear the voices of a number of men, who were laughing as they went eastward, and who passed by on the path.

The young man got ready and went on. When he reached the pathway he saw that all the tracks indicated that these persons were going eastward. He continued his journey along the path in the same direction. Suddenly he saw ahead of him a man, who was very old in appearance and very, very small in size. Just before overtaking him the young man decided that this must be S?hodie'onskon', who was in tatters. When the young man came up with him, the small man exclaimed; “Oh, my nephew! you have overtaken me, so now you and I will go on together. For all are going in pairs. All those who are going to the place where the Hawks (?), perched on the woman’s tree, forthtell for her. I shall follow you, as you can go so much faster than I.” Then OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' answered: “It is impossible for me to agree to that proposition. You yourself take the lead, because I am fleeter than are you.” The only reply the old man made was, Wu?', and then they two went on with the old man in the lead. All at once he began to run. Hoho?', he ran on ahead. He kept on for a long distance, and then suddenly he turned aside into the forest. In a short time he began calling, “Ho! come hither, my nephew. I have treed a fisher here, and you must get its skin for me. Come, come!” he kept on saying; “you must shoot it, too, and this is a good place to stand when you are about to shoot at it. Come on, come on!” he kept on saying. Finally, the young man said, “I will shoot it.” Then he went thither and shot at it, striking it fairly through the heart, and with the arrow still sticking into it the fisher fell dead to the ground. The old man exclaimed, “Come on! Come this way. I forbear touching your arrow.” Then OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said, “My arrow has lost its orenda (magic power).” Overhearing this remark, the old man said, “Wu?'. One would think perhaps that he is a sorcerer,” and he then drew out the arrow from the dead fisher, and carried it to his companion, saying, “I am free from (magical) taint, you know, and so I can not de-magic-ize411 your arrow. Here, take it!”

The young man took the arrow again and they went on to the spot where they would encamp for the night. When they arrived at the place the sun was low in the west. The old man said to his nephew, in order to remove any apprehensions from his mind as to his own good intentions, “I will now skin the fisher and prepare its skin.” At this time they heard in the distance the sounds of persons laughing. And, they say, these persons made their several camps there. [513]Then S?hodie'onskon' said, “Here let us, for our part, pitch our camp, because when among people I am much abused because I am quite old.” So S?hodie'onskon' and his companion kindled a fire with fagots and soon had it burning briskly. Each took opposite sides of the fire and lay down to sleep for the night.

Some time during the night the crafty S?hodie'onskon' sat up and blew the fire up in such manner that sparks and coals fell all over OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' as he lay asleep. But the latter arose suddenly and asked, “Why have you done this unreasonable thing?” The old man dissimulatingly replied, “Oh! that was probably caused by a gust of wind driving the sparks over your body.” Then they lay down again. Again, just before the break of day, the old man once more blew the fire on his seemingly sleeping companion. Thereupon the latter arose, and taking his bow and flint-pointed arrow, crossed over the fireplace to the place where his companion was lying. He was surprised to see him awake, looking at him. The old man deprecatingly said, “Oh, my nephew! you do not seem to know that you were nearly burned up, as the fire was falling on you; and you must not think that it was I who did this to you.” OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' was greatly astonished at what had happened and said to his companion, “If you do not refrain from what you are doing it is possible for me to destroy you.”

When it was nearly daylight sounds were heard in the camp ahead and the occupants started on their journey; then the two in turn started on their way. They had not gone very far when they heard sounds in the distance which told them that they had arrived at the place in which were congregated all the people who were shooting at the mark.

S?hodie'onskon' and OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' kept right on their way until they reached the spot. The nephew did not fear anything. Once on the ground they were quickly made aware that a tree stood there and that on its top sat a hawk (?) or hawks (?). There was a large number of people who were engaged in shooting at the prize, seemingly fastened to the top of the trees, which stood in the dooryard of the old woman who dwelt in this place; but all failed to hit the mark. A short distance from the place where the people were engaged in shooting at the mark there stood a lodge, in which the old woman, the mother of the family, walked to and fro, murmuring, “He who will hit that thing which is perched on the top of my tree shall marry my youngest daughter.” She kept on saying this as she went from place to place. Without cessation, day after day for many days the marksmen kept on shooting at the hawk (?) perched on the top of the old woman’s tree. Sometimes an arrow would fly very close to the bird, which would merely flap [514]its wings; at this the assembly would give a loud shout of encouragement. At once the old woman would come forth on the run and would ask anxiously, “Who is it that hit the mark? Who is it that is my son-in-law?” But the people would reply, “It is not true that one has hit it. No one has done so.” Then she would return to her lodge somewhat disappointed.

Now the people began to say among themselves, “OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' has arrived, and he is immune (from the influence of hostile orenda).” Then he said to the assembly, “Now it is my turn to shoot. It is not certain what will take place when I shoot. You will see what happens.” He strung his bow, and all the people became quiet and attentive as they watched him. Assuming a suitable position and taking aim, the young man drew his arrow to the very point and then let it fly. Without a hitch, the arrow struck fairly in the center of the bird’s body, causing the bird to fall over on the opposite of the tree, whence, with wings feebly flapping, it fell to the ground. At this the assembly broke out in a loud shout of applause—so loud that one would think the sound struck the heavens. The old woman came up on the run, anxiously asking, “Who is he that has become my son-in-law?” All the people rushed forward to the place where lay the bird with the arrow still sticking in its body.

It so happened that one of the marksmen would run up and attempt to withdraw the arrow, but would fail,412 and then another, and then another; but they all failed. Again GodweÑnia'?dani?, coming up, said, “Who has become my son-in-law?” As the marksmen failed to withdraw the arrow, she continued, “He who shall be able to withdraw the arrow shall be my son-in-law.” Just then OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' came up, saying, “All stand back. This is my arrow.” The people drew back, and he walked up to the bird and, as he walked along, he drew out the arrow. Then the old woman said, “OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' has become my son-in-law,” and, taking him by the arm, she led him back to her lodge. Then the people dispersed in all directions. Then the old woman and her companion reached her lodge, in one side of which was a sort of apartment occupied by her daughter, who was born with a caul, and hence was regarded as of noble birth. The epithet applied to such maidens and young men is “down fended.” The old woman, leading the young man into this apartment, said to her daughter, “This man has become my son-in-law. He is called OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ', and he is immune from enchantment.”

The young man then took up his abode in his wife’s family. Ho! He remained there for a long time. Then he said, “I shall go on a hunt,” and OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said to his three brothers-in-law, [515]“Come with me to hunt.” Having accepted his invitation, they started on their hunting trip, but they had not gone very far when they were surprised by a small herd of deer, which fled from them. Then the young bridegroom said to his brothers-in-law, “Remain here, and I alone will pursue them from place to place.” In a short time he shot at one and hit it, and it fell. Then, following the remaining deer, he killed them one by one. Thereupon he stopped, and hailing his brothers-in-law, said to them, “Come hither, my brothers-in-law, and let us dress these deer.” So they went to him and took part in the skinning of the deer. When they had finished dressing the carcasses they began at once to pack the pelts and the venison into suitable bundles in such manner as was customary in the early time. When they were all ready they bore these bundles on their backs by means of the forehead strap—the usual and the most convenient method of carrying heavy burdens; and they started for their home with OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' in the lead.

Having arrived at their lodge, they laid their packs of venison and pelts at the feet of their mother, who wept for the great joy she had in receiving so much venison, saying: “I am very thankful to my son-in-law for this bounty, and on my part I will fulfill my duty in providing the feast of the ‘eat-all-up,’413 which shall take place tomorrow.” So the next morning they put the kettles over the fire in the early dawn, and the daughters set to work industriously to prepare food for the approaching feast. Suddenly the old woman, GodweÑnia'?dani?, went out of the lodge and ran through the village, saying to the people: “The feast of eat-all-up is to be held at my lodge. Let all go directly to the place whence I have come, and start at once.” This she said as she went through the village, and then she returned to her own home. Then her daughters and sons removed the kettles from the fire; and they placed the corn-meal mush and the venison, cooked in pieces, in bark trays and bowls which they had ready to receive the prepared food.

Now people began to arrive, and they sat down and became very quiet. At this time the old woman, the mother of the daughters of the lodge, GodweÑnia'?dani? said, addressing the assembly: “Now, you who have come here this day know that the usual custom for a feast of this kind shall be followed. You who have come in by invitation shall first eat your shares of the food; and it was for this reason that I desired a feast of eat-all-up as my thanks offering; and when you have finished eating, then my children and I will eat. For such is the custom when one marries. Now, then, you must eat. You must eat up all that is apportioned to you, for this is the reason that this feast is called the feast of eat-all-up.”

Thereupon the neighbors began to eat. They ate during the entire day; they ate the venison; they enjoyed also the corn-meal mush; and [516]they kept saying as they ate, “I am thankful for this food,” each as he felt satisfied. Thus in time they fulfilled the rites of the feast of eat-up-all, which is usually given when one is married; they ate up all that had been prepared for them—a good omen for the newly married couple. Then each went his way home. But there was one matter which was postponed until the next day.

The day after the feast of eat-all-up there took place what OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' had said would come to pass. He had said, “I crave a smoke, and so very early tomorrow morning you, my mother-in-law, must again go around and invite your neighbors, telling them as you go from place to place that your son-in-law is about to take a smoke, and that he will then disgorge wampum beads.” GodweÑnia'?dani?, the mother-in-law, replied with joy, “So let it come to pass,” and she went forth again to issue invitations to her neighbors, represented by small sticks, saying: “I extend to you hereby an invitation to come to my lodge. My son-in-law, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ', is going to smoke, and he will then disgorge wampum beads.” So saying, she visited all her neighbors, and then she returned to her own home.

Having reached home, she said to her son-in-law, “In a short time the people will have assembled here.” Shortly after, the people began to come. They seated themselves in the lodge and became very quiet. Then the old woman, GodweÑnia'?dani?, placing a bench or block of wood in the center of the room, called to her son-in-law, “Oh, my son-in-law, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ', come hither.” At this he came forth from the place wherein the “noble” or “down-fended” maiden lived. Seating himself on the block provided by his mother-in-law, he threw over his knee the entire skin of a woman,414 which still had the head affixed to it; the eyes winked and moved from side to side. OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' took from his pouch his pipe and filled it with tobacco. The tobacco which he used was a mixture of native tobacco, hemlock gum, spicebush bark, and red willow bark.414a When he placed it in his pipe this mixture emitted a very pleasant odor.

Then OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said to his mother-in-law, “You must spread out here a tanned buckskin.” So she hastened to obey his instructions and spread a buckskin on the ground in front of him and between his feet as he sat on the block of wood. In explanation of what he was about to do, he said: “Oh, my mother-in-law, all the wampum that shall fall on this buckskin shall belong to you; but the wampum that shall fall away from this skin shall be for prizes to those of the assembly who may be able to seize it, for all will struggle to obtain some. This will take place twice, for I will draw into me the smoke several times. The first time that I draw in the smoke I will disgorge black wampum beads; but the second time I will disgorge white wampum beads. So the people may strive to obtain [517]some of the beads which fall away from the buckskin. This is what will take place.” After a moment’s deliberation he said to the woman’s skin, “Do thou, my human skin, light my pipe; the fire is yonder.” Thereupon the woman’s skin brought a coal from the fire and placed it in his pipe while he held it in his mouth. Then he drew in the smoke with the sound hu?kt, and then he disgorged, saying Hwu''w; and the beads in falling made the sound da'. His mother-in-law took up a large quantity of the beads from the buckskin. But for those beads which fell away from the buckskin the people struggled among themselves. In the strife the people created a great noise and uproar, for everyone attempted to get all that he possibly could. He who was quick was able, of course, to lay hold of the greatest quantity, and the slowest could obtain but a few of these wampum beads. OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said, “Now this time the wampum beads will be of a black color.” His mother-in-law, as was the custom on such occasions, spread another buckskin on the ground. Then he drew in the smoke a second time and at once disgorged wampum beads which were entirely black in color; some of these fell on the buckskin and some away from it. As before, the people engaged in a lively contest for the beads which fell away from the buckskin, thus creating a great uproar. He who was active secured the most of the beads in these contests. Now OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said, “This affair is over entirely, and all people must return to their homes.” At this all the people departed from the lodge of GodweÑnia'?dani' and went to their several homes.

Things remained thus for a long time and the couple lived quietly together as husband and wife. One day OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said to his mother-in-law: “I am now thinking that she who lives with me and I will return to the place where my uncle, my mother’s brother, dwells. I do not know whether or not he is still alive, and for this reason we two will go back there. Now, my mother-in-law, I am going to tell you what I am thinking. I am not certain in my mind that you would be willing for me to suggest that you and my old uncle should mutually care for each other. You two are fine-looking and are about the same in age and bodily condition. How is it? Will you be willing to undertake this condition?” To this the mother-in-law answered, “Oh, my son! indeed your mind and thought suit me well. What you have suggested shall come to pass as you have said, provided your uncle is still in good health and alive when we shall arrive at the place where he lives. I will accompany you two home, my daughters will remain here with my sons and they will not want for anything.” So the next morning she was fully prepared with food for the journey to the former home of her son-in-law, and OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said to his former companions [518]on his journey homeward, “Let us now return to my home; and we bid you good-by.” So saying, he bade farewell to his brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law.

Then they departed on their long journey, and the bridegroom took his wife and his mother-in-law with him. They encamped on their way homeward many times. As soon as they arrived near the lodge of the young man’s uncle, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' said to his two companions: “Stop here until I visit the lodge of my home to make a reconnoissance, for I do not know whether my uncle is yet alive or not. I will return soon.”

Thereupon he started on the run to his home. Arriving there, he found his uncle eating his midday meal. The old man quickly arose and seized the young man, saying, “Now hast thou returned? Is it thou, my nephew? Art thou OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ'?” The nephew replied, “I it is, Uncle.” “Where is my daughter-in-law?” asked the old man. The nephew answered, “Oh, my uncle! she and another halted at a place not far from here, while I came here to make a reconnoissance to learn whether you were still alive or not. I am married in fact, and what is more than this, I have brought with me my mother-in-law. They two are very fine-looking women. I have thought very seriously of your age and also of the age of my mother-in-law, and you two seem suitable in this respect one for the other. I have already told her that I have thought well of having you two abide together as husband and wife. Oh, my uncle! I have now said to you what I intended to say. My mother-in-law is very thankful to me for my kindness in this matter and for my desire to make you and her happy and contented. Thus have I thought about this matter. Now will you agree to what I have proposed for your welfare?” Greatly pleased, the uncle exclaimed, “Oh, my nephew! how thankful I am for your kind effort in my behalf. Let me dress myself, and you may now bring the woman.” Delighted with the reception his uncle gave the marital proposal, OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' ran back to the place where the two women were anxiously awaiting his return. On arriving there, he exclaimed: “He lives! He lives and is in the best of health. He is eating. Let us go to him.” Thereupon they started for the lodge.

When they reached there they found the old man dressed and ready to receive them. As they entered the lodge the old man, tapping his couch several times, said gently to the mother-in-law, “Here you may abide.” She came forward and took her seat beside him, and OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' and his wife seated themselves opposite, putting the fireplace between them as was the custom for families to do in the ancient time. Then the old man said to his nephew: “I am indeed thankful that you have been able to overcome difficulties of all kinds along your path to and fro. You have heroically [519]braved all. Now, you must hunt, and mother and daughter shall live in contentment and peace.”

So OÑgwe? HaÑges'?hÄ' spent his time in hunting. Day after day he hunted. He knew well what animals to kill. Thus it came to pass in the ancient time that they dwelt together in peace and harmony and great contentment.

This is the end of the tale.

(A LEGEND OF THE CONTROL OF THE GAME ANIMALS)

An old man and his grandson, who was very small, lived together in a lodge for a long time, during which they occupied opposite sides of the fire, as was customary among their people. The little grandson played by himself on his side of the fire, rolling about in the dust and ashes. The old man was quite anxious at times about the future of the boy.

There came a time when the old man saw the child sitting about in different places on his side of the fire. Finally the child was surprised to hear the old man say in no kindly voice: “You will become a pitiable object if you continue in this way, for you are very small. It is necessary that you should do something to help yourself and provide yourself what you may need. A bow and arrows are perhaps the first of your needs.” So saying, the old man started making these for the boy, and when he had completed this task he went over to the place where the child was rolling about in the dust. Taking him in his arms, he said, “You must use these in this way,” and then standing the child on the ground, he said, “You must learn to shoot with these.” Then, grasping one of the hands of the child, the grandfather placed it on the bow in the usual position for shooting; then in the other hand he placed an arrow, at the same time instructing the child how to fit the two together in proper positions for shooting. Then the old man himself drew the bowstring, telling the little grandson, “This is the way you must ordinarily do.” In this manner he instructed his grandson in the art of shooting with a bow and arrow, and the child was not long in learning how to do it. Again he told him: “That is the way you must continue to do it.”

Afterward the old man drew forth his bundle of trinkets and treasures, and taking therefrom the foot of a raccoon he fastened it to a staff, which he set upright a long distance away, saying to his grandson: “You must shoot at this continually, and whenever you hit it you must say ‘Gajihsondis.’ This you must say, and I shall then learn what a good shot you are.” Now the child did indeed follow his grandfather’s instructions. [520]

Finally the time came when the old man said to his grandson: “I will now free you from my tutelage and now you must depend on yourself. No matter where you may be you must keep saying ‘Gajihsondis’ whenever you may hit any object—even this foot of the raccoon.” Therefore the old man paid no more attention to the welfare of his grandson. The latter ran around at pleasure for a long time. At last he asked his grandfather this question: “My grandfather, where are our kinsmen?” In answering him the old man told his grandson a number of things. Pointing off a long distance he replied: “They have gone far away to a place where lives a great beast. It is impossible for anyone to reach this place in seven years.” Without replying the youth kept on playing, as was his custom. Some time after while at play he arose and, going to his old grandfather, asked “What is the exact direction of that place whither our kinsmen have gone?” Going out of the lodge and standing beside the doorway the old man pointed far away straight toward the place where their relations had gone. He said: “There in that distant place is a spring of water in which lives the great beast, and in that place all our former kinsfolk perished.”

The youth answered, “Now, my grandfather, I will go to that place.” Very early the next morning, it is said, the youth, taking his bow and arrows, started on his long journey, saying, “Oh, my grandfather! I start now.” After a while the old man went out of the lodge, and, standing beside the doorway, said, “Ku'; he is indeed going a very long way off. It may be that he will be able to go there.” With these words the old man reentered the lodge.

How now with regard to the youth? Starting at a slow running gait, finally he reached a place which his grandfather had indicated to him, and after going over a mountain which was on his way he came to a lake, in the middle of which he was surprised to see floating about a white waterfowl. Taking aim, the youth at once shot at this strange fowl; the shot went so true that the fowl merely fell on its side dead. Pulling hairs from his head, the youth spliced them together until he had produced a cord sufficiently long for his purpose. This he cast out on the lake, and by this means was enabled to draw the body of the waterfowl to shore. At once he rushed up to the body and fell upon it. Soon he had prepared it so it could be borne on his back by means of the forehead strap. Then the youth started for home, and when he arrived at his grandfather’s lodge he said, “There now. I bring a very large animal.”

After looking at the body, his grandfather said, in reply: “Oh! this is not the right thing on which to be avenged.” The youth answered, “So be it, then. I will take it back to its home, as it seems proper to do.” Having packed the body by means of the forehead strap, he started for the place whence he had brought the [521]great animal. On arriving at the shore of the lake he cast the animal down on the ground, saying, “As to you, I shall leave you here, and, furthermore, you must come to life again.” Then, starting for home, the youth was not long in reaching the lodge of his grandfather, to whom he said: “I have now released the animal.” He did not delay in resuming his sports around the lodge, and continued them for a time.

One day when weary with playing he went up to his old grandfather, with the words, “Come now, just tell me the exact direction to take to go to the lair of the great animal of which you have told me such awful things.” The old man replied, “So be it.” Going out of the lodge he stood there. As soon as he had taken a suitable position he said to the youth: “Here it is; it is just here. As soon as you start and have gone quite a distance, then verily you will see that this pathway has the habit of shrinking back.416 This will be taking place continually, and this is the reason that it will require seven years to reach the place where is the spring which you are seeking. This path is one, too, of great danger and difficulty, for in that place dwell female beings which feed on human flesh, and it is they who devoured all the kinsfolk we had.”

After hearing this and following with his eyes the direction shown by his old grandfather, the youth started. After the lapse of some time the old man again said, “Let me see where he is.” Going out of the lodge, he stood looking around for his grandson, whom he finally saw disappearing in the distance. He mused with himself, saying: “It is certain, I believe, that he will be able to accomplish the feat of reaching the place where are the pitfalls set by the eaters of human flesh.”

When the youth arrived at the spring, he was indeed very thirsty. At once he decided to inspect the place in order to see how true was the saying of his grandfather that there lived in the spring a number of female beings (women?) possessed of great orenda (magic power). Thereupon the youth deliberately put his feet into the water. As soon as he did so the hideous being covered with scales quickly darted forward and snapped off his leg far above the knee. The youth merely laughed, saying, Ha?ha?, and wondered what would happen if he placed his other leg in the water. On doing so, the being at once snapped off this leg also; but the youth merely laughed and said nothing. Finally he said, “Let it be so. Now perhaps I will fish with a line.” This he proceeded to do. For the purpose of carrying out his design he removed portions of flesh from his thighs, which he fastened on his hook. Just as soon as he cast the hook into the water the great being seized it, whereupon the youth pulled his adversary out of the water and cast its body aside. It is said that now the great being began to whimper, “My grandson, [522]put me back into the water again.” But the youth, paying no attention to what it was asking him to do, again baited his hook and cast it into the waters. At once it was seized in the mouth of another one of the great wizard beings, which appeared in assumed shapes, and immediately the youth began to pull on his line, soon landing another of his adversaries. This, too, like the other, began to whimper, saying, “My grandson, will you please put me back into the water?” The youth replied: “I have no legs. You have broken off my legs.” At this the two beings came forward and began to work on his body. And the youth said to them in turn: “Do you two reset my legs. You see that I can not do it myself.” So the two beings, which were possessed of great orenda, obeying his instructions, put back his legs. Next the youth kindled a great fire, and just as soon as this was burning fiercely, seizing the hair of the male being, he cast him into the flames, and he did likewise with the body of the female being. When the bodies were consumed the heads of these beings exploded and out of them flew owls.417

Continuing a short distance, the youth found the lair of panthers which were fierce in aspect, for they were fighting. Raising his bow and arrow, he said to them, “Stop your anger, you two, for the place where you are belongs to me.”

Going on a short distance farther, he found a number of elk fighting in their turn. He said to them also, “Stop fighting, you two;” and they did stop fighting and separated. The youth told them, too, “This region belongs to me.”

Then there arose a great tumult and noise among the animals of all kinds. The youth saw there what seemed to be a long lodge, on the top of which owls were seated; these, too, were making outcries, saying “Hi?, hi?, hi?, hi?, hi?. Awake! a male human being is coming.” The youth now watched them, and he was surprised to find there lying down the body of some one who much resembled his grandfather, and he saw also everything that was inside the lodge. Among the things he saw was a kettle of corn mush, which was boiling over the fire. “I have found something which is perhaps good to the taste.”

Entering the lodge, he went to the farther side of the fire, whereupon from the opposite side of the fire a white deer came forth and entered the bosom of the old man. At this the youth started out of the lodge, and at once everything in the lodge began to leave. The breechclout of the old man went out, and the boiling mush, too, started out. The youth had gone a long distance before the old man awoke, exclaiming, “Pshaw! I think that he still has a grandson, that old man.” Straightening himself up, he said: “So let it be. I now believe that I also will start.” [523]

Then the old man took his club from its usual resting place, the one with which he was accustomed to fight, and pursuing the youth, soon overtook him, as was to be expected. Addressing the youth, he said, “For what reason did you rob me as you have done?” So saying, he struck the youth a heavy blow, causing the young man to fall over in an unconscious condition; and he lay where he fell.

Thereupon the old man turned back homeward, and all the things that had started out also returned homeward. As he walked along the old man restored the body of the great beast and all other things which had been disturbed by the youth during his visit to him.

Meanwhile the youth regained consciousness, and, realizing his condition, exclaimed, “Wu?', my head does certainly pain me; I believe that the old man has really killed me. So let it be. I think I will go back, perhaps, to the lodge of the old man.” When he reached the lodge, ho-wu?, the owls were making a great outcry: “Awake you! Now, indeed, the male human being is again coming.” At this the youth exclaimed, “Do you keep quiet! these things, here.” Entering again the lodge by stealth, he saw there the war club resting in its place, the club with which the old man did his fighting; it was full of nicks from hard usage in combat. Thereupon the youth said, “Keep thyself still; and indeed, you must give me assistance at this time. We will awaken the old man to his death.” Again entering the lodge, the youth went to the back part of the lodge, where he took a seat. Again the very small white deer came forth and entered his bosom. Then he arose and stood there, and all the things on the inside of the lodge started to follow him out of it. Even the breechclout of the old man he took from him.

The youth had gone a long distance before the old man again awoke. Realizing what had taken place, the latter exclaimed, “Gwa?'. He is alive again, I believe. Now, indeed, he shall suffer for this. I will do him harm in many places.” Then the old man started, after which he exclaimed, “Kwu?'! I have forgotten that, I have not painted my face, as is the custom, for I believe that I shall have to fight with one who is, it seems, a brave man, this youth.” Having poured dead coals into a basket, he carried them to a mortar standing near by, in which he began to pound the charred coals. He made a great noise in doing this, the blows with the pestle sounding “dum, dum, dum.” This action of the old man caused the youth to grow weak and faint as he walked along.

When the old man had finished pounding the coals he painted his face. Then he started in pursuit of the youth, saying, “I am following you.” The old man finally overtook the youth, whereupon he said to him, “Look here, my grandson! I am going to kill you.” The youth replied, “So let it be,” at the same time striking the old man a blow with the war club. Then they fought, and being evenly [524]matched, the struggle was fierce. Thus the battle went on for some time until at last the youth succeeded in killing his grandfather. Then he started for home, followed by all the things that were in the lodge of the old man.

The youth did not realize the time it took him to arrive at the lodge of his living grandfather, who exclaimed: “You certainly have brought back home our great beast. How did you accomplish it? Was the old man willing for you to bring it home? Was he willing, too, for you to take all the things which you have brought back with you?” The youth replied, “I killed the old wizard.” At this his grandfather began to weep, saying, “Now, indeed, you have killed him who, when living, was my brother.” Without making any reply, the youth prepared to lie down for the night. The two occupied the same side of the fire.

As soon as the youth fell asleep, the old man, his grandfather, arose and, addressing the sleeping youth, said, “I suppose that I must now kill you, wicked man, in your turn.” Taking up his bow and three arrows and, going over to the opposite side of the fire, he shot three arrows into the back of the youth, his grandson, who was asleep. Then the old man returned to his bed and laid himself down again. Some time after this the youth awoke and said, “Kwu?'! indeed my back does give me much pain.” On examining it with his hands, he was surprised to find three arrows sticking in it. At this discovery he exclaimed, “Gu?! now, I suppose, I must depart from this place, for it seems that my grandfather has killed me. So be it then. I will now go far away.” He started at once on his journey, and all the things which he had taken from his dead grandfather went with him—his grandfather’s breechclout and also the mush—these all went along. As soon as the old man saw that these things started to leave, he began to weep. So the youth left his grandfather.

When the youth had gone a long distance from his home, he was surprised to find a village of people. Leaving his slaves and domestics near the village, he went to the first lodge, where he visited. He found in this lodge a young man who resembled himself very closely in age, size, and manners. It was soon customary for them to go around together. It is said that they two kept company with each other wherever they went. Finally the youth from the village said, “Ku?, game is indeed very scarce. Where may be the game animals? Perhaps they have gone far away to seek subsistence. Possibly they have gone to the place where dwells the great beast.” In reply, the visiting youth said to his friend, “I am, it is known, called the great beast.” The other youth answered, “Aa, it is true. So be it. I will now show you where abide my domestic (game) animals.” [525]

Then the two youths departed from the place and at last came to the spot where dwelt the great beast, the prototype of all others.

The youth from the village now said to his friend: “I will now give up all the animals over which I have control, that they may go over the whole earth and dwell in freedom; that they may increase and multiply at their will and go and come as seems good to them. Then the noises made by all the animals became great in the world.

This is the story.

In times long past Honenhineh and his younger brothers dwelt in a lodge together; the lodge was constructed of bark and was very long, according to the custom of the country. There were three fires occupying the place provided for fire along the midway of the lodge.

These brothers dwelt thus together for a long time in this long lodge. It was their custom to go out into the forests daily to hunt game animals, and every evening those who had gone out that day to hunt returned, bearing each his burden of venison or other flesh, which would be cast down in the middle of the floor space of the lodge. It was usually dressed when packed for carrying; this was done for convenience. Then one of the brothers who had not been out hunting would unpack the bundle and proceed at once to cut up the meats and to hang them up for drying all along the sides of the lodge. This was the daily routine of these hunters of the lodge of Honenhineh. Thus they traveled much in many places in the forests.

At times, when all but the youngest brother, who was still very small, started out to hunt, one of the elder brothers would produce the foot of a raccoon, and throwing it to the end of the lodge, he would say to the youngest brother, “Here! This is something with which you can amuse yourself.” Then, when he would be ready to start he would scatter ashes around the doorway in such manner that no person or thing could enter the lodge without leaving tell-tale tracks to betray the intruder. Afterward he would say to the small boy, “Oh, youngest brother! You must not leave the lodge; you must not go outside of it.” So it was that this youngest brother never went outside of the lodge and did not know what the light of outdoors was like. The name of this boy was Little Burnt Belly.418 The youngster amused himself daily by tossing up the raccoon’s foot and shooting at it while it was in the air. It is said that he never missed the foot, for he had become an expert bowman from his daily practice. So the days went by for some time.

Then there came a day when the Honenhineh returned from hunting without bringing back anything in the way of game, but the [526]other brothers returned, bringing large packs of venison and other meats and furs and skins. As each brother returned he saw the eldest brother Honenhineh lying on his couch in silence, but not one of them paid any further attention to him, for they had returned with heavy packs while he had brought back nothing. Remaining thus for some time, Honenhineh finally arose and unpacked the packs of his brothers and hung up the quarters of venison and bear’s meat and the flesh of other animals to dry, and he hung up also the skins and furs properly prepared to dry—some to be made into buckskin and others into furs for robes and other useful articles.

This state of affairs in the lodge continued for many days and nights, and Honenhineh continued to fast rigorously. At last one evening one of his younger brothers said to him, “Oh, elder brother! you should take some food.” But Honenhineh replied: “No, I will not do so now. Do you help yourselves and take what food you may need. In a short time I myself shall take some food. There has come a change in the manner of my life. The land over which I hunted has become deserted of all life. Tomorrow I shall start from here, going in a northerly direction this time.”

So, without breaking his fast, Honenhineh lay down on his couch and his brothers retired for the night. But late at night Honenhineh arose and, going to the fire, he gathered together the embers and firebrands to stir up the flames, close beside which, it is said, lay Little Burnt Belly. Honenhineh having stirred up the fire, the rising flames caused many sparks to fall on the uncovered legs of Little Burnt Belly, who passively bore the pain. The elder brother, after watching the effect of the sparks, finally said, “Oh! my younger brother is very sleepy.” But in this he was deceived, for his younger brother, having made a small aperture in the skin with which he was covered, was watching all that he was doing. It is said that the skin was that of an old she-bear. Thus deceived, the elder brother prepared some food for himself and ate what he wanted of it. While watching him the youngest brother fell asleep. In the morning the youngest brother arose after his brothers had gone out on their hunting trips, and was very anxiously watching for the proposed departure of his brother Honenhineh after his long fast. When he had made all his preparations he said to his youngest brother, “Now I have started,” adding, “Do not, my brother, go outside of this lodge.” Then, taking out of his pouch suddenly a bear’s foot and casting it into the middle of the lodge, he said, “Here! Thou shalt amuse thyself with this object by using it as a target continuously.” On going out of the lodge, he scattered ashes all about the entrance so that nothing could enter without disturbing the ashes and so showing what it was that entered the lodge. On starting away, he said to his youngest brother, “For this journey I [527]am going toward the north to hunt.” So saying, he departed from the lodge.

Honenhineh kept on his northward course for a long time. When the day was past the meridian, on looking ahead he saw what appeared to him a number of clearings. When he emerged from the forest into these clearings he stopped and looked around; then he walked along slowly for some time.

Ahead of him a great deep gorge or valley yawned.

Scarcely had he taken a good look at this gorge when he heard in the distance an ominous tapping on a tree and the voice of a man singing: “It is a fortunate thing for me. A human being is walking along on the farther side of the valley.” Somewhat surprised, Honenhineh exclaimed: “Wu''! A man has discovered me. I suppose that he has treed a bear. Well, so be it; I will go thither.” So saying, he started down into the valley on a brisk run. As he ran along he came to a ridge, or shelf, leading into the valley, and he was startled by seeing pieces of bark fall all about him several times. Stopping and raising his head to look up into a tree standing in front of him, he saw a flicker, or yellowhammer, clinging to the tree trunk far above the ground, looking at him. As he looked at the flicker it began to smile at him and audibly said, “He who has the bow is well known to be a fairly bad shot,” and continued to smile at him. Honenhineh at once strung his bow and shot an arrow at this smiling yellowhammer, but the arrow flew wide of the mark, sticking harmlessly into the tree trunk. He shot all his arrows away in this manner without disconcerting the yellowhammer in any way.

Withdrawing a short distance, Honenhineh broke his bow and threw away the pieces. Then he said: “So be it. Let me pass on in my way yonder.” He continued onward until he reached the bottom of the valley, when he stopped to look around; ahead of him he saw a lodge out of which arose smoke. He resolved at once to go up to the lodge and started toward it. Going along slowly, he finally reached the side of the lodge, where he stood still. But he had not come to a halt before he heard from within the lodge the voice of a man saying to him: “My grandson, thou hast visited my lodge; so come in.” Honenhineh, at once obeying the summons, entered the lodge.

On looking around, he saw before him a young maiden seated, who was engaged in weaving a pack strap from the strands of slippery-elm bark prepared for this purpose. The man of the lodge said to the maiden, “Do thou make room on thy mat for the man who has entered our lodge, for you and he do now become husband and wife.” Complying with this request, the young maiden made room on her mat for Honenhineh to sit beside her. [528]

Then the elderly man said to her, “My granddaughter, prepare some food and set it before him who has entered our lodge, for he is probably hungry. With dried green corn as it cooks in the pot you must mix dried venison pounded fine, and into this mixture you must put a sufficient quantity of maple sugar and a quantity of bear’s grease or fat, to make the whole savory and appetizing.” The old man’s granddaughter at once obeyed, and after kindling the fire to make it burn briskly, she set a pot of water over it containing a quantity of dried sweet green corn. Bringing maple sugar from her store in a bark case, she put it into the pot with the corn. Then, procuring the dried venison and the bear’s grease, having pounded them fine, she put these ingredients also in the pot to cook with the other things. When she found that the corn soup was cooked she removed the pot from the fire and set it aside to permit the contents to cool. When it was sufficiently cooled the young maiden, taking up a portion of the soup with a ladle, placed it in a bark bowl and, setting it before Honenhineh, said to him, “Take this and eat it. I have prepared it for you.” Honenhineh, being quite hungry, willingly ate what was set before him.

It was not long after Honenhineh had finished eating that night came. Before the evening was far advanced the old man said, “Let us now retire for the night. Our guest has come here tired out in all probability, for he has traveled a long distance.” So they lay down for the night. Then the old man said, “My granddaughter, let me tell my story,” and he began to sing, “It is said that there were eight brothers who lived in a lodge.” This was the topic of the story which he chanted three times.

After waiting a few moments he said in a stage whisper to the sleeping visitor, “My grandson, are you listening to my story?” The only reply he received was the loud snoring of the guest. Presently the old man exclaimed, “The game animals are just toying with me. Why, one has even come into my lodge (to show its contempt for me).” So saying, the old man arose and took down his war club from its resting place, and approaching the sleeping visitor, he killed him with blows on the head. Then, replacing his club, he got out a huge clay pot, which he set over the fire after placing some water in it. Next he quartered the body of his victim and placed all the pieces in the pot to cook. While engaged in this gruesome work he kept saying, “I still can deal with the game animals which visit my lodge in my approved way, and so I am still able to eat the flesh of the most rare game animals.”

In the meantime, when night came on the lodge of Honenhineh and his younger brothers, the brothers returned one by one until all were there except the eldest, Honenhineh, who of course did not return. [529]His absence was duly noted. The brother next in age said, “I met him just this side of the Great Valley.” The following morning the brother next in age to Honenhineh started out on his brother’s trail to seek for him. He had gone along for some time when he was surprised to find the tracks of his brother, which he at once followed. Before long he saw ahead of him light through the trees from clearings in the forest, and he found also indisputable evidence that his brother had stood there. So he started forward slowly and finally came to the top of a hill overlooking the Great Valley, where he stood still for a moment. While standing there he heard the sound of a blow struck by a war club on the opposite side of the valley, and he heard the voice of a man singing, “I am indeed fortunate, for on the opposite side of the valley a human being walks along.” After thinking a few moments, he exclaimed: “Pshaw! This is all right. There is where my elder brother is moving about from place to place. Perhaps he has treed some animal or has found an animal in its lair. It must be a bear, I think. So be it; I shall go thither.”

In pursuance of his resolution, he resumed his brother’s trail and descended into the valley until he came to a bench, or terrace, where he stopped for a moment. Here he was surprised to see pieces of bark fall several times around him. Looking up into a tree near by, he saw clinging to the trunk far above the ground a small flicker, or yellowhammer. The bird smiled at him, exclaiming, “He has a bow in his hand just as if he could use it, for it is well known that he is quite a poor marksman.” At this the young man at once strung his bow and shot an arrow at the bird, whereupon he was surprised to see the arrows of his brother stuck in the tree. His first shot missed the bird, as did all the others. When all his arrows had been shot away, stuck fast in the tree top, he broke his bow and cast it away. Now, he was greatly surprised to see the pieces of his bow fall beside those of his brother’s bow. While he was shooting at the bird, it merely smiled and said, “It is curious that one who is a poor marksman generally goes about with a bow and arrows,” and it was only when he had lost all his arrows that he drew aside in disgust and destroyed his bow as a token that he did not care about what had happened to him. After casting away his bow the young man exclaimed: “Pshaw! I will go on farther, for I now hear my brother singing in the distance,” for he heard the voice of a man singing on the opposite side of the Great Valley.

Starting on a run down into the valley, he had not gone far before he saw ahead of him a field. When he reached the border of this he stood there a moment, but seeing in the distance a lodge and smoke issuing from it, he exclaimed: “So be it. Let me go [530]to that lodge to see what I may find. My elder brother has gone there.”

When he reached the lodge the young man came to a halt, but he had no sooner done so than he heard the voice of a man inside say to him: “Oh, my grandson! come in; you have visited my lodge at this time.” Accepting this challenge, the young man entered, whereupon the old man said to him: “I am thankful that you have now paid our (two) lodge a visit.” In front of him the young man saw a young maiden seated on a couch, weaving a forehead pack strap from slippery-elm-bark fiber. Then the old man said to her: “Make room on your mat for our visitor, for you and he are to become husband and wife. I am so delighted by this visit, for we two are to be pitied, living alone in this lodge, I and my granddaughter.” Obeying her grandfather, the young maiden made room on her mat for the young man. Next the old man said to the young man: “You have come here looking for your elder brother, Honenhineh. He passed here. Yonder, not far away, stands another lodge. There is where your brother has gone; he will return soon, I think.” Turning to his granddaughter, the old man said: “Oh, granddaughter! prepare food for our visitor; he is perhaps hungry, having come a long distance. You must pound up dried green sweet corn and dried venison, and place these in a pot to cook, to make corn soup; and you must put into the pot also maple sugar and bear’s grease. When the soup is cooked, place a bowlful before our visitor and let him eat his fill.”

The maiden set to work preparing the corn soup, as she had been instructed to do. First she pounded up dried sweet green corn and then dried venison. Then, having placed a large clay pot over the fire with water in it, she put in the dried corn and venison, which soon began to cook. Presently she added maple sugar to her soup. While these were cooking, the old man got for her some bear’s grease, which he brought to her in a bowl, saying: “Oh, granddaughter, put this also in the pot of soup.” When the soup was cooked, the maiden removed the pot from the fire and the contents were then placed in bark bowls to cool. When ready, the young woman placed a large bowl of the soup before the young man, telling him to eat his fill. When he had eaten what was set before him he thanked the old man, his “grandfather,” who acknowledged the compliment by saying, “My grandson, you were to be pitied, for you were very hungry when you visited my lodge.”

It was not long after this that night came. Before night had fully settled down the old man said: “Let us retire to sleep. Our visitor has come to us very tired, I suppose. You should prepare a separate couch of bark. I am very anxious concerning the probable return of his elder brother tonight. At all events, I suppose [531]he will probably return by tomorrow.” Having said this, the old man lay down, saying to the young man and the young woman: “Do ye two retire to sleep. I my own little self am asleep” (i.e., lying down to sleep).

After they had all retired for the night the old man said aloud, “Let me tell a tale,” and thereupon he began to sing, “They (masc.) have a lodge as a home, it is said; they are eight in number; they are lost (devoted to destruction).” He sang this song through three times. Now the young man began to snore loudly, for he had fallen sound asleep. In a short time the old man arose, and carefully readjusting his robe, said: “I am greatly perturbed in my mind. A game animal has come into my lodge on a visit.” Then taking down his war club and approaching his sleeping guest, he killed him by blows on the head.

Going to a corner of the lodge, he obtained there a great clay pot and, after putting water in it, he set it over the fire. Having quartered the body of his victim, he put it into the pot to cook. While he was engaged in this gruesome work he kept saying, “There is still no lack of power to do things in my manner of living, for I have no trouble to live. Game animals habitually come to my lodge.” So spake the old man, who was then cooking the entire body of a human being, and was happy. (It is said that he gave to his granddaughter the flesh of leeches to eat and putrid things also. She was not aware of what she was eating, for he had hypnotized her to think these things were proper and good. This granddaughter was a prisoner whom he had taken in one of his raids. But he himself ate human flesh in his lodge, and in order to satisfy his unnatural appetite he was engaged in killing people from all the neighboring settlements; this conduct agitated the entire country around.419)

In the meanwhile the brothers of Honenhineh, it is said, were not very much surprised when night came and the next younger brother had not returned, for they suspected some harm had befallen both their missing brothers. Then the eldest of the remaining brothers said, “Well, it is now for me to go to find my brothers who have not returned from the north.” So in the morning when they had eaten their morning meal he started out alone on the northward trail to seek for his missing brothers. After having gone some distance from the lodge he found the tracks of the eldest of the two brothers and followed their lead.

While running along he suddenly saw ahead of him the light in the forest from clearings near by. Keeping on his course, he finally came to a large clearing or field, where he stopped to look around, because the tracks of his two brothers led him to this point. While examining the country he saw in the distance the Great Valley, and as the trail led thither he followed it until he came to the brink of [532]the valley, where he stopped again to view the country around. At this point he heard a sound coming from the farther side of the valley, made by the blows of a club on a dead tree, and also the voice of a man who sang: “I am indeed lucky. On the opposite side of the valley there is a human being going along.” This song was repeated by the unknown singer. Thereupon the younger brother of Honenhineh said to himself: “It is strange that my two brothers have not given notice of this thing. It indeed seems certain that they have chased a bear to its lair; let me, then, go thither.”

So the young man started on a run down the slope leading into the valley along the trail made by his two brothers. Having run some distance, he suddenly noticed pieces of bark falling around him. At this he came to a halt and, looking up into a tree which stood near, saw high up on the trunk a small bird, a flicker or yellowhammer, now clinging to the tree trunk, and now flitting from place to place. As he raised his eyes to it the flicker, smiling, said, “He carries a bow and arrows pretentiously (as if he knew how to use them), although he is notoriously a very bad marksman.” Quickly stringing his bow the young man said to his tormentor, “Do not say anything more.” But the flicker only laughed, saying, “There is nowhere on this whole earth among the inhabitants a person living who has the ability to kill me.” The young man replied, “Be careful of thyself,” and he at once nocked his arrow. The flicker became visibly agitated and kept glancing at the young man furtively as it slowly crept around the tree trunk. Thereupon the young man shot at it, and then he saw not far from the spot occupied by the flicker the two shocks of arrows which belonged to his two brothers. The aim of the young man and his orenda were such that the arrow hit its mark, becoming fixed in the body of the flicker, which uttered a loud wail of despair and fell to the ground.

The young man did not withdraw his arrow, but took it up with the flicker’s body transfixed by it and placed it on his shoulder, thus to carry his victim. In the meantime the flicker kept saying, “You should let me go free again. I am doing nothing wrong.” But the young man replied, “No. I will not let you go free. I desire to show you to my two brothers.” With these words he resumed his journey.

He had not gone very far when he reached a clearing, at the border of which he stopped to look around. He saw at some distance a lodge, out of which smoke arose, whereupon he said, “I will go thither to the lodge. My two elder brothers are certainly idling away their time, for I believe that they are both there in that lodge.” He came to this conclusion because he noticed that the tracks of his two brothers led to the lodge. Having reached the side of the lodge, he came to a halt. He had no sooner stopped walking than a man’s [533]voice inside challenged him, saying, “Come, my grandson. Thou hast come to visit me in my lodge.” On entering, the youth was greatly surprised to see before him a fine-looking young maiden, who was seated on her couch weaving a forehead pack strap from the prepared fibers of slippery-elm bark. The old man said to his young visitor: “It has been, indeed, a very, very long time that I have been looking for you to pay me a visit. I have been saying that a great hunter is on his way here. There sits my granddaughter whom you are to marry. Granddaughter, move along on your mat to give him room to sit beside you.” As the young man passed him the old man noticed that he was carrying something that he had killed, and he quickly arose, saying: “Give me the body that you are carrying. That is indeed a very fine game animal which you have killed on your way here.” The young man replied, “No. I will not give it up until I first see my two brothers.” To this the old man rejoined, “They passed here, and so they will return here, perhaps very soon.” Then, turning to the young maiden, he added: “Prepare some food for him. He has come here hungry, perhaps. You must procure a quantity of dried green sweet corn, which you must pound in a mortar, and also dried venison, which likewise must be pounded fine. Set a pot containing water over the fire, and into this you must put the pounded corn and venison, adding a quantity of maple sugar, dried huckleberries, and lastly bear’s grease.”

The young woman hastened to prepare the corn soup in the manner in which she had been instructed by her old “grandfather,” and it was not long before the soup was cooked and ready to be eaten. At this time the old man brought from an adjoining room a bowl of bear’s grease, which he gave to the young woman, who put it into the pot of soup. Having done this, she removed the pot from the fire and set it where the contents would cool. Presently she placed a large bowlful before the young man, who ate it with a good appetite, and he gave thanks to his host for what he had eaten. Night coming on shortly after this, the three persons began to get ready for retiring. At this time the old man said to his guest, “You should give me the body of the bird which you have brought with you. You will leave it with me to keep for you.” But the youth replied, “I will not give it up to you.” To this the old man answered, in a threatening manner, “I am greatly agitated in my mind. Let us retire for the night. A game animal has indeed come into my lodge. I am now an old man. Still there is nothing that curbs my orenda (I am unaffected by any influence). I am bound to get back my own bird at any cost.”

So saying, he arose and, going aside, he took down his war club. Then, returning to the side of the young man, he said, “Do thou [534]give up to me the body of the bird which you have.” The answer came, “I will not give it up to you.” The old man, now in a great rage, retorted: “You are risking your life. You are about to die, and you can not escape from it.” With these words he raised his war club, shouting, “Will you hand me the bird, or not?” But the young man still replied, “No. I will not give it up to you.” Then the old man struck the youth on the head with the club and killed him. Thus he recovered the body of the bird and gave back its life420 (which was that of a female relation of the old man).

These events gave great pleasure to the old man, who went around saying: “There is nothing that yet affects my orenda; I am not suffering in any manner; no one from any place can come here who is able to treat me lightly.” So the old man was quite happy. Having brought out his great clay pot, with water in it, he set it over the fire, and after quartering the body of the young man, he placed it all in the pot to cook. After a suitable time he remarked, “It is perhaps cooked now.” He kept on looking into the pot from time to time to see whether the flesh was done. As it seemed not to cook thoroughly, the old man was greatly concerned about it, and continued saying, “There is something wrong; otherwise it would be possible to cook this thoroughly.” Finally, getting out of patience, the old man removed the pot from the fire and ate the raw flesh.

Now, in the lodge of the brothers there was anxiety when night came and none of the brothers who had gone northward had returned, and the five remaining brothers were wondering what had befallen them. When those who were left were back in their lodge Little Burnt Belly said, “Oh, elder brother! you must go tomorrow to bring them back.” Then they retired for the night and went to sleep. In the morning they arose and all except Little Burnt Belly went to hunt, as usual. The latter seated himself beside the fire and there he sat all day long without moving. When evening came the two missing brothers had not returned, and the hunting brothers came back empty handed, having killed nothing during the day. They all saw Little Burnt Belly seated beside the fire, silent and motionless.

The brothers retired for the night and slept soundly. When daylight came and they arose they saw Little Burnt Belly still seated beside the fire. He maintained the one position and said nothing to any of his brothers. When they ate their breakfast he did not arise to have his share. The other brothers then left the lodge to go out hunting for game animals for food. After they had gone Little Burnt Belly arose, saying, “Let me amuse my elder brothers.” Thereupon he then took down his bow and arrows, and shot two arrows up out of the smoke-hole of the lodge. [535]

As the brothers were engaged in the chase at no great distance one from another, they were greatly surprised to see a very large deer rush up to them and fall dead at their feet, and soon another deer did likewise. They saw that an arrow protruded from the body of each deer—a circumstance which was very mysterious to them. As quickly as possible one of the brothers rushed up to the stricken deer, and breaking off a leaf, wrapped it around the arrow before touching it with his hand to draw it forth, saying, “I do not desire to uncharm my youngest brother’s arrow.” Then drawing out the arrow, he carefully laid it up in the fork of a tree. Having done this he started at once for home, carrying the whole body of the deer. Before it was dark Little Burnt Belly saw his elder brother bringing back the deer. Not long afterward the other brother came into the lodge bearing on his back the other deer properly packed for carrying. The other two brothers returned with them as guards.

They found Little Burnt Belly still seated before the fire. But when they were back in the lodge he said to them, “Our missing brothers have not yet returned home. Tomorrow I myself will go on their trail to seek for them.” After eating their evening meal they retired for the night and slept soundly. When morning came they prepared their usual breakfast and then started out to hunt. Thereupon Little Burnt Belly arose, and going to his couch procured such articles of apparel as he needed for his journey. He took also his bow and arrows, which were his immediate trust and dependence for accomplishing his task, for they were full of orenda (magic power), which he could control for his own use. He ate no breakfast; he needed none, for he desired to have all his faculties clear and alert. While seated beside the fire he had been taking suitable medicine to make him sound and clear visioned that he might be able to cope with the wizard whom he suspected of having destroyed his missing brothers.

Leaving the lodge, Little Burnt Belly shaped his course northward to find the trail of his three brothers. It was not long before he struck this, and he followed it on the run, presently entering a vast forest whose great trees made it dark and gloomy. He had been running for a large portion of the day when he saw daylight through the trees, from which he inferred that there must be a clearing ahead of him. Keeping his course, finally he came to the edge of a large clearing or field. As he saw the tracks of his brothers there, he stopped to look around. Immediately he heard a peculiar sound of tapping, and looking in the direction whence the sound seemed to come he perceived that it proceeded from the opposite side of a great valley just ahead of him. Making his way along to the brink [536]of the valley he heard the voice of a man saying, “It seems that I am in luck, for on the opposite side of the valley a human being walks along.” He heard this voice three times. As the trail led him in the direction of the sound he said, “I think it my duty to follow this trail, for the voice may be that of one of my brothers (said ironically).”

So descending into the valley he came to a terrace or bench, along which he was following his brother’s tracks, when his attention was attracted by pieces of bark falling around him. Halting and looking up into a tree standing just at his side, he saw a small bird high up on the trunk, clinging to it and flitting at times from place to place. He saw that the bird pretended to be a flicker, or yellowhammer. When the flicker saw him looking up, it said with a laugh, “Some people who believe themselves possessed of orenda go about with bow and arrows just as if they knew how to use them, although they may be the poorest of marksmen.” Pointing an arrow at it, Little Burnt Belly said: “Be careful of thyself. Some people trust their orenda too far, for they lay claim to too much power for their own good.” At once the flicker became visibly agitated, and kept glancing at Little Burnt Belly furtively, as it slowly crept around the tree trunk. At an opportune moment he let fly an arrow, which pierced the body of the flicker, causing it to fall to the ground without uttering a sound. Little Burnt Belly did not fail to notice the shocks of arrows sticking in the tree trunk near the spot where the flicker was clinging and to recognize them as belonging to his brothers; he saw also their broken bows, and knew that they were in the power of some wizard.

Taking up his arrow with the flicker still pierced by it, and placing it over his shoulder, he resumed his journey. He was not long in coming to the lodge which he had seen in the distance, and to which the trail of his brothers had led him. As he drew near, a man’s voice within said, “Oh, my grandson! come in; I am thankful that you have come to visit me.” On entering the lodge he saw an old man whom he recognized as a cannibal, and he saw also before him, seated on her couch, a fine-looking young maiden. The old man exclaimed: “I have been looking for you for a very, very long time. I have said all along that a great hunter was on his way to visit me. There sits my granddaughter whom you are to marry. Granddaughter, move along, and give him some room by you.” As Little Burnt Belly passed the old man the latter saw that he was carrying something which he had killed, and he arose quickly, saying: “Do give me the body of that thing which you have killed, for it is indeed a very fine game animal.” But Little Burnt Belly replied: “I will not give it up. I will first see my missing brothers.” The old man [537]persisted, however, saying: “You should give me that bird. I am greatly agitated in my mind. Nothing yet has curbed my orenda. I will get back that bird at any cost. A game animal has now come to my lodge.” Little Burnt Belly retorted: “You are boasting of the invulnerability of your orenda, but this bird contains your life, and I am your master, and you know it. You have long ago forfeited your life by all your murders and cannibalism, so now you shall die.” So saying, Little Burnt Belly crushed his head with the blows of his war club. Then he liberated the slave, or prisoner, of the cannibal from the effects of drugs which had been given her by her master, and after bringing back to life his own brothers, who had been devoured by the cannibal, they all returned to the lodge of Honenhineh.

In the beginning of time, when the earth was new, when the inhabitants of it spoke but a single tongue, when these good people dwelt in perfect harmony and peace, and when the several settlements lived in such manner that there were no quarrels or contentions among them, there dwelt in one of these settlements, or villages, Godasiyo, a woman, who was the chief of her village.

The village over which Godasiyo held sway was situated beside a very large river; in fact, it occupied both sides of this important stream. It was the custom of the people of Godasiyo to cross the river for the purpose of visiting, of attending the dances which are held every night, and of exchanging their goods—meat, venison, skins, furs, roots, bark, and dried fruits and berries—in order to supply their several needs. Moreover, the lodge of public assembly was situated on one side of the river—a feature that occasioned considerable traveling across and back. This stream was very large and rapid. The people crossed it by means of a bridge constructed of saplings and of limbs of trees carefully fastened together. The state of good will and contentment, above described, continued for a long time, but at last trouble arose. The cause of this was a white dog which belonged to the chief, Godasiyo. The dissension became so serious that there was great danger that the factions would become involved in a fight over the matter. The great river divided the two parties.

Finally, Chief Godasiyo, after long deliberation, decided that the only way in which a deadly contest could be avoided would be by the removal of her own adherents to some other place of residence. Having decided to take this step, she at once informed her adherents of her resolution to remove westward by ascending the stream on which they were living. She invited all who had taken her part to follow [538]her into exile from their present settlement. And they all agreed to emigrate with her. She told them further that they would ascend the river in canoes of birch bark, which would enable them to transport their small belongings with ease. So the people set to work to construct the water craft. Two canoes of birch bark of suitable size were made, and these were fastened together by means of strong saplings extending from one canoe to the other so as to support a kind of platform extending over the canoes and the space between them. This structure was for the sole use of the chief, Godasiyo. The followers of Godasiyo proceeded to construct birch-bark canoes for themselves also. When Godasiyo took her seat on the craft constructed for her sole use all her adherents and defenders launched their own canoes containing their effects.

When all had embarked, with Chief Godasiyo in the lead, all paddled upstream. The flotilla of canoes was very large, covering the surface of the water as far as the eye could see up and down the river. After they had paddled a long distance, the people finally came in sight of the forks in the river, and then it was that they began to converse together—the two divisions of canoes, one on each side of the float of the chief, Godasiyo—as they paddled upstream. One division chose one of the forks in the river as the course to follow to their new settlement, and the other division elected to turn into the other channel. Each division gave its reasons for the choice which it had made, and the divergent views gave rise at last to heated discussion. This strife continued to the point where, if persisted in, the people would become definitely separated; still no compromise was effected, so the leaders in each division turned the prows of their canoes so as to ascend the fork of the stream which they had selected. Thus they began to separate.

When this movement began the two men paddling the two canoes on which rested the float of Chief Godasiyo disagreed as to the course that they should take under the circumstances. As each chose the fork branching off on his side of the stream, the two canoes became separated, and the platform on which Chief Godasiyo was sitting slipped off its support, falling into the water and carrying the chief with it. The people drew near and, looking into the water to see what had become of their chief, they saw that she had sunk to the bottom, where she had become transformed into a great fish.

Thereupon the people of the two divisions attempted to converse together, but they were unable to understand one another, for their language had become changed. It was in this manner that this body of people became divided and possessed of different languages. Thus it came about that there are so many languages spoken by the various tribes dwelling on this earth. [539]

In the ancient country of the Oneida, which they occupied when the League of the Iroquois was formed, were a number of subterranean caverns, which, it was said, were inhabited by various tribes of men. The following legend is about one of these caverns:

It was said that in the olden time a certain young man of a good family while out hunting in this region saw a large raccoon ahead of him, which seemingly was attempting to escape from him. At once the young hunter started in pursuit of the raccoon, and soon the race became interesting, for the raccoon was gradually gaining on its pursuer. It was not long before the raccoon had gotten out of his sight, so the hunter was able to follow it only by following its tracks in the snow that lay on the ground to the depth of a span. After a very long pursuit the hunter finally tracked the raccoon to a large river, the banks of which were very high and rocky. The tracks led along under one bank for a long distance. The young man was becoming quite exhausted when finally he came to the mouth of a cavern in the river bank, into which the tracks of the raccoon disappeared. The entrance to this cavern was just large enough to admit the body of the hunter, and he decided to go in; but before doing so he set up his bow and arrows and walking stick beside the entrance. He found that the passageway inclined downward at a gentle grade. After entering the passage the young hunter found that the way was long. Having gone so far in that the light from the entrance had entirely faded away, at last he was delighted to see that it was becoming light ahead of him. So he kept on until finally he emerged from the cavern. Thereupon he was surprised to see that the tracks of the raccoon led out of the passageway into the open. The young hunter stood quiet for some minutes, viewing the country around. He was greatly surprised to find further that the climate of this region was quite different from that in which he commonly abode, for he found black raspberries ripe or ripening, although there was much snow on the ground in the country whence he had just come. Then he resolved to follow a well-beaten path, which led farther into the new country. As he went along he blazed the trees bordering the path, or broke twigs and branches off the trees in such manner that these would serve as signs by which he could retrace his steps in the event of losing his way. He noticed that the path leading from the entrance to what he thought was a cavern led inland, turning to the right a short distance from the entrance. He followed this road because he saw in the dust of the path the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following.

As he walked along, keeping a sharp lookout for whatever might happen, he saw in the distance a lodge, which from its appearance [540]seemed to be occupied; he noticed smoke arising from it, hence he inferred that people were dwelling there. He resolved to go ahead to see who lived in that lodge. As he continued on he still saw the tracks of the raccoon which he had been following. On reaching the lodge the young hunter entered, finding within two very aged people, seemingly a man and his wife, who appeared to be superannuated. The old man was the first to greet the hunter, saying, “My grandson, it is indeed well that you visit our lodge and home.” Then the old woman joined her husband in welcoming him with the words, “My grandson, it is indeed good that you visit our home.” The hunter replied to these words of welcome, “I am indeed glad that you two are still living in health in this world.” The heads of these two old people were white and partially bald, for their years were many; but they set food before their guest, which he ate heartily and thankfully, for he had become quite exhausted from his long pursuit of the raccoon. When he finished his meal he conversed with the old man concerning the affairs of that country.

In a short time the old man said, “The chiefs of this settlement have invited me to meet them in council this evening, and I should be much pleased to have you accompany me to our lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”).” Here the wife of the old man added, “My grandson, you should go with him and so become acquainted with our people and see the country.” The young hunter consented to accompany his aged host, for he learned that he was a noted chief in his land. Thereupon the aged chief said, “My grandson, when we arrive at the lodge of assembly you must not remain outside; you must enter with me; and when they begin to dance you must return here at once, for if you should remain there you would meet with a terrible misfortune. I am giving you warning in due time. Moreover, you must not linger along the way homeward, but you must make all possible speed. Yonder is a hut, which rests on a platform supported by four posts, in which hut you must retire for the night. There is a ladder leading up to the entrance of the hut, which, when you have reached the platform, you must pull up after you and lay on the scaffolding outside the lodge. I warn you further. You must not consent under any consideration or persuasion to let down this ladder to enable a person or persons to go up and be with you, for should you give this consent a most appalling thing will befall you. Do not forget these warnings. Your safety depends on your obeying what I have said to you, for I am telling you these things for your welfare.” The young hunter assured the old man that he would obey his warnings. Looking out he saw the elevated hut to which the old man said he should retire for the night, and he noticed that the supporting posts had been peeled and carefully oiled to prevent anything from climbing them to reach the hut. This fact [541]aroused the young hunter’s curiosity, but feeling that he should not pry into the affairs of his hosts he held his peace.

Having completed their small preparations, the aged chief and his young guest departed for the council. When they reached the lodge of assembly (“Long-lodge”), they found that they were on time. The hunter saw what was usual on such occasions and gatherings—that those whose intentions and purposes were good had already taken their places inside the council lodge, and that those who had evil designs and propensities were going to and fro outside. He noticed, too, that when the frivolous young women saw him and recognized him as a stranger, they at once guyed one another at his expense, jostling and hawing and clearing their throats, in order to make the young stranger look at them and to join them; but he paid no attention to their ruses. On entering the lodge of assembly the aged chief and his guest found that it was already well filled with the orderly people of the settlement, and that the chiefs were all present, quietly awaiting the arrival of the host of the young hunter. When the two had taken their seats the Fire-keeper chief arose and in a formal speech uncovered figuratively the council fire, expressing with much feeling the public thanks for all the good things they enjoyed and for the preservation of their lives. He made these remarks in a loud voice, giving thanks to the Master of Life. After forbidding the commission of bad deeds by everyone there present he carefully stated the purpose of their session. He asked every chief to employ wisdom and mercy and justice in the conduct of the business. After a number of the chiefs had discussed the matter pro and con before them, and had in their parlance “cooked the ashes,” and the business of the council had been transacted, the Fire-keeper again arose to close the session formally, by saying, among other things, “We now cover the fire with ashes. And after the dancing, which will begin now, we will disperse to our homes.”

The young hunter, hearing these last words and remembering the strict injunctions of his host, hastened out of the lodge and at once started for home at a rapid pace. But his movements had been watched by four young women, abandoned characters of the settlement, who at once pursued him swiftly, laughing, hawing, and calling to him to stop and await their pleasure. This conduct, however, only caused the young hunter to travel ahead as fast as it was possible for him to go. Soon he was chagrined to find that he was not leaving the young women, for their voices did not die away, so finally he started to run at top speed. After a time, becoming exhausted by the exertion, the hunter slackened his pace to a brisk walk, whereupon he soon heard the sounds of the laughing and guying voices of the pursuing women, who seemed to be rapidly gaining on him. Again he started on a brisk run in a seemingly vain effort to [542]outdistance his fleet-footed pursuers, for just as soon as he would relax his efforts in the least, the sound of their voices could be heard not far behind him. The serious injunctions of his aged host urged him onward as rapidly as it was possible for him to go. Thus closely pursued, he finally reached the hut and lost no time in ascending to it by means of the tree ladder, which he drew up after him, as he had been directed to do by the old man. Having entered the hut and secured its bark flap door as well as he could from the inside, he anxiously awaited events. Soon the four wretched women arrived and clamorously asked him to let down the ladder to enable them to climb up to his room, but the young man gave no heed to their importunities. Through small crevices in the walls of the hut he watched them while they attempted to climb the posts, but as these were greased the women were unable to do so. Throughout the night they remained at the foot of the posts clamoring for the ladder. At daybreak the women ceased their attempts and noise, and the young man fell asleep from exhaustion. When he awoke he arose, and unfastening the door flap of bark, he went out on the platform around the hut. On looking down, he saw at the foot of each of the posts a huge female rattlesnake, coiled and asleep; these he divined were the four wretched women who had pursued him the previous night. His movements over their heads awakened them, and at once they crawled away into the neighboring thickets without indicating in any manner that it was they who had just tormented him.

Having gathered up his few belongings and let down the ladder, he descended to the ground and hastened to the lodge of his aged hosts, which stood not far away. On entering, he was astonished to find the aged host, in the form of a huge rattlesnake, coiled up on the couch, but he was reassured by seeing the old woman, who was up, and who had taken the precaution of assuming human form again. Though at first somewhat nonplused by what he had just seen, the young hunter asked the old woman, “Where is my grandfather? I suppose he has gone out into the forest?” Without showing any perturbation, the old woman replied, “Yes; he has gone out, but he will soon return. Back of the ledge you will find water with which you may wash your face and hands. The morning meal is now ready, and we will eat it just as soon as you return.” Having washed, as suggested, in a bark trough in the rear of the lodge, he returned to join the old woman and her husband at the morning meal.

While eating the young hunter took occasion to examine the furnishings of the lodge more thoroughly than he had had an opportunity of doing sooner. In the room he saw numerous bark vessels of many sizes with various kinds of nuts, dried fruits, and berries; wooden vessels containing honey; and small bundles of the dried twigs of the spicebush shrub for use in making a beverage [543]to be drunk hot with meals. The youth was further surprised to see in a corner of the room, curled up on a mat, the raccoon which he had pursued so persistently the previous day. He was now fully convinced that he was the guest of a family of rattlesnakes, for when he returned from washing himself at the back of the lodge he found that the old man had again assumed human form, appearing to him as he had the day before, and greeting him with, “Well, my grandson, did you rest well last night?” The young man replied, “Yes; I rested quite well.” When the old woman had placed the food on the bench, she addressed the young man, saying, “My grandson, now you must eat your fill, for there is plenty here. So do not be afraid of eating all you wish.”

Having finished his meal, the young hunter thanked his rattlesnake hosts, and after bidding them farewell he started for his own home. He returned to the mouth of the cavern, for such was this place, and crawling back through the passage he reached the surface of the earth in his own country, where he found his bow and arrows and his walking stick just as he had left them. He quickly made his way home to his family, to whom he related his experiences in the cavern. He was so astonished at what had befallen him while in pursuit of a raccoon that he had the chiefs call a council of their chiefs and people to hear the strange recital. He told them that he had indeed visited the rattlesnake people, and that they assumed at will human form and attributes and lived under human institutions. He was thanked by the council and people for his recital. But the young hunter never afterward took advantage of the invitation of the old rattlesnake chief to revisit him and his wife.

In ancient times a certain family, consisting of seven brothers and one sister, lived together contentedly in a large bark lodge. It was the duty of this sister while her brothers were out hunting to cut in the neighboring forest the firewood used by the family and to bring it to the lodge.

It is said that the sister was uncommonly comely, although her size and stature were above the average for women, and that she possessed unusual strength. In the performance of her duties she was accustomed to be absent from the lodge during the entire day, returning with her burden of firewood in the evening. Now, the youngest of the seven brothers was a recluse—that is to say, he was deanoÄ'don'.422 As the duties of the sister did not require her to go far from the lodge, she was usually the first to return to it in the evening, while the brothers, who had to go many miles away to find game and fish, did not return at times until very late at night. [544]

There came a day, while the six normal brothers and their sister were absent, and while there was no one in the lodge except the recluse, when a young woman, daughter of the noted witch, Gahon?dji'da'?honk, came to the lodge bearing a huge basket of marriage bread. There were, of course, eight beds to accommodate the seven brothers and their sister, which were properly arranged along the sides of this long lodge. The bed occupied by the youngest brother, the recluse, was nearest to the doorway on its side of the lodge. The witch’s daughter had been instructed by her mother to take her seat on this bed. But upon entering the lodge the young woman, after looking around, set her basket down in front of the third bed and took her seat thereon. This bed was the third one from the doorway, counting from the entrance on the left side of the lodge. Feeling, however, that she had not followed her instructions, the young woman did not sit there long, but took her seat on the next bed, because she imagined that it had a better appearance than the one on which she had been sitting. But she kept on shifting her position from bed to bed until she finally came to the seventh bed. Here the second of the seven brothers and his sister found her on their return to the lodge.

Seeing her seated on the bed and noticing the basket of marriage-proposal bread, they inferred that she had come to marry their brother on whose bed she sat, so they said to her kindly, “We are very thankful that you have come to our lodge, oh, our sister-in-law.” She made them no reply but by her actions showed her appreciation of this welcome reception on their part. In the order of their ages the other brothers returned to the lodge, and with the exception of the eldest one all saluted her with words of welcome in the same manner as the first two had expressed their delight at having her for their sister-in-law.

The eldest brother was the last to return to the lodge, and by the young woman’s own choice seemingly by sitting on his bed with a basket of marriage-proposal bread before her, he was her chosen husband, so he addressed her as his accepted wife. Noticing at once that he was blind in one eye, she was chagrined for not having obeyed her mother’s instructions with regard to the bed on which she should await her future husband. She thought it best, however, to seem to ignore her disturbing discovery and her unhappy feelings in consequence, so she began to study her surroundings in the lodge. She saw that some one whom she had not noticed before was lying on the bed next to the doorway on the left-hand side of the entrance, the one on which she had been told to sit on entering this lodge. She made the discovery also that the person lying on this bed was the recluse of the family, that in fact he was deanoÄ'don', and as such was “secluded” from all persons. She noticed, too, that no [545]one paid the slightest attention to the recumbent figure, which was heavily covered with robes of skin from head to foot. Hence her curiosity was thoroughly aroused, especially as it was on this bed that her mother had directed her to sit.

The next day, when all the other persons of the lodge except the recluse and the bride wife had gone out into the forest on their various errands, she arose from her couch, and crossing over to the other side of the fire, went to the bed on which lay the covered figure and cautiously drew down the covering from the head of the person who was fast asleep. There she saw with longing eyes and half-suppressed passion a handsome youth of finely developed figure. She stood there partly bent over the sleeping youth, sorely infatuated. By gently shaking the young man she finally succeeded in awakening him, whereupon she said to him, “Arise, my friend, and come to my couch and let us talk together.” But the youth neither arose nor would he speak to her, notwithstanding all her fervent entreaties to embrace her. Naturally this conduct only intensified the young wife’s desire, so she continued during the entire day to tease and coax the youth to go over to her own couch. But he made no response to her persistent efforts. When she thought it was about time for the other persons living in the lodge to return, she went back to her couch, where she had remained of her own choice the previous night. She did not love her husband since she found out his misfortune and her great mistake in choosing his couch (contrary to her instruction) for a resting place when she first came to the lodge.

When all the family had returned to the lodge for the night and had prepared, cooked, and eaten their supper of corn bread, boiled venison, and spicebush tea, they retired to their several couches, whereupon the bride began to tell her husband a story invented for the occasion. She declared that when he and his brothers and sister had left the lodge the day before and she was alone with his deanoÄ'don', or recluse brother, the latter had come over to the side of her bed and had made improper proposals to her, and that she had great difficulty in resisting his attempted assaults. Her husband, however, made no reply to this carefully concocted story.

Again, the next day, when all the brothers excepting the recluse, and their sister, had left the lodge, the bride went to the bedside of the recluse, and after awakening him, coaxed and begged him to come to her own couch. Knowing her motive, the youth made no response to her importunities except to tell her that she should be satisfied with her own choice of a husband, reminding her that she had been satisfied to reject the speaker when she first came to the lodge, although she had been instructed to take a seat on his bed as a token [546]of a marriage proposal. Completely baffled by the attitude of the youth and enraged by his conduct in refusing to gratify her desire, she returned at last to her own couch with a heart filled only with bitter thoughts of revenge on him. Then, in order to make her contemplated story appear true, she lacerated and bruised her neck and face and breasts and arms with her own hands and fingernails, in order to support her intended accusation against the youth of an attempted assault upon herself.

When the other members had returned to the lodge in the evening, and after they had eaten their suppers and had retired for the night, the young bride again told her husband with much simulated emotion that his recluse brother had made that day another attempt to assault her when the other occupants of the lodge were absent, showing her lacerated neck and arms and face in corroboration of this false story. Still the husband made no response to her accusations against his youngest brother. The next day, however, when he was out in the forest hunting with his other brothers he related to them the story which his bride had told him. They, too, received this information in silence.

On the third day after the arrival of the young woman in the family she still had hopes of entrapping the recluse by inducing him to share her bed with her. In fact, she had been sent by her notorious mother, Gahon?dji'da'?honk, to marry this youth, not because the mother thought he would make her daughter a suitable husband, but rather because she wished to get him into her power, for, on her own account, she feared to allow him to grow to manhood without an attempt to destroy him, knowing well that all who were regarded as deanoÄ'don'423 were possessed of most potent orenda (magic power), which they would put into use as soon as they attained manhood—at the age of puberty. The recluse youth had foreseen for many months the events which would come to pass after the arrival of this dutiful daughter of Gahon?dji'da'?honk. He knew well that the great witch had sent her for the express purpose of getting him into her power in order to destroy him before he could develop into manhood. Hence, he sturdily resisted all the wiles of the daughter to get him to embrace her, as he knew that such action would place him at the mercy of her mother. He feared being bewitched; he realized that he must exert to the full his orenda against that of the great witch, for he was aware that the penalty for being defeated was death. In order to carry out her scheme the young bride arose on the third day when all except the recluse and herself had left the lodge, and going over to the bedside of the youth, again entreated him tearfully to come to her couch. But he was obdurate, rudely repulsing her advances, until finally she returned to her own side of the fire. Despairing of accomplishing her purpose by gentle [547]means, the young woman, whose anger was thoroughly aroused by the youth’s refusal to be seduced by her, went out of the lodge into a dense thicket, and, baring her legs, she plunged into the midst of briers and thorns, which lacerated them very badly. In this condition she returned to the lodge to await the coming of her husband. When her husband and his brothers and sister had returned the young woman kept her peace for a while, although she pretended to be troubled in mind. But after they had eaten their supper and had retired for the night she told her husband a story of another attempted assault on her by his youngest brother, and to confirm this she showed him in the ill-lighted room her torn and blood-stained legs and thighs. Her husband made no reply, although he had decided what to do.

The next day after their morning meal all except the young wife and the recluse left the lodge on their daily trips into the forest, the brothers to hunt and the sister to procure bark and fuel for the fire. When the brothers had reached their rendezvous in the forest the eldest told the rest what his wife reported to him, and also that she had shown him her bleeding legs and thighs in confirmation of her story. After a short parley, the brothers solemnly decided that it was their duty to kill their youngest brother; so they returned to the lodge that night with the firm determination to carry out their resolution. The next morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, they informed him of their decision to kill him in order to put a stop to his scandalous conduct toward his brother’s wife. The youth, knowing that he was innocent of the charge and that the young woman had falsely accused him to his brothers, calmly lay down on his couch in silence that his brothers might kill him.

First, the eldest brother solemnly approached the couch, and drawing his flint knife from his pouch he passed it across the throat of his youngest brother; whereupon he was astonished to see that the knife had made no cut. After sawing away with his knife until he had worn it out, he abandoned the attempt with grave misgivings that all was not well with his brother. Then the rest of the brothers tried in turn to cut the throat of the youngest, but in this they failed completely. When they fully realized that they had been foiled by some unknown power, the recluse said to his astonished brothers: “None of you possesses the orenda (magic power) to enable you to kill me. My sister alone possesses such potency; hence she can kill me. When she has done so, you shall build a log lodge of massive construction, and you shall put over it a roof of the largest logs, so that the lodge shall be entirely secure. But before putting in place the roof you shall lay my body in the lodge and also leave my sister alive therein. Further, you shall [548]place my head in its correct position with relation to the rest of my body. Finally, seal up the lodge with the logs as I have said.”

Then the sister of the youth, with her flint knife, beheaded her brother, afterward withdrawing in deep sorrow. Thereupon the six brothers of the dead youth set to work constructing the log lodge as they had been instructed to do, using the largest logs they could handle. When they had finished this task they placed their sister alive in the lodge with the body of the slain brother, just as he had directed, and covered the rude but strong structure with the largest logs it was possible for them to obtain and handle. Then they returned to their own camp.

When the brothers arrived there they were somewhat surprised to see that the bride of the eldest had mysteriously disappeared. They marveled greatly at this singular occurrence, which they could not explain, for there were no traces of her having been attacked by an enemy.

While they were thus perplexed there suddenly arose a terrific hurricane and windstorm, which was the work of the notorious witch Gahon?dji’da'?honk, the mother of the missing bride. At the height of the tempest, within the lodge of great logs, the head of the youngest brother became reunited to his body, and the youth came to life. At once he said to his sister, possessed of potent orenda, “Oh, my sister! press with all your might both your hands over both my eyes and keep them there until I tell you to remove them.” The sister quickly obeyed her brother, for she knew that the storm maidens would snatch away the eyes of her brother if possible. The tempest swept the ground in all directions from the lodge as far as the eye could see, trees being torn up by the roots and tossed about as if they were grass stalks. The camp of the six brothers was swept away and they were destroyed with it.

Nevertheless the lodge in which the youngest brother and his sister were inclosed was left intact, and the two inmates were unharmed, except in one respect: When the rage of the storm had subsided, the brother said to his sister, “Now you may take your hands from my eyes, for it was of no avail for you to have held them there. Gahon?dji'da'?honk has overmatched me in sorcery; her orenda has overcome mine.” From this speech the sister learned that the youth claimed to be a wizard, possessed of orenda of abnormal potency and efficiency. But she was greatly astonished and agitated to find that her brother’s eyes had been snatched out from under her hands during the storm and that consequently he was blind, for on removing her hands from his face she saw the eyeless sockets.

Without any ado the brother said to his sister, “Let us leave this place. Remove the roof of logs so that we may get out of this lodge.” Then the sister, who was abnormally strong for a woman, [549]set to work removing these logs, and, when she had removed enough of them to enable her brother and herself to climb out, they regained their freedom. Thereupon the blind brother said, “Let us go home now; and in order to do this we must travel directly southward from here.”

The sister, agreeing with this proposition, at once set to work making preparations for the journey. In order to be able to bear her brother on her back she constructed a kind of harness or carrying-chair (ga'nigon'?hwa'). When she had completed her task she placed her blind brother in the “chair,” and by means of the forehead strap bore it on her back. Thus burdened, she started at once southward for their home.

Having traveled a long distance without stopping to rest, they finally came to a place in which the sister saw a covey of wild turkeys. She wished, mentally, it were possible for her to secure one of the birds for food for her brother and herself. The former, being aware of her thought, said, “Oh, my sister! make me a bow and an arrow, and I will kill one of the wild turkeys.” The sister, having done as desired, brought the bow and arrow to her brother, who said, “Oh, my sister! tell me where the turkeys are and turn me so that I may face them as I shoot.” As soon as his sister had placed him in the proper position, with one shot he killed a turkey. The sister, who was delighted with their good fortune, at once proceeded to dress and cook the turkey for their supper. But when she told her brother that the turkey was ready to eat he refused to partake of it, telling his sister that she would have to eat it by herself. At this, without asking him his reason for not eating his portion, she ate what she desired. Then she constructed a temporary lodge (kanoÑs?hÄ') with boughs, strips of bark, and other suitable material, in which she and her brother remained for the night.

In the morning the sister ate what remained of the turkey and then, placing her brother on her back, resumed the journey toward the south. They traveled the entire day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of turkeys, one of which they killed in the same manner as they had killed one the evening before. The devoted sister, having dressed the bird carefully, boiled it by putting hot stones into the water, but the young man again refused to eat any portion of it. When the sister had eaten what she desired she reserved what remained for breakfast. Then she made another temporary shelter in which they retired for the night.

Next morning after the sister had eaten her breakfast she again took her brother on her back in the carrying cradle and they resumed the journey southward. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. When the sun was setting they again came upon a covey of wild [550]turkeys, one of which was killed, and after being dressed, was cooked and eaten, as the two other turkeys had been. Afterward the sister prepared a temporary shelter, as she had done twice before.

In the morning of the fourth day they again set forth on their journey southward. Toward midday the sister said, “Oh, my brother! I see a lodge in the distance ahead of us. Beside it stands a very tall chestnut tree. Shall I continue our journey?” The blind brother replied, “Yes; go on! It is the lodge in which we formerly lived. Yes; that is our lodge and home.” Thereupon the sister hastened her steps and they soon reached the lodge. Within they found everything that was common to the lodges of those ancient times, as clay pots, baskets, wooden mortars, tubs of corn and beans, and bundles of spicebush twigs for use in making a warm drink.

Nothing unusual happened to the blind brother or to his sister until the third day after their arrival at their old home. On the morning of that day, while the sister was out in the neighboring forest gathering fuel, she was surprised to hear some person, seemingly near to her, say, or rather whisper, “Chit!” Quickly turning in the direction whence the sound proceeded, she was startled to see a short distance away a handsome young man looking intently at her. After talking with her a few moments he made her a proposal of marriage, in reply to which she told him that she could not give him a definite answer without first consulting her brother. Then she asked him to meet her at the same time and place on the following day. The young man agreed readily to her proposition, whereupon they separated without further ceremony.

When the sister returned to the lodge she told her brother of meeting the young man, and asked his advice with regard to her acceptance or refusal of the offer of marriage. He replied that it was his wish, prompted by wise policy, that she should accept the offer, since the young man was a noted wizard, son of the notorious witch, Gahon?dji’da'?honk; for, if she did not marry him, her refusal would be tantamount to a sentence of death on each; hence, they must accept the inevitable.

During the following night the blind brother explained in detail the reasons for his advice to her to marry the young man, who was the son of the great witch, Gahon?dji’da'?honk, the relentless enemy of their family and kin.

The next morning the sister went into the forest to keep tryst with the strange young man, whom she found there awaiting her coming. She told him at once that her brother had been happy to consent to have her marry him. He seemed greatly pleased at her reply and merely said: “It is well. I will be at your lodge tonight. So, I go away now.” So they two parted in this abrupt way. That night, when darkness had come, the strange young man arrived at [551]the lodge of the sister and her blind brother. He remained overnight with his wife, but left the lodge at the dawn. Before leaving, however, he assured his wife that he would return at night. Accordingly, he came to the lodge that night also and remained with his wife until the dawn, when he departed as he had done on the previous morning.

Thus he came and departed for seven nights. Then he said to his wife: “It is my wish that you return with me to my mother’s lodge—my home.” His wife, knowing well who he was and who his mother was, readily consented to accompany him; by so doing she was faithfully carrying out the policy which her blind brother had advised her to pursue toward him. On their way homeward, while the husband was leading the trail, they came to a point where the path divided into two divergent ways which, however, after forming an oblong loop, reunited, forming once more only a single path. Here the woman was surprised to see her husband’s body divide into two forms, one following the one path and the other the other trail. She was indeed greatly puzzled by this phenomenon, for she was at a loss to know which of the figures to follow as her husband. Fortunately, she finally resolved to follow the one leading to the right. After following this path for some distance, the wife saw that the two trails reunited and also that the two figures of her husband coalesced into one. It is said that this circumstance gave rise to the name of this strange man, which was Degiyane'geÑ?; that is to say, “They are two trails running parallel.” Not long after the two reached the husband’s home, the residence of the notorious witch, Gahon?dji’da'?honk, who welcomed her daughter-in-law to her lodge.

In due course the wife of Degiyane'geÑ? gave birth to male twins. The great witch, who acted as midwife to her daughter-in-law, cast one of the children under a bed and the other under another, and then nursed her daughter-in-law and instructed her as to her conduct during convalescence.

Some days elapsed, when the inmates of the lodge were surprised to hear sounds issuing from beneath the beds under which the twins had been cast. At once the great witch, making two small balls of deer hair and buckskin and also two lacrosse ball clubs, gave a ball and a club to each of the twins. At once each of the twins began to play ball beneath the bed under which he lived, and it was not long before each of the little boys was seen to pass from under his bed beneath that of the other. Thus they amused themselves the entire day, but at night each of the twins returned under his own bed. Day after day the twins visited back and forth. There came a day, however, when one of the twins tossed his ball up in such wise that it flew out of the doorway of the lodge. Thereupon the two youngsters followed the ball so nimbly and swiftly that they were able to [552]overtake it before it struck the ground. So they kept batting the ball high up into the air and overtaking it before it could reach the ground again. After playing thus for long hours, each would return to his own retreat beneath the bed under which he lived.

This outdoor sport was indulged in by the twins for a long time. One day, on being tossed into the air, the ball at once took a course directly toward the lodge of their blind uncle, but the twins kept up with it, hitting it with their bats before it could touch the ground. They did not notice that they were approaching a lodge, hence they were greatly surprised to see it finally fall into the smoke hole of the lodge. They cautiously approached the lodge and, peering through the crevices in its bark walls, they saw their ball in the hands of a man with eyeless sockets.

One of the boys said to the other, “Lo. Go in, and get the ball,” but the other replied, “I fear him. You go.” Finally they entered the lodge together to ask the man to give them back their ball. As they drew near the man, he said to them: “Do not be afraid of me. Fear not; I am your friend. It is I who have caused you to come here to my lodge. By sorcery I caused your ball to fall into my hand. Indeed, I am your uncle, your mother’s brother. I should very much like to see you two, but you observe I have no eyes, so I can not do so.” At this the twins exclaimed together: “Oh! maternal uncle, how did you lose your eyes?” The uncle replied: “Your grandmother, Gahon?dji’da'?honk, overmatched me in sorcery, and as a penalty she took out my eyes, so I am blind.” The twins answered: “Oh, uncle! we desire very much that you see us.” To this the uncle replied: “As it seems to be an impossibility for me to see again, it would probably be useless for you to wish me to see you.” But the twins said: “We will try to make you able to see us.”

With this remark the twins left their ball and their lacrosse clubs and went into the neighboring forest. They had not gone very far before they met DegeÑs'ge (the Horned Owl). They asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time, promising to return them to him uninjured. Complying with their request on this condition, he removed his eyes and handed them to the twins; then he sat down to await their return. Delighted with their success, the twins hastened back to the lodge to their uncle. Placing the borrowed eyes in his sightless sockets, they asked him whether he could see with them, whereupon he told them that he could see nothing. Disappointed with this result, the twins removed the eyes from their uncle’s head and returned them to the DegeÑs'ge (Horned Owl) in the forest, thanking him for his kindness.

Going a short distance farther into the forest, the twins met Ke’k'?howa (Barred Owl), whom they asked to lend his eyes to [553]them for a short time. He readily consented on condition that they return them within one day. So the twins soon had his eyes, which they carried back to the lodge as swiftly as their feet could take them. But after inserting them into their uncle’s eyeless sockets, they were again disappointed to hear him say: “It is indeed too bad; I can not see anything with them.” So removing the eyes, the twins carried them back to Ke’k'?howa, whom they thanked for his kindness.

The twins were not to be easily defeated, however, in their purpose, so they went still farther into the forest. There they met OdoÑnyoÑ'da? (the Eagle), and they at once asked him to lend them his eyes for a short time. The Eagle readily consented to part with them for a day, and in a moment the twins were hurrying homeward with them. After they had placed these in their uncle’s sockets he told them that he could not see things clearly, merely faint outlines of them. So once more they removed the eyes and gratefully returned them to the Eagle.

Not to be thus baffled in the attempt to enable their uncle to see them, one of the lads proposed to the other that each lend their uncle an eye from his own head. To this proposal the other readily consented. Each of the lads having removed one of his eyes, the two started for the lodge of their uncle. When they reached his side they placed the eyes in their uncle’s head, who at once exclaimed in delight: “Oh! I can see. Oh! I am so glad to be able to see you two, my nephews.” Then, after taking a glance around the lodge, he returned the borrowed eyes to his wonderful nephews, who said to him: “We will now go away to get back your own eyes; so be of good cheer for a short time. We start now.”

But their blind uncle replied: “Knowing what I do, it seems impossible for you two lads to accomplish your purpose. So take courage and be brave.” Then, after a moment of silence, he added by way of advice: “Remember this: My eyes are partly bloodshot, and they are attached to the swaddling wrappings of a female child, who is still fastened to a cradle board, and whom they serve as breast ornaments. The lodge in which this child may be found has a fox skin as its clan mark and stands far away in cloudland. And, my nephews, no one can enter that land unseen by the sleepless eyes of the grim warder, who is called Hane'?hwa',424 and who on the approach of a stranger gives the alarm by three terrific shouts. So have courage, my nephews.”

Undaunted, the lads left the lodge, and going to a neighboring swamp they set to work industriously collecting a vast quantity of swamp grass, which they placed on a large pile. When they had collected a sufficient quantity they set the pile on fire, and when the flames leaped the highest the lads, casting themselves into their [554]midst, were borne aloft on the huge billows of smoke, which mounted ever higher and higher, and were soon in cloudland, where they came down in the form of cinders.

Then one of the lads called two mice, which he instructed to creep cautiously under the leaves, grass, and rubbish to a certain lodge having a fox skin for a clan mark, and to emerge from the trail as near the lodge as possible without being apprehended by the warder, Hane'?hwa'. Then each lad entered one of the mice, and the two mice, burrowing along under the leaves and other rubbish, soon came out just where they had been directed to emerge. Notwithstanding their caution and ruse, Hane'?hwa' knew the purpose which the two mice had in coming, but before he could give the alarm one of the lads said to him: “Keep silence. We will give you a quantity of wild beans if you consent to our request.” Believing the lads to be harmless and to be on a mere sporting expedition to show their powers of metamorphosis, he readily consented to permit them unheralded to pass to their destination.

Having thus easily passed the warder of the lodge of Gahon?dji’da'?honk, the two lads, assuming the form and size of fleas, at once entered the portico or porch of the lodge, in which several of their aunts, sisters of their father, were pounding corn in wooden mortars with wooden pestles. As fleas the lads, unnoticed, quickly crawled up the legs of these women, and by vicious bites soon caused the corn pounders to fall to fighting among themselves, believing that they had been cruelly pinched by their mates. By crawling on and biting the legs of all the women the lads were able to make all of them fight. In fighting, the women, influenced by the orenda of the boys, employed their wooden pestles in striking their opponents on the head, fracturing their skulls. Thus, in a short time the women had destroyed one another.

After all the women were either dead or stretched out unconscious with fractured skulls, the lads cautioned the warder, Hane'?hwa', not to inform Degiyane'geÑ?, their father, what he had seen them do, should he come there inquiring about his sisters. They told him to sing for their father the following song:

The warder consented to do what his boy friends had asked him to do. Thereupon the lads quickly entered the lodge to which was attached the fox skin clan badge. They soon found the cradle board on which was fastened the female child, even as their uncle had told them, but they were greatly astonished when they saw that the eyes of many persons adorned the swaddling clothes (wrappings). Quickly but carefully examining these eyes, which served [555]as the breast ornaments of the child, they soon found the eyes of their uncle, which were partially bloodshot. When they had secured these they removed also the others, in pairs, and, tossing them up into the air, said to them: “Return to the place whence you were taken by stealth.” At once these eyes took flight and returned to their owners. After killing the female child and compassing the death of the treacherous Hane'?hwa', the lads started for home with their uncle’s eyes.

When the boys reached the point whence they must descend they assumed the size and form of fleas, and, using the seed heads of the dandelion as parachutes, they easily floated down from cloudland to the earth. Going directly to the lodge of their uncle, they returned to him his eyes. He was delighted beyond measure when he found that his nephews had been successful in their expedition and had so speedily brought back his eyes.

The lads had killed the baby in cloudland by means of potent drugs given them by their uncle while they were still on the earth. Before starting their uncle had told them not to fail to put this deadly drug on the baby, for he knew that the child was the life itself of the great witch, Gahon?dji'da'?honk. Through its death the witch herself necessarily died, because the child was her life, not her baby, as it appeared to be. Thus, Gahon?dji'da'?honk was destroyed and the young deanoÄ'don' man at last was revenged on her, partly through the potent orenda of his nephews and partly by means of the potent “medicine” with which he had armed them before they had started on their expedition into cloudland.

In ancient days, it is said, there lived a good mother and her son in a lodge that stood alone. Now, the son was a very successful hunter; in the chase of all kinds of game animals he had no competitor. The possession of an overflowing larder and of rare and excellent furs and skins gave him an enviable prestige among his people.

It was natural among a hunter people that the prowess of the young man in the chase should make him an attractive figure in the eyes of all the mothers among his people who had marriageable daughters. So these thrifty mothers urged their daughters to make the usual marriage bread and to go to his lodge with proposals of marriage. Each of these obedient daughters would say: “Indeed, I believe that thou and I should marry.” This was the address made to the young man after the young woman had set her basket of marriage bread before him, seated, to receive her. In replying, the young man would say to each: “In so far as I am concerned it is my [556]settled purpose not to marry anyone, as I have no desire to do so.” Thereupon the young woman, having failed in her suit, would return to her home.

This pursuit of the young man by the marriageable daughters of the community continued for many seasons. As each maiden came with her proposal of marriage the youth invariably made the same answer. During all this time his mother continued to remonstrate with him on account of his firm resolution not to marry, telling him repeatedly that it was a well-known fact that one who acted as he was doing would surely be punished for his attitude by some great calamity. He refused, however, to listen to her remonstrances.

Now, it was his custom to go every autumn to hunt in the forest, and he would return home with great quantities of venison and other meat, and furs and skins. All the people who had none of these things came to the lodge where the mother and son lived together because they wished to trade for some of the meat or for some of the furs or skins, each one bringing therefor something of value. One would bring a bracelet, saying: “For this cut me off a small portion of meat of the bear, of venison, or of some other kind.” Another would bring a burden strap, saying: “For this give me the skin of a beaver, or a small portion of bear’s meat, for I have come to buy.” This trading continued for some years, and all kept saying of the young man: “He is indeed immune to adverse orenda.”

After a while another autumn came, and again he started alone on a hunting trip into the forests where he knew game was always abundant and in which it was his custom to camp for the season. Having reached the place where his hunting lodge stood, he proceeded at once to repair it and to supply it with suitable fuel and other necessities. Then he went forth to hunt, as was his custom. He was very successful, returning every day to camp with the game he had killed.

After a certain number of days thus spent he lay down one night to rest, as usual. But in the middle of the night it so happened that he moved about in his bed, and he was greatly surprised by feeling what seemed to be a woman lying beside him. No one had ever slept with him before, man or woman. Thereupon the surprised misogamist said: “Lo, who are you?” The young woman, for such she was, in a fascinating voice which thrilled the heart of the young man, replied: “Oh! I desired to visit the place where you are only because of the love which I have for you.” Saying this softly, she threw her arms around his neck and fervently embraced him. He remained perfectly quiet, making no protest against the fondling of the beautiful maiden. Without further ceremony the young woman joyously exclaimed: “Come now! let us two go to sleep again.” But the young man lost consciousness at once, and the last thing he remembered [557]were the words of the young woman. It was after the dawn of day that he awoke. Uncovering his head, he found that he was quite alone, and that, in fact, the young woman was not anywhere around. He was greatly astonished at what had happened, and said to himself in wonder: “What is this that has befallen me? Now, indeed, has come to pass perhaps what my dear mother has been saying to me, for has she not kept telling me that I would be punished sooner or later for my unreasoning attitude toward those who have desired to marry me. Now I shall start for my home, for I am seized with fear.”

He set to work at once making up his pack and putting the lodge in order for his departure. When he had completed his preparations he started for home.

At the end of the day’s journey he camped for the night in the place where he usually stopped for this purpose. After kindling a hot fire in the temporary shelter he set to work warming some pieces of cold meat which he had brought with him, and then sat down to eat his supper. When he had finished his meal he made ready to rest for the night. It was quite dark, for the evening was then far spent. As he sat resting he was suddenly surprised to hear noises that seemed to draw nearer and nearer. He could plainly hear the sounds, sa?', sa?', sa?', and also sounds caused by the moving aside and breaking of sticks and small twigs, and the branches of trees falling. Seized with a great fear, he at once added small dry sticks to the fire, which blazed up, giving a great light, which enabled him to see whether anything was approaching his shelter. Suddenly he saw standing at the end of the illumined space a very large woman. After a moment’s hesitation she came up to the opposite side of the fire and, addressing the now thoroughly frightened young man, said: “It is just this: I have come here with the desire that you should give me a portion of meat.” To look at her one would have thought that she was in all respects a human being, as she stood gazing toward the youth. As quickly as possible he took from his pack a quarter of meat, which he heaved over the fire toward the woman, who caught it. Then she began to eat it, while the blood dripped down on her breast and over her garments. Thus she ate up a quarter of meat. When she had finished she said: “The only thing for you to do is to return to this place in the autumn, when the season changes again.” So saying, she turned at once and started away, leaving the young man more astonished than ever. Soon she was lost to view in the darkness.

Thereupon the youth was seized with great fear, and he kept saying to himself: “Now indeed has been fulfilled the saying of my dear mother; I am suffering the penalty which she told me would befall for my refusal to marry some of the marriageable daughters [558]of my people. But with it all, I think that when I have returned home I shall not relate what has befallen me on this trip. Moreover, in case some shall say to me, ‘Let us marry,’ I will consent at once.” Of course he did not fall asleep during the entire night. Very early in the morning he ate some cold meat, and then taking up his pack, he started for home. Having arrived there, he hung his pack on the wall of the lodge. His mother said: “I am thankful for this.” Noticing a changed expression on his face, she said to him: “Lo, pray what has befallen you, since you have returned so soon after your departure?” The son replied: “Something unusual happened, it would seem. I became homesick; this is the reason that I returned home at once.”

During the time that the son was away hunting many women visited the mother, who were continually asking her consent to a marriage with him. So now the mother said to him: “I will tell you that three maidens paid me visits, who proposed marriage with you; these maidens you know well, as they are the three who have been the most insistent on marrying you. So now it is for you to choose which of these three, or if not one of these, then whom are you willing to marry? I do not know what may happen should you again find it impossible to consent to marry one of these maidens.” At once the son replied: “I will consent to taking one of these maidens in marriage. I will marry without further ado.” He then informed his mother which of the maidens he would marry, for he well knew the names of all those who had come to his mother’s lodge with their baskets of marriage bread. This answer greatly pleased his mother, who said to him: “It is indeed the right thing for you to do, for many women have come here to ask you to marry them. Now I will bring here the chosen one.” So saying, she went at once to the lodge of the maiden of his choice.

On entering the lodge of the maiden she greeted her and her mother, and, after informing them of the purpose of the visit, said to the former: “I have come after you to bring you to our lodge and fire. My son has consented to marry you; so you will accompany me home, and you it will be who will dwell with her spouse’s people.” The maiden, agreeing to the proposition, said: “So let it be; I am willing to marry him.” Thereupon the two returned to the lodge of the mother of the young man, the misogamist. They reached the lodge, and, on entering it, the mother said to her son: “I have brought with me her who is my daughter-in-law. Now I will speak a few words: Oh, my child! you must continue to love her; you must have compassion for her; never vex her in mind or body; never let it be said that you are one of those who kill their spouses. Some grasp them by the hair of the head to abuse them; never do you thus. I am through.” This speech she addressed to her son. [559]

The maiden remained there one entire year, and she properly fulfilled the duties of a good wife. A little later she gave birth to a daughter. The child was very handsome, and she was also very large and healthy and strong. In all respects she was of the size and hardiness of a child who was large enough to be borne on the back in a cradle board.

Now the time had arrived in which the men who were capable of doing so severally went out to their hunting grounds—autumn had come. One day the young man said: “My dear mother, you will prepare provisions for a journey, for I am again going out to hunt, and I am thinking of having my wife accompany me, as the child is sufficiently strong and hardy to be borne on her mother’s back in a cradle board. I will bear by means of the forehead strap the provisions that we will take with us.”

Then the mother proceeded to prepare the corn bread in the usual way, and the parched corn meal sweetened with honey or maple sugar. When the bread was cooked she removed it from the boiling water and set to work preparing the pack, in which she placed all the bread, making what was called a wrapped pack. When she informed her son that she had completed the task of preparing the food for the journey, he said: “Tomorrow, very early in the morning, we two will start on our journey.”

Accordingly next morning the husband and wife set out. The wife bore their child on her back by means of the cradle board and forehead strap, and the husband carried the wrapped pack, containing boiled corn bread and parched corn meal mixed with sugar and honey, by means of the forehead strap. After traveling all day, in the evening they reached a spot where it was the custom of the husband to camp for the night; this was a good day’s journey from their lodge. He set to work at once repairing the temporary shelter and kindling a large fire. Meanwhile the young wife warmed up some cold meat and the boiled corn bread which they had brought in the pack. Their evening meal prepared, the two ate heartily. When they had finished their supper they made ready a rude couch of bark and boughs on which they lay down for the night. The wife’s mind was contented.

In the morning the husband rekindled the fire, and the wife warmed up more of the cold boiled corn bread. When they had eaten their fill the husband at once repacked their belongings. He also closed the temporary shelter in order to preserve it for their return. Then he said to his wife: “Now let us depart. Our journey will require fully the time of the entire day, and we will arrive at my hunting camp in the evening.” As predicted, they reached their journey’s end as the sun was sinking low in the west. Its crimson rays shot upward through the treetops and along the western sky. [560]

The husband quickly began to make his hunting lodge ready for occupation and also kindled a large fire. While the wife was warming up the meats and the corn bread the husband kept on repairing the lodge by filling up the crevices with moss and replacing such pieces of bark as had fallen off. He desired to make the lodge warm and comfortable, especially on account of their baby. When it was too dark to continue his work the wife called him to their supper. They were happy and contented. After finishing their meal they prepared their rude bed and retired for the night. Before falling asleep the husband said to his wife: “Tomorrow I will go out to hunt again.”

Next morning, as soon as they had finished eating breakfast, the husband said to his wife: “I am about to start out to hunt now, and you two will remain alone. Perhaps I may not return until just before sunset. Of course, should I have very great success, I will return home at once.” So saying, he left the lodge. Just before sunset he returned, carrying by means of the forehead strap the entire body of a fine deer. He set to work at once skinning the carcass. When this task was completed he quartered the animal and hung up the parts to cure, but not before he had selected some choice pieces for their supper. These the young wife quickly prepared, and they ate their evening meal in peace and quiet. The wife was, of course, very much pleased to have fresh venison to eat; she was indeed happy. Then they retired for the night and were soon asleep. In the morning the husband again started out to hunt, saying to his wife: “You two will remain at home alone,” assuring her that he would return as soon as he was successful in his hunting.

Thus many days passed. The hunter was very successful in his hunting, always bringing home large quantities of venison, bear, moose, and elk meat and various other kinds of game. He and his wife had a great quantity of meat hanging around the sides of their lodge to cure, and also many fine furs and skins.

Toward sunset one day the young wife went out of the lodge to procure fuel for the fire while the child lay asleep. As she was walking around, she heard sounds made by some one approaching through the woods; thereupon she hastily gathered an armful of wood and, quickly reentering the lodge, took a seat near her sleeping baby. In a short time, as she looked out through the openings in the forest, she saw suddenly a very large woman approaching, bearing on her back an unusually large child. At once she became fearful, exclaiming: “What shall I do to save us? Perhaps we two shall now die?” So saying, she quietly awaited the coming of the strange woman. In a few minutes the latter entered the lodge and, standing in the doorway, said to the frightened woman: “Do not have any fear of me, for I come with no ill feeling in my mind [561]toward you and yours; there is no evil in my mind, so, above all, do not fear me.” With these words, she walked to the opposite side of the fire and took a seat there. The young wife noticed that the two children were exactly the same size. Although the stranger kept comforting her by telling her not to be afraid, that she had not come to the lodge for any evil purpose, her hostess was so fearful that she made no replies, but she kept thinking: “It is certainly unfortunate that my husband does not return at once. I wish he would come. This is ill-omened.” Meanwhile the strange woman continued to remain quiet. Looking at her face, one would think that she was human, although she was so tall and so stout that she appeared uncanny.

Now there came sounds from a distance, as the sun was low in the west, and the expected husband returned home. He entered his lodge, bearing by means of the forehead strap the entire carcass of a deer. He cast the burden down, giving merely a passing glance at the woman seated on the opposite side of the fire, without saying a word. The young wife then set to work getting his supper. When she had set the food before him he said to her: “You would better give some food to the woman sitting on the opposite side of the fire.” His wife willingly obeyed this suggestion, carrying to her in a bark bowl a generous supply of food, and saying: “This is for you to eat.” But the woman (or what seemed to be one) refused to accept it, answering: “I do not eat that kind of food.” At this the wife, of course, went back to her side of the fire. Her husband sat with his back toward the strange woman and studiously refrained from saying a word, but kept on eating. In a few minutes the strange woman spoke, saying: “He knows what kind of food I am accustomed to eat.” At once he rose, and, reaching up, took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over the fire back of him toward the strange woman. She caught this as it came to her. The wife was intently watching what was taking place. The stranger proceeded at once to eat the raw venison, and in a short time she had devoured the entire quarter. While eating, the strange woman kept saying: “I am very glad indeed. My wish has been fulfilled, for I desired to come here on a visit.” When night had come and they were ready to retire to rest, the husband prepared his mat at the feet of his wife and child, while the strange woman and her child lay on the opposite side of the fire, which was the guest’s side according to custom. The young wife of the hunter, who was thoroughly frightened, kept thinking: “I just do not know what may befall us that is untoward.”

In the morning the husband arose, and having rebuilt the fire, his wife proceeded quite early to prepare breakfast for them. [562]When they two were about to begin eating the husband again took down a quarter of venison, which he threw over his shoulder across the fire to the strange woman, who caught it and began to eat it raw, the blood even dripping from her mouth, so ravenously did she eat. When they had eaten breakfast the strange woman said: “Now, my wish has been fulfilled—my wish to visit this place.” All remained there in the lodge. After a while, however, the strange woman arose, carrying her child, and, walking over to where the hunter was seated, said to him: “Lo, take this child, for it is but your own child. Here it is.” Shrinking away, the husband drew back his hands, but the woman, preferring that he should have the child, gave it to him, so he had to accept it. Thereupon, the woman said, “I desired that he should just look on his child, and it was for this reason that we two came hither.” So saying, she returned to the opposite side of the fire, where she again seated herself. The husband sat still, holding his child, dubious as to its real character. After a while he arose, and going over to the place where the woman sat, on the opposite side of the fire, he gave the child back to its mother. Then returning to his own side of the room, saying, “I am now going out to hunt again,” he started from the lodge.

In the meantime the two women remained in the lodge with their children of the same size. The strange woman said to her companion in a comforting way: “You must not have any fear of me.” When her child fell asleep she laid it down on her couch and carefully covered it with a skin robe. Then, turning to her hostess, she said: “I will fetch some fuel, because it is so difficult and trying for you at all times to have to bring it.” With these words she left the lodge in quest of wood. She was absent a long time, when suddenly there came a sound, da—h, which drew nearer and nearer, as if one were dragging some great object along the ground. On looking out to see the cause of the noise, the hunter’s wife saw the strange woman approaching with a huge tree in her arms, which she threw down just outside the doorway; it was a whole dead tree, which was dry and hard. She proceeded at once to break up the tree, and when she had finished her task there was a great pile of wood—fuel for the lodge fire. The wife of the hunter was greatly astonished at the enormous strength of the strange woman, and she again was filled with great fear. Then the other woman, entering the lodge, said: “I have now supplied you with a quantity of fuel.” Thereupon, she seated herself on the opposite side of the fire.

She had just taken her seat, when suddenly she arose, saying: “'A?'ha?! Now comes my husband trailing me. Have courage now, oh, my friend! and help me. Hasten! Be quick! Go cut basswood poles, three in number, and you must sharpen them. You must be quick about it, too, for if he shall overpower us we two must [563]perish.” The hunter’s wife ran out as swiftly as possible, and having cut the basswood poles and sharpened them, returned to the lodge. The other woman then said: “You must harden425 their points in the fire by turning them over carefully; let them be burning. As soon as we meet at the doorway we shall fight, and we shall fight on the outside of the lodge. And, of course, there can be no doubt that he will overpower me, for he is very powerful. When he throws me and falls on the top of me, you must quickly take one of the burning poles from the fire and thrust it in anum ejus, turning it around therein vigorously, and then withdraw it. You must quickly do likewise with the other two burning poles. Thereupon, he will soon become weak, and then I shall overcome him. Just at present you must keep still and must watch carefully those poles, for they are our only hope of success. Now he is coming on the run close at hand. Have courage and aid me, oh, my friend!”

The stranger had barely uttered these words when she and her husband met in a death struggle at the doorway of the lodge; they fought outside so as to have more room in their struggles. In a short time the man tripped his wife, and they fell to the ground with the man uppermost. At once the hunter’s wife swiftly ran into the lodge, and seizing one of the burning poles thrust it in anum ejus, and having turned it round and round violently a moment withdrew it. Then she did likewise as quickly as possible with the second and third burning poles. This terrible treatment had its effect, and in a moment the strange woman was able to free herself, and struggling from under her weakened husband she strangled him to death. All this time she kept saying to her friend, “Have courage, oh, my friend! Stand near by and wait.” Then returning to the lodge, she said: “Oh, my friend, I am thankful indeed that you have helped me in my trouble.” Having recovered her breath, she added: “Now I will cast the body far away yonder, as far as one can see.” So saying, she dragged away the body of her husband, disappearing with it in the distance; but it was not very long before she returned to the lodge, whereupon she said: “I have left the body far away. Now we two unfortunate ones—myself and my child—will return to our home, departing from this place. All that I desired was that she should see her father. I thank you for what you have done for us. Our kinsfolk dwell far away from here in the forests; thither we two shall return. Now we depart.”

In a short time the strange woman and her child had disappeared into the forest. They had been gone a long while when the hunter returned to the lodge. He had nothing to say to his wife. Thereupon she resolved not to tell what had taken place while he was away hunting until she reached home. At first the husband and wife did not converse at all. But finally the former said: “Tomorrow [564]we will start for home.” So the next day he made the necessary preparations for their journey, putting their belongings into two packs. When all was ready for their departure he placed the smaller pack on his wife’s back by means of the forehead strap, and the larger on his own back in the same way. Then they left their hunting camp for home much sooner than they had expected to do.

They kept traveling the entire day, and when the sun was low in the west they arrived at the place where the hunter was accustomed to camp when making his hunting trips in past seasons. Here they kindled a fire, and warming up cold meat and boiled corn bread, they ate their meal and then retired to rest. Early in the morning, as soon as they had eaten their meal and repacked their belongings, they continued their journey, arriving just before sunset in the lodge of the husband’s mother. She was very thankful for the meat which they had brought home in their packs.

It was not long after their return before the bride’s mother entered the lodge. After the usual greetings she said: “Let us two revisit our own clan.” The bride answered: “So let it be; we may go as you suggest.” They finally reached the bride’s former home, where her kinsfolk welcomed her. She then began at once to relate in great detail all that had befallen her during the time she had been absent on the hunting trip with her husband. Among other things she told them that her husband already had a child by some unknown mysterious being, whom he was accustomed to feed with raw meat; and that, when the strange woman had come to their hunting lodge, her husband did not share her couch, but that he lay alone at the feet of his wife and child. The young wife narrated, too, all that occurred in connection with the attack on his wife made by the strange woman’s husband at the doorway of the hunting lodge.

When the bride’s kinsfolk had heard all these things they said: “It seems certain that he has begotten a child by a woman Genonsgwa (sometimes erroneously called “Stone Coat”). You should separate from him lest you become enchanted by some evil power should you return to him again.” The bride and her child therefore remained with her own clan and kinsfolk, as they had advised her to do under the circumstances. This astonishing report soon spread among the tribe. All soon knew what had occurred on the hunting trip in the forest to the misogamist hunter and his bride. It produced a great sensation among the people. So it happened that all the women, as if by mutual consent, shunned the misogamist hunter, and would have nothing to do with him, privately or socially. This is what befell the man who was too proud and selfish to consent to marry any woman of his own people. Now, in so far as his standing is concerned, he is held as despicable beyond measure and of no account among men. [565]

In the olden time there stood in a certain land a lodge surrounded by a dense forest, in which lived a very old man, his seven sons, and a daughter. The youngest son was very small, and he possessed a cur which was not larger than a gray squirrel and a very small bow and arrows to match it; the bow, it is said, was a half span in length.

This small boy and his diminutive dog played together daily, hunting fleas around the fireplace. The cur would track a flea, and just as the flea would leap up from its hiding place the small boy would shoot it with an arrow from his diminutive bow. Thus he amused himself all day and far into the night.

Now, the old man, the father of this family, forbade his sons from going to hunt in a certain direction from the lodge. In time, however, the eldest son, wearying of this seemingly unreasonable restraint, determined to hunt in the forbidden direction, in order to learn, if possible, what it was that caused his father to prohibit his brothers and himself from going into that region. So, following his resolve, he started for the region, but never returned home. Then the second son resolved to follow his elder brother, so he also started for the forbidden land; and he, too, never returned home. Finally, when six of the brothers had gone away and none had returned, the aged father said to his youngest son that he himself was going in search of his six lost sons. After carefully instructing his youngest son what to do for himself and his only sister in his absence, he started away. He, too, failed to come back, and the two young persons in the lodge became anxious about their own fate, as they were then dependent on themselves.

At last the youngest, the seventh, son informed his sister that she and he would have to follow the path of their father. The time was winter, but they started, following the trail in a light snow. As they set out, the young boy, seizing his diminutive cur, dashed it against the ground, whereupon it immediately arose in the form of a very large dog. At this the boy sent the dog away, as it was of no further use to him. The brother and sister traveled the entire day, and when they were nearly famished with hunger they came to a lodge just as it was growing dark. In this lodge they found, to their great delight and comfort, embers still burning and before the fire, which was nearly out, a large piece of broiled venison still attached to the sticks and skewers. By adding fuel to the fire they succeeded in building it up so that it would last during the night. Having eaten the broiled venison, and being very tired, they lay down near the fire and were soon fast asleep.

In the morning they ate the remainder of the venison and at once [566]resumed their journey. They had no provisions to eat on the way, but they traveled onward until the darkness made it difficult for them to proceed farther, when, tired, hungry, and ready to drop from exhaustion, they reached another lodge. In this they found dying embers and a substantial piece of broiled venison. As on the previous night, they rebuilt the fire, and when they had eaten the venison they lay down to sleep beside the fire.

Next day the remains of the venison furnished their breakfast. Just before starting the boy found a flint and a stone ax, which he took with him. Toward nightfall a blinding snowstorm set in, but the little wanderers kept on their way. When it was quite dark they came to a rude covert formed by the interlocking of fallen trees, the united limbs of pine and cedar holding the snow in such wise as to form a very rude shelter. Under this retreat the two little wanderers found a place full of dry leaves. Outside of this shelter the snow had fallen to so great a depth that it overtopped their heads in many places. In this refuge they decided to remain for the night, although they had nothing to eat and no hope of getting anything. Nothing daunted by the cheerless prospect before them, the boy and his sister kindled a fire with dried twigs and other fuel. As soon as the fire began to radiate its heat a covey of quail came out from under the branches of the trees forming the shelter. The boy at once killed several of these, which he dressed and cooked for himself and his sister. After eating their supper the boy added to the fire enough fuel to keep it until morning; then they retired for the night, burrowing among the dry leaves, not far from the fire, for covering. Next morning the fire was built up again, after which the boy found and killed more quail for breakfast. After cooking and eating these, they awaited the abatement of the storm before starting out on the trail.

During the day an old woman, who lived alone in the vicinity and quite aloof from her people, left her lodge to look for hickory bark to keep up her fire in order to prevent the cold from freezing her to death. Noticing smoke issuing out of a great bank of snow at some distance, she went to see what kept the fire from going out, and she was astonished to find the small boy and his sister. Moved with pity, the little old woman took the children from their uncomfortable place and brought them to her lodge, where she placed before them what little food she had. They ate their fill. The children were indeed very glad to be with a friend. The little old woman told them that she desired to have them remain with her as her own children.

Next morning the little boy, having spat upon one of his arrows three times, cast it out of the lodge through the smoke-hole, saying to it: “Go thou, then, hunt for a deer and kill it for our food.” [567]Obeying him, the arrow flew out of the smoke-hole and disappeared. After being absent for only a short time, it returned through the smoke-hole. The boy seized it, and, finding on it traces of fresh blood, he turned to the little old woman, saying: “Oh, grandmother! go out and look for the dead body of a deer; it lies not far from here.” Not far from the lodge she found, indeed, the body of a deer, which evidently had been recently killed. Having brought it to the lodge, she dressed it. Then she cooked some of the venison for herself and her adopted grandchildren, and while they were eating the little old woman continually uttered words of thanksgiving to the Master of Life426 because she was again able to eat venison.

Every day thereafter, in the same manner, the boy sent out his arrow to hunt game animals for the food required by him and his little sister and their adopted grandmother. Sometimes the arrow would kill a bear, sometimes a deer; it killed game of all kinds, and the small family had plenty to eat and some to spare, in addition to their constant feasting. Thus they lived several years, and the boy grew to young manhood. During this time the youth did not go beyond the immediate neighborhood of the lodge in which he lived; and he had no friends except a certain young man, one of the people of the region, who came to see him frequently and who was his close friend.

At this time the presiding chief of the settlement offered to give his comely daughter to the best bowman and hunter among the young men of his people. So he appointed a day when all the young men should go out to hunt deer and bear to provide a suitable feast for the occasion. Now the friend of our future hero came to the lodge to tell him of the occasion, but he did not tell him, however, that the prize for the winner would be the chief’s daughter; he merely asked the young man to accompany him as his partner. So they started out together to hunt, but they did not exert themselves very much in killing game animals. The young man with the enchanted arrow occasionally sent it out to hunt for them. When finally they resolved to start for home, the arrow had killed in all twenty-four deer, so the share of each was twelve; but five or six deer apiece was the average of those who went out singly to win the prize for marksmanship. On the return of the hunters to the village they learned of the great success of the two youths who had gone as partners, and they could not repress a feeling of envy toward them. Notwithstanding the result of the hunt the chief said, still withholding his daughter from the winner: “I will fulfill my promise after we have made many feasts with all the deer which have been killed for this occasion.” Our future hero, however, still did not know what he had justly won as a reward of the efficiency of his enchanted arrow. [568]

During the festivals the envious young men conspired to put this unsuspecting youth out of the way. In carrying out this resolution they invited him to accompany them to an island on which they assured him there was an abundance of game, and that they would return in time for the festivities on the morrow. So he consented to go with them to this place, in which they had agreed among themselves to leave him to die of hunger and exposure. On leaving the village they went to a large lake containing an island, from which the mainland was not visible in any direction. After landing on the island the party dispersed, ostensibly the better to hunt. Having previously agreed on their method of procedure, the conspirators waited until they saw that the youth had gotten some distance into the forest. Thereupon they returned at once to the landing place and stole silently away, leaving their victim to die from hunger or to be devoured by unknown monsters which, it was said, infested the island.

Their intended victim kept on hunting, however, and finding only two partridges, killed them and carried them along with him. When it became so dark that he could not see, he returned to the landing place to seek for his supposed friends, only to find that they had gone off, leaving him to his fate. Seeking the tallest pine tree that he could find, the young hunter climbed very high, to a point where the limbs were closely interlocked. Having cut off a number of overhanging branches, he placed them on the top of those on which he desired to rest, thus forming a fairly comfortable resting place. Seating himself on this perch of boughs, he soon began to doze.

Some time during the night he was roused from his slumbers by the barking of dogs, which were following his trail. These belonged to a Son of the Winter God, who was hunting for human flesh to eat. Finally the dogs came up to the tree in which the youth was concealed, whereupon he threw down to them at once one of the partridges which he had been fortunate enough to kill. Seizing this, the dogs went off fighting for it. Shortly they returned to the tree and began to bay at him. At this he threw to them the other partridge, with the result that they again went off as before. Seeing the dogs eating what he believed they had treed, the Son of the Winter God called them off to another part of the island, and they did not return hither.

In the morning the youth, descending from his lofty perch, went to the shore of the island at the point where the party had made a landing. Finding no boat there he struck his breast several smart blows, which caused his stomach to give up a canoe no larger than a plum pit, provided with a pair of oars. Several sharp blows on the diminutive canoe with his enchanted arrows immediately caused it to assume the proportions of an ordinary canoe. The same treatment [569]made the pair of oars assume the size of ordinary oars. Placing his canoe in the waters of the lake and boarding it the young hunter soon rowed his way to the shore whence he had been kidnaped by the envious young men. On landing the young man drew the canoe ashore, and then striking it several sharp blows with his enchanted arrow, it quickly assumed its former diminutive size, and he in like manner restored the pair of oars to their former dimensions, after which he swallowed them again. Thereupon he wended his way at once to his own home with his adopted grandmother.

It was not long before it became village gossip that the young man had returned home. Then his friends sent for him, asking that he attend the shooting match and feast of venison given by the chief, whence he had been kidnaped and taken to the island to die. Notwithstanding this treatment, the young man consented to go to the chief’s entertainment.

Now, the tutelar deity of the presiding chief was a hen harrier called 'nwi?''nwi? in the vernacular. This the chief caused to float in the air at double the height of the tallest tree, as the mark at which all must shoot who were invited to the feast.427 All the young men who knew the nature of the prize that the chief had offered as the reward for the best marksmanship kept shooting daily at this bird floating in the air; but they were all shooting to no purpose, for some of the arrows would not attain the altitude of the hen harrier, while others which did so flew wide of the target.

Finally, the chief said to the Master of Ceremonies: “Now, after this, let each man try only once more and then let those who have failed to hit the target retire … from the group of candidates, and place them in a separate place from those who have not made this last attempt.” This was ordered, and as quickly as a man took his last shot he was placed at a distance from those who had not yet made the trial, lest some mistake be made and someone be unwittingly given two or more chances. Finally, when all the candidates had shot, it was suddenly discovered that DjeÑgo'?se? had failed to take his chance. All had failed before him to hit the hen-harrier hawk, so his friend urged him to make the attempt, but he as steadily refused, saying, “I do not want to kill it.” Notwithstanding his positive refusal, his friend placed his bow and arrow in his hands, and with DjeÑgo'?se? resting his hand upon it, he pulled the arrow to its full length and then let it fly. The arrow shot upward and transfixed the body of the hen-harrier hawk, which fell to the ground. Then the chief himself informed DjeÑgo'?se? that in winning the contest for marksmanship he had also won his daughter as the prize of the victor in this contest.

DjeÑgo'?se? informed the chief that he had not known until then that there would be a prize for the winner in this contest for marksmanship, [570]and that as he himself had been adjudged the winner of the contest and also of the chief’s daughter, he felt constrained to thank him for thus considering him worthy of these great honors. The chief replied by bidding him to repair to his lodge to claim his bride. This DjeÑgo'?se? did.

When the competitors and suitors saw that DjeÑgo'?se? had won the prize for which they had striven for so many days, they were greatly chagrined, and, moved by jealousy and malice, they went forth and secured the aid of sorcerers to compass the death of their more fortunate competitor. The sorcerers were asked to permit DjeÑgo'?se? to live with his wife until the dawn of the following day, when a messenger of death should pierce his heart so that he should die.

With a light heart DjeÑgo'?se? repaired to the nuptial bed of his newly won spouse and they two were very happy. But at the dawn of day on the morrow he expired in his wife’s arms. Stricken with grief, the widowed bride, divining the cause of her affliction, went out of the lodge to see how near daybreak it was and lest her lamentations would disturb the repose of the spirit of her dead husband. She was not afraid … for she was alone in the yard adjoining the lodge. Presently she heard the door, which she had just closed after her, open, and looking back again she saw her husband come out of the lodge and walk briskly past her without speaking to her. At once she followed him as rapidly as she could, but she could not overtake him. She did not become weary in her pursuit, feeling no fatigue nor hunger. She kept up her pursuit all that night, all the next day, and all of the following night. Thus, for three nights and days she kept closely on the trail of her husband. He had, of course, outwalked her, and so she could not see him on the trail ahead of her.

At dawn on the fourth day she suddenly came to a narrow passageway428 in which stood two men, who accosted her, saying: “What do you here? What brings you into this place, seeing that you are not dead? This is not the land of the living.” She quickly answered them: “I am following the tracks of my husband, which appear to lead through this passageway; I am seeking him.” As they seemed to be not satisfied with her reply, she related to them in detail what had happened to her and her husband. When the men had learned her story they decided at once to aid her, for no one who had not seen death could pass without their permission freely given. They informed her that some distance farther on there was another passageway, guarded by two fierce panthers, which would rend her in pieces unless she was provided with the usual toll. So they gave her two roasted pheasants, of enormous size, saying: “When you reach the next passageway throw one of these to each of the panthers [571]and you may pass safely through. When you arrive at the third passageway you will there find a man who will instruct you as to what you must do further to accomplish your purpose.”

Taking the two pheasants and thanking the two men for their kindness, the woman again followed the trail of her husband. When she had gone a long distance she saw the couchant panthers guarding the way of death and the dead. Following the instructions of the two men, and throwing a pheasant to each, she quickly passed them. After following the trail a long time, she finally came to the third passageway. The man who guarded it said to her: “What do you here? What brings you to this place, seeing that you are not dead?” She answered him: “I am following the trail of my husband, which leads through this passageway.” Then she briefly related to him the events which had caused her to undertake the journey hither. The warder replied: “I will assist you in recovering your husband. You must take with you this gourd, which is closed with a tendon, for in this receptacle you will have to bring back the soul of your husband, carefully shut up. You must take also this small gourd bottle, which contains the fat or oil of man; you must take it with you for you will need it. When you reach a very large strawberry field stretching on both sides of the path, you must rub some of this oil on the palms of your hands. In this field you will see an elderly woman picking berries; she is the hostess of this country, and she will aid you in all things, telling you just what to do. After anointing your hands with the oil you must hold them up with the palms turned toward the berry picker. Now start on your way.”

With a light heart the woman again took up the trail of her husband, with the firm resolve to follow the instructions of the warder of the last passageway. Finally she reached the large field of strawberries, and taking oil out of the small gourd bottle and rubbing it on the palms of her hands, she held them up toward the elderly woman, whom she hailed in a loud voice. The woman, who was picking berries, heard her call and stood attentive until the other woman came up to her, whereupon she said: “What do you here, seeing that you are not dead?” Answering the Mother429 of Ghosts, the woman said. “I come here seeking my husband, whose trail comes into this place,” and so saying, she gave the two gourds to the Mother of Ghosts. The latter replied: “I will put your husband into this empty gourd bottle, so that you may take him back with you. Come then to the lodge.” The widow followed the elder woman to her lodge, which stood a short distance from the field of strawberries. When they reached it the elder woman concealed her guest under some bark in one corner, at the same time saying: “Now, keep very quiet, for all the people come here to dance every night, and they [572]will flee from me should they discover that you are here.” So the woman lay quiet under the bark cover.

When night came the approaching whoops of the gathering ghosts could be heard. Finally, one by one they began to enter the lodge of the Mother of Ghosts. At once the hostess began to sing and to beat on the drum used in the Great Feather dance. Then the concealed guest heard the ghosts begin to dance. The ghost of her husband, however, had not yet entered the lodge. When they had danced through a number of songs there was a short recess, to give the dancers an opportunity to rest and to readjust their apparel and ornaments. At last, the hostess asked the bystanders: “Where is the newcomer?” They answered that he was outside of the lodge, being still bashful among so many strangers. The hostess then said: “Bring him into the lodge; let him, too, dance and be merry.” So they persuaded him to enter the lodge, and when the hostess again began to sing and beat the drum he joined in the dancing.

After dancing a short time the dancers, sniffing the air, said: “What now? We smell the odor of a human being!” At once they started to flee from the room, but the hostess chidingly said: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I that you smell, for I am now getting very old again.” So they did not leave the room, but began to dance again. When the ghost of the newly arrived husband approached quite close to the hostess, she attempted to grasp him, but he deftly eluded her hand, and the dancers all fled from the room. But the hostess remonstrated with them, saying: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I scratching myself. Why do you flee from me?”

The ghosts were finally persuaded to reenter the lodge and resume the dance. Before long another opportunity presented itself, and the hostess succeeded in seizing the ghost of the newly arrived husband, while all the other ghosts escaped from the room. Quickly uncorking the gourd bottle, the hostess soon compressed the ghost therein, and securely closing it with its tendon stopper she called the embodied guest from her place of concealment and hurriedly gave her the gourd containing the husband’s life, and also the small gourd which contained the oil of the body of man. Then she said to the now highly excited woman: “Be you gone now! Be quick, lest they see you; the man at the first passageway will fully instruct you what to do to have your desire fulfilled. So go.”

Hurrying from the lodge into the darkness the woman followed the narrow trail. When she reached the first passageway, its warder said: “When you arrive at your home stop up with fine clay the nostrils, the ears, and every other opening or outlet of your husband’s body, and then rub the oil of man over his body. When you have finished this task, carefully uncork into his mouth the gourd bottle containing his life, in such manner that his life can not escape, [573]but will reenter his body and so reanimate it again.” The embodied woman agreed to follow these instructions. Then the warder, giving her two roasted pheasants, which were to serve as sops to the two couchant panthers guarding the middle passageway, wished her a safe and auspicious journey home, and bade her start.

The woman thereupon departed from the first passageway, walking as rapidly as possible. She hastened along until she came to the middle passageway. There she gave one of the roasted pheasants to each of the panthers, and, quickly passing through the passageway, continued her journey. Finally she came to the first passageway, through which she went, and then, after traveling for three days and nights, she safely reached home.

Here she quickly prepared the body of her husband as she had been directed to do, filling every opening and outlet with fine clay mixed with deer fat to soften it, and then she carefully rubbed it with the oil of man. As soon as she had completed the preliminary work she carefully and anxiously uncorked the gourd bottle containing the life of her husband into the mouth of the body thus prepared. In a few moments she was elated to see her husband’s body come to life again.

This experience rendered the body of the husband invulnerable to the spells and incantations of sorcerers and wizards. The faithful wife and her resurrected husband dwelt together in peace and health and happiness until, in the fullness of years, they died and went to the land of the Mother of Ghosts.

It is said that once there lived together all alone in a very long lodge an infant brother and his elder sister. The only remaining fire burned at the end of the lodge. In this place for some years abode these two, undisturbed by any unusual event.

One day the brother said to his sister: “Oh, elder sister! what truly is the reason that we two live here alone in a lodge which is so very long?” In answer his sister said: “Indeed, we have been quite numerous in the not distant past; our relations, who have lived and are now dead, filled this lodge on both sides of the fire pits, to the doorways. The sorcerers have caused them all to perish; and this explains why you are called HodadeÑon, for you are the last one not under enchantment.”

It was evident that the young boy would become powerful in the exercise of orenda (magic power). It happened one day that he said: “Elder sister, you must make me a bow and an arrow.” She had great compassion for him, so she answered: “Let it be so.” Then she made a bow and an arrow, using on them her best skill. [574]Having completed her task, she gave them to him. “Thank you, elder sister,” he said; “now I will hunt. Hereafter you and I will regularly feed on meat. Now I will go to hunt.” She said: “Let it be so.”

Then the boy went out of the lodge. His voice continued to break forth as he went murmuring right there round about the lodge. He did not go far away. In the evening he entered the lodge, saying: “Ho, my elder sister, I come, having killed nothing. Tomorrow, very early in the morning, you must arise and prepare food for me. Then I will go to hunt, for very early in the morning game wanders about in the clearings.” In the evening they became quiet and slept.

At the dawn of day the boy spoke, saying: “Elder sister! come now, arise. You must prepare food for me. As soon as I finish eating I will go to hunt.” Arising, she prepared food, which was soon ready for him. As soon as he finished eating, he said: “Now, elder sister, I will go to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply, thinking that he would not go far away, as he was still so very small.

He went out of the lodge early in the morning. After a long time his voice was no longer heard. Thereupon his sister went out, wondering, “Where has he gone?” She looked around, going from place to place, but nowhere was he to be found. Then she thought, “He will get lost.” Soon after she had reentered the lodge, the sun being nearly set, it happened that all at once a noise again arose, as if something had struck the door—then suddenly HodadeÑon pushed his body against it and entered the lodge. He said: “Elder sister, it is a fact that I have been to hunt for game. I have killed a something, I know not what [it is]. Blacklegs, perhaps, it is called; banded-tail, perhaps, it is called, this thing that I have killed. So to the spot you and I must go, and you must take along the ‘burden cradle,’ for in that will the body be brought, as it is of great size.” “Let it be so; go on,” she said. “You would better take the burden cradle,” he said again. “Wah, I will carry its body easily,” she said. “Wah, you must be very strong,” he replied. “Go; let it be so,” she admonished him.

Then the two started. Having arrived at the place, he told her: “Right there I stood, and there it walked. Thus [I did] with my arrow, saying, ‘sÎ, sÎ, sÎ, sÎ, stop thou, first.’ So it did stand, forsooth. From here I shot, so that I hit it right in the center [of its body], whereupon it fell backward, saying, ‘da?, da?, da?, da?.’ Toward it I ran, crying, ‘Do not break my arrow that I prize so highly,’ while it rolled itself about in the dust.” While they slowly made their way along HodadeÑon did not cease telling what had happened. At times his sister would say: “Come, go thou on.” Suddenly he said: “Right there it lies. Do you think you can indeed carry it back?” “Wah,” she said, seizing it by the neck and starting homeward, [575]adding: “Come; go thou on.” “Goh, it is true, thou art strong, elder sister,” he said.

“What thing is it named, the thing that I have killed?” “Djoqgweyani430 it is called,” she said. “Djoqgweyani is it named, elder sister?” he asked. “That is its name,” she replied. “Does it taste good?” he asked. “It tastes good,” she answered. “Dumplings are what it requires, for dumplings are what people put with it.” After reaching home she plucked the game, after which she “set up” the kettle and put in dumplings [with the meat]. Constantly did HodadeÑon stand around about the fire saying, “So it will indeed taste good to us?” “Ho, it certainly does taste good,” she said. When it was done she removed the kettle [from the fire] and placed the mess on pieces of bark, and the soup and dumplings in a bark bowl. Then they ate. HodadeÑon kept saying constantly, “It is so good, is it not, elder sister?” “Oh, yes! it is good,” she would reply. “Djoqgweyani—is it not true that is the name of the thing I killed?” he would say. “That is its name,” was her answer. When they finished eating, he said, “Tomorrow again will I go to hunt. Then indeed a large game animal will I kill.”

It was a usual thing in the evening that this boy did not go to sleep at once. Continually in the dark noises were heard here and there; then, again, under the bed these noises were heard. What he was doing was not known. So the elder sister said: “My younger brother, what are you usually doing making noises in the dark, yes, even under the bed, for long periods; and, too, you go about laughing?” “Well,” said he, “I will tell you. It is this. I am engaged in hunting fleas. They are very palatable, tasting good to me. I have now told you. Whenever one escapes I laugh. So never ask me this again.” He added, “Now again I will go to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply.

Thereupon HodadeÑon went out. For a short time his voice was heard around about outside the lodge; then again nowhere was his voice heard by his elder sister. On going out of doors and looking around without finding traces of him, she reentered the lodge. Not very long after, all at once she heard approaching footsteps; then something struck the door, which opened, and there stood her younger brother, HodadeÑon. He said: “My elder sister, get the burden cradle right away; forsooth, I have killed a large animal, and you are not able to bring it without the burden cradle. I wonder what the animal is called. Perhaps Baldheaded is its name; perhaps Snot-nose is its name; perhaps Tasseled-with-Hemlock-bough431 is its name.” “Come, go on! let us go back there,” she replied. “But you will take the burden cradle,” he added. She answered: “Oh! I am fully prepared to bring it. Go thou on. Let us then start.” [576]

Thereupon the two started. She followed him a long distance, when at last he stopped and she did likewise. He said: “Right here I stood when suddenly yonder there walked a very large animal, and when I said, ‘Tci, tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop thou first.’ Just this way [indicating] I did with my arrow. I shook my arrow. The animal stopped. Then I said, ‘What, indeed, is thy name? Bald-head, it may be, you are named; Snot-nose, it may be, you are named.’ Then I shot it there so that the arrow fixed itself just in the center of the body, making it fall backward, saying [with its wings] du, du, du, du; it fluttered loudly its wings as it fell backward. Thereupon then I ran thither, saying as I went, ‘Do not break my arrow’; which I prize so much. Then I went near the place where it lay. So right there it lies.”

HodadeÑon then asked: “Gwe. What is its name?” She replied: “O’soont it is called.” Seizing it by the neck and throwing it on her shoulder she started homeward bearing the body, and said: “Come, go thou on; let us go home.” So they started homeward. They had not gone far when he said: “O’soont, is it not the name of what I have killed?” “That is it,” she said. Soon afterward he again said: “O’soont, is it not the name of what I have killed?” “That is it,” she again replied; “go thou onward; so be it.”

Once more they started forward. It was troublesome to answer him as they went along, for every little while he would stop again, saying: “My elder sister, what is the name of what I have killed?” Her answer was always: “O’soont is its name. Come, do you go on.” She became thoroughly provoked with him because at short intervals during the day he kept asking her the same question over and over.

When finally they reached their home, he asked: “Does it taste good?” She replied: “Hoh, it tastes good. It must be accompanied with hulled-corn mush.” After plucking the animal and cutting it up, she boiled it in a kettle over the fire. While it was cooking she exclaimed: “Hoh, how fat it is,” for the oil came bubbling up in the kettle. Again HodadeÑon stood around and kept saying: “My elder sister, does it taste good?” She would reply, “Woh, it does, indeed, taste good.” Then she hulled corn and made meal, from which she prepared mush to go with the boiled meat. Having removed the kettle from the fire and skimmed off the fat, she mixed it with the corn-meal mush. Next pouring the meat into a bark bowl and the corn-meal mush into another, the sister said: “Come now, let us two eat together.” While they ate the boy still kept saying: “Elder sister, I do think that the thing I killed tastes good. It is called O’soont, and it certainly does taste good.” They finished their meal, whereupon the boy said: “Tomorrow again I shall go to hunt. This time perhaps I shall kill something which will indeed be much larger than what I have killed already.” Soon it became [577]night, and they lay down to sleep. But as for HodadeÑon he spent the night going about hunting fleas, laughing when one would escape him.

When morning dawned the boy said: “Come, my elder sister, arise now. The game animals habitually go about the open spaces very early in the morning.” The sister having warmed up things [to eat], they ate their breakfast. When they were through the boy said: “Now I shall go out to hunt.” With these words he went out of the lodge. After going around the lodge murmuring for a long time, all of a sudden his murmurs ceased. He was now nowhere about the lodge, for he had gone to some unknown place. It was a long time before the sister heard the footsteps of a person who was approaching—the sounds, dih, dih, dih, dih. Again HodadeÑon struck the door, making it fly open, at which the boy leaped into the lodge, exclaiming: “Elder sister, let us go back right away. I have killed a very large game animal, but I do not know what animal it is. It may be that its name is Great Eyes; it may be that its name is It Has Two Long Ears; it may be that its name is White Tail. Now it is that you must take the burden cradle; otherwise you can not bear its body, for it is so great in size.” Answering, she said: “So be it. I will take the burden frame.”

Then the two started, and having arrived at the place, the boy suddenly stopped, saying: “Just here is the place where I was when I was surprised to see this animal running along there. Only my arrow I held out and said to the animal, ‘Tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop, first,’ and it stopped. Thereupon I asked it: ‘What is thy name? Perhaps Thy-Two-Eyes-are-Large is thy name; perhaps Thy-Two-Ears-are-Long is thy name; perhaps Thy-Tail-is-White is thy name?’ Then I shot, hitting the animal in the very center of its body. It ran along farther, and I pursued it. At a long distance from here I suddenly found its body lying there, with the arrow protruding very little, so deep had it penetrated into the middle of the creature’s body.” The two went on to the place where the game animal lay, and on reaching it, the boy said: “Here it lies.” His sister was surprised to see the body of a deer lying there, and she exclaimed: “My younger brother, I am thankful that now you have killed a large game animal. I have been in the habit of pitying you, hoping that perchance by the risks you have taken you might grow up to be a good hunter. Now I think you are immune to the orenda (magic power) of the neogen, for you have killed an animal bearing this name.” In a short time the boy exclaimed: “Oh, elder sister! does it taste good?” She answered: “Yes; indeed, it tastes good, and I shall now skin it.” When she completed this task she quartered the deer, after having cut off the legs, which she placed aside in a [578]pile by themselves. Then she proceeded to arrange a package of the meat on the burden cradle, securely binding it with cords of bark. Having finished her own load, she next proceeded to make a load for the boy of the four legs of the deer. Deftly fashioning a pack strap of bark, she fastened the load on his back, saying: “Come now, you take the lead.” At this he started ahead, and kept on while she gathered up her utensils and made ready to follow. Her load being very heavy, she could hardly manage it. In order to get it on her back she had to place it first on a log, from which she was able to raise it to her back. Then, with the sister following the lead of her younger brother, both went along with their burdens. A long distance was covered when she saw him sitting on a log with his burden resting on the log, too. He said: “I am resting because the load is so heavy. Come, do you also rest yourself here.” So, setting her load also on a log, she, too, rested. Again the boy asked: “My elder sister, what is the name of the thing that I killed?” She answered: “Neogen is its name.” He asked: “Does it taste good?” “Hoh, it tastes good,” she replied, “if it is cooked in the right way. Come now, let us go on homeward.” Of course she helped him get his burden on his back. When she readjusted her own load, she followed her brother. On reaching home, she found that he forsooth had arrived there too. As she entered their lodge her forehead strap broke, letting her burden fall, with the sound, pumh! It was very heavy.

Unwrapping and untying the packages of meat, the sister hung the various pieces around the interior of the lodge; the meat nearly filled the small room. Next she stretched the skin. For this purpose she made a large hooplike frame, telling the boy to watch her carefully while she did so. Then she attached the skin around the edges to this frame by means of bark cords. “In this way do people generally do this thing, which is called ‘stretching the hide,’ ” said the sister, “and you must ordinarily do it in the same manner, for I believe that you will live a very long time.” “So be it,” said the boy, “I will follow your instructions. Come now, do you prepare the food. I will try it to learn how good it is.” The sister answered: “So be it. I will make a dish of meat cut into small pieces boiled down. I will prepare it.” So she set up the pot [over the fire]; and around the place the boy hung, continually saying: “Perhaps this will taste exceedingly good to us. It tastes good indeed, I suppose.” “Oh! it tastes good,” she replied. So things went on until the food was cooked, when the sister removed the pot from the fire. Then she put the meat into a bark bowl, and the soup also. The deer’s liver had become by this time of the consistency of bread, so the brother and elder sister began to eat. While at their meal the lad exclaimed three times: “Ho, my elder sister, what I killed tastes exceedingly good.” [579]

When the two were through eating the boy said: “My elder sister, I shall now take a rest because I am tired out. Just now we have an abundance of meat.” Then he rested. Indoors he walked around, and indoors, too, he seated himself at times, and for a long time he went about hunting fleas. The sister went to fetch wood for fuel, taking the burden frame with her, so the boy was left by himself.

Suddenly he was startled by the sound of some one singing in the loft above: “My younger brother, tobacco. Once more I want to enjoy a smoke, my younger brother.” Climbing up into the loft, the boy was surprised to find a male person lying there, having a very large head and an enormous suit of hair. HodadeÑon said: “Gwe, what ails you?” The man replied: “My younger brother, I desire to smoke. Yonder lies a pouch made of skunk skin; in it there is a very small quantity of tobacco and there is also a pipe.” Having found the pouch as said, HodadeÑon took out of it a very small piece of tobacco; also a pipe. Next he proceeded to cut up all the tobacco, and kept saying, “I shall use it all, as it is my custom to do, for it is abundant seemingly.” Having completed his preparations, he took from the pouch the fire flint and the punk, and struck off sparks that set fire to the tobacco. Then, placing the pipe in the man’s mouth, he said: “Now you shall smoke.” Replying, “I thank you, my younger brother,” the man drew in the smoke, and smoke settled all over his head. Thereupon mice in large numbers came out of his hair because of the tobacco smoke that settled into it. HodadeÑon then ran away because he was choking with the smoke.

Just then his elder sister returned and said in a loud voice: “What are you doing? What are you doing?” HodadeÑon replied evasively: “My elder sister, what is the reason that you have not told me that a man lay in the loft who is your elder brother? You have constantly said that we two were alone, and that that was the reason I am called HodadeÑon.” The elder sister replied: “The reason why I have not told you before is because you are inattentive.” The younger brother answered: “I cut up the tobacco because my elder brother kept saying that he desired to smoke, and I used all of it, for there was only a very small piece left, and it would seem there is an abundance of tobacco growing. As soon as I placed the pipe in his mouth he drew in the smoke and blew it out, whereupon his hair became filled with the smoke and many mice came forth from it. The room was filled with smoke. I was choking from the effects of it when I descended from the room. That is what you heard and led you to say that I was doing mischief.”

The sister retorted: “I do say that you are careless and inattentive. You used up all the tobacco. At all times it was my habit to scrape only a very small quantity, which I put into his pipe, and he would [580]smoke. The times that he smokes are a year apart. But now you have used all the tobacco. This is the reason that I say you are careless and inattentive. Moreover, you have killed him, for I think there is no more left of that on which he must live.” HodadeÑon answered: “How far away is the place where that thing abounds?” She replied: “It is distant.” He persisted: “Come, tell me in what direction it grows.” She answered, “It is of no use for me to tell you. You could never have the power to accomplish the task of getting some.” “Gu'Ú?!” he exclaimed; “you seem to have a great contempt for my ability. Come, tell me, please.” Thus they spent the entire day disputing about the matter. The sister kept on saying: “It is of no use for me to tell you.”

Finally the lad stopped talking. It was a long time before the elder sister spoke again, saying: “Now my mind is troubled. I shall now tell you and make you understand, too. Look at this lodge of ours, which is a long lodge. It was full of our kin and relations, who are no more. Your brothers were many. They have all been lost in the region where the tobacco abounds. That place is full of what are called female sorceresses. So it is impossible for you to accomplish the task of getting the tobacco. The lad replied: “So be it. I shall make the attempt. I shall succeed in this matter, as is known [that I can]. Just look at what I can do; no matter how dark it may be I can slaughter the fleas, a task which no one else has been able to do.” The sister responded: “Do the best you can.” To this the lad said: “Tomorrow you must prepare provisions for me; I shall start then.” At once she began preparing food for the journey. The lad added: “You must make me a pack—one that is called a wrapped bundle.” So she made such a bundle and placed meat and bread in it. In the morning the two arose, whereupon the lad said: “I shall start. You and I are now to eat together for the last time.” When they had finished their meal the sister exclaimed: “My younger brother, do your best.”

Then he set out on his journey. Around the lodge he walked with his pack, murmuring as he went from place to place. Thus he spent the day. In the evening he reentered the lodge, with the words: “Oh, elder sister! I did not start. Tomorrow, I think, I shall surely start.” So saying, he laid his pack down. In the morning he said: “My elder sister, I am about to start. You say that the path leads directly south?” She replied: “That is what I have said. In certain places there are yet visible spots where fires have been kindled and where forked rods or crotched sticks are set in the earth, on which are fixed pieces of bread which are of many degrees of staleness. You also shall affix bread there to such rods. Such is the custom.”432 The lad replied: “So be it. You shall be suddenly startled; the ashes where you have kindled a fire shall be scattered [581]because a measure of tobacco will fall there, causing the ashes to fly up. Then you shall think that I am still alive. I believe this shall come to pass.”

Taking up his pack, the boy said: “My elder sister, I am starting—you say that the path leads directly south?” She replied: “That is what I said.” Thereupon he went out of the lodge. For a long time she heard his voice around the lodge, as he went about murmuring. After that she heard it no more. Then she said: “Now, I suppose he has started. Oh! he is to be pitied, for he will become wretched. It is doubtful whether we shall ever see each other again.” The lad followed the path, and in the evening he suddenly came to a spot where it was plain that fires had been kindled and people had spent the night. The remains were of many times. Having decided to spend the night there, he kindled a fire, by means of which he warmed the bread and the meat which he took out of his pack. When he had finished his meal, he was startled to see near by forked or crotched rods set in the ground, on some of which were fixed pieces of bread, and on others pieces of meat. These had been there for widely varying periods. At this sight he exclaimed: “Oh, how wretched did they become! Those persons who have left these remains are indeed all dead, and they were brothers to me. So I, too, shall do the same thing.” Then he set up in the ground a rod with a crotch, on which he fastened a piece of bread among the other fragments of all ages—some of them quite old. Then he lay down and went to sleep, with his body supported against his pack. In the morning, finding everything as it should be, the lad said aloud: “I am thankful that I am still alive. My elder sister said indeed that it was doubtful that she and I would see each other again, because the path I must follow passes through all manner of difficulties.”

Having said this, he set out along the path. When he had gone a long way he was startled to hear at some distance the sound, “do?', do?', do?', do?',” which one would suppose was made by a woodpecker loudly pecking on a great hollow tree. Going to the tree whence the noise came, he saw fluttering from place to place and pecking holes in the trunk a cuckoo of enormous size. A sight that caught his eye and conveyed a more serious warning was the great number of arrows stuck in the tree near the spot where the cuckoo was fluttering about. He concluded that these arrows had belonged probably to those who had been his brothers, and that therefore this bird was possessed of great orenda (magic power), which it exerted with evil purpose only. Thereupon the lad exclaimed: “It shall see its doom, for now I will kill it.” Aiming at the cuckoo, his arrow struck in the very center of its body, whereupon it began to beat with its wings against the tree to which it was pinned. [582]

Thus leaving the bird, the boy went on until evening, when he again came to a spot where there were still traces of the former fireplace. There he stopped for the night. After taking his pack from the forehead strap and laying it aside, he kindled a fire, by which he warmed up the meat and the bread he had brought. When he finished his meal he set up a forked or pronged rod to which he fastened a small portion of bread. The spot was literally covered with rods carrying bread of all ages, which had been set up by persons at widely varying times. Having completed his offering, the boy retired for the night, resting on his pack. Soon he began to be troubled with dreams, so that he rolled and tossed from side to side and could not sleep.

Suddenly he was startled by the barking of a small dog, which had a very shrill bark, such as he had never before heard. The sound drew nearer. The night was very dark. Quickly arising and taking with him all his things he ran to a near-by stream and ran up the trunk of a tree that slanted far out over the water. In a short time he became suddenly aware from its barking that the dog was near and that it was rapidly coming nearer still. When the animal was very close the boy heard the sound of rattles [of deer knuckles] and a woman’s voice approaching, too, saying to the dog: “Do your best, my slave. Just leave me the head of HodadeÑon.” Now he was startled by the barking of the cur directly under the tree in which he was seated. Carefully fitting his arrow, he released it, whereupon the arrow flew with the sound “thum!” and he heard the cry of the cur, “kweÑ?', kweÑ?', kweÑ?',” so he knew that he had struck it. There the woman turned back, saying: “Aha! It is true, I think, as all people are saying, that HodadeÑon is without a peer in sorcery.”

In the morning the lad descended from his perch on the slanting tree and went to the place where lay the cur, stark dead. The arrow had struck the body fairly in the middle, where it still remained. He drew his arrow out of the dog’s body, when he suddenly found that there was a very small knuckle rattle tied to its neck. Having removed this rattle bell, he cast the body of the dog, which was indeed very small, into the water. In doing this he remarked, “Now will begin the period in which my mind is to be disturbed by serious difficulties, it would seem. I think those women whose minds are evil do not live far from here.” So saying, he started on his journey.

The lad had not gone far when all at once he saw a man coming toward him. As they met, the stranger said: “I am thankful that you are in health and peace, HodadeÑon.” HodadeÑon answered: “It is true in the terms of your greeting to me. It is now my turn, too, to greet you. I am thankful that you are well and in peace.” The man replied: “This is certainly the truth.” Then the two [583]smiled, and one asked: “Is it not true that you and I are friends?” Whereupon the other answered: “Indeed it is the truth we are friends. Whence did you come?” Then the lad said: “Ho, far from here have I come. Whence did you come to this place?” The stranger replied: “I, this self of mine, came from far from here, and I have left no relations, and this is the reason why I am called HodadeÑon (S?hodadeÑon433). It is known that I myself am the last one. The lodge whence I came was very long and, it is said, was full of my relations, now dead, and of my own brothers. They were destroyed on the way to the place where dwell those women of evil minds. We are friends, so let us go together. You can aid me, and we shall be able to rob them of tobacco.” The stranger’s answer was, “Be it so,” whereupon the two at once started off along the path.

After going a long distance they found the remains of a fire; there they stopped for the night. As soon as they had warmed up bread and meat they ate their evening meal. When they had finished eating the stranger said: “It is a fact that these portions of bread affixed to the top of the rods are the cause or occasion for which all our kinsmen died. Moreover, it is for us to make this a feast of Reunion of the Living, which we must use as the means of thanksgiving and prayer. We must make an offering of tobacco by casting tobacco on the fire. It is called the ceremony of making an offering of tobacco. I have tobacco with which to do this.” HodadeÑon answered: “So be it. How shall we do it?” The stranger: “All provisions that you have brought with you we must lay in a circle around the fire, and a portion we must place aside in the dark (i.e., conceal it).” Saying, “So be it,” HodadeÑon began to take the things out of his pouch and to lay them in a circle around the fire. He also hid far away in the dark some meat and bread.

Standing beside the fire and holding the tobacco from the pouch in his hand, he said: “Come now, listen to me, you, all kinds of animals and you, too, who have formed and made my life.” With these words he cast the tobacco into the fire, exclaiming: “Now do you listen; now the smoke of tobacco arises. Moreover, he and I ask you to give us assistance, all of you who inhabit the forests and who are immune to enchantment, and you who have made my life and that of my friend, who, too, has no relations left, and myself who have no relations left, for which reason I am called HodadeÑon. We shall fetch all these from the place where they have perished. These are the things for which I pray. So thus we here fulfill our obligation by placing this tobacco in this place, and we have laid away food in the darkness.” Having completed this invocation, HodadeÑon said to his companion: “Come, now, let us go.” [584]

At midnight the two started and had gone very far when daylight came. As they traveled they suddenly heard ahead of them the sounds “du?', du?', du?', du?'.” Thereupon HodadeÑon said to his friend: “Show your courage now, my friend. We have arrived, it seems, in the place where those who have evil minds dwell. Closer let us go.” At last they reached the place in which the lodge stood, and they halted some distance from it.

All at once they heard a man singing and beating a drum. As he sang, he said: “Here I am making tobacco; here I am making tobacco; here I am making tobacco; he who has tobacco prepares tobacco.” HodadeÑon said to his companion, “Now is the time,” and his friend replied: “So let it be.” Then they two entered the lodge, where they came face to face with an old man, who held a mallet in his hand with which he was pounding the tobacco all over. He was so old that his eyebrows hung down far over his eyes. HodadeÑon said to him, “Oh, my uncle!” but he did not notice him and kept on pounding the tobacco. At this, HodadeÑon, drawing his war club, struck him a blow on the forehead, causing the blood to gush forth. After a long while the old man said, “Oh! I am sweating,” at the same time wiping the blood off his forehead. Next, upraising his eyebrows and looking at them, he said: “Oh! my two nephews, you have now arrived. Take courage, my two nephews, because I myself am a slave working in tobacco.” HodadeÑon answered: “I have come after tobacco and nothing else, because my elder brother, who is far from here, desires to smoke.” The old man answered: “He is, I suppose, my own brother. So be it. Take some back with you.”

So HodadeÑon, taking up a twist of tobacco, threw it, saying: “Go hence to the opening of the chimney of the lodge where my sister abides and drop in the ashes [at her feet].” The sister, greatly surprised to see the ashes of the fire fly up, exclaimed, “I am thankful that my brother HodadeÑon, it would seem, is still alive,” and she picked up the tobacco.

Next the young men asked the man with the long eyebrows where stood the lodge of the very wicked women. He answered the spokesman: “Have courage. There stands the lodge yonder, on the farther side of the lake. It is doubtful whether you two can cross the lake. As we know, the ice on it is very slippery. No matter who it is that goes there, as soon as he steps upon the ice a man speaks out, saying: ‘Let it rain bones; let it be nothing but bones.’ And at once he becomes a pile of bones. Such will happen to you if it be that you two are sorcerers.” HodadeÑon said in reply: “Come, my friend, let us start.” Then they set out at once. Arriving at the lake, they found that the ice that covered it was very smooth and that the lodge stood on the farther shore. There a number of people were walking [585]about. One would think that they were expecting something to happen, for they were looking around. HodadeÑon said to his companion: “Come, let us start.” Unstringing their bows, they started on their journey over the ice, in the course of which they used their bows as walking sticks, striking with them upon the ice. Everything went on all right as they made their way over the frozen surface. All at once the people on the shore saw them coming, whereupon they came at once on the ice to meet the bold visitors. At once the people shouted, “It is raining bones,” and they came on, while the two kept on their way. At last one of the people of the shore exclaimed: “Aha! Now I believe it certain that HodadeÑon, the great wizard, has arrived, and they have indeed crossed the lake.” Then all returned to their lodge on the shore. Having crossed the lake, the two went at once to the lodge on the shore. With bravado they entered it, finding all the occupants at home. One there was who was an old woman.

One of the inmates said to the strangers: “It is a custom with us that when anyone visits us we amuse ourselves, and generally for this purpose we bet our heads.” HodadeÑon asked: “How is it customary for you to do this?” The reply was: “We run a race here on the ice. We usually make a circuit of the lake and we use the snowshoe.” HodadeÑon answered: “So be it, then; let us bet then.” He then made very fine snowshoes, which were very small. When he had completed his task, he announced: “I am now all ready.” Thereupon all went to the ice, and one said: “Now we must go around the border of the lake on the ice, and whoever comes in ahead to this scratch line shall win.” Then the runners went to the scratch line, where they stood awaiting the order to go. HodadeÑon said: “I shall run alone on my side.” But the lake-dwellers pitted four men against him.

The order to go (O'nen?') was given—at which the contestants started to run around the lake. When they had run half the way around it HodadeÑon was in the rear of the others. Removing his snowshoes and setting them side by side, he got upon them, saying to them: “Take courage, pass him; yes, pass them, and go directly to the scratch line. The other runners were suddenly made aware of the fact by the furious sounds they heard that HodadeÑon was overtaking them very fast. In a short time he passed them, and, easily keeping ahead of them, he soon arrived at the place whence they had started. When his opponents arrived at the scratch line he was standing there awaiting them. Addressing them, he said: “I have now won from you; I have outrun you. Come on, my friend, let us behead them now, one and all.” So the two destroyed all the wicked people. [586]

Next they went aside to a long pile of bones and proceeded to lay them in order, side by side, working at this task for a long time. When they had finished, they began to push against a great elm tree, while HodadeÑon shouted: “The great elm is falling on them who are sleeping here.” Bravely they arose, all mingled together, men and women, some with one arm or one leg longer than the other. Then HodadeÑon said: “Take courage, my friend, it seems you must aid me in restoring the defective limbs of the people here.” At once he went to work amending the arms and legs of the people who had received the wrong limbs in their resurrection. This work having been finished, HodadeÑon said: “Let everyone go home to the place whence he came,” but all replied: “We do not know whence we came to this place.” HodadeÑon answered: “So let it be; then you must accompany us home. We will go back to that place where my brother and sister abide, because that lodge in which they dwell is very long, so you can live there. Come, now, let us start.”

So all departed from that place, with HodadeÑon in the lead. They were many nights on the way before they reached home; they were many in number when they reached their destination. Once there, HodadeÑon said: “Oh! my elder sister, we have now returned home, and you must assign them places in the lodge, for I do not know all.” Thereupon she told him to make the assignments himself, so when the large party entered he walked back and forth in the lodge, dividing it among them. But before making the assignments he said: “Now, it is not right that one man should live by himself and one woman by herself; hence it shall be that a man and a woman shall dwell together, and they shall sleep together, and they shall whisper together; they shall love each other, and thus they shall be happy.”

Thus they dwell today according to the labors of HodadeÑon.

This is the length of the legend.

It is said that in ancient times there lived together in a very long lodge two male persons. They were related one to the other as uncle (mother’s brother) and nephew. As such, according to the custom of the times, they occupied opposite sides of the fire in the long lodge.

For something to eat, as he grew, the nephew, who was a very little boy, shot birds and other small game.

It came to pass one day that S?hogon?'gwa's said: “Oh, my nephew! I am thankful that now you are growing into manhood. It is a long time since I began to care for you. It will happen that a little later on you will kill larger animals.” [587]

In time this did happen, for one day he killed a partridge, which he carried home. On entering the lodge his uncle exclaimed: “Wu?, my nephew! I am very thankful you are returning home, having killed a large game animal. What is the name of the animal you have killed? What kind of animal is it? Do you know?” In reply the youth said: “I do not know.” The old man, going toward his nephew, grasped the partridge so quickly that he raised the young boy off the ground, saying: “Hand me at once the body of the thing which you are bringing back killed, for you, of course, do not know what kind of thing it is.” Then the old man, going aside and taking a seat, began to pluck and dress the partridge, saying at the same time: “This thing requires, of course, nothing but dumplings.” Setting a kettle over the fire, he made dumplings which he put into the kettle with the partridge. The old man kept on saying, as he watched the bird cooking: “Perhaps this will taste exceedingly good to us two.” The grease floated on the top of the water, for the bird was very fat. Then the old man, removing the kettle from the fire, set it aside. He put into a bark bowl or dish a share for his nephew, saying: “Oh, my nephew! this is what you may eat,” but he held it just over the fire. When the young boy arose to receive his portion and reached out for the dish, his uncle, grasping his hand along with the dish, pulled the nephew over the fire, wherein he fell on his elbows. At once he arose covered with hot coals, and took a seat aside on his own side of the fire. Dissimulating his evil purpose, the old man said: “I am in too much of a hurry, for I thought that I held it aside from the fireplace.” The nephew was greatly astonished at what his uncle had done to him, for he never had illtreated him before; and the lad began to weep, saying to himself: “I wonder why he has done this thing to me.”

The next morning the old man said: “Oh, my nephew! arise. Game animals usually go about the clear places very early in the morning. So arise and go out to hunt.”

After arising and making needed preparations, the nephew started out to hunt in the forest. He kept on thinking: “My uncle has indeed abused me very much.” As the boy went from place to place he was much surprised to hear a man at a distance say, Tcit! and he directed his steps toward the spot whence he believed the sound came. Soon he was surprised to see the skull of an old man protruding out of the ground. As the boy approached the skull said to him: “Oh, my nephew! you are much to be pitied now, for affairs have taken a turn which will cause you misfortune. Exert yourself with all your (magic) power, for he will indeed outmatch your orenda (magic power) if it so be that you do not learn to remember the things which you have killed.” Thus spoke the skull of the old man. [588]

But he continued: “You shall do this in your defense. I will assist you. I am the brother of your uncle, who has outmatched to the utmost degree my orenda. I will tell you, moreover, that that lodge, so long, was at one time full of our relations and kindred, who are now no more. This is the reason it is so long and empty. Now go yonder, not far from here, to an old rotten log, lying prone, and in which you will find a raccoon, as it is called. You must kill it, and you must pass by this place on your way home and I will give you further instructions.” Going to the place indicated by the skull of the old man, the boy killed the raccoon, returning at once to the place where the skull protruded from the ground. Thereupon the skull said to him: “You must not forget the name raccoon, for this is the name of this animal which you have killed. On your way home you must keep on saying, ‘Raccoon, raccoon, raccoon.’ So return home now. And he will again ask, probably, as is his custom, ‘What is it that you are bringing home killed?’ So do not get into the habit of forgetting. Exert yourself as much as possible.”

Thereupon the young boy started for his home in the long lodge, saying as he trudged along, “Raccoon, raccoon, raccoon.” At first he whispered it, but when nearing the lodge he uttered it loudly. Just as he pushed aside the door flap and stepped inside the lodge he stubbed his foot, and his burden, the raccoon, fell inside and he beside it. At that moment his uncle, the old man, said: “Oh, my nephew! now you are bringing back, killed, a large game animal; what is its name and what kind of animal is it?” Now, after his mishap at the doorway, the boy had entirely forgotten the name of the animal, so he reluctantly answered: “I do not know the name of it.” At this his uncle demanded the game, saying: “Hand the body to me, then, for you do not know what kind of thing you are bringing home killed.” The nephew did as he was told, whereupon his uncle, taking a seat aside, began to skin the animal, at the same time saying: “The name of this animal is raccoon.” The nephew took a seat on the opposite side of the fire.

Then the old man set a kettle over the fire, with the remark: “The only way to prepare this game is to cook it with corn-meal mush, which should be eaten with it. I shall skim off the grease and pour it over the mush.” The youth did nothing but watch his uncle. When the meal was cooked the uncle kept saying: “This will indeed taste very good to us two.” Then he took out a share for his nephew, putting into a bark dish some of the mush and a portion of the meat. Going to the edge of the fireplace, he said, “Oh, my nephew! here is a portion for you to eat,” again holding it over the fire. The youth arose quickly to receive it and took the bark bowl in his hands. Just as before, the old man grasped his hands and drew him into [589]the fire, at the same time saying: “What is the use of my holding it somewhere else when I myself am hungry.” Of course the youth fell into the fire on his elbows, and on jumping out he was all covered with hot coals and ashes. Going aside, he took a seat there. Then S?hogon?'gwa's began to eat. When he had finished, he remarked to himself, “I think I will save some of this for another time”; so he put some of the food in a high place. The youth, his nephew, began to weep, saying: “Perhaps he will kill me; I think it possible.”

The next morning the old man again spoke to his nephew, saying: “Oh, my nephew! do you arise. It is the custom for game animals to be found in the open places very early in the morning.” Quickly arising from his bed, the youth at once made the necessary preparations, and after finishing these, he started out to hunt. Once more he directed his course toward the place where the skull of his uncle protruded from the ground. On arriving there, his uncle addressed him: “Well, my nephew, what came to pass?” The youth answered: “I kept repeating the name ‘raccoon’ as I went along, and when I had reached a point quite near the lodge I just whispered the name to myself, saying ‘Raccoon, raccoon, raccoon.’ But at the very doorway I caught my foot in an obstruction, and the body of the animal fell into the lodge and I with it. At that moment my uncle asked me, ‘What is the name of the game you are bringing home killed?’ Of course, I did not remember anything whatever about the name of the animal, so I answered him, ‘I do not know.’ To this the old man replied, ‘Quickly hand me the body of the animal, for you do not know its name; and it is well known that raccoon is its name.’ ” Then the man whose skull protruded from the ground said: “Oh! how unfortunate it was that stumbling against an obstruction and falling down caused you to forget the name of the animal. Exert yourself to the utmost. Be brave. Your only safety consists in remembering the names of the animals that you may kill. You must remember at all times these names. Now, then, go to that place there in the distance where turkeys abound. One of them you must kill; and when you have killed it, you must pass by this place on your way home.” As directed, the youth went to the place designated by his uncle, and there he killed a turkey. Then he returned to the spot where his uncle’s skull protruded from the ground. To encourage him his uncle said: “Be brave and exert yourself to the utmost. This time you must remember the name of this game bird. It is called a turkey. As you are going along homeward, you must keep saying, ‘Turkey, turkey, turkey’; and as soon as you arrive near the lodge you must set your feet down carefully as you walk, and must go along whispering the name to yourself, ‘Turkey, turkey, turkey.’ ” [590]

So the youth started for home, and as he went along he kept saying, “Turkey, turkey, turkey.” On arriving near the lodge, he began to whisper the name, “Turkey, turkey, turkey,” and he set each foot down carefully and securely. In this way he reentered his home without mishap. And the old man, his uncle, was surprised and said: “Oh, my nephew! you are bringing back a large game animal, killed. I am thankful for it. What is the name of it?” The youth replied: “Oh! the name of it is turkey—just turkey.” The old man, his uncle, merely exclaimed, Wu?', and, going aside, took a seat there. In the meantime the youth dragged the body of the turkey aside to pluck and dress it. While engaged at his task he remarked: “The only way to cook this is to boil it down to a pot roast.” Next he proceeded to pluck and then to quarter the bird. When he had finished his task, he started the meat to cooking in a kettle over the fire. As he saw it begin to cook he kept saying: “It will certainly taste good to uncle and me.” The uncle on his part said: “I have been thinking generally that he [my nephew] would become perhaps a fine hunter; for it has been a very difficult task for me to raise you, and I have worked hard to do it.”

When the turkey was cooked the youth said: “I will not act in the manner my uncle acts on such occasions.” Thereupon he set aside a portion of the boiled turkey in a bark bowl, which he offered to his uncle by holding it directly over the fire, which was burning briskly, saying: “This is what you will eat.” The uncle, exclaiming, “Oh! I am thankful for it,” arose to receive it. As he grasped the bark bowl, the youth, seizing his hands along with the bowl, drew the old man over so that he fell into the fire. At this the youth said, excusing himself: “I am so hungry, indeed, that perhaps I was holding the bowl in an unintended place.” The old man answered, “Now my nephew, you have abused me. It has been my habit to think that you would not treat me in this manner, for I have raised you from childhood to youth.” The nephew was eating, but he answered his uncle: “I just thought that that was perhaps the custom on such occasions, for you were in the habit of acting in this manner.” So saying, he kept on eating. Finally he said, “I believe I will save myself a portion for a later time;” and he laid aside some of the boiled turkey.

The next morning the old man did not say, as was his custom, to his nephew: “Come now, arise, my nephew.” On the other hand, the young nephew said to himself: “So be it. I will now arise, I think. My uncle is accustomed to say that the game animals go about in the open country very early in the morning.” So the young man arose then, and proceeded to make his usual preparations before going out to hunt. After eating his morning meal he started from the lodge. The uncle spoke not a word. It would appear, one would think, [591]that he was angry. The youth went directly to the place where his other uncle’s skull protruded from the ground.

Having arrived at the spot, the skull addressed him, saying: “Well, my nephew, what happened?” The youth answered: “I remembered the name all the way home, and when my uncle asked me, ‘What are you bringing home, killed?’ I answered him, ‘Only a turkey.’ My uncle replied, merely, Wu?'. Then I prepared the bird and cooked it. As soon as it was cooked I kept saying: ‘I shall not act in the manner in which my uncle acts.’ Then I put a portion for him on a bark dish and held the dish directly over the fire, saying: ‘Oh, my uncle! eat this portion.’ He replied, ‘Ho', I am very thankful,’ and grasped the dish, whereupon, gripping his hands, I pulled him down into the fire. I may have held it in the wrong place because I was very hungry, but the real reason I did so was because I was angry with him on account of the many times he scorched and burned me. My uncle said: ‘I believe that you have now begun to abuse me.’ I replied that it seemed to be the custom when one was giving food to another. He walked to and fro, and one would think that my uncle was angry.”

The skull of the uncle at once replied: “It was just right for him. Now, indeed, this is about to come to pass. It is impossible that in the future he will ask you for the name of the things which you may bring home killed. Oh, my nephew! It is known that your uncle is making preparations. He is gathering logs and burning them on the fire, and when night comes he will have a great fire, as is well known. So, be brave, careful, and watchful. You must not go to sleep. An evil dream will cause him to arise suddenly, as is well known. Then you must quickly take down his war club and strike a blow with it on your uncle’s head, at the same time saying: ‘What is causing you to see marvels?’ And if he does not answer at once, ‘It has ceased,’ you must again strike a blow on his head with the war club. Then it will come to pass that he will say, as is well known, ‘The thing that the dream spirit has commanded me is baleful.’ Whereupon you must ask him, ‘What did the dream spirit command you to do?’ In answer he will tell you what he has been commanded to require you to do. Then you must return to this place, as I do not know what he will say.”

Now, the youth returned to the lodge which he called his home. Night came on them. The fire was a brisk one. It so happened that the old man, the uncle, said: “The reason I have put these large logs on the fire is because it seems likely that we two will have a very cold time tonight.” The two lay down as usual, but the youth kept awake as he had been warned to do by his uncle’s [592]skull. There was a hole worn through his skin covering through which he kept a strict watch on his uncle.

About midnight, perhaps, suddenly the old man began to moan and groan, muttering strange words very loudly, the sounds increasing in intensity. Interspersed with these mutterings were the sounds 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?. Suddenly arising from his couch, he moved about on his knees, meanwhile uttering the same sounds and words as the youth had first heard. Then, with one great cry of 'eÑ?! he cast himself on the fire and pushed with his feet and hands the huge firebrands that had accumulated over toward the place where lay his nephew. Seeing this, the nephew, quickly uncovering himself, leaped up just in time, for the great pieces of burning logs fell blazing where he had just lain. Running over to the opposite side of the fire, he took down from its resting place the war club of his uncle. His uncle then being close to him, groping around on his knees and uttering dark words, the youth struck him a blow on the head, saying at the same time, “What is causing you to see marvels?” and again raised the war club to deliver another blow. But the dream of the old man ceased at that time, and the uncle took a seat at one side of the fire, and the youth took a seat on the opposite side. Thereupon the uncle said to his nephew: “Compliance with what the dream commanded me is of the utmost difficulty.” The youth answered: “Well, what did the dream command you to do?” The uncle made reply: “It commanded me, saying, ‘You two shall hazard your lives’; it said to me that we two must ‘take the roof off the lodge.’ ” The youth replied: “So let it come to pass. What it has commanded amounts to nothing.”

Then the two men returned to bed for the remainder of the night. Very early the next morning the youth went to the spot where the skull of his uncle protruded from the ground. When he reached the place, the uncle addressed him: “Well, what happened during the night?” The young nephew answered: “Well, he says that he and I shall hazard our lives by trading objects this very night which is approaching.” To this statement the uncle replied: “I have been saying all along that he is determined to outmatch your magic power (orenda), as is well known. It is his manner of doing things. He will request something which you do not possess, and if it so be that you can not obtain it at once, something direful will happen to you—you die, paying the penalty by your death. Now I know that he will request the entrails of a bear from you, for the very reason that you have them not. Then you must proceed in this manner: You must go out and find a wild grapevine. When you have found it you must unwind the vine and cut off a sufficient portion. This you must rub between your hands and blow on, and instantly the vine will become the entrails of a bear. You must say, ‘I want [593]the fat entrails of a bear.’ Make haste in what you are about to do, for I know that he has completed all his preparation at the lodge.” So the youth went forth to hunt for a wild grapevine, and found one which was wound around a support. Cutting off at once what he required, he began to straighten out the length. Next he fastened the coils together by means of bark cords, and by rubbing it with his hands and blowing on it he soon transformed the vine into the fat entrails of a bear.

Returning to the lodge, the youth addressed his old uncle thus, “Oh, my uncle! I return fully prepared,” to which the uncle answered: “So be it; you just go to the end of the lodge.” The nephew replied: “So be it.” Thereupon the uncle added: “It is not certain whether I shall go now or later. But you must be in an expectant mood there.” Then the youth started, passing along on the inside of the lodge, which was very long. When he reached the end of the lodge he was surprised to see there the signs of a fire, one which had burned perhaps a long time in the past. He took a seat there, for he was ready for the work ahead of him. It was not very long afterward when at last the old man began to sing in his own place: “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering; yu'?heÑ, thou Gadjis'dodo?, thou who art a nephew, yu'?heÑ.” This he repeated in a loud voice, and the song was heard by all the wizards and sorcerers dwelling along the borders of the land, all of whom said one to another: “Now again his intended victim is his own nephew.”

Making his way up to the place where his nephew was sitting, the old man said: “Now, I am come to barter.” He carried in his hand a piece of bark on which lay several pieces of meat. The youth answered: “What shall I give you?” The old man, in accordance with the custom on such occasions, replied: “I can not tell what it shall be. Perhaps you have the flesh of the raccoon?” The youth rejoined: “I will give it to you.” The uncle answered: “No; not that.” The youth then said: “Turkey meat; that I will give you.” The uncle replied: “No; not that.” Then the old man again began singing, “Yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, thou Gadjis'dodo?, thou who art a nephew; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” At this moment flames burst out all around the place where Gadjis'dodo? was sitting. In defense, the youth said: “Dji', dji', dji'. Oh, my uncle! verily, you mean the entrails of a bear, the very fat entrails of a bear, which I have.” As soon as he had ceased speaking, the flames went down. Drawing forth the entrails of the bear (which he had prepared), the youth gave them to his uncle. They exchanged the pieces of meat for the bear’s entrails. The old man said: “I am thankful for these.” The youth then thought to himself: [594]“I will go back to my place as soon as I think he has returned to his own seat on his side of the fire.” As he started, the old man again began to sing: “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering; thou Gadjis'dodo?, thou who art a nephew; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” Believing that his uncle had resumed his seat, the nephew returned to his couch, where he found the old man sitting, smoking. The old man said merely: “We, oh, my nephew! have now finished this task.”

The next morning the youth again went to the place where the skull of his other uncle was protruding from the ground. When he arrived there his uncle asked him what had taken place last night. In answer, the youth related in great detail just what had come to pass between the old man and himself. He told him all very carefully. Thereupon this uncle said: “Now, it is a fact that he is collecting more logs and putting them on the fire and near it, for he will again make a large fire this very night. And it is, too, a fact that when he has his dream tonight, he will say in his own mind that he desires the liver of a bear. This you do not possess. Be brave and do your very best. This time you must hunt for fungi that grow on old rotten logs. These you must procure—two in number—and you must treat them in the same manner as you did the grapevine, and at once they will become bear’s livers. So, now, go out hunting for these things.” The youth at once started on his quest for fungi in the forest. He was not very long in finding the two that he required for his purpose. At once he rubbed them with his hands, saying at the same time: “Let these soon become bear’s livers.” Immediately the transformation took place as he wished.

Then he started for the lodge, where dwelt his uncle. Arriving there, he said: “Oh, my uncle! I have now returned.” He saw that the fire was a great one. Night came on at last, and the two lay down to sleep, but the youth did not fall asleep. It was perhaps midnight when suddenly the old man began to moan and groan with increasing force and loudness; all at once he arose and crawled around there on his knees. Finally, with a loud cry, ‘eÑ?, he threw himself on the fire. At once large pieces of wood, all ablaze, fell in every direction, some in the direction of the youth’s bed. Quickly arising and crossing over to the opposite side of the fire, he took down the war club of his uncle, and seeing the head of the latter close to him, moving from place to place, he struck it a blow with the club, at the same time saying: “Oh, my uncle! what is causing you to see marvels?” Then quickly he raised the club for another blow. Suddenly, however, the dream ceased, and the old man exclaimed, to avoid another blow of the war club: “It has stopped now.” Having said this he drew aside and took a seat. The youth did likewise. Addressing his nephew, the old man said: “Oh, [595]nephew! Compliance with the command which the dream gave me is very difficult indeed, yea, dangerous.” The youth asked: “What did it command you?” The uncle answered: “Why, it commanded me, saying you and he must barter by exchange, you and your nephew; and it commanded also that this must take place early in the morning, and that a calamitous thing would happen to you if it should come to pass that the barter by exchange failed to take place before midday.” The youth replied: “So be it; we will attend to this matter in the morning.” Then the two returned to their respective beds.

Very early the next morning the old man, having arisen, again addressed the youth: “Now you must go once more to the end of the lodge.” Having gone there, the nephew kindled a fire. All at once the old man in his place began to sing again, as before: “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; thou Gadjis'dodo?, thou who art my nephew, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” As he sang the youth saw that he came toward him. Having arrived at the end of the lodge occupied by his nephew, the old man said: “Oh, my nephew! I come to barter by exchange.” The latter at once replied: “So let it be; what, then, shall I give you?” The uncle’s answer was: “Oh! you have it certainly. You have what I desire.” At this, then, the youth began to offer his uncle the things which he ostensibly guessed the old man desired. When he had consumed sufficient time to mislead his antagonist, he finally exclaimed: “Oh, my uncle! I believe that you indeed want the liver of a bear—the fat liver of a bear.” Quite deceived as to the mental acuteness of his nephew, the uncle replied: “I am very thankful for this.” Then they two made the exchange, and the old man returned to his own end of the lodge, carrying on his back the package of liver. As he went along he sang his song: “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ; thou Gadjis'dodo?, who art my nephew, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” Thus the uncle returned to his seat. When the youth thought that the old man had reached his own part of the lodge, he returned to his own bed. When he had reached it the old man said to him: “Now, what the dream commanded me has been fulfilled. I am thankful, too.”

Then the youth, having made the necessary preparations, departed, going to the place where the skull of his other uncle protruded out of the ground. On his arrival there, the uncle said to him: “Well, what happened?” The nephew answered him: “Oh! we completed the exchange, and I passed through the test without mishap.” To this the uncle rejoined: “Now you must hasten to return to the lodge. It is your turn to have a dream of that kind. You, too, must kindle the fire by gathering great logs, so that you may have a great fire. As soon as midnight comes it is for you to do [596]just as your uncle did, and as soon as he strikes you a blow with his war club, you must say: ‘It is now ceased. Difficult and sinister is what the dream commanded me to do.’ Then your uncle will ask: ‘What did it command you to do?’ In reply you must say that it commanded you to have your uncle seek for the wish [word] of your dream; and it said, too, that a direful thing should happen to your uncle should he have failed to divine your dream’s desire by midday. A small round squash, which is growing on a vine planted by your uncle beneath his bed, is what you must desire in your dream. He prizes this squash very much, believing that his life depends on it. You must say, ‘Yes’ only when he names this squash as the thing desired for you by your dream. So now quickly return to the lodge and get ahead of him in making the preparations for kindling a great fire tonight. You must make the fire, and you must gather large logs to maintain it in full blaze during the night, for you must have a fine fire.”

So the youth returned to the lodge, and when he arrived indoors he said to his uncle: “It is now my turn to make a good fire, and I will kindle it well, because I think we shall have a very cold night.” Then gathering together many large logs and pieces of wood, he proceeded to put them on the fire in order to have a fine blaze for the night, as he had been told to do. Nighttime having come, they lay down to sleep. No word of conversation passed between them. About midnight the youth began to moan and to groan, saying, 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?. In a short time he arose from his bed groaning then very loudly, and without further act, he cast himself on the fire, scattering in all directions with his feet and hands the blazing firebrands, some of which went in the direction of the bed of his uncle. The latter, having been awakened by the groaning, quickly arose to avoid the firebrands. Then saying, “What has happened to you?” took down his war club, and seeing the head of his nephew moving about close to him, struck it a blow with the club, which resounded with a ba'?, very loud. Immediately he raised the club to strike another blow, but at that moment the youth said: “Oh, uncle, it has now ceased.” After regaining his composure, he continued: “Now, what the dream commanded me to do is very difficult of fulfillment, although a severe and cruel penalty is the price of failure to perform its mandate.” Thereupon the old man asked: “What did it command you to do?” The nephew replied: “It ordered me to have my uncle seek for the desire of my dream, to divine its word in other terms; and if my uncle is not able to divine the word of the dream by midday, something cruel and sinister will befall his body.” The uncle’s answer was: “So be it. It has no great significance.” Then the two lay down again to sleep. [597]

Very early in the morning the youth arose and, after making his usual preparations, said to his uncle: “The time has now come for us to begin.” The uncle replied: “So be it; I am ready.” While they were taking their places the old man remarked: “Verily, you must give me a clue to the ‘word’ of your dream.” But the nephew answered: “That is not at all the custom in such cases, and it is certain that the reason it is called ‘the seeking of one’s dream word’ is that no clue shall be given.” At this reply the old man exclaimed with mock surprise, “Wu?'! this is indeed an astonishing thing”; but he failed to make his nephew agree to give him a small clue to the thing he had dreamed.

Thereupon the old man began to ask the questions necessary to ascertain the dream desire of his nephew. He asked: “It may be that you desire my pouch?” His nephew answered: “No; that is not what I desire.” The old man continued: “It may be that you desire, possibly, my raccoon-skin robe?” The answer came: “No; that is not what I desire.” The next question was: “It may be that you desire flesh of the bear?” In disgust the nephew answered: “Wa?'. No, no! I do not want that.” The uncle ventured: “It may be, it is probable, you desire the flesh of the raccoon?” The youth answered: “No; that is not what the dream indicated.” Another question from the uncle: “It may be, perhaps, that you desire the flesh of the turkey?” His nephew said: “No; that is not what is required.” Again the uncle asked: “It may be, perhaps, that you desire the flesh of the deer?” The nephew rejoined: “No; that is not what the dream indicated.” Meanwhile the uncle and his nephew kept walking up and down in their respective places. Again the old man asked: “It may be, perhaps, that you desire my war club?” But his nephew replied: “No; that is not what I desire.” At last the old man spoke, saying: “Well, what, indeed, will take place? I moreover have the thing, but I would like to know what I have asked?” The nephew answered in disgust: “Wu?', you know that it is not the custom that there should be a lot of talk about such things when one is seeking the ‘dream word’ of another.” He did not give any intimation to his uncle as to what his dream had indicated to him, but he kept looking up at the sun to see how near midday it was. On resuming the struggle of questioning and replying, the uncle said: “It may be, perhaps, that you desire what I prize very highly—my fetish, which is very fine and with which I hunt,” at the same time showing it to his nephew to cause him to desire it. But the nephew answered merely: “No; that is not what my dream indicated to me.” It was then nearly midday. The old man, going to and fro and stopping now and then to ask the questions, would hang his head, saying to himself: “I wonder what can be the thing that my nephew desires.” Addressing the youth, he said: [598]“It may be, perhaps, that you desire what I have prized highly, too, for a long time, namely, the otter fur which is white in color?” But the nephew replied: “No; that is not what I desire as answer to the demand of my dream.” Again looking up at the sun to see how near midday it was, and finding that it was very near the time for the contest to close, the old man said: “It may be, perhaps, that you desire what, too, I have prized and kept carefully in divers places, namely, my marten fur?” The nephew impatiently answered: “No; that is not what I desire at all.” At once he began to sing, for the time was about up. He said as he sang, “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's, my uncle, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” Now the uncle was moving around on the opposite side of the fire. Suddenly, after the singing had commenced flames burst up all around the old man with the sound dauÑ?'! At once he protested to his nephew, saying, “Go slow, go slow, with that, oh, nephew!” As the time had not quite expired, the nephew permitted the flames to go down again, whereupon the uncle said, “Oh, my nephew! you have been exceedingly rude with me.” But the nephew replied: “I can do nothing in this matter, for this has all been planned for me in advance. So I can do nothing.” As the time (midday) was soon to expire, the nephew again began to sing the song he sang at first, “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's, my uncle, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” As before, flames at once burst all around the uncle as he stood on the opposite side of the fire. At once he exclaimed, “Oh, my nephew! do not be so hard in this thing.” But the youth again began singing: “The time is now up. Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, my own uncle, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.”

Thereupon the old man fled to the top of his bed, on which he jumped around in an effort to avoid the pursuing flames. From that spot he spoke to his nephew, saying, “Oh my nephew! I have now overtaken your ‘dream word.’ You indeed desire—I have thought so all along—what I have planted, native squashes called djisgoÑt'a?, which has now its fruit.” At once the youth said, “Ku?', I am thankful for this fulfillment of what my dream word required.” Thereupon each resumed his seat in his wonted place, and the uncle said, “Do you know the history of the custom of ‘seeking for one’s dream word’?” The youth replied, “Yes, I know it—one shall give up at once what the dream has indicated when he shall have divined what it desires.” The old man, in an attempt to outwit his nephew, said, “It is customary too, I know, for me to make something identical with what you demand as your dream word.” But the youth could not be moved, saying, “Now; that is not at all right.” The old man persisted, however, saying: “It is, nevertheless, customary [599]that one should make an object resembling the thing desired. So I will do this, and that, too, I will give to you.” The youth did not agree to this, but answered, “That is not in the remotest sense what the dream commanded, that you should give me something artificial.”

With these words the youth again arose and began to sing again, “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” With a loud dauÑ'! the flames once more burst forth around the old man, and a scene similar to the former took place. Finally the old man was forced to surrender, saying, “I shall now give you what your ‘dream word’ desired.” Thereupon both resumed their seats. The uncle then said to his nephew, “It is, indeed, a fact that I live by it; so now I shall give it to you.” With these words he uncovered the plants by raising and removing his bed. The nephew on his side was watching intently what was going on in the apartment of his uncle. He was surprised to see planted there under the bed a patch of squashes, and he saw his uncle gather a squash. Covering the plant again, he gave the squash to his nephew, with the remark, “You must carefully preserve this thing.” The youth answered: “So be it. Now, the matter which was at issue has been settled.”

After making his usual preparations the nephew went to the place where his other uncle’s skull protruded out of the ground. When he arrived there the skull said to him, “Well, what happened?” The nephew answered, “Everything that you said came to pass just right, and I have brought here what he gave up to me.” Drawing it forth, he showed it to his uncle, who said: “That thing, in fact, is what I meant. There is still another thing. It is a fact that a sister of yours is there too, inclosed in a bark case which is set up under his bed whereon he is accustomed to lie down—under your uncle’s bed. That, also, you can remedy by overcoming him in this matter; so you must set your desire on this thing. This must be what your ‘dream word’ shall command you to obtain for your health and welfare. So return home at once and make the necessary preparations for having another great fire tonight. You must collect large logs and place them on the fire. Hasten and do not permit him to be quicker than you are. Be brave. Have no pity on him, for he will overmatch your orenda (magic power) if you fail to exert it to the utmost.”

The youth hastened back. Having arrived in the lodge, he said to his uncle, “Now I think I will again kindle a good fire, because we may be going to have a very cold night.” So, gathering together a number of logs and large pieces of dry wood, he placed them in a pile, and with smaller pieces of wood he kindled a great fire for the night. [600]

Night having come, the two retired to rest, each on his own side of the fire. About midnight the youth again began to moan and groan loudly, and the moaning became louder and louder. In a short time he got off his bed and crawled around on his hands and knees. Next, without further warning, he threw himself on the fire, scattering the firebrands over the place where lay his uncle, who at once arose, saying, “What has happened?” Taking down his war club and seeing the head of his nephew close to him, he struck it a blow with the club, which resounded with a very loud ba''! As he raised the club for a second blow, the youth exclaimed, “Oh, my uncle! it has now ceased,” whereupon the uncle addressed him, saying, “What is causing you to see visions?” His nephew replied, “What it commanded me to do is baleful unto death if not fulfilled.” The uncle asked further, “What did it command you to do?” The nephew answered: “The thing it commanded is that you shall again ‘seek to divine the word of my dream’ tomorrow; and if you shall not have divined the ‘word of my dream’ before the sun shall have reached the zenith evil shall befall your person.” The old man mockingly retorted, “Let it be so,” drawing out the expression. Thereupon they both returned to their beds, on which they again lay down for the rest of the night.

The next morning the youth arose, and after making his usual morning preparations, said to his uncle, “The time has now arrived for what I have been commanded to do; so let us begin.” As before, the uncle mockingly said, “So let it be,” once more drawing out the expression to indicate his contempt for his nephew.

After a moment of silence the old man said, “Oh, my nephew! you will just give a small clue to the ‘word of your dream.’ ” His nephew replied, “You know that is not the custom on such occasions, for the reason that it would be of no use to make ‘seeking the word of a dream’ a test if one should furnish a clue. Come, then, let us begin.” This he said with some impatience, knowing full well that the uncle was only seeking to cause him to make some error in the test.

So the old man began by asking, “Perhaps you may mean in your desire, suggested by the ‘word of the dream,’ the flesh of the moose?” But the youth replied, “No; that is not what is desired.” The old man asked again, “Perhaps you mean in your desire, suggested by the ‘word of the dream,’ the flesh of the bear?” And the youth answered, “No; that is not what is desired.” The uncle once more asked, “Perhaps you may mean in your desire, suggested by the ‘word of the dream,’ the flesh of the raccoon?” But the youth answered, “No; that is not what is desired.” Then the uncle asked the same question regarding the flesh of the deer, the turkey, the fat entrails of the bear, the liver of the bear, and various other [601]substances, receiving from his nephew in each instance a negative answer. Finally, he asked, in an attempt to throw the youth off of his guard, “Oh, my nephew! what can you mean? What is it you desire?” But the youth, alert and crafty, replied, “Pshaw! are you not seeking to divine the ‘word of my dream,’ and still you want me to give you a clue to it?” The old man replied, “But I have now named all the things that I own.” He kept walking up and down in his own part of the lodge. Again the time was nearly up—it was almost midday. So the old man said, “Well, so be it; perhaps you may mean in your desire, suggested by the ‘word of the dream,’ my leggings?” His nephew answered, “No; that is not what is desired.” Once more the uncle suggested, “My breechclout?” The nephew answered as before, “No; that is not what is desired.” Then the old man, seeking to gain time, remarked, “I am wondering, Oh, my nephew! what it is that you desire?”

Then the nephew, becoming wearied with the dilatory tactics of his uncle, began to sing, as before, “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he is my uncle, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.” Again the flames burst up out of the ground all around the place where the uncle was standing, with the sound dauÑ?'. Thereupon the old man exclaimed, “Oh, my nephew! do not be too hasty with that thing.” As the time had not yet fully arrived to end this test, the youth willed that the flames subside, and with the sound dauÑ?' they quickly subsided.

Then the old man resumed his questions, saying “Perhaps you may mean in your desire, suggested by the ‘word of the dream,’ my otter-skin robe?” The nephew replied, “No; that is not what is desired.” Next the old man named “my bow and arrows, which I so dearly prize?”

The nephew, Gadjis'dodo?, was walking to and fro in his own part of the lodge, looking every now and then to see whether the sun had reached the meridian, for he knew well that the time was almost up. Finally, to test the endurance of the old man, he again began to sing, using the words of the song for this kind of a ceremony: “Yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, he and I are bartering by exchange; yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, S?hogon?'gwa's yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ, and he is my uncle, yu'?heÑ, yu'?heÑ.”

With a loud dauÑ?' the flames again burst forth from the ground all around the old man, who now climbed up the bark wall of the lodge to escape them, at the same time crying out, “Oh, my nephew! do not be too hasty with that thing.” Knowing his mastery of the old man, the youth willed once more that the flames should subside, and they did so. Whereupon the old man descended from his place of refuge on the bark wall. [602]

The old man said to his nephew, “At no time must you lay the heavy hand of punishment on me;” but he would not admit defeat. The youth answered, “The time is now nearly up, and I can not change in any manner the command given me by the dream.” With these words he again began to walk to and fro, singing his wonted song, at which the flames burst forth once more from the ground all around the place in which the old man moved, burning his hair and even his eyelashes.

At this moment the old man cried out, “I have now divined the ‘word of your dream.’ I have thought all along that perhaps what you desired is the small woman in a bark case standing under the bed whereon I usually rest. She is, indeed, very small. That is, perhaps, what you desire?” The youth replied: “I am thankful. Set her in the place where people usually sit in the lodge.” For answer the old man said: “You would agree, perhaps, that I make a bark case, a very small one, and also make a small doll which I should fasten in the bark case. This is just the way they do when they ‘divine the dream word’434 of anyone.”

Combating his uncle’s attempt to have the command of the dream changed and therefore made entirely void, the nephew said to him, “The dream did not tell me that the command should be carried out by means of an artificial thing.” At this he again began to walk to and fro in his own part of the lodge, singing, as before, the potent song, which caused the flames again to burst out of the ground and completely cover the old man, S?hogon?'gwa's, as he sat on his bed. At once he exclaimed, “I will now give up what you desire.” The flames went down with a roar.

Still attempting to thwart his nephew by sly cunningness, the old man said: “It is the custom to make something resembling that which the ‘word of the dream’ commanded to be produced and which customarily is given to the one who has dreamed; and it is now my purpose to make a bark case resembling the one which is lying under my bed, and in which shall be the representation of a woman. I shall make it fine and beautiful. I will give it to you.” The youth replied: “You know that now the time is up for you to do your part, and yet you delay, although you have asked me not to be too heavy handed with you. So at once give me what is required by the ‘word of the dream.’ ”

Seeing that it was of no use trying to outwit his nephew, the uncle went over to his bed and, raising it up on one side, drew from under it a small bark case, in which was the small woman. She was indeed very small. As he drew her forth she was winking her eyes, and as she saw her brother she smiled pleasantly. The old man gave the case to his nephew without further resistance. Then the youth prepared her to take her away. It was very cold, being winter, so he [603]wrapped her up in furs in a close bundle and replaced her in the bark case, which he carried on his shoulder out of the lodge.

The youth directed his course toward the place where the skull of his other uncle protruded out of the ground. He arrived there bearing on his shoulder the case of bark. His mysterious uncle said to him, “Well, nephew, what has happened since you were here the last time?” The nephew replied, “Everything you said has come to pass as you desired.” The uncle answered: “Now it is your other uncle’s turn to kindle the fire, and he is gathering the necessary fuel for it. This is what your uncle is now doing. So perhaps you will return there never to come back here alive. When you reach your lodge he will have completed his preparations, and the fire too will be a great one. It shall be your duty to watch him carefully during the night. Just at your back—behind you—shall stand the case of bark containing your sister. At midnight your uncle will be suddenly roused again, I know, by an evil dream, and will again scatter the firebrands in all directions. Some will fall over your bed, and so you must be up and out of the way. At the first symptoms of his dream you must leap up and, going over to the opposite side of the fire, you must take down his war club and strike him a blow with it; then at once raise it for a second blow. When he shall say, ‘Now it has ceased,’ you must ask, ‘What thing is causing you to see marvels?’ Then he will answer, ‘The thing that the dream has commanded me is baleful and difficult of accomplishment.’ ”

The nephew asked, “Well, what did the dream command you to do?” The uncle replied, “It said that when daylight came again I must haul you around in a sledge made of green, fresh-peeled bark, ten times around this lodge, and that you must be entirely naked. You know that this lodge is very long. It said also that something evil would befall you, should you, my nephew, fail to see that this desire is carried out as the dream has declared it.”

The nephew, Gadjis'dodo?, answered, “Let it be so.” The two thereupon returned to their respective beds, and there they lay down to rest and sleep.

Very early the next morning S?hogon?'gwa's arose, saying to his nephew, “Oh, my nephew! I am now going to fetch the bark sledge required for our purpose.” To this the youth Gadjis'dodo? replied, “So be it.” The old man went out, and it was not long before he reentered the lodge, saying, “I have now completed my preparations out of doors; now we two will go out there.” They went forth, and the old man at once began to wrap the youth in the newly stripped bark which he had prepared for the purpose and to bind him very closely with bark cords. After coming out of the lodge the old man had said, “Now undress yourself fully,” and there in front of the doorway the youth undressed himself. There stood the bark sledge. [604]On coming out the old man had told him, “You must lie down upon this thing.” It was winter and very, very cold. The wind was severe, and the snow was blustering. When the youth lay down on the bark sledge the old man wrapped him up with the bark sides and tied him therein securely, saying as he did so, “I am doing this lest you should fall when I start to run.” Finally he said, “Oh, my nephew! I am now ready.” The nephew, Gadjis'dodo?, answered, “So be it.”

Next the old man drew a starting line and began drawing the sledge around the lodge very swiftly. While running, the old man sang: “I am dragging him in a sledge, I am dragging him in a sledge, I am dragging him in a sledge. He is Gadjis'dodo?, you who are a nephew. I am dragging him in a sledge, I am dragging him in a sledge,” etc. Having gone around the lodge once and having returned to the doorway of the lodge, S?hogon?'gwa's said, “Oh, my nephew! are you alive?” Gadjis'dodo? answered, “I am alive.” At this the old man said, “This is once around,” and started again drawing the sledge around the lodge, singing, as before, while he ran.

Having gone around the lodge a second time, the old man said, “Oh, my nephew! are you alive?” The nephew replied, “Ho', I am alive.” Saying, “This is the second time,” the uncle again started around the lodge. The weather was indeed very cold, and no one who was entirely naked could possibly live in weather so severe (except he be a very great sorcerer).

Having returned to the doorway of the lodge, the old man again asked, “Oh, my nephew! are you alive?” and the youth replied as before, “Yes; I am alive.” Every time the old man started to drag the sledge he began singing the same song with the same words. Thus they made a circuit of the lodge nine times, when the youth in his reply to his uncle’s usual question pretended to be nearly dead, answering in a very feeble voice, that he was still alive. To this his uncle exultingly rejoined, “‘eÑ?'heÑ!” meaning by this exclamation, “I thought you would not last.” So the old man gleefully started dragging the sledge around the lodge again, and he sang the same song with the same words. When they had returned to the doorway of the lodge they had completed the tenth circuit of the lodge, as decreed by the old man’s ‘dream word.’ Again the old man asked, “Oh, my nephew! are you still alive?” With a strong voice the nephew answered, “I am alive.” To this the old man rejoined in surprise, Wu?'! (an exclamation of wonder).

Then the old man proceeded to unfasten the youth from the sledge and from the bark wrappings with which he had so closely secured him, ostensibly to keep him from falling off the sledge. As they two reentered the lodge the old man said, “Oh, my nephew! now that which was commanded me by the dream has been fulfilled.” [605]The nephew replied, “So be it,” and taking up the bark case in which was his sister, he placed it on his back, carrying it by means of the forehead strap. He then went directly to the place where his uncle’s skull protruded from the ground. When he arrived there bearing his sister on his back, his uncle of the skull asked him, “Well, my nephew, how have things gone?” The nephew replied, “Everything that you advised me to do has been satisfactorily accomplished.” Thereupon the uncle said to him: “You must hasten back to the lodge, for it is now your turn to kindle a great fire. You must say to your uncle, ‘I am gathering wood and fuel to build a great fire, for I think that tonight we shall have a very cold night.’ And tonight about midnight you must dream and groan; then, quickly arising, grope on your hands and knees, and finally cast yourself on the fire, scattering the firebrands in all directions, especially toward the bed on which your uncle lies. When he arises and strikes you a blow on the head with his war club, you must quickly say, ‘It has now ceased,’ for he will raise the club at once to strike a second blow. He will then ask you, ‘What is it that is causing you to see marvels?’ You must answer, ‘Compliance with what my dream has commanded me is most difficult, and the command is accompanied with evil portent.’ When he asks you, ‘What did it command you to do?’ you must say, ‘It commanded me to draw you, my uncle, in a bark sledge 10 times around this lodge, and to require you to be naked, entirely so.’ This is what you shall tell him when he asks what you have dreamed.” The youth replied, “So let it be.” Continuing his advice, the uncle said: “You must carefully guard the person of your sister. Be brave and do not waver; do not agree to his proposal that he may not undergo the test entirely naked, claiming this exemption on account of his great age. This is what he will say, but do not consent to this proposition. Now hasten back to the lodge.”

Having returned to the lodge, the youth said to his uncle, “It is my turn to kindle the fire today, for we shall have a very cold and stormy night.” The uncle merely said, “I will care for your sister, of course, for it is very cold.” But the youth replied, “Carrying her along with me will in no wise interfere with what I am about to do.” So, carrying his sister on his back by means of the forehead strap, he went forth to gather wood. He kindled a great fire for the night and did not leave his sister alone for a single moment.

When night came, they all retired to their beds. The sister of the youth remained in the bark case, which the youth placed between himself and the bark wall of the lodge. About midnight he began to groan and moan and utter incoherent words. Then, having arisen, groped around on his knees, and finally cast himself into the fire, scattering the firebrands in all directions, especially over the bed of [606]his uncle. Thereupon the old man leaped up, and seizing his war club, went across the lodge and struck the youth a blow on the head, at the same time asking, “What is it that is causing you to see marvels?” The youth quickly answered: “It has now ceased. Compliance with what my dream commanded me is most difficult, and the command is accompanied with an evil portent.” The uncle at once asked, “What did it command you to do?” The youth answered, “It commanded me to drag you, my uncle, in a bark sledge 10 times around this lodge very early tomorrow morning. The evil portent is that if this be not accomplished before midday some great calamity shall befall your person.” The uncle merely replied, “So let it be.” Then they retired to their respective beds.

Very early the next morning the youth, Gadjis'dodo?, arose and said in a loud voice, “Oh, my uncle! I am now going after the bark sledge.” The uncle answered, “So be it; it is well.” The youth went out, and soon returning to the doorway, said, “Oh, my uncle! I am now ready; let us go out and begin at once.” With these words he laid his bark sledge down in front of the doorway. When his uncle came out the youth said, “You must undress yourself.” But the old man said, “Just let me remain dressed, for I am so very old.” His nephew, Gadjis'dodo?, replied: “I did not say that. So come, undress yourself.” And he began at once to undress the old man. When the old man was undressed he lay down on the bark sledge, and the youth quickly bound him fast to it with bark cords. The old man kept saying, “You are binding me too closely; you have made the cords too taut.” But his nephew replied, “Oh! I am a swift runner, you know, and I fear that you may fall off. Oh! uncle, I am now ready.”

Then the nephew started dragging the sledge very swiftly around the lodge, singing as he ran, “I am dragging him on a bark sledge, I am dragging him on a bark sledge; S?hogon?'gwa's, who is my uncle, I am dragging him on a bark sledge; I am dragging him on a bark sledge.” The uncle kept saying, “Oh, my nephew! the sledge is now going too fast.” The youth did not slacken his terrific pace, however, and the sledge at times turned over and over. Meanwhile the old man kept saying, “Oh, my nephew! do not be so rude in this matter; it is going too fast.” But the youth only answered, “That is, however, my speed.” When they got back to the doorway the youth asked, “Oh, my uncle! are you alive?” The uncle answered, “I am alive.” At this the youth at once started on the run, singing the same song as that he used on the first trip.

It now came to pass that all the great sorcerers and past masters in wizard craft who dwelt on the borders of the land of this old man said, “He has now overmatched his orenda, or magic power,” meaning [607]that the youth had overcome the orenda of his uncle. Thus spake the great wizards.

Having returned the ninth time to the doorway, the old man’s nephew asked again, “Lo, my uncle! are you still alive?” Receiving no reply, he looked down on the upturned face and saw that his uncle’s eyes were frozen hard. Thereupon, he exclaimed, “Now, Oh, my uncle! you will enjoy the bark sledge,” and without any hesitation he started on the tenth circuit. Exerting all his speed and strength, he sped to the end of the lodge, the sledge flying high in the air with the great speed, turning over and over in its course. Turning away from the lodge, the youth with a mighty effort swung the sledge far off to one side and let it strike the ground, where he left it. It was so cold that when the sledge struck the ground there was only a crackling of ice.

Then the youth, Gadjis'dodo?, returned to the lodge in which his sister was still fastened in her case of bark. When she saw her brother entering the lodge she smiled, and said, “Oh, my elder brother! I am thankful that we both are still alive, having gone through what we have.” The brother, taking up the bark case, placed it on his back, carrying it with the forehead strap. Then the two went to the place where their other uncle’s skull protruded from the ground.

Having arrived there, this uncle said, “Well, my nephew, what came to pass?” Gadjis'dodo? replied: “Verily, I have overcome his orenda—the evil potency of my old uncle, who is now no more. Let us all go back to the lodge.” Reaching down, he drew his uncle up and caused him to stand, and he stroked his body in order to restore his flesh, which had been withered by the magic power of his evil-minded brother. When he had accomplished this task, the youth said, “Now let us return to the lodge.”

Having arrived there, the youth unbound his sister and disengaged her from the bark case. Then he stroked her body to restore it to its normal size—to the size of a normal woman. When this task was accomplished Gadjis'dodo? said: “We now are again united in our full number. We shall remain here in our lodge in peace and contentment, for he who was in his time a mighty sorcerer has departed.”

There, in that lodge, they dwell to this day. This is the end of the legend of Gadjis'dodo? and S?hogon?'gwa's.

In the long ago, in the times of the elder people, there lived in the land toward the place of sunrise a wonderful tribe of human beings, at a place called Dyohnyowanen (at the Great Lowland). [608]

It so happened that one of the young men dwelling there resolved to make an expedition into the distant West, into the region through which lay the path of the sun. The name of this young man was Dehaenhyowens (He-Who-Cleaves-the-Sky-in-Twain).435 To promote his design, he persuaded his friends to prepare a great feast, to which all the people should be bidden and at which, as was the custom of the country, he should announce to the public his purpose of making an expedition into the West to the end of the earth, in order to slaughter unknown men and to obtain the scalps of the alien peoples whom he might encounter, since the scalps would serve as tokens of the victors’ prowess and craft in warfare.

The feast having been prepared, the people were bidden to it. When they had all gathered together in their ganonses (long lodge of public assembly), and while they were enjoying the good things provided for their entertainment the host, Dehaenhyowens, arose to make the speech in which he announced his purpose with respect to the expedition, at the same time calling for volunteers from among the young men to accompany him and share his fortunes. He asked only for young men, those who had just arrived at manhood (at the age of puberty). Further, he informed those who might volunteer to accompany him that they would have to renounce their lives, their kith and kin; that they must agree on adherence to a unanimity of purpose and to continue their journey forward no matter what kind of obstacles might present themselves; that his own brother, Gaenhyakdondye (Along-the-Side-of-the-Sky), had already volunteered to go with him; and that they two in the capacity of war chiefs would lead the party should one be formed. Beside the two brothers 28 others volunteered to share the lot of the two reckless adventurers. So Dehaenhyowens appointed a time to start and a rendezvous for the party, earnestly urging all to be prepared to depart at the appointed time.

When the day arrived, Dehaenhyowens notified by a messenger all the volunteers, who eagerly presented themselves at the rendezvous. When they had completed all their preparations, they set out, directing their course toward the place of the sunset.

As these warriors traveled on they finally came to a place in which they found the habitations of a people whom they did not know. These unoffending people they ruthlessly killed and scalped, and after this bloody exploit they continued their journey toward the West.

Having journeyed a short distance farther, they suddenly came to the settlement of another people. At the dawn they attacked these people, slaying all the males who did not escape in the darkness, and, having scalped the slain, they passed on, still following the course of the sun. [609]

A day’s journey farther on they came to the dwelling place of a third people, whom they dealt with as before. Next morning they resumed their march. They repeated their bloody exploits wherever they found a village on the line of their march, continuing this slaughter for many moons.

After pursuing this course for a long time, the packs of scalps which they carried on their backs became so heavy as to be burdensome. Of course, a number of the band had been killed by the people whom they had attacked, so it now happened that those who remained began to complain of the weight of the scalps. One and all said, “It seems advisable that we should now leave our packs of scalps here in some out of the way place for safekeeping.” Finally their chief, Dehaenhyowens, said: “It is probable also that we may now see what we are seeking—the scalp of all scalps. This we could use to cover all we have. Moreover, the kind of thing(s) which we bring with us would not spoil.”

It was about this time that they fell in with a man so tall that one-half the height of the tallest trees was the measure of his towering stature. Then it was that Gaenhyakdondye (Along-the-Edge-of-the-Sky, i.e., the Horizon) said: “Our good fortune has brought about the accomplishment of the purpose of our expedition upon which we had agreed—namely, that we should see in our hands a large quantity of scalps. I think the next thing to be done is to resolve to kill this man, whom we have met in this place. We shall then become possessed of the large scalp about which my brother has already prophesied. So let us attack him at once.” Immediately deploying, they began to assault him, shooting arrows at him, and struck him with their war clubs and stone hatchets, but they could make no impression on him and failed to harm him in the least. At last the strange man said to them, kindly: “What is it you desire to do? Do you imagine that you can kill me?” They answered, “That is indeed our purpose, as it has been our purpose on the journey hither to kill all who fall in our way, no matter who they may be.” To this frank admission the strange man replied: “The purpose for which you are banded together is not good. From this time forward you must utterly renounce it and carefully refrain from carrying it out. Know that it is quite impossible for you to kill me. The reason I came to meet you here was to give you this counsel. I watched you as you made your way to this place, and saw with grief that you killed many people. I want you to know that the reason I have come to meet you is that you have now committed wrongs enough on innocent people; and I want you to know further that if you do not cease from doing these wrongs you also shall die.” To this the leader of the band, Dehaenhyowens, answered: “We are [610]very thankful to you for this good counsel, and we will try to abide by it. We will pass beyond this point, as we have bound ourselves by a vow to attempt to reach the place where the sun regularly sinks from view—the spot where the sun goes to and fro.” Then the stranger said merely, “Do you, then, start on your journey.” While they listened to him with bowed heads he vanished, and they did not know nor see whither he went.

When they realized that they were again alone they departed from that place. After traveling a long time, finally they saw before them a very large lake, which barred their progress straight ahead. When they saw that there was apparently no means of crossing the lake, Dehaenhyowens, the leader of the band, said, “What should we do to pass over this lake?” Thereupon one of the band, who seldom uttered a word, said: “We have made an agreement bound with a vow that no matter what the circumstances or the obstacles might be, we would nevertheless pass through them as we have done in the past. Now the time has indeed come for us to fulfill our agreement.” Dehaenhyowens answered, “It is indeed even as you have stated it. Come, then, it is thou who must take the lead.”

Then the man addressed started ahead, going out alone on the surface of the lake. Thither did he go unflinchingly. Thereupon in turn each of the others started in his wake, and crossed the lake safely.

When they reached dry land on the farther shore, they stood still, looking around and examining the new country. They were surprised to see that the visible sky rose and fell at regular intervals.436 As they conjectured, it rose to the height of the tallest pine tree known to them, and they saw, too, that the place from which it rebounded was so smooth that it glistened. While they watched the rising and falling of the sky they saw a large number of pigeons, which flew out from the other side of the sky, and after flying around returned whence they had come.

Then Dehaenhyowens, the leader of the band, said: “What manner of thing shall we now do? To be sure, here seems to be indeed the end of the earth. It is evident, of course, that there is another country beyond this sky barrier which is thus continually rising and falling.” Again that member of the band who was never in the habit of speaking much said, “You are of course well aware of the nature of the agreement by which we bound ourselves together before we started away from home; moreover, you know that those of us who are still alive number only five. The opportunity now presents itself for us to do that on which we all agreed; its fulfilment is now demanded of us; it is for us to act in accordance with our agreement.” [611]

Thereupon the leader of the band, Dehaenhyowens, said, “Come, then; let us now lay aside our burden of scalps in this place for safekeeping until our return.” So each of the band carefully concealed his pack of scalps in such manner that he would be able to find it should he ever have the opportunity of passing that spot again. When they had concealed the scalps Dehaenhyowens, addressing himself to him who had last spoken, said, “Now, it is thou who must take the lead in passing this obstacle in our path, for our path leads directly into that farther country. We must pass so quickly under the sky as it rises that we shall not be caught by it when it falls back again.”

So the man who had been designated to take the lead, having reassured himself, selected a favorable starting point for his dash under the sky. Carefully timing the rising and the falling of the sky, he finally dashed forward as swiftly as possible. His friends watched him run onward until he had disappeared from view on the farther side of the barrier. As the sky kept on rising and falling a second man, making like dispositions, dashed forward, clearing the barrier as the first had done, and disappearing from view on the other side. The third and the fourth man had like success in clearing this obstacle. The sky, however, did not cease from rising and falling back on its resting place.

It was then the turn of the fifth and last man to make the perilous attempt. His four companions anxiously watched him making his dispositions to clear the danger which they had safely passed. They did not see him start, but as the sky arose they saw him still far from the passage, and just as he entered it the sky fell back crushing him to death. He had miscalculated the distance he had to run to reach the passageway, and thus his career ended.

Then the leader of the band, Dehaenhyowens, said: “Let us be thankful that we have been fortunate enough to go through this danger, which has taken one of our number. We now number only four, and we are without arms or other means of defense. We know not whether we shall require them or not. Now, I believe that we must depart hence and go forward. It is very evident that we have arrived in a land quite different from the one known to us. The light of this world is unequaled in its brightness; the daylight of the land whence we started is like the light of a starlight night compared with it. Now, let us depart hence. We will go, seeking to find human beings, if there be such, who may have a settlement here.”

Without further parleying they started forward. As they traveled along they saw that the trees of all kinds were very large and tall, and that they were in full bloom; these trees were of surpassing beauty. The travelers were greatly surprised to learn that the flowers supplied the light of that world, and they also observed that [612]all the beasts and animals and birds possessed exceptionally fine bodies and presence. They remarked, too, that they had seen nothing during their journey thither so wonderful and strange. They saw with astonishment also the exuberance of the growing grasses and plants, among which they beheld in rich profusion the fruited stalks of the strawberry plants, which were as tall as the grasses. During their entire journey thither never had they found such large, luscious berries.

Having gone some distance into the new country they were surprised to see in the distance a great multitude of human beings, who were assembled on the heath, which was the playground of that people; they appeared to the travelers to be occupied with games of amusement. Dehaenhyowens, the leader of the band, said, “What is to be done now, my friends, seeing that we have arrived at the dwelling place of strange human beings, and that we have nothing with which to defend ourselves should they attempt to do us harm?” Thereupon, Gaenhyakdondye said: “We have indeed made an agreement, as you know, that we should forsake our kindred and our lives in order to accomplish the purpose of this expedition. You know that each of us volunteered by ‘notching the rod’ to carry out that agreement. If we are to die here, we can do nothing to avoid such an end; we must not break our resolution and compact to follow the path of the sun to the last. The only thing that is certain in the case of our death is that our careers would end here.” His brother, Dehaenhyowens, replied, “The matter stands even as you have stated it; so then let us go forward to meet this people.” At this they started toward the place where they saw a great multitude assembled. In a very short time the anxious travelers came to a standstill not far from the others. Looking around, they saw that the inhabitants of the settlement were in readiness to witness a game of lacrosse, and that the players were even then standing in their accustomed places.

In a short time the game commenced, and the vast multitude drew near as interested spectators. As soon as it was fairly under way there arose a great tumult; there was shouting and loud cries of excitement and approbation caused by the varying fortunes of favorite players. The great multitude rejoiced, and the new arrivals were greatly delighted with what they saw.

At this time one of the players exhibited great rudeness in his manner of playing, striking right and left with his netted club without regard to other players who might be injured by his recklessness. Thereupon a person from the crowd, going up to him, said: “Do thou cease acting so rudely; thy manner is too violent, because one who is rejoicing does not act thus. So do not act thus again.” Then the players at once resumed the game, playing as they never [613]had played before. In a short time, however, the player who had been cautioned to be more mild in his methods of play exhibited again his violence toward his playmates. At once the man who had before reprimanded him went up to him again and said, “Assuredly, I forbade thee acting again so rudely as thou hast done, yet thou hast disobeyed my request. Now thou shalt rest for a time. Thou art too unkind and headstrong.” Thereupon, seizing the ball player by the nape of the neck and by the legs and lifting him up bodily, he bore him away. Not far distant stood a very large tree. Thither the man carried the ball player, and having arrived near the tree, he cast the youth against its trunk. Headforemost his body penetrated the trunk, part of his head coming out on the opposite side, while his feet still protruded on the nearer side. Then the man quietly returned to the ball ground, and play was resumed. The game was continued until one of the sides had scored the number of points requisite to win, and then the players again mingled with the crowd. Then the man who had imprisoned the rude player in the tree released the prisoner, with an admonition to be more mild in his methods in the future. On his return to the multitude the man told them that it was time for them to return to their several homes, and they dispersed.

It was then that this man, who seemed to be one of the chief men of the settlement, came to the place where stood the traveling company of Dehaenhyowens. As soon as he joined them he asked familiarly, “So you have arrived, have you?” Replying to this question, Dehaenhyowens said, “We have now arrived.” The man answered, “Assuredly, the reason that you have arrived safe in this land is that one of your number began at the very time of your departure from home to think, repeatedly soliloquizing, ‘Oh, Thou Master of Life, Thou shouldst have pity on us, so that we may pass through all the dangers which beset the accomplishment of the purpose of our solemn agreement. But, if it so be that we shall die on this earth, grant that we may also arrive in that other land that is extant, where Thou thyself abidest, Thou Master of Life.’ Every day, every night also, such was his mind. It was that which was able to bring your bodies into this land—this elder country. Moreover, you have fully accomplished that which I promised you when I met you on your way hither. So now, let me ask you, who among you is willing that I should restore his life; that is, refit his being?”

Then one of the four travelers answered, “I am one that is willing; you shall begin on me.” Then the man of the settlement, going to a tree which stood not far distant and seizing it, bent it down to the earth; he then stripped the bark in one entire piece from the trunk. Placing this piece of bark on the ground, he said to the volunteer, “Now, do thou come hither to me.” Thereupon the man who had [614]consented to have his body and being refitted went forward to him. Then the host placed the man on the outspread piece of bark, while the latter’s three companions intently watched him in what he was doing to their companion; and they saw him begin his work. Having taken apart the fleshly body of their companion, and unjointed all his skeleton, he laid each several piece aside. And then he took each of the pieces, each one of the joints of the bones, and wiped it very carefully. He soon completed his task, washing all.

He then began to join together all the bones and all the portions of flesh in their proper relations. As soon as he had completed his task he said to his guests: “Now I have refinished this work. What is solely of the other world has been removed, for what is of the earth earthy is out of place here. Now, my friend, arise again.” Then the man whose body and being had been remodeled arose, and he stood erect and cast his eyes around him. His host said to him, “Like unto what is your life as you now feel it? Do you feel different from what you were before I remodeled your body and being?” To this the renewed man replied: “The conditions of my life are such that I feel immeasurably better, and happier than I did before.” His host said to him, “If this be, indeed, true, make the attempt to overtake and seize that deer standing yonder in the distance. When the remodeled man started toward it the deer at once fled in terror. The man ran swiftly in pursuit, and the deer had not gone very far before he overtook and seized it. On bringing it back to the place where his host stood, the latter said to him, “Now, assuredly, your life has become a new thing—you have acquired the life of this country.”

The remaining three of Dehaenhyowens’ party, seeing how desirable was the change brought about in the body and life of the other by having him remodeled, said, “We, too, wish to have the same changes made in us as were brought about in the body and life of our companion. So we ask that the same be done for us, too.”

Then the host of the band of Dehaenhyowens proceeded to renew and remodel the bodies and the lives of the three who had last requested him to do so. When he had completed this task he said to them as their friend, “Now, I have recast all your lives; I have finished everything that concerns and fits them for this country. We will now start to go to the lodge, where you shall remain while you are in this country as your home.”

So the band of Dehaenhyowens and their host started. They walked leisurely along, noting the many strange things which attracted their attention on every side. They had not gone far before they reached a very large lodge, into which their host led the party; here they saw a very old woman who presided over the lodge. On [615]entering, the host of Dehaenhyowens and his friends said to the old woman: “I have brought here those persons who, I said, would take up their abode here when they arrived in this country. They shall remain here under your care and keeping.” The aged woman, the mistress of the lodge, replied: “It shall be even as you have said. These, my grandchildren, shall be one with me here in this lodge.” Then, the man who had brought the visitors there said: “Now I will go away. Make yourselves at home.” And he left the lodge at once to attend to his own affairs.

The mistress of the lodge said to her guests, to make them feel more at home: “I am not quite alone, you see, in caring for the lodge, which is very large. The male persons who dwell here are absent hunting; they will soon return for the night. I will now prepare something for you to eat.” Thereupon she set before them what was ready cooked in the lodge.

When they first entered the lodge the band of Dehaenhyowens noticed that the old woman was busily engaged in making a mantle for herself; at intervals she held the work up at arm’s length to note the effect of her labor. The visitors discovered also that human hair was the material out of which the old woman was making her mantle. They saw, too, that their aged hostess possessed a very small cur, which lay near by on her couch. They were astonished to see that, when the old woman left her work for a few moments, the cur quickly arose and, going over to the place where the old woman had left her hair work, began to unravel hurriedly but steadily all the work that the old woman had done on her mantle. When the dog had nearly unraveled all the work the old woman returned to continue her task.

While the visitors were eating what the old woman had set before them the male members of her household returned, each bearing a bundle. On entering the lodge they said to the old woman: “We have returned. We were fortunate throughout the entire expedition in killing much game.” The mistress of the lodge said in reply: “Verily, be it known that a short time ago Teharonhiawagon brought to this lodge the human beings (oÑgwe), who, he said, were coming to this country, and who, he said, would abide in this lodge when they should arrive. They have arrived, and these men here are they. Talk with them and become acquainted with them.” Thereupon the men who had just returned to their lodge drew near the visitors and conversed with them, saying: “We are, indeed, thankful that you have arrived here safe. It is now a long time that we have kept watching you on your way hither. Moreover, be it known, now that we have seen one another, we are greatly rejoiced.” Then they mutually stroked one another’s bodies, as was [616]customary on such occasions, and greatly rejoiced to become acquainted.

Then the old woman began to prepare food for the returned hunters; and when it was cooked the old woman called the men, saying, “Now, of course, you will eat the food which I have prepared for you”; and the men began to take their nourishment. Their manner of doing this seemed most peculiar to the band of Dehaenhyowens; hence they intently watched the hunters, who did not eat the food set before them. Instead, they merely absorbed the exhalations of the food, it being the odor or effluvium of the food that satisfied their hunger. When they had finished their meal the old woman said to them, “It is now time, perhaps, that you should go out to hunt game which our human guests can eat, for you know that they do not eat the same kind of things that you do.”

Accordingly, the hunters started out of the lodge to seek game for their guests. As soon as the men were gone the old woman took from the headrest of her couch a single grain of corn and a single squash seed. Going to the end of the fireplace, there she prepared in the ashes two small hills or beds, in one of which she placed the grain of corn and in the other the squash seed, and carefully covered them with rich soil. In a very short space of time the visitors were greatly surprised to see that the seeds had sprouted and shot out of the ground small plantlets, which were growing rapidly. Not very long after this they saw the cornstalk put forth an ear of corn and the squash vine a squash. In the short space of a few hours these plants had supplied the old woman with ears of corn and squashes. These she prepared to cook.

By this time the men who were out hunting returned to the lodge, bringing with them the carcass of a fine deer which they had killed. This they speedily set to work to skin and quarter. As soon as they had finished this task, the old woman set the venison, corn, and squashes over the fire to cook in kettles on stone supports and hastened the cooking by putting hot stones into them. When these things were cooked she placed them in fine bowls of bark, which she set before the visitors, bidding them to eat heartily. So Dehaenhyowens and his friends ate their fill.

It now came to pass that the aged woman said, “It is time, you will agree, I think, for you to go again to hunt.” This she said to the male members of her family. Then the visitors saw something very strange. They saw the old woman take from under her couch a large quantity of corn husks and carry them to what appeared to be an added lodge or separate room and there push aside the door flap. In that room the visitors saw what seemed to them a lake, round in form. The old woman made a circuit of the lake, heaping the corn husks around its edges. When this task was finished [617]she set the corn husks on fire and they quickly burst into flames, and these flames consumed all the water of the lake. Next she said to her men folks, “Now, I have again completed the preparations. Do you start now. You must be careful. In the course of your excursion you must not injure any person.” These words she addressed to the men of her lodge, and they departed on their usual trip through the land.

It came to pass that the band of Dehaenhyowens remained in the lodge of the old woman during the entire time they were in that country.

Furthermore, it happened that when they took a stroll in the country while the men of the lodge were absent they came on a spring of water which formed a large pool. One of the party, using his bow as a rod, thrust it into the pool to see whether he could find any living thing in it; but he saw nothing to attract his attention. When they returned to the lodge they again stood their bows in the usual place, in a corner of the room. When the men of the lodge had returned home from their excursion into the country one of them said, “There is something in this lodge that has the smell of game (i.e., something to be killed),” and he at once began looking around from place to place. Then the others after sniffing the air exclaimed, “It is true; there is something in here that smells like a game animal.” At this one went to the place where the bows belonging to the band of Dehaenhyowens were standing and, taking one of the bows in his hand, said, “It is, indeed, this bow that has the scent.” Turning to Dehaenhyowens, he said: “To what place have you been? What is the place like where you touched something with this bow?” Answering, Dehaenhyowens said, “Yonder, not far away, you know, there is a cliff, and on the farther side of it there is a spring of water, forming a deep pool.”

Thereupon the men of the lodge exclaimed, “Let us all go to that place right away,” and all started out of the lodge and ran swiftly to the spring. When they arrived there Dehaenhyowens said to his companions, “There, in this spring and pool, I thrust my bow to rouse whatever might dwell therein.” One of the men of the country answered: “It is certain that some mysterious creature abides herein. We shall see what it is. Do you, our friends, stand yonder, a little aloof, and then you shall see the thing done, when we shall kill it.”

Heeding this admonition, the band of Dehaenhyowens drew back a short distance and watched the men of the country make their dispositions for the attack. They did not wait long to see a wonderful phenomenon, for the men of the country at once began their task. One touched with a rod the bottom of the pool whence flowed the spring of water. Thereupon began to be heard loud sounds, even such as are heard when the voicings of thunder fill [618]the air with a deafening din. Such was the tumult and confusion at this time that the now thoroughly frightened human beings fled from the spot to seek safety. There were also flashes of lightning followed by loud crashes and deep rumblings of the thunder. This uproar continued for some time, when suddenly it ceased and one of the hosts of Dehaenhyowens said, calling his guests back: “Oh, come back! We have now killed this creature.”

Thereupon, when they had again assembled, they departed, going back to their lodge. When they reached it they said to the old woman: “We have now killed that uncanny creature, that Otkon. Indeed, we do not know in what possible way it happened that this creature took up its abode so very near this lodge. We had never before noticed it. It may have been there a long time, since it had grown so large. We have barely escaped, perhaps, some great misfortune.” The old woman replied gratefully, “What a very remarkable affair it is, in which our visitors have been of assistance to us.” In a moment she asked: “What is the Otkon?437 What is the form and kind of thing you have so fortunately killed?” The men answered: “It is the Great Blue Lizard which we have destroyed.” So they rested for the night.

The next morning the old woman said to the men of her lodge: “For myself, I am thinking that it is just the time of the year when you should again make mellow and moist all the things that grow on the earth. What do you say?” One of the men replied, “It would seem well, perhaps, that you should ask him who is the principal one to be consulted in regard to our duties in this matter. It is possible that he may say: ‘It is now the proper time of the year in which you should again make mellow and moist all the things that severally grow on the earth.’ ” So saying, he ceased talking with her.

Arising from her seat and pushing aside gently the door flap at the entrance to the adjoining room, the aged woman made the inquiry just noted. The person addressed answered: “For myself, I too think that it is time, perhaps, for doing that about which you have asked me. So let it be done as you wish.”

Allowing the door flap to fall back, the old woman withdrew to her own apartment in the lodge. In order to make the needed preparations for carrying out the purpose of her inquiry she gathered a quantity of corn husks and, again entering the place in which the lake was situated, she heaped once more the corn husks along the shore. When she had placed the corn husks around the entire circuit of the lake she set them on fire. When the fire had become brisk and bright the old woman, turning to the men of the lodge, said: “I have now again made the necessary preparations for the performance of your accustomed task, and you shall start on your journey to make all [619]things that grow on the earth moist and mellow and the soil as well. They who are visiting us shall accompany you wherever you may go; you must carefully keep them from harm, and you must show them all things of interest on your journey.”

Taking up their implements and weapons, the men of the lodge and their guests departed. During the course of their long journey one of the hosts of the Dehaenhyowens and his men said: “You shall now see the things over which we have charge. He whom you are wont to call Hawenniyo (the Ruler) is the person who has charged us with all these matters, and we shall continue to have the care of them so long as the earth endures. We shall tend all those things which he has planted on the earth; we shall habitually cause water to fall on them; we shall keep all the water in the several rivers on the earth fresh at all times; and we shall water all those things upon which you and your people live, so that all things which he has made to be shall not perish for the need of water. And you, you human beings, shall then live in health and contentment. Such are our duties from day to day.”

Then it was that Dehaenhyowens and his party, looking beneath them, saw another earth far below. As they proceeded they heard loud noises, like the voicings of Thunder when he draws near on earth; and there began to be bright flashes of lightning, and next there began to be rain; and, finally, raindrops fell to the lower earth.

As they moved onward they saw a huge serpent, which had formidable horns protruding from its head. Then one of the hosts of Dehaenhyowens and his friends said: “Look at that creature moving along swiftly yonder. It is known that were it to emerge permanently from the interior of the earth it would bring great misfortune to the things that dwell on the earth; in fact, it would bring to an end the days of a large multitude of you human beings. To see that it never comes forth permanently out of the ground is one of the duties with which we are strictly charged.” In a moment the speaker continued, “Now you shall see what will take place when we will kill it.” As the party of Dehaenhyowens watched, their hosts began to pursue the serpent. The voice of the Thunder was exceedingly loud and the flashes of lightning amazingly vivid. Finally, the huge serpent was hit by its pursuers and began to flee from them. It sought unsuccessfully to hide beneath standing trees, but these trees were struck and riven into splinters; then it fled to the mountains, seeking to conceal itself beneath their shelter; but this also was in vain, for it was repeatedly hit by the men of Thunder, and, finally, was killed.

As an explanation of this phenomenon the hosts of Dehaenhyowens and his friends said: “It is verily true that beneath the surface of the ground whatever is otkon (i.e., malign by nature) moves to-and-fro [620]from place to place. It would, indeed, be most unfortunate for us all should this species of being be permitted to travel from place to place upon the earth. Hence such beings are doomed to abide beneath the surface of the ground in the interior of the earth.

“And now concerning the origin of these beings: It was he whom we call the Evil-minded One438 that formed their bodies; and it came to pass that he whom you call Hawenniyo (i.e., the Disposer, or Ruler) decided that so long as the earth endures these beings shall abide under the surface of the earth. Furthermore, we ourselves believe that He who charged us with the performance of this task of keeping them beneath the surface of the earth will cause it to come to pass, perhaps when the earth is nearing its end—then, and not until then—that these beings shall be permitted to come forth upon the earth. So is it, indeed, to come to pass that when the event is not distant—the end of the earth—He will bring to an end the duties with which we are severally charged, to be performed for the benefit of the things that live upon the earth. Not until then shall the waters which are held in their several places become polluted; finally all other things shall likewise become old and decayed upon the earth; and all things that grow out of the ground, too, shall grow old and sear; indeed, all things shall become withered and decayed. Now let us turn back homeward.”

Then the party, turning homeward, retraced their steps. On reentering their lodge the spokesman of the party said to the old woman who presided over the lodgehold (household), “We have now completed the task of making moist and mellow all things that grow upon the face of the earth.” Arising from her seat, the aged matron went into the adjoining room of the lodge and said to a person who occupied that room, “Now, they have, indeed, returned.” With these words the old woman withdrew and resumed her accustomed seat.

In a short time the door flap separating the adjoining room was thrust aside and a man (heÑ'gwe?439), thrusting his head through the doorway, asked the men who had returned, “Have you now, indeed, completed the work? Have you made moist and mellow all things that grow on the earth beneath this one?” The men replied in unison, “We have indeed accomplished our task as we were charged to do.” Thereupon the person from the adjoining room said, “Now you must rest until there shall be another day; then you shall again recommence the performance of the duties with which you are severally charged.”

This conversation gave Dehaenhyowens and his party the opportunity of seeing the speaker. They were convinced that he was human; that he was, in fact, a heÑ'gwe?. But they were amazed to see that while half of the body of this strange person was in all [621]respects like that of a human being, the other half of his body was crystal ice. They felt, too, a breeze that was chilling strike them from out of the doorway; but at this moment the strange man withdrew the door flap, concealing the room from further observation.

The aged matron of the lodge, addressing her guests, said: “That person whom you have just seen is, in fact, the principal one of all those who are charged with duties to perform in the economy of the earth. He is called by us Dehodyadgaowen (i.e., the Cloven-bodied Man); he is named also Owisondyon (i.e., Cast or Falling Hail). It is this feature that you saw when he showed his face at the doorway, and that explains why there came forth from him a cold breeze. This act will immediately cause the prospective days and nights on the earth to become cold and wintry. However, when the day again dawns he will again show his face and the other side of his body, and immediately there will blow hither a hot breeze.”

Then the members of the lodge said one to another: “We have paused in our labors in order to rest. Tomorrow it will come to pass that we shall take you back to the place whence you departed, for you have been here now many days. This is, of course, what you human beings call springtime.” Having said this, all the members of the lodge fell asleep in their several places. When morning came the door flap separating the room from the adjoining one was again thrust aside, and the strange man, Dehodyadgaowen, showed himself in the doorway, and called out aloud, “Now then, all you people, awake and arise; it is time to do so.” At this all the sleepers awoke, and as they awoke, they outstretched their arms and bodies, yawning and uttering loud vociferations, as are heard on earth in the voice of Thunder. There arose a warm breeze, and then the men of the lodge went out. It was but a short time after this that the men reentered the lodge and said to their guests: “You should accompany us on our intended journey, so that you may see an Otkon which inhabits certain trees near the place whence we returned. It is a long time that we have been making attempts to kill and destroy this being, for it is possessed of very powerful orenda.” Thereupon Dehaenhyowens replied, “It is of course right that we should accompany you to learn what manner of being that may be.”

So all the men of the lodge started on their journey, going directly to the place where the being that was otkon had its lair. Having gone a long distance, the men of Thunder finally said to their guests: “There, indeed, is the place in which the Otkon abides. You must stand in yonder place, quite removed from any danger from this being, and you shall see it as we shall cause it to come forth from the lair.” Thereupon the party of Dehaenhyowens withdrew to the designated position. They saw one of their hosts go forward and hit one of the trees several sharp blows with his club; they saw [622]the being come forth from its lair and concluded that it was what they called a squirrel. But the being, or squirrel, thrust its body only partially out of its hiding place; at once the men of Thunder hurled their shots at it; there were loud thunderings and the lightning flashes were vivid, and there arose a great tumult and a terrific hurricane. In a short time the men of Thunder ceased for a moment, having failed to hit the being. At once the squirrel (or being) quickly descended the tree on which it then was, and running to another tree, climbed it in an effort to escape its tormentors. But very soon the men of Thunder shivered this tree, whereupon the squirrel, having fled back to the first tree, swiftly climbed back into its lair. Then the men of Thunder said: “Now, indeed, you have seen what we call Otkon. The time is long in which we have been making vain efforts to destroy this being, this great Otkon.”

In replying, Dehaenhyowens said: “It is now our turn; we will attempt to kill the Otkon.” But the men of Thunder answered, “We fear that the attempt will not result favorably; you may be injured, for, indeed, this is an Otkon beyond measure.” Dehaenhyowens replied assuringly, “We know that we can accomplish this task.” “If you are determined to make the attempt, we will assist you should you fail,” said the men of Thunder. Going up to the tree in which the squirrel had its lair, one of the party of Dehaenhyowens tapped on it with his club. Forthwith the squirrel again thrust out its body and gazed at the men. Taking a knob-headed arrow from his quiver, Dehaenhyowens shot at it, hitting the squirrel fair in the head and causing it to come tumbling to the ground.

Thereupon the men of Thunder, taking up the body of the squirrel, started for home, with their guests. When they reached their lodge the men of Thunder said to the old woman, “Now, in fact, our visitors have killed it; they have indeed killed the Otkon, which for a very long time we have failed in our attempts to kill.” Answering this, the old woman said: “I am very thankful to receive this news. This then shall be done: the skin of this Otkon shall belong to me; as it is so precious, it shall be the robe of my couch.” So Dehaenhyowens carefully skinned the squirrel; after doing this he neatly prepared the skin, which he spread on a suitable frame to dry. When it had thoroughly dried Dehaenhyowens presented it to the old woman, assuring her that was the method his people employed in preserving the skins of animals. The old woman received the skin with many thanks, for she felt that she had come into possession of a skin which was very precious to her.

Then, addressing the men of her lodge, she said: “Our visitors are the ones who have accomplished this thing for us. In token of this one of our visitors shall remain here as one of us. He shall be a coworker with you for the reason that he and his kindred were able [623]to accomplish that which you yourselves were unable to do.” In giving assent to this the men replied: “Let that, too, be done; let him who is foremost among us say it, and it shall be done.” The old woman replied: “That is so; his consent is all that is required to accomplish this desirable thing.” At once arising from her seat, she went to the doorway leading to the adjoining room and, pushing aside the door flap, said: “Behold! Will you confirm the proposition that one of the men visiting us shall remain here as one of us, while his companions shall return hence to their own homes? The reason for this is that he was able to kill the squirrel (the Otkon), and since the men who live in this lodge had failed for so long a time to do so, I desire that he shall assist them at all times and be a coworker with them.” Answering the old woman, Dehodyadgaowen said: “I willingly confirm this proposition, if it be that he himself is freely willing, and that of course he will volunteer to have his life pounded (in a mortar). Then, as you know, it will be possible for him to help them continually.” With this he ceased speaking.

Returning to the group comprising the party of Dehaenhyowens, the old woman said: “Hatch'kwi?! (Behold!), wilt thou confirm the proposition that thou shalt remain here alone while thy companions return to their own homes? If thou wilt be willing to agree to this, I will give thee a new name. This shall be the name by which they shall hereafter habitually call thee, namely, Daga'en?'da' (i.e., the Thaw, or the Warm Spring Weather).” This member of the party of Dehaenhyowens replied, “I willingly agree to this proposal; I am quite willing to be an assistant to them in their work.” To this the old woman answered: “I am much pleased that the matter is now settled. We indeed have become of one opinion, having one purpose in view.”

At this time Dehodyadgaowen interrupted by saying, “Now, then, do you bring his person (body) in to this room, and let him at once be prepared for his duties.” The old woman, addressing the visitor who had consented to remain, said, “Come! The time has arrived for doing what you have agreed to do for us, what you require to fit you for your new duties.” Accordingly, the man entered the room which adjoined the one in which he and his friends were, and in which abode Dehodyadgaowen. As soon as he had entered Dehodyadgaowen said to him: “Here stands the mortar. Thou must place thyself in it. Now, verily, thou shalt change thyself, thy person, as to the kind of its flesh.” Obeying his instructor, the man at once placed himself in the hollowed end of the mortar wherein the grain was usually pounded, whereupon Dehodyadgaowen drew near, and taking up the pestle, pounded him in the manner in which grain is pounded, striking three blows. Having done this, he said to the visitor: “Thy flesh has now changed in kind. The task is accomplished. [624]Thou mayst sing to try thy voice.” The transformed man began to sing, and Dehaenhyowens and his one remaining friend heard the singing, which sounded to them exactly like the voice of approaching thunder, only that the volume was somewhat less, as it seemed to them. They said one to the other, “Now it is known that he, Daga'en?'da', is approaching,” and soon their transformed friend reentered the room.

In a short time thereafter the old woman said to the men of the lodge, now including the newly transformed person: “You shall now start on your journey, and you shall begin to make mellow and moist anew all the things that are growing on the earth beneath. And this, moreover, shall be done. Daga'en?'da' shall take the lead. So it shall be he whom they who dwell on the earth below shall name first in the spring of the year. Of course the human being will say, ‘Now the warm wind has come down; now the hot spring wind blows again; and so now the spring season will come upon us.’ They shall never forget, indeed, each time the line of demarcation between the snowtime and the summertime arrives, for Daga'en?'da' shall continue to change the days and nights of the future. You men must start to accompany part of the way homeward those who have been visiting us for so many days.”

Before they got started she resumed her discourse, saying: “Now I will tell you, who are human beings of the earth, that it is even I whom you call the Nocturnal Light Orb (the Moon). And He it is whom you and your ancestors have called DeauÑhyawagon, sometimes Hawenniyo (the Master or Ruler), who has commissioned me. And this is what He has commissioned me to do: When it becomes dark on the earth it is I who shall cause it to be in some measure light and warm on the earth, so that it become not too cold nor too dark; so that all the things which should grow may grow unharmed on the earth, including all those things on which you human beings live, dwelling as you do on the earth beneath. Until the time that the earth shall stand no more He has commissioned me to act and to do my duty. It is thus with us all. He has commissioned us only for the time during which the earth beneath shall endure. Moreover, I will now impart to you the following information so that you oÑ'gwe (human beings) living on the earth shall know that they who abide here in this place are those whom you call HadiweÑnoda'dye’s (the Thunderers); and so that you shall know that He who established this world is One whom you call DeauÑhyawagon and also HaweÑni'yo (the Ruler or Disposer). It was He who decreed that these men shall customarily come to the lower world from the west and that they shall move toward the east.

“So let this be a sign to you who dwell on the lower earth that when it comes to pass that these men of Thunder come from the east [625]you shall know at once its meaning, and shall say one to another, ‘Now it seems that the time is at hand in which He will take to pieces the earth as it stands.’ Verily, such is the strict manner in which He has commissioned us, charging us with definite duties. It is well known that the Diurnal Light Orb (the Sun) customarily comes from one certain direction; in like manner, it is also true of me, for I too must appear to the lower world from one certain direction. This obligation on our part is fixed; and our coming shall never occur in a different manner as long as the earth endures—at least until that day in the future when He himself, whom you call sometimes HaweÑni’yo, shall transform what He himself has established.

“Now the time has arrived for you to start for your home; but first, before you depart, you must journey about this upper world to see everything that may be beneficial to you and to your people in the days to come. By the time you return from this journey of observation I will have made ready what you shall take with you when you shall go again to make mellow and wet the earth beneath. This, too, upon which I am at work is something about which I must tell you something. I am engaged in making myself a mantle, and the material out of which I am weaving it is, indeed, what you think it is—human hair. You have observed as well that each time I lay my work aside for a moment my small cur as often undoes quite all that I have done. I will now tell you by what means I obtain the human hair of which I am making myself a mantle. When some human being dies on the earth below one hair from his head detaches itself and departs thence, coming directly to me. It is such hairs that I am using in making my mantle. This serves as a sign to me that one has ceased to be on the earth below, and that that person is traveling hither. This shall continue as long as the earth beneath shall endure and have form. Moreover, mark this well, that when He shall cause the death of human beings on the earth below, it shall then and not before be possible for me to finish the mantle on which I am working; and the number of hairs in this mantle will then bear witness to the number of persons who have visited the earth below while it lasted. Now you may take an observation trip.”

Thereupon the men of the lodge and the entire party of Dehaenhyowens started out to view the notable things in the vicinity of the lodge. They went to that place where for the first time during their visit they had seen the beauty and pleasantness of that upper world; they admired the strawberry plants, bearing luscious berries, as tall as the high grasses among which they grew; these were in bloom, for their bearing season was continuous. They saw, too, the growing trees full of fine blossoms; never before had they seen such [626]beautiful flowers, which supplied the light of that upper world; and they saw the plants and the shrubs and bushes full of fruits of all kinds, all growing luxuriantly. Never before had they seen paths so fine leading in various directions; and they beheld along these paths the trees whose overhanging boughs, loaded with blossoms, were scented with all manner of fragrance.

They beheld all figures of human beings (oÑ'gwe) promenading along the paths from place to place, but they realized that these were shades (or shadows), and that consequently it was not possible to hold conversation with them. Farther along in their ramble they came to a village which was inhabited, there being many lodges in different places in the manner of a village of human beings. In passing through the village one of the hosts, addressing Dehaenhyowens, said: “In this lodge, standing here apart, your mother dwells. She was still on the earth below when you and your party left on this journey; but she started for this country soon after you had departed therefrom. Here also dwell your relations—all those who were able to observe the customs of their ancestors during the time they dwelt on the earth below.”

Then they went back to the place where the old woman awaited their return. On entering the lodge they said to her: “We have now returned from our ramble,” to which she replied: “I have quite completed my preparations. Now you must start on your journey homeward, and the men of the lodge will accompany you part of the way. In going home you must pass around by the place where abides the Light Orb that travels by day. Let them see Him too. May your dreams foreshadow your safe arrival home.”

Thereupon they departed from the lodge of the old woman. Not far distant from the home of their hosts there stood a lodge. One of their hosts told Dehaenhyowens and his friends that that was the lodge of the Sun. “Thence,” they said, “he starts to give light to the world beneath this one.” Having reached the lodge, they entered it, and within they saw the Sun engaged in cooking chestnut-meal mush. One of the men of Thunder said: “We are now on our journey, accompanying these human beings part of their way home. We are taking these men back to the earth below this one. The reason that we have come around this way is that we desired to have you and them see one another.” Then the Master of the lodge, raising his voice, said to his visitors: “It is I, indeed, who has met with you. and it is I whom you habitually call in your ceremonies, ?Ho?sgen'Äge?'dagowa, He-the-Great-War-Chief, and our Elder Brother, the Diurnal Orb of Light. I have just completed my usual preparations for the journey on which I am about to start. Furthermore, just as soon as you depart hence I will start on my journey to make the earth below light and warm again.” [627]

In a short time, the visitors having seen all that was interesting in the lodge, said: “Let us now go hence on our journey,” and they at once resumed their own course. They had not gone very far when the men of Thunder said: “It is now time for us to begin; Daga'en?'da' shall be the first one to act.” Daga'en?da', the former member of the party of Dehaenhyowens (Light Rays?), began to sing in a loud voice, thus setting his orenda to work to carry out his function. Then the two human beings who were to return to the earth below saw the earth in the distance beneath them, and they heard, too, the people dwelling on the earth say: “Now the beginning of the Spring Season has come upon us. Indeed, the Spring Wind is blowing warm and hot, and now, too, the Thunders are singing in the distance.”

Then the party moved on. Looking down on the earth from above the sky and the clouds they saw the effect of the singing of the Thunder men. At this time the voices of the Thunder men sounded loud and angry, as it were, as they moved along the sky, and on the earth below fell torrents of rain with great force, and they saw the creeks and rivers swell and overflow their banks.

To the human beings of the party they had not gone very far, as it seemed, when they were startled by alighting on the earth. Thereupon one of the Thunder men said to them: “Now, indeed, you are again at your homes whence you departed, so we have fully discharged our obligation to bring you safely back. Moreover, we will now tell you something regarding another matter. It is a long time since the former inhabitants of this country withdrew from here and went to another settlement. You will find them in the place where they are now living.”

Having conducted their friends some distance on the ground, one of the men of Thunder said: “We will now separate one from another. You must keep us in remembrance. For this purpose you shall employ the native tobacco, making an offering thereby in words and in acts. This will be quite sufficient for the purpose, for we shall hear the thanksgiving and accept the offering at once. In like manner shall it be done to all those, and only to those, who are charged by Him with duties and important functions. If you should think of Him or of them, that is the chief and essential thing—the employment habitually of native tobacco by you in this important matter. Such is the method which you who still live on the earth here below must regularly employ in forming your messages of thanksgiving. Such is the regulation and decree ordained and promulgated by Him whom you call DeauÑhyawagon, familiarly as HaweÑni'yo (He, The Master). These are the words which we thought it necessary for you to hear before we separated one from another. May you have good dreams.” [628]

Then the two parties separated, the one from the other; and the men of Thunder departed from the earth, going back into the cloudland to their own lodge.

In turn Dehaenhyowens and his lone companion started from the place where they had been left. They were not long in finding the traces of the former home of their friends. They found that the place had become thickly overgrown with large trees to so great an extent that one unacquainted with the facts would be in doubt whether or not any person had ever lived in that place.

On seeing this, Dehaenhyowens said to his companion: “Verily, it seems that we must depend on ourselves to find our people. We must, therefore, go to seek the place where they now dwell.” Thereupon they started, directing their course eastward, as they had been instructed. At no great distance they saw the smoke from a village and made their way to it. On entering the first lodge they reached, Dehaenhyowens said, “We have now returned home.” In reply the master of the lodge said: “Whither did you go, and who are you? As for myself, I do not know you.” Answering him, Dehaenhyowens said: “Have you not at any time heard the tradition which says that a number of men (three tens) started on a journey along the path of the Sun—a party formed by Dehaenhyowens and Gaenhyakdondye, two famous war chiefs, of men who had thoroughly habituated themselves to warlike exercises? They undertook while going toward the sunset to kill and scalp all the peoples whom they might encounter on their way.” The master of the lodge said to them in reply: “I myself know nothing of the matter about which you are speaking. When such a thing may have taken place I do not know. It may be that the old woman living in yonder lodge may know about this matter. You should go over to consult her concerning it.”

So Dehaenhyowens and his companion passed on, going to the lodge pointed out to them. On entering the lodge Dehaenhyowens said to the old woman: “Do you know the circumstance in the history of your people when in the long ago some men—warriors, three times ten in number—went on an expedition from which they never returned? The party was formed by war chiefs, Dehaenhyowens and Gaenhyakdondye. They went toward the sunset, following the path of the Sun.” Answering his question, the old woman said: “It is indeed true that such an event took place. I have heard my deceased grandmother say many times that when she was still a child men to the number of 30 started out on an expedition, but they never returned to their homes.” After some moments of thought she added: “Probably the man who dwells yonder in that lodge not far away from here remembers the whole matter, for he has had an exceedingly long life, and so is probably familiar with the tradition [629]about which you speak. Therefore you would better visit him and seek further information from him.”

Thereupon Dehaenhyowens and his companion again started on their quest for some one who knew them. On reaching their new destination they found the very old man of whom the old woman had spoken, and they asked him: “Do you remember an affair, which took place many years ago, in which warriors to the number of 30 departed hence on an expedition along the path of the Sun?” After a few moments of reflection the old man replied: “I remember the matter full well. This is what happened: There lived a people yonder, some distance away, where this affair took place. There were a number of young men who had grown up together, all about 16 years of age; 30 of these organized themselves into a war party, binding themselves together by means of an oath or vow. Having fully organized their troop, they caused the people of the entire community to assemble at the Long Lodge of public gatherings, whereupon Dehaenhyowens arose and said: ‘Now then, it shall be made known to you who have assembled here that we have indeed completed our preparations. We young men, who are three tens in number, have enlisted by “notching the stick” to go on an expedition along the path of the Sun. We have made the agreement strong, for we have commingled our minds. Now it is as if we had only a single head, only a single body of flesh, only a single life, and we shall bleed as one person. Moreover, we renounce our kindred, and we also forswear our lives. We shall now depart hence, directing our course toward the West, for we desire to make a journey to the place of the sunset—to the place where the Diurnal Light Orb is wont to make his way to and fro. Our band have appointed me and my dear brother to be their chiefs to lead them. We, too, have made a solemn vow that no matter what the situation confronting us we will nevertheless pass onward in our journey. We have indeed enlisted in this matter seriously by “notching the stick.” This is, of course, as you well know, the pledge that each one of us will do what we have agreed to do one with another.’ Thereupon, they departed from us, and they have never returned.”

Dehaenhyowens, replying to the old man, said, “How long ago may it be since that event took place?” The old man answered, “It is now three generations ago—that is, three generations have passed away since that time.” Then Dehaenhyowens asked, “Who were the chiefs of those who departed?” The old man said, “Dehaenhyowens and his brother, Gaen?hyakdoÑ'dye'; these two persons were chosen as the chiefs of the party.” To this Dehaenhyowens responded, “Verily, grandsire, we are the remaining members of that party—my brother, Gaen?hyakdoÑ'dye', our friend Daga'dye', and I; so many of the number have now returned home. It was, verily, our party [630]that departed from the place where your and my people formerly dwelt, at that place yonder not far away.” But the old man, still doubting what he had heard, said: “It is probably not you who went away, because it appears from your youthful aspect that you have just reached manhood, and that event occurred a very long time ago.” Dehaenhyowens, however, answered: “Nevertheless, we are the very persons who started, at least those of us who still are left alive; and we have now arrived home again.” On hearing this, the old man said: “If possible, then, do tell me the name of the chief of our people when you departed.” Dehaenhyowens quickly answered, “DagÄidoÑ'dye' was the name of the chief of our people at that time.” Now convinced of what he doubted, the old man answered: “That statement is, indeed, also true. The fact that he was my grandfather is the reason why I am so fully acquainted with that matter. Now, I admit that I am convinced that it is indeed you and your friends who departed so many years ago, and that it is you, too, who have returned home; and as it is meet so to do, our present chief shall now be made cognizant of this matter. So remain here in this lodge, and I will now send him word of your return, to await his pleasure.”

Accordingly the chief was made acquainted with the matter at once. Forthwith he sent out runners, giving notice to all the people to assemble immediately in the Long Lodge of public meetings to hear news most startling and important; he set the following day for the assembly of the people. When the morning of the next day dawned all the people, having made the necessary preparations to attend the great council, hurriedly gathered in the assembly hall. Dehaenhyowens and his two companions went there in company with his host, the old man, whose grandfather was a former chief of his people. The assemblage was large, for everyone who could possibly leave home attended. When all were seated the chief arose, and ceremoniously greeted the newly arrived men in these words: “We have learned only a hint of what occurred during your expedition, and we desire fervently to know more of the events which took place while you have been absent. So now we shall listen to the whole account, and we will hear the leader of the party.”

Thereupon Dehaenhyowens arose, amidst deep silence, and spoke briefly, as follows: “There were 30 of us who started on the expedition along the path of the Sun; but only three of us have returned. It is I who bear the name Dehaenhyowens. On this hand sits my brother, Gaen?hyakdoÑ'dye’', for such is the name that he bears; and on this hand sits our friend, Daga'dye’', for such is the name that he bears. So many only are we who survive. It came to pass during the time of our expedition along the path of the Sun to the skyland that one of our number remained there as an assistant to the people [631]in that far-away land. It is quite impossible for him to return again to this earth to live.” Then Dehaenhyowens related at great length all that had occurred to him and his party and all the things that they had seen from the time they had left their homes until their return. After speaking thus Dehaenhyowens resumed his seat.

The chief then said: “It was in fact a marvelous thing that was done by your party. It is a very long time since you departed from your homes; but now you have returned, only you three persons. Of course, one of the most essential things about this matter to be remembered is that DeauÑhyawa'gon, sometimes called HaweÑni'yo, forewilled that you, and only you, should be enabled to return home safely. Preparations have been made so that we may now exchange greetings, and this shall be done. You, the surviving ones of the party, three in number, will take a suitable position, and I will take the lead in a ceremonial greeting to you; for I, of course, stand in the stead of the one who was the chief of the people when you departed. My name is DagÄ'idoÑ'dye'. Then we will do this: We will mutually and severally stroke one another’s body in greeting. This ceremony shall be for all persons, including our children—we will all greet one another in this ceremonial manner, for this was the custom of our fathers on such occasions.”

Accordingly Dehaenhyowens and his two friends took suitable positions in which to receive the greetings of the people, and the people with the chief in the lead came forward and cordially stroked their bodies according to the custom. All the men, women, and children arose and greeted them. When the ceremony was over the chief said: “We will do in the future all the things that we have today learned should be done. This, too, you shall know—you who have just returned home—that we shall be equal with you in the enjoyment and disposition of the things that we possess, so that our minds and yours shall think in peace. Here, you know, dwell the people, and now, of course, we again shall commingle and associate together. Everything is in readiness for us to rejoice and be happy, seeing that you have returned home in safety and health. The first thing to be done is to make merry by a game. They whose bodies are strong will play at a game of lacrosse ball; thus shall they amuse your minds, and you may rejoice. When that shall have passed we shall dance, beginning with the Pigeon Song, or Song of the Pigeons. When that is passed it will be time for us to disperse to our homes.” Thereupon Dehaenhyowens, arising, said: “It is marvelous to know that we have been absent from our people during three generations; and we are rejoicing that we have, though much fewer in numbers, returned to our homes. We are indeed very happy that we are again one people with you.” [632]

Then the young men went to the public gaming grounds and there engaged in an exciting game of lacrosse ball. When this game was over the people assembled in the Long Lodge of public meetings and there they performed the ceremony of the Song of the Pigeons. They danced all the songs of this ceremony, which is quite long and exciting. Even the children danced to show their pleasure at seeing the returned men.

(This is the end of the story.)

We congratulate one another this day because we are still alive in this world.

Besides this act we give thanks to the Earth, and we give thanks also to all the things which it contains. Moreover, we give thanks also to the Visible Sky. We give thanks also to the Orb of Light that daily goes on its course during the daytime. We give our thanks nightly also to the Light Orb that pursues its course during the night.

So now, we give thanks also to those persons, the Thunderers, who bring the rains. Moreover, we give thanks also to the servants of the Master of Life, who protect and watch over us day by day and night by night.

And now, furthermore, we send our thanks also to his person, to the Finisher-of-our-lives. To him our thanksgiving we offer in fervent gratitude.

And now a ceremony shall begin, a ceremony which was given to us, to mankind, by the Finisher-of-our-bodies—namely, the ceremony of the Great Feather Dance.

So let everyone be enthusiastic, then, in this ceremony. We must enjoy ourselves as much as possible during this ceremony. It was given to us for the purpose of benefiting us in its performance in honor of him, the Master of Life, who gave it to us, and we must all do what is right and just one to another, and we also must continue to give thanks to the Master of Life for the good things which we enjoy at his hand.

So now will begin the singing of the songs of the Ritual of the Great Feather Dance. So let each and every one share in it, then. [At this point the singers on the song bench begin singing the songs of this ceremony. All who take part should be arrayed in festival attire. The faces of the dancers should be painted, and their heads should be adorned with feather headdresses. When this ceremony is ended the Master of Ceremonies, arising, makes the following statement:] [633]

“So now, moreover, in such an assembly of people as this is, another ceremony is about to begin, one other that the Finisher-of-our-lives has ordained for our performance. So, then, let us be thankful, moreover, that our lives and persons are still spared in the affairs of this world.

“So now, moreover, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks for the bounties it has received from the Master of Life.

“So now, moreover, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks. The Master of Life has willed that there be officers among the people whose duty it is to promote the celebration of the Six Ceremonies. So we give thanks, too, that you who are officials among the people are still spared your lives.

“So now, moreover, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks for the bounties it has received. He, the Master of Life, willed that there shall be certain persons among men who shall be called chiefs (because their renown is great), and that upon them, furthermore, shall rest the grave responsibility of promoting peace and health among the people, and also that upon them shall rest the responsibility of making addresses of thanksgiving at the celebrations of the Thanksgiving Ceremony, in which they shall direct their words to the Maker-and-finisher-of-our-lives, at the same time earnestly urging all persons to enjoy themselves there and to be happy.

“So now, moreover, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks. The Creator-of-our-lives willed that there shall be in life two varieties or kinds of life, one of which shall be called Female and the other shall be called Male. He willed that by this means mankind shall see the coming of humanity (through the birth of children). So, therefore, we give thanks that this ceremony or rite of the union of two kinds of life is going on, just as he decreed that mankind should live in pairs—male and female. So, therefore, we offer up thanks because we have our eyes on our offspring who are coming, differing in size, to us.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there be an earth continually. So let us give thanks that the processes of the earth go on in accordance with his rule, and that we human beings are traveling about over it.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be springs of water, and that there shall be waters that flow. So, too, we give thanks because there are waters that flow as ordained, and because there are springs of water likewise, which are for our comfort as we go to-and-fro over the earth.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed, too, that ‘I will bestow that on which they shall live—corn, and that it shall grow in its seasons.’ So then, [634]let us now give thanks because we have again set our eyes on all those things upon which we live. We are thankful that we again see all these things.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall continue to grow on the earth all manner of herbs, and, too, that these shall be for use as medicines, which shall be, each and every one, a succor and support to the people; they shall be for medicine.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall grow various kinds of flowers on the earth, and that among these shall grow continually strawberries. So, too, let us give thanks because these are for our pleasure and contentment.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall grow shrubs on the earth continually, and that all these shall be for medicines for mankind at all times. So, too, let us give thanks that these are giving us perfect satisfaction and comfort, and because these shrubs are our own aid and sustenance.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that other shrubs and trees in groves shall ever grow to maturity on which various fruits and berries shall ever hang in abundance. So, too, let us give thanks because these fruit-bearing shrubs and trees grow continually, giving us at all times abundantly contentment and pleasure.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be forests that shall continually reproduce themselves by growth, which shall continue to be at all times helpful to mankind, ‘whom I have placed on the earth.’ So, too, let us be thankful that our minds are contented for the reason that the forests grow.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that in the forests which shall continue to grow there shall live and increase all manner of game animals in utmost variety. So, too, let us give thanks for this bountiful provision, because in full measure and number the game animals are abundant in the growing forests, as intended by him, and they are ever the full means of giving us pleasure and contentment while we dwell on the earth.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be growing forests in which there shall be certain trees from which (maple) sap shall habitually fall in its season. So, too, let us give thanks because there still grow here and there maple trees, for we still can look upon maple sugar. [635]

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be brakes of great herbs on which shall grow sunflowers continually in their season, and that these shall serve to give pleasure and contentment to mankind dwelling on the earth.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed, ‘I shall place a duty on certain persons to care for and watch over the earth, and they shall cause rain to fall habitually, and the rain shall prosper all the things that grow out of the earth, and these persons shall habitually approach from the west, and people will call them Our Grandsires, whose voices are heard from place to place—the Thunderers.’

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall ever be a Sky, on which there shall ever appear a Light Orb which will go about from place to place as day succeeds day, and people shall call this orb of light the Sun. So, too, let us be thankful that we see each day that the light orb moves on in its course.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be darkness by periods of a certain length, and that in the sky there shall ever appear a Light Orb which shall ever go from place to place, and which human beings will call the Nocturnal Orb of Light—the Moon. So, too, let us be thankful because night after night we see this orb of light holding to its course, and know that our Creator so decreed it.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall ever be a Sky, and that in it there shall be Stars fixed from place to place. So, too, let us be thankful, because we see these stars night after night, just as our Creator has decreed that it shall be.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be Persons who shall guard mankind from harm by day and by night. So, too, let us be thankful that these Four Persons protect us daily and nightly.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks. He willed that just and righteous acts shall be the means of making us true men and women. So, too, let us be thankful because his words are being carried out on earth.

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that in thanksgiving addresses the celebrant must offer thanks to all things, beginning with these on earth and ending with the person of the Master of Life. So, too, let us be thankful that we have now rendered to our Maker our thanks for the bounties of life. [636]

“So now, too, this assembly of people, such as it is, is giving thanks this day. He willed that there shall be persons who shall have the ability to sing the songs of the Great Feather Dance, which were bestowed on us by our Creator. So now we thank you, Singers, who have this power and who have so well again performed your duty, a duty which is not an easy one.

“May all the people here enjoy peace and health until the time for the next celebration of this ceremony, which is fixed at a future day. Live, then, in peace and health. I end.”

There is a story that in ancient times there occurred a great calamity, which was caused by a rain that lasted three months. The result of this long rain was that the waters rose high and soon flooded the whole extent of the dry land. Only one man was saved. He climbed a tree to save himself from the waters.

The waters rose high in every place except on one tract of land on which stood a village of about six families, from which all the game had disappeared; so the people of these families had nothing to eat. This village was situated on the bank of a small stream where grew a large number of slippery-elm trees. The absence of all other food compelled the miserable wretches to strip the bark from these trees to use as food. They dried the bark and then pounded it into a kind of coarse meal, which they mixed with water to make a sort of bread to satisfy their hunger.

During this terrible time of scarcity, one night when all others were fast asleep one of the young men of the small village, being awake, heard some person walking with very heavy tread. He was not moved to fear by this experience, so he decided not to inform his companions of what he had heard. For 30 successive nights he heard this tramping and walking to and fro, as he surmised. But the young man had been thinking deeply on the meaning of the sounds he had been hearing night after night, and on the morning of the day following the thirtieth night he informed his companions that some person was about to pay them a visit. The sounds of the walking had appeared to him to come from the east.

Not long after this the people realized the truth of what he had told them, for a strange woman441 came to their lodge. No one knew whence she came, for they were surrounded by water, and there was no land in sight. The strange woman did not remain at this lodge, but went directly to the lodge of the brother of the young man who had heard her walking. When the brother, who had been outside the lodge, reentered it he found the woman seated. He had never before seen another woman like her, for she was beyond measure [637]attractive in person, in manner, and in her words and actions. The brother questioned her, asking her whence she came and whither she was going. The woman replied: “I have come from the south to assist you and your people in obtaining food for your needs. I came because my mother sympathizes greatly with her people, and it is she who has sent me here to become the wife of your elder son.” Answering her, the man said: “It seems very strange that your mother should send you here, but of course she probably knows that we are in despair, expecting nothing but death from hunger and starvation.” By way of reply to this the young woman asked: “Will you grant me the pleasure of having my mother’s request fulfilled?” The man, whose mind had already begun to hope for better things for his people, replied, “Yes; her request will be granted, and you will become the wife of my son.” She did become his wife, and they lived as husband and wife.

The bride wife the next morning said to her brother-in-law: “You must have the corn bins cleared out and ready, just as if you expected to use them for storing corn.” The brother-in-law at once told his sister to clear out the corn bins just as if they expected to store corn in them. Having done this, the sister informed her sister-in-law that they were ready. The younger brother exclaimed: “I am glad that our family has increased.” At the dawn of day the next morning the people, awakening as if they had been frightened, heard sounds which indicated that corn was falling into their corn bins, which had been empty so long. Some hardly believed their ears, and doubted that they had received so much corn freely. So when the bride wife asked that corn be prepared and cooked, her husband told his sister to make it ready, although in his mind he felt that his wife had said this just because she knew well that they had nothing to eat and nothing with which to prepare anything.

Then the bride wife said to her brother-in-law: “You go to the river and catch for us some fish, so that we may have fish to eat with our corn bread.” But the young man replied: “It is strange that you should think that there are fish in the river, for I have not seen one there for many months.” But the woman insisted that he should go, saying: “You will, however, find fish there.” He, in some doubt still, answered: “Very well, I will go, although I know that I shall not find any fish there.” Finally he went, as she had asked him to do, for the sake of his people. On reaching the stream he saw a fish; it was indeed the first he had seen since the great rainstorm had begun. He planned his measures so well that he caught the fish, which was very large, and at once started for the lodge. Arriving there, he said that it was the only fish he saw. The bride wife said: “This is the fish I meant. Now your sister will clean it and place it in the kettle to cook it.” When the sister was told to get some corn and [638]to prepare it for cooking, she said: “I have indeed cleared out the bins; all are empty, and not a cob is left on the poles on which hung the corn strings. Before this terrible rain came we had an abundance, but now we have not even a kernel for seed; all has indeed strangely disappeared.” The brother insisted, however, on her going to the bins, saying: “Go to see what you can. I heard a strange sound at dawn this morning, the sound of falling grains of corn.” To satisfy him the sister went to the bins where she was so fortunate as to find enough to fill both hands full. Delighted at finding even this small quantity, the girl returned and set to work preparing the corn for pounding into meal. It was not long before she had prepared and cooked a loaf of corn bread about two spans of the hand in circumference.

When the bride wife was informed that the loaf and the fish were ready to eat she said: “You must invite all your neighbors, so that each may have a portion of what you have cooked. You will cut the loaf into as many portions as there are persons in this village, and you must divide the fish in the same manner.” This was done. When the people who had gathered together in response to the invitation were all seated, the elder son of the family, the bridegroom, arose to speak. He said: “The Master of Life has gladdened our hearts with this loaf of bread and with this fish, the kind of food we ate before this water surrounded us. It must indeed be the will of the Master of Life that we should live. Before this young woman came to our lodge we expected to starve to death, and it is she who has invited every one in this village to come here to eat this food. In the future, therefore, it shall be the custom that when anyone shall have good fortune in his hunting or fishing he shall prepare a feast to which all his neighbors shall be made welcome.” His sister was told to serve all the people who had come. It seemed impossible, however, that even a small mite of fish or bread could be given to each of so many persons. But after she had begun to serve out the bread and the fish, she found that she could do this with what she had; and all were satisfied. There indeed seemed to be only a spoonful of broth in which the fish was cooked, but all were given a drink out of it and grew strong. The woman received the thanks of the people for the food which she had brought to them. What they had received seemed enough, and it was their opinion that this was an example for them to follow, so they declared: “Hereafter, if we obtain anything good to eat, it shall be shared equally by all. Such shall be our custom.”

Then the bridegroom’s brother informed the people that the bride desired the people to go to their homes and clear out their corn bins, just as if they were expecting to fill them with grain, and that they must act at once in this matter. So the people quickly returned to [639]their lodges to carry out the bride’s request. During the following night the young man who had first heard the walking of the still unknown woman again heard the sound made by falling corn grains. In the morning the people of the several lodges found their corn bins well supplied with corn, and they were greatly rejoiced at this good fortune. Then an old woman, one of the near neighbors of the bride, said: “I will ask the young woman whence she came to us, so that we may know who it is that has been so kind and merciful to us.” So going to the lodge of the newly married couple she addressed the bride, saying: “I have come to ask you to tell us whence you came to us?” The bride willingly replied: “I came from the south, where my mother lives. She knew of your destitute condition and felt very miserable about it, hence she sent me to marry this young man. He indeed knew that I was coming before I arrived here. My mother sent me on this errand so that I could protect you by providing for your most pressing needs.” Replying, the old woman said: “I am thankful and so are all my neighbors that your mother was moved to pity us by seeing our distressing condition and destitution; it is through her that we shall live. We are indeed grateful to her and to you for fulfilling your duty in the matter.” Thus it was made clear to all the people to whom they owed their good fortune. They saw then that it was through the bride and her mother that the bare corncobs that hung in the corn stacks were again filled with grains of corn, and that their corn bins were again full of grain.

After this there came a time when the bridegroom’s younger brother began to dislike his sister-in-law, and he sought in many ways to abuse her, saying rude things to her at times. At first the sister-in-law paid no attention to his abuse.442 One day she made bread from corn grits, and she gave a loaf of it to her hostile brother-in-law, saying: “I have made this for you.” But he seized it rudely, exclaiming: “Do you mean to insult me? I will not eat such bread as that; it is not fit to eat.” With these words he tossed the loaf of bread into the fire. Without a word of remonstrance the young woman cast herself down on her couch and covered her head in sorrow; and she remained thus until her husband returned. At once he asked the cause of her sorrow. At first she refused to tell him. Finally, however, he prevailed on her to do so. She said: “Lately your brother abuses me at every opportunity. I made him bread of the best material I had, and he sneeringly threw it into the fire. So I will go home to my mother. If you desire to accompany me, you may do so. It will require as much time for me to return to my home as it required to come here. When my mother sent me she did not expect me to return to her home again. But I must go, and all that I brought with me shall go back with me. All is due to your brother’s fault. This is why I am sorrowful.” Her husband was [640]deeply grieved at the prospect for his people, and he sought to persuade his wife to change her resolution, but he could not induce her to remain.

In the evening, having completed her preparations, she started on her return journey, saying to her husband: “When you are hungry, follow my trail. You shall encounter many difficulties, but you must not falter by the way. At all times keep in mind that you are going to your wife. You must not stop to rest either day or night. So take courage and do not falter. Now I go.”

During that night all the people heard the sound of falling grains of corn, which dropped from the cobs hanging on the strings of ears. The next morning the bridegroom asked his sister to go for corn. She went as directed, but found the corn bins empty and the corncobs bare. This was true, indeed, of all the lodges of the village.

The night following the morning which showed the people that all their corn had mysteriously disappeared the old woman who had asked the strange young woman whence she had come visited the lodge of the lone bridegroom and asked him where his wife was. He told her that she had returned to the lodge of her mother because of the abuse which his brother had heaped on her, and that all the good things which she had brought with her had gone away with her; and he told the old woman further that it was all due to his brother’s fault. He said that his wife could not punish the culprit without punishing all the people,443 and that he could do nothing in the matter.

The direful plight of the village caused the bridegroom to resolve to follow his wife to her home to learn whether it were possible to relieve the distress of his people. After making some necessary preparations, he started out on the trail of his wife. As he followed it he found that there was a well-defined path on the waters which entirely surrounded his people. When he started on this perilous trip the husband remembered what his wife had said to him about the difficulties of the journey, and what he must do to overcome them; so he kept on his way by day and by night without stopping. At all times he could plainly see her trail, which appeared as if it had just been made.

In the meanwhile, when he started his mother-in-law said to her daughter, who had returned home: “Your husband is coming to you and to us; he has now left the home of his people.” It is said that his mother-in-law could hear his footsteps as he followed the trail.

As his wife had told him to give no thought to the great difficulties of the way, he kept them out of his mind; he did not realize the great length of time he was on the journey. After many days he reached a cornfield, and by this sign he was delighted to know that [641]he was very near his journey’s end. Stopping for a moment and looking around he saw a column of smoke rising from the middle of the cornfield, and he at once decided that it must come from the lodge of his mother-in-law; thereupon he went directly toward it.

Having arrived in front of the doorway he was gladly surprised to hear the voice of his mother-in-law from the inside saying to him: “Come in, my son-in-law.” On entering the lodge he saw his wife and was made welcome by her and his mother-in-law. His wife said to him: “You have done my bidding, and I am pleased that you have. Is it not good to see our cornfield so exuberantly filled with rich ears of corn? And is it not pleasant to think that we can live here in peace and comfort? Being faithful, you shall be prosperous.” The mother-in-law, who knew that he was approaching, had ready, cooked and prepared, a large bark bowl full of oniasont (crook-necked squash), which she hastily set before him without reserving any portion of it. When he had eaten his fill he thanked her and the Source of All Life. He remained in the lodge of his mother-in-law until the growing corn had ripened. Then he said: “I think that it is time for me to be going back to my people. I can now be of some service to them.” His wife said to him: “Your brother, who found pleasure in abusing me, is dead; he died, indeed, of hunger and starvation. It is, indeed, too bad that he had so evil a disposition.” The husband replied: “I do not mourn for him, for he knew well what he was doing when he heaped abuse on you.” The wife answered: “You will find your people still without food. You must be very cautious on the journey. I am afraid that you may be overcome on the way.” Thereupon she told him of a number of animals which he would find along the path, and which did not exist until after the second creation. The waters of the great flood had then gone down, and the earth had become new. She gave him food for his people; also, for seeding, one ear of corn of each variety, some beans of each variety, and one squash, which his people must use for seeding their land. The wife gave her husband also provisions for his journey, ready cooked for eating cold. She cautioned him not to stop on the way, lest he be overcome by the evil powers which infested the pathway to his home. Then they parted affectionately.

The husband started homeward. He encountered many obstacles and unknown beasts and animals on the way; but at last after many days of travel without stopping to rest, he safely reached his home. He found there only low timber and bushes and weeds growing. On arrival at his own lodge he gave a few kernels of corn to each family, saying: “This corn shall be the chief source of sustenance [642]of the people hereafter.” In like manner he did with each of the several kinds of seeds which he had brought back with him. It is from these seeds that were propagated all the food plants which the human race had in ancient times.

(A SENECA-TUTELO LEGEND)

In ancient times there was a village situated on the banks of a river. The chief source of subsistence of the people was the natural products of forest and stream—that is to say, game and fish, berries and various edible roots and tubers.

There came a day when the people dwelling in this village were told by an old woman that she heard the voice of a woman singing on the river; and she told them further that the words used by this strange singer were: “Luxuriant and fine are the planted fields where I dwell, going to and fro. Luxuriant and fine are the planted fields which we have planted. My grandmother and my ancestors have planted them.”

After hearing this singing for 10 nights the old woman said to her family and neighbors: “Let us go out to see what this singing means; perhaps some woman has fallen into the water, and it may be she who is singing in the middle of the river.” They did go to the river bank, but saw nothing, and they returned much chagrined at their failure to discover the singer.

On the tenth night following, the woman again began to sing, seemingly from the middle of the river not very far from the village. Again she sang: “Luxuriant and fine are the planted fields (of corn) where I dwell, going to and fro. Luxuriant and fine are the planted fields (of corn) which we have planted. My grandmother and my ancestors have planted them.” Then the women of the village, going to the river bank for three nights, sang songs of welcome and recognition, and on the third night these women perceived that the singer on the river had drawn nearer to them. On the fourth night the women watching with their children on the river bank, and singing in response to the singing on the river, were surprised to see coming toward them a large number of women. Thereupon one of the girls exclaimed: “Oh, grandmother, do not let these women seize us,” and the children fled from the place. But the spokeswoman, who was the eldest person present, said: “I alone shall remain here to await whatever may befall me, and I do so because my granddaughter, who is coming, is in need of pity and aid.” [643]

At this the woman, the midstream singer, exclaimed: “Oh, my grandmother! take me hence. I am not able to go there (where you now are).” Then the grandmother (so called by the courtesy of clan kinship) placed her canoe of birch bark in the stream and soon by rapid paddling reached the side of the young woman who had been singing in midstream. She found her granddaughter lying on the back of a beaver, which mysteriously held her above the water. The granddaughter was the first to speak, saying: “Oh, my grandmother! take me hence.” The grandmother, replying: “Oh, my grandchild! your wish shall be fulfilled,” at once proceeded to place her granddaughter in the canoe, after which she headed for the shore of the stream, paddling to the landing place in a short time. When they had landed, the young woman said: “Oh, grandmother! now leave me here. I will remain here, and you must come after me in the morning. Nothing shall happen me in the meantime.” The grandmother at once returned to her own lodge, where, of course, she related in detail what had taken place.

Early the next morning she returned to the landing place where she had left her granddaughter (by courtesy). There she saw only the growing stalk of a plant. Drawing near to this she found growing on the stalk an ear of corn, and breaking it off she carried it back to her lodge, where she hung it up on a roof-supporting pole hard by the fireplace.

It came to pass during the following night that the grandmother, so called, had a dream or vision, in which the young woman who had been singing in midstream said to her, “Oh, my grandmother, you should unhang me from this place, for it is indeed too hot here. You should place me in the ground—plant me—and then leave me there; for I will provide for you and your people, you human beings. So kindly place me under the ground.” This dream came to the old woman three nights in succession. So she took down the ear of corn, and after shelling it she planted the grains of corn in the ground just as she had been instructed to do by the dream.

But on the following night the grandmother again dreamed, and the young woman in the dream said to her, “You and your people must care for me. You must not permit weeds to kill me. You shall see me sprout and grow to maturity; and it is a truth that in the future all the people who shall be born will see that I will provide for their welfare. So you must take great care of me. You will see, you and your people, a great multitude of people who are about to arrive here. You will see, I say, that I will provide for all during the time the earth shall be in existence. You shall now learn what is a well-known truth—that is, that I am corn; I am native corn; I am sweet corn. I am the first corn that came or was delivered to this earth.” For three successive nights the grandmother, [644]so called, had this same dream or vision, hence she came to regard it as a direct intimation to her regarding the disposition to be made of the corn on the ear which she had found on the bank of the river. So forcibly did the injunctions impress her that she planted the corn in the ground as directed; and she carefully followed the directions of the Corn Maiden as to the care required by the growing corn to enable it to mature and to prevent it being choked to death by weeds.

In the autumn the old woman444 harvested her corn, and taking it into her lodge she divided it into as many portions as there were families in the village of her people. Then she gave a portion to the chief matron in each lodge, telling each that the corn should be used in the spring for seed and also how it should be planted and cultivated. Afterward she returned to her own lodge. She was greatly rejoiced at the prospect of her people having something which would supply them with a staple food, if they would only properly care for it.

In a short time after reaching her own lodge she lay down on her couch to rest for the night; but she had hardly fallen asleep before she had another dream, or vision, of the Corn Maiden. In this dream the Corn Maiden said to her: “You must tell my children (the human beings) that they must not waste in any manner the corn which shall grow to maturity in the future. It is well known that those who do not honor and properly care for me invariably come to want and destitution; for unless they act so toward me when I leave I shall take all the corn and other seed away. And, grandmother, you must tell all these things to your people and kindred.”

Some time after this event the old woman said to her nephew (?): “Do not travel around from place to place, for it is a well-known fact that there are beings roaming about which have the disposition to overcome and destroy men by the exercise of their orenda.” But the nephew (?) replied: “Oh! there is nothing going about from place to place which has the power to kill men.”

Then there came a time many days after this that the Corn Maiden saw her brother arrive there. He was a human being, tall beyond measure, and in other respects of corresponding size. He said to her: “Do you now come forth (out of the lodge).” She obeyed him by leaving her lodge, whereupon he took her up in his arms. He saw there a stone ax and an arrowhead of flint. After carefully examining these he asked: “Have these things, simple as they are, the power to kill a person?” She made no reply to this question, and the giant departed, carrying away captive his youngest sister. On the way she began to sing: “Oh, elder brother! have you not been in the habit of saying that there is nothing that roams about which has the power to kill persons? How do you explain this?” Now the name of the person who stole this woman is DoodenneÑya'hon'445 (Ga-meÑ­dji-da?-ka? [645]is the Tutelo name), (The refrain of the song she sang was the Tutelo words, Da?heÑge?, da?heÑge?, wa?hoya' eÑ gi lo yot.)

Another brother of the Corn Maiden (of the lodge of the old woman) taking a stone ax and a bow and arrows, and asking his grandmother to follow him, said: “Let us two go fetch home my younger sister.” So saying, he started in pursuit of DoodenneÑya'hon', the so-called Stone Giant, and his grandmother followed him on the perilous journey. His pursuit was vigorous and tireless, and he was not long in overtaking DoodenneÑya'hon'. Coming up to him, he shot him with a flint arrow, saying at the same time: “I have come to bring back home my younger sister.” DoodenneÑya'hon', weeping with pain, said: “I confess my guilt. I did a great wrong in stealing this maiden from her home.” Then he surrendered her to her brother, who, taking his sister by the hand, started with his grandmother for their home.

When they had arrived at their own lodge the young woman who had been kidnaped by DoodenneÑya'hon' said to her grandmother: “You will now prepare some food (bread). You will take one grain of corn from the cob and pound it into meal. This alone will suffice, it is well known, to provide us (all human beings living) with food enough to satisfy our appetites at this banquet held in celebration of the return of the Maiden captured by DoodenneÑya'hon', the Stone Giant.” When the corn had been procured and prepared, the Maiden again spoke, saying: “I am about to give a feast, which shall be held in my honor, and in which you women shall dance the Corn dances.”

The feast was held in accordance with her wishes, and the women danced the Corn dances as she directed them, and all the people rejoiced with her. When the feast of thanksgiving was ended the Maiden said: “Now, as for me, I am starting on my return to my home. I shall go back to the place whence I came. It shall be an established thing in the future forever that corn shall exist, and that mankind shall never again die from starvation. I now go to my home.”

Thereupon she started away, going back on the river on which she had come; and as she went along she sang a song, the words of which were “We, the varieties of corn, beans, and squashes, are the mothers of the peoples of the whole world.” These words she sang to teach the people what to sing in their Corn dances.

After she had returned to her home she received a proposal of marriage from O?stawen'seÑ'ton' (Sumac Tree?). She accepted his suit and the two were married. When they were together the Corn Maiden said to her husband, “You must love me (that is, regard me [646]as a precious thing);” and her husband assured her that he would indeed comply with her request and his duty.

Then they returned to the lodge of Mother Bean, which they reached by traveling on the river a long distance. Mother Bean said to them: “You two must carry back with you some beans, which you must take to that distant land, where you shall leave them.” On their return to their own lodge the bridegroom carried the beans to that other land in which his wife had left seeding corn, and after performing his mission returned to his own wife and lodge.

Afterward the bride wife heard her sister singing beside a planted field: “Is there perhaps anyone who will marry me again? Let him ask me.” She had not been singing long when T?ha?hyoÑ'ni? (Wolf) replied: “I will marry you if you will accept me.” To this she answered: “If I marry you, what will be my usual food?” T?ha?hyoÑ'ni? replied: “You shall have meat for your usual food.” Her answer was: “I shall die if I am compelled to eat that kind of food.”

Thereupon the maiden resumed her singing: “Is there perhaps some one who will marry me again? Let him ask me to do so.” Nya'gwai' (Bear) answered her: “I will marry you if you will accept me.” The maiden answered: “If I marry you what will be my usual food?” Nya'gwai' said in reply: “Your usual food will be various kinds of nuts.” She said: “In the event that I am compelled to eat that kind of food I shall surely die.”

Again she began to sing: “Is there perhaps anyone who will marry me again? Let him ask me.” While she sang Ne'ogen' (Deer) answered her: “I will marry you if you will accept me.” The maiden said in reply: “If I should marry you what would be my usual food?” Ne'ogen' replied: “Your food would be buds and sprouts and the moss growing on trees.” The maiden’s response was: “In the event that I am compelled to eat that kind of food I shall surely die.”

After thus refusing each of these proposals of marriage, once again she began to sing: “Is there perhaps anyone who will again marry me? If there be one such, let him ask me.” While she sang, expressing the impulses of her heart, a man named Corn answered her challenge, saying: “I will marry you if you will accept me, for I know that you are circumspect in making your selection of a husband.” In reply the maiden asked: “If I should marry you what shall be my usual food?” Corn answered: “If you will marry me your food shall be corn; corn shall be your sustenance.” The maiden replied: “I accept you, and I am thankful for my good fortune in finding just what I want. For a long time I have been lonely, for I desired to see a human being, to be in a position to mingle [647]with mankind.” With these words she ran forward, and throwing her arms around him fondly embraced him, saying: “I will share with you your fortune or misfortune, whichever it be, wherever mankind shall have charge of your welfare and needs, for my grandmother has appointed me to care for mankind during the time that this earth shall endure. So it shall be that they shall plant us always in one place. So from one place you and I together shall depart when the time during which we shall provide (food) for mankind, as has been appointed for us, shall expire. We must teach them our songs and dances, so that mankind may express their gratitude when they shall gather in their harvests of corn and beans and squashes.”

Continuing, she said to her husband: “We must instruct mankind with care in this matter, so that they shall do the essential things and sing the essential songs of the A?koÑwi'?sen',446 (the ceremony of the Corn dances). The women and the young maidens of both the Father and the Mother side in beginning this ceremony shall stand on their respective sides of the fire, forming in orderly lines with the matrons of their several clans as leaders. One side shall first sing the song which is in order, and then the other side shall sing that song; then they shall sing it alternately, while the several leaders in taking the lead must carry the turtle-shell rattle. It is important that this shall be done in order, and that the rhythm of the songs be not broken. When the song has been sung by both sides then the two lines of women shall encircle the fire and dance around it three times. This shall be done in the case of each song of the A?koÑwi'?sen'.

“Now, the words of the essential songs are as follows:

“(a) ‘Coming hither I heard them; I heard them sing and dance the A?koÑwi'?sen'.’

“(b) ‘We have now arrived—we who are about to sing and dance the A?koÑwi'?sen'.’

“(c) ‘Among living, growing, unplucked flowers I am walking reverently (silently, slowly).’

“(d) ‘I am now dancing among living, growing, unplucked flowers (blossoms).’

“(e) ‘We have now returned—we who are corn dancers and singers—we who are women.’

“(f) ‘You two cousins,447 do you now get the bark bowl (for sprouting the seed corn). You two cousins, do you now get the bark bowl.’

“(g) ‘Oh! the berries have ripened. Oh! the berries have ripened—on stalk and stem.’ [648]

“(h) ‘I see (in vision) a beautiful Spring season.
“ ‘I see a fine field of growing corn.
“ ‘In the middle of this field of corn there stands a lodge of bark.
“ ‘There I see a profusion of drying poles and racks.
“ ‘Thereon I see fine fat strings of corn hanging.
“ ‘On these fine fat strings of corn I see rich lively seed corn.’

“(i) ‘Now, I am walking along. I am walking along giving thanks to the Life God.’

“These are the essential songs which mankind shall sing.”

In ancient times a people dwelling near a river bank were startled by the sound of singing, which came apparently from downstream. The voice was that of a woman, and tradition says that it was indeed the Bean-Woman who was singing.

The Bean-Woman sang, it is said, “Who shall marry me again? Let him ask me in marriage.” The Panther-Man, answering this challenge, said: “I will marry you if you will accept me for your husband.” Pausing in her singing, the Bean-Woman asked: “If I marry you what shall be the food which I shall regularly receive from you to eat?” The Panther-Man replied: “You shall always have meat in great plenty to eat.” The Bean-Woman answered: “In that case it is very probable I should die, for I do not eat that kind of food under any circumstances.”

Thereupon the Bean-Woman resumed her singing: “Who will marry me again? Is there one who is willing to marry me again? If so, let him ask me.” Then the Deer-Man approached the Bean-Woman and said: “I will marry you if you will accept me for your husband.” The Bean-Woman asked him: “What food will you regularly provide for me to eat?” The Deer-Man replied: “Browse and buds and the tender bark of trees, for these are the things which I regularly eat.” The Bean-Woman answered: “Such a marriage would not bring good fortune to me, because I have never eaten that kind of food.” So the Deer-Man departed.

Then the Bean-Woman resumed her song: “Is there not some one who is willing to marry me? If there be, let him ask me.” As she sang she heard the Bear-Man say to her: “I will marry you if you will accept me.” Whereupon she asked him: “What kind of food will you regularly provide for me to eat?” He replied: “I will provide you with nuts of various kinds, for even now I have many bark receptacles filled with nuts for food.” The Bean-Woman replied: “In this event I should most certainly die, for I have never [649]been in the habit of eating that kind of food; so I can not accept you.”

Without feeling disappointed she resumed her singing: “Is there not some one who will marry me again? If so, let him ask me.” Then the Wolf-Man approached her, saying: “I am willing to marry you if you will accept me.” Once again the Bean-Woman asked: “If I should marry you what kind of food would you regularly provide for me to eat?” The Wolf-Man answered: “I will provide you with meat and venison.” At this the Bean-Woman said with scorn: “It is, indeed, quite proper for you to offer me meat and venison for food, but I have never had the desire to eat meat which has been stolen.” Thereupon the Wolf-Man departed.

The Bean-Woman resumed singing, as before: “Is there any one who is willing to marry me again? If there is, then let him ask me.” Then the Corn-Man, drawing near, said: “I am willing to marry you if you will accept me.” In reply she asked: “If I should marry you what will you give me for my regular food?” The Corn-Man’s answer was: “You shall have sweet corn to eat at all times.” In reply the Bean-Woman said: “I pray that it may so come to pass. I am, indeed, thankful for this offer, for it is a well-known fact that I am in need of it.” When the Corn-Man had heard her answer, he said to her: “Come to me.” Rushing forward, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him, saying: “This is, indeed, a condition established by Him who sent us, by Him who created our bodies, beginning with the time when the earth was new.” They dwelt together contented and happy.

This is the reason that the bean vine is at all times found entwined around the cornstalk.

The event related in the following legend came to pass in ancient times in the land inhabited by the Tuscarora; and Corn-Woman herself declared this event to men.

In that ancient time there lived in that land a man who was alone, and who had no kindred or friends in that place. He became very ill; so ill that he was no longer able to leave his mat on the couch. Of course there was no fire in his abode for he was unable to obtain fuel to keep a fire burning; besides there was nothing for him to eat. He began to be very sorrowful, expressing his grief thus: “Verily, I have become poor and miserable indeed. I am hungry, too, and, perhaps, I shall die by starvation.”

While he was ill it was usual for him to lie with his head covered. There came a day when he heard the sound of voices, which he inferred were those of women. Uncovering his head he listened intently to learn something about the voices he heard. Then he [650]heard one woman addressing another: “What do you think of this matter? The man who dwells with us is very ill; truly he is in a wretched condition, and he lacks care and attention.” Then he heard the reply: “It is befitting, it would seem, that we assist him at once to recover his health, for we know that while he enjoyed good health it was customary for him to respect and honor us in his travels. This is, indeed, what he was wont to do: In whatever place he was traveling, on finding along the trail one of our sisters who had strayed or become lost, and so had become the victim of want, he would take her up and speak to her words of pity, saying: ‘Thou art in need and in distress; thou art lost on thy way, and there is no possibility for anyone except me to have mercy on thee.’ Then he would care for her. For this reason we should now repay him for all these acts of kindness by aiding him, since now it is he who is forsaken and in need of care.” The man who was ill now sat up with uncovered head, thinking, “I shall see them; I shall have a look at the two women who are conversing.” But he saw no one, and so was disappointed. For several days he overheard these two women talking, but he was not able to see any person around him.

There came a night, however, when the ill man had a dream, in which he saw a woman of low stature but of fine appearance, with beautiful long hair. In the dream she said to him: “I have been requested to come to you (do you know it?) to tell you that we will now aid you in your illness. We desire to have you stop thinking that you are about to die and that you are poor and wretched because you have no kindred or friends. Moreover, be of good courage, for you shall be well again before long, and shall again travel much. This, too, shall come to pass: A shower of rain shall come, whereupon you must arise and place some receptacle where the raindrops may fall into it, and all the water that falls into this receptacle you must drink. This shall suffice to cure you of your illness. It is we who are making a repayment of an obligation which is due you from us. We are merely doing our part in aiding you at this time, because you have so many times had compassion on us during the long time you have been traveling over the earth. For it was your wont when you were traveling on whatsoever paths they were, when you saw lying on the trail ‘Corn,’ ‘a Bean,’ or the ‘Seed of the Ancient Squash’—we are of course sisters—to take her up and have pity on her, saying: ‘Thou art lost and forsaken even on the trail.’ It is for these acts of kindness that we shall now, I say, repay thee.449

“Moreover, it shall come to pass that you will hear us when we sing and dance the Corn dances to give thanks that you are again to travel over the earth, for such is, indeed, our custom when we are happy. [651]

“Know this, too, that when mankind give attention to us, when we are born (sprout) out of the earth, and when they till the ground whereon we stand, we give thanks for this attention. Again, when they form the hills of earth around us, we also rejoice; then, too, when they enlarge the hills to accommodate our growing bodies we regularly give thanks by singing and dancing the Corn dances; and when they pluck the ears of corn, gather them in heaps in the middle of the field, husk them, and braid them into osten'sa's (corn-strings), and hang these on frames or lintels of poles, we also give thanks in like manner; and as soon as these strings have dried and they bring us into the lodges we give thanks and rejoice by singing and dancing Corn dances.

“Now, I bid you do this. Tell all human beings whom you shall meet that they, too, must sing and dance the Corn dances when they wish to express their thanksgiving at the time they are pleased to see us come to maturity again; and this is the reason that they must perform this ceremony. It is we, of course, who continue to assist you by furnishing that on which you human beings subsist. So be of good courage and cherish my words.”

Then the ill man awoke and verily he saw a rainstorm on the horizon which was approaching. He arose, and taking a bark bowl he set it outside of the lodge where the raindrops would fall into it. In a short time it began to rain and the raindrops soon filled the bowl. He proceeded at once to drink the rain water and began to recover his health.

The following night as he lay on his couch he heard the voices of women singing. He noticed that there had come on the drying poles in the lodge several strings of ears of corn and further that these strings swayed slightly to and fro, and that the singing proceeded from the grains of corn, in the guise of women, on the ears. Some of the words employed in these songs were: “Among the Flowers I am moving reverently,” “Among the Flowers I am singing and dancing;” and the women’s voices he heard saying: “The Fruit or Berries are ripe, the Fruit or Berries are ripe,” and many other songs of the Corn dances. Thereafter the sick man rapidly regained his wonted health and again traveled over the earth.

In time the man returned to his own people and related to them all his experiences, and he sang for them the songs that he had heard sung by the Corn women. It was at this time that the Council of Ancients—the Elders—of the people said publicly: “We are indeed fortunate to learn of this matter; and we must regularly perform this ceremony in the time to come.”

Not long after this event the man who had been ill again heard the singing of the Corn women; he heard them singing in the place [652]where the corn had been planted. Moreover, he saw them—a great company of Corn people, Bean people, and Squash people, and so far as he could see they were in all respects perfect human beings. They danced in a slow, gentle manner in imitation of the waving of the corn stalks as they stand in the ground. Women and girls took part in the dance.

The man again heard all the songs and so learned them. At once he told his people what he had seen and heard. Again the Council of Ancients said: “We must perform this ceremony, too, for this is part and parcel of the other.”

From this time the Corn dances and Corn songs were known and used, and these are the songs that are in use at this day on the anniversaries of the various seasons, beginning with the time the people plant the corn grains and ending when the strings of ears of corn are stored in the lodges—the corn harvest. This ceremony is called GoÑda?goÑwi'sas.

In ancient times there lived a community of people at the foot of a very high, steep, and rugged cliff. There came a day when they heard the plaintive singing of a woman, who seemed to be on the top of this almost inaccessible mountain. The mysterious woman directed the words of her songs to a very old but highly respected man of this small community. The burden of the songs was expressed by the words: “Oh! kinsman of my father’s brother, come up here; I indeed desire greatly to become your wife.” These words gave much anxiety to the people who heard them, but the old man paid no attention to them.

The woman, seemingly on the mountain top, continued to sing daily, however, and finally some of the people urged the old man to go up to the summit to learn the designs of the persistent singer. But he excused himself, saying: “The mountain is so steep and rugged, and I am now become so aged that I do not feel able to make the attempt to climb its side.”

But the woman on the height, continuing her singing from day to day, and the anxiety of the people becoming very marked, the chiefs of the community in council finally requested the old man, whom they highly respected, to go to the mountain top to unravel, if possible, the meaning of the mysterious singing. They represented to him the importance of this mission, since the persistent singing might have some relation to the welfare of the community at large.

After long meditation he replied to the request of the council, “Oh, my chiefs! at your request I will go to the mountain top to learn, if it be possible, the meaning of this woman’s singing.” [653]

Having made the necessary preparations the old man started, and after overcoming many difficulties he finally reached the summit of the mountain. There he saw a young, fine-looking woman, who stood not far from the brink of the cliff. She had been standing in that position while he was painfully wending his way up the mountain side and urged him to have patience and courage to persist in his attempt to climb the mountain. Seeing that he had reached the top of the mountain, the young woman beckoned him to her side, at the same time saying: “Do thou come to me, Oh, my friend! I desire to share my mat with thee.” Drawing near to the young woman, the aged man said kindly to her: “I am unfortunately past the age when it might have been in my power to comply with your request.” But the young woman replied: “Fear not, but draw near me. I will endow thee with the power which will enable thee to comply with my desire. So come close to me. Now, mark my words and carefully cherish them. Out of the ground at the spot whereon I have lain a plant shall sprout and grow. Care tenderly for this, for it shall be a boon to your people, a chief source of food to them; and it shall be called KaneÑhageÑÄt; that is to say, White Corn. In five days from now you must return to care for what you will find growing out of the ground, as I have already told you. As for me, I shall die.” The aged man drew near the woman and embraced her. Time passed and he swooned. When he finally recovered his senses he discovered that the young woman had disappeared—vanished into thin air—and he believed that he had embraced a vision. Arising from the ground, he returned to his people at the foot of the mountain.

Remembering the words of the young woman to the effect that he must return to the mountain top to obtain a mysterious plant, at the end of five days the old man returned to the summit. There he found on the spot whereon the young woman had lain a growing corn plant. He carefully pruned away from it all weeds and placed rich, fine earth around its rootlets, and also watered it from a neighboring spring.

Taking great delight in caring for this corn plant, the aged man came frequently to the mountain top to attend to it. In course of time it had grown to maturity, bearing three ripened ears of white corn. These he carefully husked and carried back to his lodge. In the spring he assembled all the people of the community and divided the corn among them equally, a few grains to each family; and he instructed them in the method of planting and caring for the corn, telling them that in time it would become one of their staple food plants. Such is, it is said, the manner in which the white corn originated among the Tuscarora, who have generously shared the seed with neighboring tribes and kindred. [654]

In ancient times, it is said, a people dwelling in a certain country, having become very numerous, decided to divide into equal parts their hunting grounds and the game animals living on them. This division of lands took place at a public assembly.

It was solemnly agreed that all persons should respect the boundary marks separating their own lands from those of their neighbors; that no person should cross such boundary lines for the purpose of hunting game animals; and that any person violating this agreement would be guilty of trespass. The part assigned to every family (ohwachira) was, indeed, very large, being considered sufficiently extensive to provide sustenance for that family. It was still further agreed that when the trespass should be discovered the aggrieved people might, after learning all the facts in the case, exterminate the family of the transgressor, unless a suitable expiatory recompense were offered and accepted from such clan and family. This compact was solemnly kept for many years and the several contracting clans or peoples lived in great harmony.

There came a day, however, when a hunter from one of these neighboring clans deliberately violated the compact of his clan with their neighbors by crossing the boundary line into the territory of an adjoining people and there killing some game animal. His act, which was soon discovered, led to a long and bloody war between the two families, resulting in the virtual extermination of the clan of the offender.

Only one man escaped the vengeance of the offended family. He saved himself by flight from his home and succeeded in avoiding his pursuers by dropping into a deep cavern in a rocky cliff far from his land. Having passed through the entrance of the cavern, the man saw that the passage led to a very large open space, which he found to be well lighted. In the center of a spacious field he saw a lodge, which attracted his attention. While watching for some sign of life in the lodge, he was gratified to see a woman emerge therefrom and then reenter.

Going back into the passageway to the cavern, the man kept a close watch on the lodge. In a short time another woman came out, followed by the woman he had first seen. The two walked splay-footed toward the place where the fugitive had concealed himself. On reaching the opening of the cavern they stopped, and one said to the other: “Let us go back home, for I smell the smoke of a fire.” Thereupon the two started back down from the entrance. So they quickly returned to the lodge and at once reentered it. Shortly afterward a man came out of the lodge. He shook himself as a dog shakes himself after coming up out of the water, and it seemed to the fugitive [655]that the place became lighter.450a The man came directly to the mouth of the cavern and then returned to the lodge. He told the women that the scent in the entrance was not that of smoke but of a human being.

Again the two women came forth, this time to find the source of the human odor that scented the cavern’s mouth. They were not long in discovering the man, who had seated himself near the entrance. Approaching him, the elder woman said: “Whence have you come, Human Being?” In reply the man said: “I came in here to conceal myself from my enemies. All my people have been killed in a day.” The elder woman answered: “We invite you to our home. Will you not come home with us?” The man replied: “I willingly accept your invitation. I will go home with you. Let us start now.”

In a short time they reached the lodge, and on entering it the brother of the two women greeted the man, saying: “Be of good cheer. Fear not. No harm will come to you. You shall not suffer any want. You shall marry my elder sister, and there is plenty of food in this lodge and in our store-cache.” The fugitive was greatly delighted with his reception, and he informed the man that he agreed to the proposals made to him by his host, and he took up his abode there with these three people.

The bridegroom was indeed very happy, for he kept saying: “I am very happy, for my wife loves me. I am indeed glad to be here in this place with you.” It was not long before he and his loving wife were blessed with an infant son. They all lived in comfort and amity.

When the man had lived in this place about 15 years and had become the father of a number of interesting children, his brother-in-law one day said to him: “The time has now arrived when you should return to the place whence you fled to this cavern home; and when you depart you should take back with you your wife and your children. They are now your own people, although they are of our blood too.”

After making the necessary preparations by packing up their small belongings, the man with his wife and children bade their kindred farewell and started for their future home. Passing through the mouth of the cavern they emerged into a dense forest of large trees, in which there were here and there bare tracts. In this region the husband and father found much game, consisting of deer, bear, wild turkeys, partridges, quail, rabbits, elk, moose, and many other animals which served as food. When they had erected a camp in a sheltered place in the forest the father spent his time in hunting to support his family. As he went from place to place through the forest he met a number of other hunters, whom he invited to visit [656]his camp. These visitors brought their wives along to see the newcomers. They were greatly surprised to find that the wife and the children spoke a strange language, which was not understood by any of the visitors, although easily comprehended by the husband. At last one of the visitors asked: “Of what clan are you?” directing his question to the wife of the host. The host replied for her: “She is of the Porcupine clan of the WaÑ'dat tribe. I am of the WaÑ'dat tribe, too.” After a long silence one of the visitors said: “How did you receive such a name?” The host replied, “The Porcupines gave me that name.” Then the visitors exclaimed: “We have found a new people, who are called WaÑ'dat, and we must love them as we do our own peoples and tribes. Let us greet them as our friends.”

From this time the family of the Porcupine clan of the WaÑ'dat had many friends and before a long time had passed they had become very numerous. The children of the women were called the Porcupine people. Their numbers made them powerful and influential. They were well fed and strong physically. They were fine hunters, knowing well where to find game of all kinds, where to gather nuts of all edible kinds and various kinds of berries and small fruits, and they knew also just where the wild pigeons had their roosts.

They noted the whereabouts of these places, and when the season was fully come their leaders and chiefs would call to their people in a loud voice: “Come! Let us go to feed ourselves abundantly where the wild pigeons have now prepared their roosts for the purpose of breeding.” At this time the wild pigeons were so numerous that many flocks stretched over large tracts of territory, darkening the light of the sun and making with their wings a loud rushing sound resembling that of an approaching tornado. Giving heed to the call of their leaders, the people would make the necessary preparations to go to the roosts of the wild pigeons. Having reached the designated place, the people quickly put up temporary camps and then went out at once to kill the squabs, which they brought to their lodges to broil and eat with boiled corn bread and corn soup. All were delighted with the bounty of nature—the gift of the Master of Life.

Having thus spent part of the summer killing wild pigeons, after the birds had departed, a leader among the people would say: “Oh! friends, cousins, and kindred, the deer have gone in this direction and are now fat and in good condition to be killed for food and for their skins. Let us then decamp now and go to the place where they may be found. Up and let us be going. Let us lose no time in delay.” So leaving the grounds of the pigeon roost early in the autumn, they would journey to the lands where the deer were accustomed to feed and to raise their young. There they would erect [657]temporary camps and make ready for the deer hunt. Then the good hunters led out small parties in quest of the deer and in this manner usually succeeded in killing large numbers of them. The venison they dried for their winter supply of food, and the skins they tanned into fine buckskin for leggings and moccasins and other garments; and so these people were warm and contented during the winter months. They shot the deer with bows and arrows and caught some with traps, in the setting of which they were adepts. Thus they made the natural food supply of their home country contribute to their welfare and comfort, and being well fed they were strong, alert, and resourceful.

These people were very observant of the phases and phenomena of nature, and had signs by which to foreknow coming events. Should they wish to know the degree of the cold of an approaching winter they would watch carefully the muskrats as they prepared their winter quarters. If the lining of the winter home of the animal was made thin the people would conclude that the coming winter would be mild; but if thick, that it would be severe.

Another sign from which they judged the severity of an approaching winter was the condition of the deerskins which they secured. If these were thin and if the hair on them was short and not close, the people would conclude that the coming winter would be mild. If the people saw the bears making their winter quarters of leaves early in the autumn they would infer that the approaching winter would be very severe.

If much hail fell during the autumn and winter the people concluded that there would be much fruit and many nuts the coming season.

Again, should a person traveling through the forest lose his way he would notice on which side of a tall straight tree trunk moss was growing. Assuming this to be the north side he would thus get his bearings.

Should a person see a rock damp from the humidity in the air he would forecast rain for the following day.

If a person observed wild ducks and wild geese disporting themselves actively in the water he would anticipate showers for three days.

The foregoing are some of the signs and omens which the Porcupine clan taught to their neighbors, and through these they were able to forecast coming events with great success. These things made the Porcupine clan of the WaÑ'dat tribe noted for wisdom and foresight. [658]

Concerning the origin of the Bear songs and dances the following legend is told by our ancestors, said a Seneca shaman. This is what took place when these songs and dances became manifest on their human side, or rather, became manifest in their relation to human beings in their quest of happiness.

In the past, it is said, a boy was kidnaped from a temporary camp of some hunters. It happened in this manner. A woman of the hunting party was left alone at the camp while the hunters were out in the forest for the day; it was her duty to keep the fire and to have food cooked when the hunters returned in the evening. The woman had a child, a boy, who was then nearly 2 years of age. The little fellow played outside of the lodge while his mother was busy around the fire or with her other duties inside of the lodge, feeling that her child could take care of himself in the meantime.

One day, when the men had gone on their usual hunting trips in the forest, the woman fell asleep while the child was outside of the lodge playing by himself. Suddenly he was surprised to see a strange man coming toward him. This man, whom the child did not know, came directly to the place where he was at play. When he reached the child he said: “My child, I have come for you. You shall go with me to our lodge. My children desire that you should visit us, and you and they shall play together regularly. The reason for this is that you are entirely alone, and they will amuse you so that your mind will be contented.” Then they two started away. They arrived at the lodge of the strange man, where they found two small boys of the same size who lived there. On entering the lodge the father said: “I have now brought here the person whom you two for a long time have desired me to bring to you, so now your wish has been fulfilled. You two must love and be kind to him; you must never hurt him; you two must not annoy or vex him; let there be peace and pleasantness during the time that he shall be on a visit to us. So, whatever happens, be kind to him.”

The three children went around from place to place and played together. The visiting boy observed carefully all that he saw in and about the lodge. He saw what these people were accustomed to eat; that they lived on various kinds of nuts, on honey, and on huckleberries, mulberries, and various other kinds of berries. All these things he understood. He saw, too, that they had plenty of corn, on which they lived, as well as on the berries and honey and nuts.

The visiting boy had been there for some time when it became the custom for him to accompany the other two children around from place to place; he would accompany them when they went out to [659]seek for nuts. He learned that they prized the chestnut above all other kinds of nuts; that next to these they highly prized honey; and next to this they prized huckleberries and mulberries. It was the custom of these people in gathering these things to work independently to get for themselves as much of these articles of food as was possible when they were in season.

After the lapse of many days spent thus the headman of this lodge, who had brought the child there, said to his little guest: “Now I am about to tell you something. You must tell the human beings when you have returned to your home what I will now reveal to you as our wishes. You shall tell them that we have strong desires that there might be found a way by which we could be enabled to give aid to mankind whenever they may be forced into a critical situation by means of sickness, which is wont to befall mankind. You shall know that we have observed in the past that disease travels about from place to place; and it comes to pass, as we have observed, that when it has selected its victim this person at once realizes that he has pains in a certain part of the body. It is well known that if they would remember to call on us we certainly have the power to cause this evil thing to turn aside so that it shall pass on one side or the other of the person, in such manner that the person will not become very ill and he will soon recover his usual health.

“Now look at what belongs to us and which it is our custom to use. Examine this carefully. It is this that we use when it so happens that a man while out hunting takes a course directly toward the place in which we abide. This object is held up before us, and the hunter is turned away from us.”

The young child, on looking at the object, saw a forked wooden rod in the hands of the strange man. Thereupon the man said to the child: “This is the way in which I regularly use this thing.” So saying, he held the forked rod up before himself, and continued: “The support of the forks must point toward the hunter, and as he follows the direction of the rod he is bound to pass on one or the other side of the place in which we abide. As he passes I guide the rod around past my side toward the rear of our position. Thus we ward off the hunter from finding and injuring us.

“It is this thing we shall use in giving aid to mankind in their necessities if they will only appeal to us to aid them, and this is the way in which we shall proceed to do so. In the first place, when the people desire to make their appeal to us they shall prepare a drink composed of huckleberries and of mulberries, into which they shall put maple sugar. When they have prepared this drink they shall collect native tobacco, which they shall cast upon the fire, at the same time saying: ‘Oh, you Bears! do you now partake of this native tobacco—tobacco which our Creator has provided for us, and with [660]which He intended that mankind should support their prayers to Him, no matter to what object of His creation they wished to direct their appeals.’ So, now, you Bears, who move from place to place in the forest, and all with whom you are united in bonds of mutual aid, we ask you to assist in bringing about such conditions that we shall think in peace, and that those who are being called away by death may recover health and contentment of mind.

“Now the drink of berry juices has been prepared and sweetened with maple sugar—the drink which you Bears so highly prize; and now mankind are about to assume your bodily forms, and they will then touch you in making their appeals to you. Then one shall cast native tobacco on the fire, at the same time saying, ‘Now, be it known that there shall begin the ceremony which is of you, Bears.’ Then the people shall be exsufflated451 by the masters of ceremony; and the people shall take a drink of the berry beverage, and in taking it each person shall say, ‘I give thanks unto you severally, you Bears.’ This is all that is necessary to be done. Then, verily, the duty devolves upon us to give aid to mankind. But when we are engaged in giving the aid we shall not be seen by mankind. Moreover, this shall be done. You must take back with you the songs which we are accustomed to use when we wish to enjoy ourselves in our dances.”

Thereupon, the strange man began to sing the songs, and these songs the child learned and brought back with him to his own lodge. In the songs the singer employs these words: “No matter what a human being may desire to do this shall accomplish his desire.” “I know all the virtues of the things that grow on plants on the earth.” These are the words of the songs which the child heard the strange man sing to him.

This is what took place in the lodge from which the child was stolen when the mother of the child awoke from her sleep. Finding that the boy was missing, she hunted for him everywhere. When the men returned from hunting they at once joined the mother in searching for the lost boy, but they failed to find him. They sought for him even to the banks of a river which flowed at some distance from the lodge; they even sought for the tracks of the boy on both sides of the river. Then, boarding canoes, they went up and down the river to learn if possible whether the child had been drowned or not, but they were unable to find any trace of him in the water. Next they turned their attention to the neighboring forest, which they thoroughly searched, but they did not find him.

By this time they were much troubled in mind because of the child who was lost, indeed. Then the father of the child went out to hunt, and when he returned he said to his wife: “It is, perhaps, the proper thing for us to prepare a ‘reunion’ feast; for it seems true that our child has perished.” Thereupon the mother set to work [661]preparing the food. When it was ready she placed it on the ground in the customary place for eating, and they two sat down to eat. Taking a portion of the food they were eating and setting it aside, the mother said: “As respects this food thy and my child does now become its owner and disposer.” Thus they finished their feast of “reunion of the living.”

After the lapse of some time the mother said to her husband: “Perhaps we two should now leave for our home, going back to our own people, because it is true that I am not at peace in my mind on account of what has happened to us.” The husband consented to her proposition, and they packed their meat and their small belongings and, boarding a canoe, started for their home. After their arrival at home the news of what happened to them spread among their people. After some days the mother of the lost child said to her husband: “Is it not perhaps a good thing for us to go back to the place in which our child was lost? It is now nearing the anniversary of the disappearance of our dear child, and it seems good that we two should be there when that time shall come again, so that we may prepare food there again just as we did when he was still with us.” Her husband replied: “Let it be done as you desire. I am willing to go.”

After making their usual preparations they again started for their hunting grounds. They went most of the way by canoe. At last they reached the place where they had encamped when their child was lost, and they kindled their fire in the same place again. Then the father went out to hunt as usual.

One day the mother said: “The day has now come which is the anniversary of the loss of our child. We two shall now have a feast of the ‘reunion of the living,’ and we shall set aside a portion for our lost child; and it shall come to pass just as if he were present with us.” So, as soon as the food was ready, she set it on the ground in the usual place and they two began to eat. She also took a portion of the food and, setting it aside, said: “This food which I have set aside I give to my child.” When they had finished this meal they gave thanks for life and for the food which nature supplied to them.

Then the mother of the lost child said: “Now, there is nothing for us to do but to start for our home. We will go back to the place where dwell our own people. We will do this because this place is so unpleasant, for indeed I can do nothing but think about the misfortune which befell us two in the days which have past.” Her husband, agreeing with her, said: “I see no reason why that, too, may not be done, for I, too, am in the same frame of mind as you are. My thoughts are not at all pleasant, so we will not remain here any longer.” [662]

At that time they left the hunting camp and started for home, where they soon arrived by canoe and a short land journey. On their way the woman took her seat in the bow of the canoe, while the husband sat in the stern and paddled. The woman wistfully viewed the banks of the river as they moved along rapidly. When they had gone quite a distance the woman noticed a mountain which stood on one side of the river, and which was covered with a dense growth of small shrubs and undergrowth. As she watched this mountain top she was surprised and agitated to see her lost child walking there at the edge of the dense undergrowth. At once recognizing him, she sprang up in the canoe, frantically exclaiming, “Oh! I see my and thy child again. Look, there he is walking along.” The father, too, recognized their son whom they mourned as dead and hastened to bring the canoe to the river bank at the point nearest to the place where the child had been seen. As soon as the canoe reached the land they both alighted. The father then went directly toward the child, who apparently awaited them; the mother was following at her husband’s heels. But as they approached him the child fled away into the shrubbery, and they pursued him. The father had some difficulty in overtaking him. When the father had caught him the mother came up to them. Then the delighted parents began to ask the child questions, but he did not give any answer. He did not seem to be able to make a reply, and they saw that the child was too much frightened to be able to understand them. So the father lifted him in his arms and carried him back to the canoe. They saw that his face and hands and feet were all still natural in appearance, but that the other parts of his body were covered with fine fur; in this respect he was just like a bear. Again boarding the canoe and hastening home, they soon arrived among their people.

After they had reached their home lodge the children of their neighbors came to visit the newcomer, and they began to play together. At first it was quite impossible for the recovered child to converse with the other children; it was a long time before he was again able to talk even a little. Gradually, however, he became able to carry on an extended conversation with them.

There soon came a time when he voluntarily began to relate to his father and mother the circumstances under which he had been lost to them. He told them that a strange man had carried him away to his home. The child carefully told what things he had seen that were strange to him, what he had seen when he had traveled around with the strange people, and what these people used for food. He said that the strange man who had taken him away had instructed him to carry back a message which he should relate in detail to his [663]people. This gave all that was necessary to enable them to perform the ceremony of the Bears, and he also taught the people all the songs of the Bears, which he had been taught by the Bear people expressly to be taught in turn to the people of the stolen child.

The child told the people that he had lived with the Bear people during the time he had been in captivity. He told the people the correct use of the forked rod of wood in turning away from the people the course of disease, by means of which the Bear people were able usually to cause the hunter to pass by the hiding place of bears, for which he might be on the hunt.

It was in this manner that the Bear ceremony was revealed to mankind, so that it is possible for them to perform it. Such is the legend of the origin of the Bear ceremony, as it is called.

This is the manner in which the origin of the Pigeon songs and dances was disclosed to human beings in ancient times. These birds had formed a nesting place, or one might say more properly that they had assembled at a so-called pigeon roost.

Having received knowledge of this fortunate circumstance a great number of men and women with their children, starting from their villages, went to the place where the pigeons had formed their roost. In time these people arrived at their rendezvous and they at once began to build their temporary camps according to their ohwachiras and clans and kindreds.

There went with this concourse of people a man who had just reached the age of puberty and who had no evil habits. He was a very good person. Then it came to pass that they began to travel from place to place through the roost to kill such pigeons as they needed. At this time the upright young man heard the tumult arising from the cries of the pigeons holding converse together and he also saw the pigeons in vast numbers wheeling in circles.

Suddenly he was greatly surprised to see flying among the pigeons one white in color as to its body. He watched it for a moment flying in circles, when, leaving the others, the white pigeon came flying toward the place where the upright young man was standing and alighted very near to him. At once the pigeon began to speak, saying: “Be it known to you that we have selected you to tell your people what it is we desire the most, what it is we most need. You must tell your chief that we do not like to have so many among you who are in this place who do not remember Him who has created us. There are indeed many whose thoughts are only of evil things which they desire to do to please themselves. We wish that those among you who have these thoughts should put away evil longings and purposes, [664]and we believe that whoever does not do so will suffer some grave misfortune.

“We further wish you and your people to join with us as a custom in offering thanksgivings to Him who created us when each day shall return to us, and also when each evening comes upon us. We think it is profitable that this should come to pass as I have suggested. You see us when the morning comes making a great tumult, and you hear us all talking while we circle around the place in which we have our roost. The reason for this action is the giving of thanks. We are offering thanksgivings to Him who has created our bodies. In the evening this again takes place; we again offer up thanksgivings to Him; and you see us then making circles around our roosting place, and there is the accompaniment of sound and the confusion of voices which you hear. Now, know this: We are performing the ceremony of the dance, and we are all singing. This signifies that we are happy; we are full of joy.

“We have no remonstrance to make against your coming to this place seeking to obtain the young growing persons of those whose bodies are such as ours. Indeed, you wish that these shall become a source of contentment and satisfaction—these, the offspring of the pigeons. So it is that we have none but the kindest of feelings toward you in this pursuit of your desires. You must know, too, that He who created our bodies has ordained that this (flesh) shall be for the welfare and contentment of human beings dwelling on the earth.

“You must know further that I, on whom you are looking, I, who am speaking to you, am indeed the oldest person among my people, and it is on account of my great age that they have chosen me to come to you to tell you our wishes and to teach you our songs. You, too, are able to sing them. It is needful that you shall enjoy yourselves; that you shall dance in order to do this; and that all your people who are here shall take part. In dancing you shall make circuits around the places where you have kindled your fires. When you have finished the singing and the dancing you shall go with your chief to make an offering of tobacco at the very border of our encampment, where you two shall stand to perform this ceremony. When you have kindled a fire you shall cast native tobacco thereon, and while thus occupied you must pray our Creator to permit you and your people to pass your period of sojourn here in health and in prosperity. At that time your chief, too, shall cast something on the fire—things of which you make daily use, and these objects shall become the prayer (the word)452 or message of the people. Furthermore, we together, your and my people, must unite in the performance of this ceremony, and we must also be of one accord when we make this prayer and request of the Creator of our bodies. [665]Now it is for you to return to your people and tell them fully what I have said to you. This is what I have to say.”

Then the upright young man replied to his pigeon friend: “Your proposition is agreeable to me, and I will fulfill my duty in the matter by telling my people all that you have said to me.”

Without further speaking the white pigeon mounted in the air and flew away. The young man, while watching it fly off, saw a large number of pigeons moving in a circle as they flew along; and he heard the birds sing, making a very loud sound, a tumult of voices. He listened very attentively for a long time and finally learned the songs which the pigeons were so loudly singing. Then he returned to his lodge and his own fireside.

At once he related in every detail all that the white pigeon had said to him. A messenger was sent for the chief of his clan, and when he arrived the upright young man again repeated all that the white pigeon had said to him as to the duties of the people who were there to hunt for squabs. When the chief had heard in great detail all that the young man reported he at once said: “Let this be done at once by us as has been proposed by the white pigeon. Let some one be detailed to make a collection of offerings, and then we shall proceed with the remainder of the ceremony.” Certain headmen were directed to make the collection of offerings. Going from lodge to lodge, they made a collection of various articles presented to them as offerings in the ceremony. Some gave wristlets, some bracelets, some necklaces, while others contributed articles of dress, moccasins, and tobacco of the native variety. When they had visited all the lodges they returned to the lodge of the upright young man, where he and their chief awaited them.

After they had properly arranged the offerings the chief said: “Let us now start; we will go toward the place whereon borders the pigeon roost or nesting place.” Then they two started, the chief and the upright young man. When they had reached the border of the pigeon roost they kindled there a very small fire, and the young man made an offering of native tobacco by casting it into the fire, at the same time asking the Creator for the health and welfare and contentment of all the people while they were at that place. His prayer was long and earnest, and when he ceased his invocation the chief stepped forward to begin his prayer. Bringing all the articles which had been offered and standing before the fire, he said in prayer: “Thou who hast created our bodies, here lie all those things by which we support our message (by which we support its head), all the words of our prayer. We offer these to Thee. Accept them as a testimony of our faith.” Then he laid all the objects which he had brought near the fire. Thereupon the two men returned to the lodge of the upright young man. [666]

When there they went at once from lodge to lodge to call a council of the people. As soon as the people had come together and had seated themselves according to their families and their clans the chief arose and addressed them. He urged them to repent of their evil deeds through self-condemnation and to offer up thanksgivings to their Creator in the morning and also in the evening; he said to them that this custom should continue forever, as it would bring health and prosperity and happiness to all those who practiced it. When he had finished his address on the need of observing faithfully the things which had been taught them by the Pigeon people, he said: “Now let us severally give thanksgivings to the Creator of our bodies, and, moreover, we will dance to the songs of the Pigeon people. Every person should take part in this ceremony.”

Thereupon the upright young man and the chief took their stations at the head of the line of dancers. When all were in line and ready the young man began to sing the songs of the pigeons, and all danced, following the leaders. In dancing they made a circuit of the lodges, moving slowly to the rhythm of the songs as they turned from the right toward the left. When the young man had sung all the songs the head of the line had reached the point of departure.

Then the chief, addressing the people, said: “We have now, indeed, performed this ceremony as it has been taught to us by the people of the pigeons; and when we shall depart from this place we must take back with us this ceremony, which will be of great benefit to us. We have learned these songs here from a superior people, and so we must cherish this ceremony. We have learned, too, that in dancing we must always make the circuit of the fires in one certain direction, namely, from the right toward the left. The reason for this is that you use your right hands either to seize or to release whatever you wish, so it is necessary that the right side at all times be on the outside of the circle of dancers, and that the part of the body in which lies our life shall at all times be on the inside of the line of dancers. Let us now make ready to start for our homes.” With loud shouts of approval and of exuberance of joy the dancers returned to their lodges to make preparations to depart for their homes.

Once there dwelt together a brother and his younger sister in a lodge.

The brother had a rich suit of hair, half of which was red and the other half black. It was the daily occupation of the brother to go out hunting, and the younger sister was contented. They lived thus in peace for a long time.

One morning the brother went out as usual to hunt. He had not been gone long when seemingly he returned, laughing and looking at [667]his younger sister, it is said. He took a seat by her side as she sat on her bed and embraced her, whereupon she said to him: “What has happened to you?” He made no reply but attempted to throw her backward on the bed while he tickled her. At this she exclaimed: “You are abusing me; you have never before acted in this manner;” and she struggled with him as he continued to grapple with her, until at last he went out of the lodge.

Not long after this episode her brother entered the lodge. Having been injured, she was weeping. Her brother said to her: “What has happened to you? Are you, perhaps, ill?” She made no reply and would not give him any food. Then she spoke to him, saying: “It is, indeed, an awful thing, the manner in which you have abused me, your own sister.” He answered: “What have I done to you?” She replied: “You abused me and tickled me, and desired to throw me on my back. This is the reason why my mind is troubled.” Answering, he said: “Not in the least could I abuse you, for I have too much compassion for you.” But she did not believe him. Then he continued, saying, “Now: it is, perhaps, my friend who has visited you and who looks exactly like me, having hair like mine, of which half is red.” Then she said: “That is not true; at all events, it was you who came into the lodge.” Thereupon he added: “My friend made this visit, because you have now arrived at womanhood. Not far away stands the lodge where mother and son live; the son is my friend.” She told him that she would not believe a thing he had said to her. He answered that whatever happened to him happened also to his friend.

The brother himself warmed up some food and ate his meal. In the morning his sister would not arise, for she was still very angry with him; so he himself prepared his morning meal and ate it. When he had finished eating it he went out to hunt. Before going, he said to his sister: “Do not think hard of the conduct of my friend, for he only desires to marry you.”

Just after the brother had left he (as she supposed) returned and seized her as she was walking along, and they struggled desperately in the lodge. She succeeded in scratching him in the face, whereupon he left the lodge and fled.

When the sun was nearly set her brother returned to the lodge. He said to his sister: “Oh, my younger sister! I fell among thorns and briers—that is why I am all scratched up.” She was indeed astonished at what he had told her, for had she not herself scratched him in the face? So she replied: “I for my part can not believe what you say.” Then she began as usual to weep.

Finally, the brother said: “My sister, you believe that it is I who act thus, but it shall be made evident that it is not I who am doing this. To-morrow as soon as I depart the man will return and will [668]enter the lodge. As soon as he starts to leave you must seize his robe of skin and pull it off, for it is exactly like mine in all respects.”

In the morning the brother started, as was his custom, on a hunting trip. After he had been gone only a short time a man suddenly entered the lodge and at once seized the lone sister, whereupon they struggled fiercely. When he attempted to throw her on the ground she exerted her whole might to free herself. Having failed in his purpose, he started to flee from the lodge. As the ends of his robe were flying about, catching hold of it, she drew it off, at which he went out of the lodge leaving the robe in her hands, as its fastening broke.

It was not very long after this episode when her brother reentered the lodge. He said to her: “Has he made another visit?” She replied: “Yes, of course, he has; it is you yourself returning.” She did not believe in the least what her brother was telling her, for she felt sure that it was he who was tormenting her. By this time her mind had greatly changed from normal, for she did not cease from lamenting her situation, being so worried to think that it was her own brother who had attempted to outrage her. She then handed him the torn robe, saying: “Here is this robe.” Taking it, he said: “There, now! that is certainly the robe of my friend. As to me, in hunting I had climbed a tree on which a bear lived and fell from it, and in the fall my robe was torn.” Laying the two robes together and finding that both were torn, he said: “Now you see what I have been saying all along has come true; whatever happens to me happens also to my friend;” and he added, “Well, do you now believe what I have been telling you?” Then she stopped her weeping and gazed at the robes as they lay together and she saw that they were exactly alike in every respect. Again he asked: “Well, now, do you believe what I have told you?” But she did not say anything in reply.

Then the brother said: “Your mind is still unchanged that it is I who am abusing you, so now this shall take place to-morrow. As soon as I start again I shall hide myself in a place near by. As soon as the man attempts to attack you again or to leave the lodge you must seize him and not let him go. Thereupon I shall come in and kill my friend, and then it may be that you will believe me in saying that it is not I but my friend who is abusing you. We two, of course, shall be doomed to death because of my act, for his mother has the power to transform herself into a great bear, so potent in sorcery is she.”

Since the beginning of this trouble the sister had not prepared food for her brother, and he himself made ready what food he needed and ate his meals. She refused to do her duty because she was very angry at him. [669]

In the morning, when he had finished his meal, he again started out to hunt, saying to his sister, “You must now carry out my instructions as I have given them to you.” He did not go to his hunting grounds, however, but hid himself near the lodge and kept a faithful watch on his home. He had been there quite a long time when suddenly he perceived his friend running toward the lodge, which he entered. After waiting a few minutes the brother ran to the lodge and on entering saw his sister and his friend struggling fiercely, the latter striving to get out of the lodge. As the brother entered the man let go at once of the sister, whereupon the former said: “My brother, my friend, now we are doomed to die. I can do nothing in the matter.” Making ready an arrow, with a twang it sped into the breast of the man, where it stuck quivering, while the victim, reeling, fell backward to the ground. Thus the brother killed the man who had been his friend. Drawing out the arrow he exclaimed: “Well, do you now believe what I have told you in this matter?” But his sister made no reply.

The strange man and the brother did indeed look alike. They were of the same height; they had the same kind of hair, half of it reddish in color; they had the same kind of raiment and their robes were alike, even to both having been torn.

Then the brother said to his sister: “Now, I suppose we must hide the body of this man, and, moreover, you must by all means aid me in this matter, for now, of course, we are both guilty. It had been better had you consented to what he desired, for he wanted to marry you. We will dig a grave where the fire burns—that is, under the fireplace.” Then they two dug a very deep grave under the fireplace, in which they placed his body. They took great pains in covering the grave, so that one would not know that a man’s body lay buried there. Over the spot they rekindled their fire, and thus finished the task.

The brother then said: “My younger sister, now have the courage to do the best you can, for we two in appearance at least must live as husband and wife, as it is certain that in one, or perhaps in two days the woman will come here. When she does it must appear that we are indeed husband and wife in order to mislead her.” Then he said further: “I shall not go to another place again; we shall remain here together.”

So they dwelt together thus until the next day. As soon as it was morning they sat together, because they constantly expected that at any moment the mother of the dead man would come in haste. Hence they lived as husband and wife, and the brother kept saying to his sister: “Be of good courage; you must do exactly as I tell you, for we must try to escape in order that we may live until we reach the distant place whence we two started.” [670]

When the sun had sunk low in the west the door flaps were thrust aside suddenly, and the old woman entered the lodge. They two who lived there were indeed husband and wife (in appearance). The old woman thereupon said: “Oh! I am exceedingly thankful that now for certain I have a daughter-in-law.” At this they two smiled.

The old woman said further: “I have misgivings in my mind, caused by the actions of your dogs. None of them will accept what I offer them for food. You should go there again to feed them, and you two might remain there once overnight.”

The young man replied: “So be it.” Just then the fire began to sing unexpectedly, and the fire spoke too, saying three times: “He, my friend, has killed me.” At this the old woman exclaimed: “Kyu-u'! It is frightful. It is an astonishing thing that is happening in the fireplace which you two have for yourselves; for it does not cease from saying: ‘My friend has killed me, there in your fire.’ ” The young man answered: “I do not know anything about the thing concerning which you are perplexed.” Reaching for an arrow, he scraped it, saying: “It is so that we two, I and my friend, use the fire for the scrapings from our arrows;” and thereupon he threw the scrapings into the fire. At once the voice from the fire pit exclaimed several times very rapidly: “My friend has killed me!” The young man again said: “We use the fire for the scrapings from our arrows.” The old woman exclaimed: “Kyu-u'. You two have no sense,” and she then departed. The young man said to her as she was leaving the lodge: “We will soon be there.”

When they were alone he said to his sister: “It is just as I have been saying right along: we two are about to meet our death.” He believed that she was in great fear, so he added, “Do you have courage; and do not let it appear that you fear anything.” Just as the sun sank low in the west they started for the place where stood the lodge of the old woman. They arrived there just before night. As they entered the lodge and sat down in the place where the friend of the young man was accustomed to sit they were surprised to see standing on one side a screech owl and on the other a horned owl. They were more distressed when the screech owl sang out, “It is another, it is another, it is another, it is another.” Then the old woman said: “Lo! This is happening all the time, and it gives me a troubled mind.” The young man answered her: “It is very strange that you pay any heed to the various notes of the screech owl,” and he said to the owl: “Here, this is what you eat,” giving it meat. It stopped uttering its warning notes and merely repeated its usual note thrice, saying, “Ho-ho-ho-wa'.”

Then all lay down for the night, and the brother and sister lay together in the place where the dead friend of the brother was accustomed to lie. All of a sudden the horned owl cried out: “Hi, [671]hi, hi, hi; he takes to wife his younger sister.” This it repeated thrice. At once the old woman arose, saying: “Why do you two not stop it constantly saying, ‘He takes to wife his younger sister.’ ” But the young man exclaimed: “Fie upon it! Why do you pay any attention to all the notes made by a common horned owl?” With these words he again gave it meat, which it greedily seized as he said to it: “Here, take this; it is what you eat.” As soon as it had finished eating the meat it resumed its regular note, “Hi, hi, hi, hi.” Then the young man said to his suspicious host: “So let it be; now lie down again.” However, the old woman continued to grow more and more suspicious, for she began to believe that something had perhaps happened to her son and that he was no longer alive. At midnight the brother said to his sister: “You must lie as still as possible and I, too, shall do the same; we must pretend to be asleep.” They at once began seemingly to snore, but of course they were not snoring; they did not know what the old woman would do should they fall asleep.

The old woman arose very stealthily while the notes of the owls continued, the screech owl saying, “It is another, it is another, it is another,” and the horned owl, “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he takes his younger sister to wife.” Creeping slowly over to the spot where the two were lying, and thrusting her hand under the coverings, the old woman made an examination of their private parts, after which she exclaimed: “Pshaw! Of course things are as they are with those who do as married people are accustomed.” Then she went back to her part of the lodge and again lay down.

In the morning the old woman prepared the morning meal, and all ate their breakfast. When they had finished eating the old woman said: “I have mysterious premonitions. I visited the place there where thy friend has kindled a fire, and it says continually, ‘My own friend has killed me; my own friend has killed me; my own friend has killed me.’ ” The young man replied: “Pshaw! It is foolish to pay any attention to that noise, for it is caused by our scraping arrows there.” As he spoke he got his arrow and began scraping it, and cast the litter into the fire, whereupon the fire said several times, “My own friend has killed me.” He added, “Now cease paying any attention to such idle things.” The old woman replied, “So be it, as you say.”

Then the young man said: “Oh, mother! We two will now go back to the other place. I said that of a certainty we would remain here only one night, and perhaps now my brother-in-law is anxious about us.” The old woman replied: “So let it be as you have spoken.” He answered: “In two days we two will return again.” So they started for their home, where they arrived all right. Then the young man said to his sister: “The only thing left for us [672]to do is to make preparations to escape. You shall take the lead and I will remain, and I shall overtake you if it so be that I shall survive.”

The brother then drew from under the couch whereon he was accustomed to lie a small case and took therefrom a very small black dog and a little rod of red willow. He used the rod to tap lightly the dog, which immediately began to grow in size. At first he said: “It is not yet large enough,” although the dog was then of the size of ordinary dogs. So he tapped it again and it continued to grow and had now reached the size of the largest kind of dogs. Yet he said: “Still I do not think the dog is large enough, for it is not yet large enough for you to ride astride of it;” so he tapped it with still other blows, which caused it to grow in size. It had become at last a very large dog.

Having done this, he said to his sister: “You two shall go together. This shall be done on the way: As soon as you become wearied, the dog will stop beside a tree, and then you must descend from his back; and as soon as he becomes tired he will likewise stop beside a tree. You must watch for this, and then you must descend from his back, and run ahead as fast as it is possible for you to go. Thus you two must make your way homeward. You must keep a course directly eastward without fail. You two must remain in camp at night on the way; and you, my sister, must lie down beside the dog’s body. You two must not get far apart from each other, and you must take rests. He himself knows when you should rest, and you must regulate your actions by what he does, for it is a fact that he is our brother. You must know, too, that it is uncertain whether you will see the old woman, who is immune to the arts of sorcery and who, too, is able, it may be, to overcome our orenda (magic power). It seems uncertain whether you shall again see Hahadodagwat?ha; it is uncertain, I say, for verily, it is I who am called Hahadodagwat?ha.” Then he added: “Now, you two flee;” whereupon the younger sister mounted the dog’s back, and her brother again spoke to her, saying: “Have courage. We shall have the good fortune of your safe arrival in the place where our mother dwells.”

Thereupon, the two started away in great haste, the brother remaining alone in the lodge.

As the sister rode the dog, he would stop beside a tree, whereupon she would say: “Oh, now! my brother has become quite wretched, and I suppose he is now very tired.” With this she would descend from his back, and they two would go on. They kept a certain course directly toward the east. Having gone a great distance, they two would stop for the night, and the young woman lay down right beside the dog. In the morning they would again start on their journey. After going only a short distance, the dog would again stop [673]beside a tree. Then the young woman would say: “Oh! my brother is to be pitied; now he wants to bear me again on his back, I suppose.” So saying, she would mount the dog, which at once would start running with her. When at midday the dog stopped beside a tree, the woman said: “I suppose he is now tired out,” descending from his back. As the dog crouched down she decided that it desired that they should take some rest. Then the dog lay down near by, and she seated herself close to him, saying: “I suppose he is now asleep, being very tired.”

Thus, she sat for a long time looking around. Suddenly a fine-looking bird alighted near her, which she resolved to catch. When she was about to seize it, the bird would fly away, but would usually alight again a little way from its former perch. When the young woman would run up to it with the intention of seizing it, it would fly away just in time to foil her purpose. Thus she pursued it a little farther, still a little farther, but could not catch it, although she was determined to do so.

Suddenly she heard the loud barking of a dog which was approaching, saying, Wu', wu', wu', and at once she ran toward the place, then quite distant, where lay the dog. When she returned to this place the dog was gone, for it had resumed its course and was barking as it went farther and farther. At last it disappeared in the distance. Then the young woman began to weep, indeed, and she repeated the words of her elder brother: “You must not change your course, but you must keep going directly eastward.” While she was so engaged her brother, Hahadodagwat?ha, arrived there, having overtaken her.

He remained for two days, when the footsteps of some one were heard by him, and suddenly the old woman, entering the lodge, said: “Lo! Where is your wife?” He answered: “Did you not meet them on the way?” “I did not,” she replied. He said to her: “It may be that while you and they were gathering things by the way you missed one another.” The old woman answered: “Oh, that is true, of course, I suppose. Without ceasing, his pets are uttering notes. At times my mind is deeply troubled by this state of affairs. So let it be. I shall now go back to the other place, for they have probably arrived there now.”

In a very short time the old woman departed for her home. Running through bypaths, the young man reached it ahead of the old woman, who found him sitting there when she arrived. Her son’s pets were making a great noise when she entered the lodge, whereupon she said: “Lo! Where is my daughter-in-law?” He answered her sneeringly: “Pshaw! My daughter-in-law, you say! Why, she has gone home. When she and I returned there all the food was exhausted, so she longed for her mother. I said that in two days’ time [674]we would return here.” Thereupon the screech owl kept saying: “It is another one, it is another one, it is another one,” while the horned owl said: “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he has taken his younger sister to wife; hi, hi, hi, hi.” Finally, the old woman exclaimed: “I am beginning to give attention to what is being said, for they have never before during the time you have had them as pets acted in this manner.” In reply the young man said: “Pshaw! you are all the time paying attention to what they are saying; instead you must give them meat, and then they will stop as usual. This is all you have to do to quiet them.” Then he started for his own lodge, saying: “After two days’ time you must again go there.”

The only thing he did when he arrived at his lodge was to make preparations for leaving, and when everything was ready he departed. He followed his sister, keeping on the track made by the dog as it ran along homeward. He had fled some distance when his body became very weak.

At the end of two days the old woman went to the lodge of the young people, where she found no one. Turning to the fire pit in her great anxiety she was surprised by hearing the fire again say, thrice in succession: “My friend has killed me.” Thus it spoke. Thereupon the old woman said: “Oh! my son lies there where I have been thinking he lay all the time. It is exceedingly dismal to think of.” Then she began to dig up the fireplace; and she found him lying there with his face upturned and an arrow sticking through the middle of his breast. At this discovery she began to weep and lament, saying: “Oh, my dear child! you have indeed become wretched. When I have killed them I will return to pay the last rites to you.” So saying, she went out of the lodge and started for her home.

Having arrived at her lodge, she took from a bark receptacle in which it was kept hickory-nut meat and ate it, making the sounds, “GaoÑ', gaoÑ', gaoÑ',” and saying, too, “I shall fortify my body with this meat.” When she had finished eating her meal she went out of the lodge, and going to a neighboring tree, by her great strength she tore off a great part of it with her paws. Exclaiming, “I do not think that this will suffice,” she reentered the lodge and ate more of the hickory-nut meat. Then she exclaimed, “Now I wonder whether this will do.” Going again to the tree she tore it into shreds, and then exclaimed, “This is now sufficient; I have strength enough.”

Then she started away, running swiftly. She had become a bear of enormous size and power. Going to the place where the tracks of the fugitives showed the direction they had taken, and placing her paws on the path along which they had fled, she exclaimed: “It is impossible for you to escape even though you should have gone to the end of the earth.” With these words she started in pursuit of the fugitives. As she ran along she often placed her paws on the [675]track made by the young man, and this act caused him to reel and stagger, so potent with evil orenda was the body of the old woman. They were at this time two days’ journey apart, but the old woman, who had transformed herself into a huge bear, was rapidly overtaking the fugitives, every moment drawing nearer and nearer to them, for she was indeed running rapidly.

Finally the young man overheard the old woman, who had resumed her real character (that of a great bear), say: “Thou shalt surely die.” As he listened to the words he drew from his fawn-skin pouch the feather of a wild pigeon. Casting this back of him he made the invocation: “Right away let there be a roost of pigeons here and let their numbers be so great that their droppings shall form a rampart stretching across the world and equal in height to half that of the tallest tree.” As soon as he had finished speaking the air resounded with the sounds made by the alighting of many thousands of wild pigeons; among these sounds one heard, GÄk, gÄk, gÄk, gÄk, and Dum—m.453

There was no possibility for anyone else to possess more orenda than that possessed by the young man; so he passed on, and behind him the great bear came on a run. The monster arrived at the roosting place of the wild pigeons. There was a rampart of their droppings extending upward half the height of the tallest trees. The bear made an attempt to force its way through the great rampart of droppings, but was unable to do so, merely becoming thoroughly covered with the filth. It was not easy for the monster to extricate herself from the great rampart, hence she decided on another course of action.

She started on a run along the rampart’s edge, saying: “There has never been a time when a pigeon roost extended across the world.” After following the rampart for a long time she became tired and returned to the place where the tracks of the fugitive seemingly entered the rampart, where she lay down for the night. In the morning there was nothing to be seen, for the rampart had disappeared. Thereupon the bear exclaimed: “How exceedingly unfortunate this is; verily, he is a great wizard.” Starting in pursuit again, she placed her paws on the track of the young man, causing him to stagger and reel.

Not long after this he heard her speak again, saying: “Thou shalt surely die.” At these words the young man took from his pouch a piece of rock, which he cast behind him with the words: “Let a rock cliff rise here at once which shall reach across the world and which nothing shall have the power of clearing, nothing that has unusual orenda.” With this the young man passed on, but as soon as he had ceased speaking the rock cliff stood complete. In a short time the great bear arrived at this cliff. She failed in an attempt to go [676]through in several places, as it was impossible for her to pass this obstruction. Next she ran along the side of the cliff, saying: “We have never heard of a rock cliff that extends across the world.” But after going a long distance the bear, becoming weary, returned to the spot where the track of the young man disappeared under the cliff. There she stopped for the night. In the morning there was no rock cliff to be found, whereupon the great bear said: “How exceedingly distressing this is.” At once placing her paw on the track made by the young man, she added: “Indeed, he is a mighty wizard.” At this the fugitive reeled and staggered, and the old woman in the form of a great bear again pursued him.

He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard ahead the singing of a man: Agada'ÄdjoÑ'niga so'dji' eÑ'' agwas' deiodi'Ä'det. When the young man came up to him the singer said: “My dear nephew, have courage. I shall detain the monster with difficulties. It has not been long since your younger sister passed here, and now there is nothing intervening. So have courage. Your mother’s lodge stands not far from here.”

So the young man passed on. The man who had been singing set up many pikes, and when he had finished his work he was surprised to see coming toward him a great beast. Soon the bear came up to the place where he set his pikes and assaulted them with great force. These gave way to a small extent, whereupon the two, the great bear and the man, who had now assumed his true character, grappled. In their long struggle the pikes were broken, and the great bear, at once freeing herself, again ran onward.

Suddenly the young man saw running ahead of him his sister, who was nearly exhausted. Overtaking her, the young man said to her after seizing her arm: “Have courage, my younger sister. We are to die perhaps, I think.”

They lost no time but at once fled. They went a long distance before they stopped to camp for the night. In the morning he said: “We will take this direction.” Having cut a rod of red willow he struck the dog with it three blows. At once the animal became very small and he placed it in his bosom.

At the point toward which they were running they suddenly saw what seemed to be a rock cliff, in which was an open cavern. Out of this a female personage was looking and saying: “Have courage, my children. You two will live if you will come in here.” At that time the brother was dragging his sister along, so exhausted had she become. As they came to the entrance to the cavern the woman thrust out her hand, and seizing the arm of the young woman, helped draw her into the cavern, while the young man also entered. The woman exclaimed: “I am thankful that you two have returned alive. That animal which is coming on the run shall suffer for this.” [677]

It so happened that there was a kettle of boiling oil over the fire; this boiling oil was bear’s fat. The beast came on the run to the opening of the cavern, and, crouching low, thrust in her nose. At once the mother of the two fugitives cast a ladleful of boiling oil into the face of the great bear. The pain caused made the bear fall over backward some distance from the cavern, and she began to howl and writhe around on the ground. But the relentless old woman carried out the kettle of boiling oil to the spot and poured the remainder on her enemy, which finally died there in great agony, just as the old woman had threatened.

Then the old woman, their mother, said to the two returned children: “You two who have been absent for so long a time have now returned home again; and I suppose that you would have been made captives had you not escaped. Now, you and I will dwell together again.” Thereafter the mother and her children were again contented in their minds and dwelt together happily.454

Suddenly he saw a man lying prostrate with his feet in the water, who was groaning and saying, 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?, 'eÑ?. Hahadodagwat?ha said to him: “Well, what is the matter with you, my friend?” The man replied: “I am very ill; have pity on me and take me to a dry place and lay me there.” Unsuspecting, the young man said: “So be it. I suppose that I can carry you on my back.” When he knelt down, the strange man had great difficulty in getting on his back and in securing a hold on the young man’s neck.

Then Hahadodagwat?ha arose, and going a short distance to a dry and pleasant piece of ground, said to his patient: “Now, you can lie here.” But the stranger replied: “Oh! just a little farther.” But Hahadodagwat?ha answered, “Lie down here.” The man would not consent to dismount, however, but kept on saying: “Only a little farther.” So Hahadodagwat?ha went some distance, when he said again: “Now, get off; this is a fine place in which you can lie down.” But the man persisted in saying: “Only a little farther.” Hahadodagwat?ha would not consent to carry him any farther, saying: “You must now get down by all means.” Thereupon he began to shake himself with great violence, saying: “Get down! Why do you not get down?” But the man would not get off his back, although Hahadodagwat?ha told him that he was very tired. Then, going to a hickory tree standing near by, Hahadodagwat?ha said: “If you do not get down, I will rub you off against this tree;” but the man remained without making any reply. Hahadodagwat?ha rubbed his body violently against the hickory tree standing there, saying the while: “Why do you not get down?” But he himself was injured by the rubbing, so he gave up the task. He said: “This man has caused me great (prospective) trouble.” For a long time he continued [678]bearing his burden around from place to place. Finally he exclaimed: “It is very distressing to me that you do not get off my back.”

At last Hahadodagwat?ha decided on more heroic measures. He kindled a lot of dry fagots, and he made a large and very hot fire. Then he asked the man again: “What have you decided to do? Why do you not get off my back?” Making no reply, the man remained on his back. Thereupon the young man proceeded to lie down with his back to the fire in an attempt to burn off his tormentor. But the man, notwithstanding the great heat, stuck fast. In a short time Hahadodagwat?ha himself was not able to stand the intense heat, for his own skin began to scorch. Being thus baffled again, he stood up. He said to his tormentor: “This conduct on your part is very distressing to me; now you and I must die together.” But he received no reply from the man. Hahadodagwat?ha was indeed very tired from carrying this burden around from place to place. Finally he decided on another course of action. Going to a very high and steep cliff and lying down on the edge, he said to his tormentor: “I will roll over the brink unless you get off my back.” There was no reply to these remonstrances. The man merely kept on breathing. Lastly Hahadodagwat?ha said to him thrice: “Now, get off my back;” but the man remained silent, as before. Thereupon the former exclaimed: “We two now die!” at the same time rolling over the brink. The two turned over and over, but fell slowly, their bodies finally coming down very lightly on the bottom of the chasm. Then the young man said: “Now, get off of my back; I am very tired.” Still the man would not in the least heed this pleading.

Once more the young man said: “You shall now get off my back.” Going aside, he stripped off basswood bark, of which he made a noose. Climbing an elm tree near by, he carried his burden to the very top, where he fastened the rope to a large branch and the noose around the neck of the man on his back and also around his own. When he was ready he again said: “Look here! If you do not get off my back, we two shall die now indeed.” But the man made no reply. Then the young man said: “I will now cast my body down to that place yonder.” Before doing so he again asked the man: “Shall we two live? It is for you to decide. Get down from my back.” But still he received no reply to his pleadings. Without further parley he said: “Now, we two shall die,” and cast himself down. But the great branch broke off455 and floated down slowly until it rested on the ground. Arising, the young man said: “This is exceedingly distressing to me. You have made me very tired, and I am almost exhausted.” But he received no mercy from the man. [679]

Suddenly he remembered that he had in his bosom a very small dog, whereupon he started to find a red-willow rod, bearing at the same time his burden. Soon he found the desired rod, which he cut off. Taking from his bosom the dog, which was black in color, he began to strike it with the red-willow rod. At once the dog began to increase greatly in size; soon it became the usual size of dogs. Additional strokes caused it to grow larger and larger until at last it attained the size of a very large bear, one of the largest known. Then the young man said to the dog: “My servant, remove from my back the body of the man who is clinging there,” saying “Wa''s.” At once the monstrous dog, seizing the man by the back of the neck, began to shake him with great force. The body of Hahadodagwat?ha was whirled about in the terrific struggle, in which the gripped opponents fell and arose in many places; the struggle lasted until the dog seized the man by the throat and began to choke him. In a short time it was able to pull off the man and to fling his body aside. Then Hahadodagwat?ha sat near by until his tormentor died, for he himself was entirely exhausted.

Then he said: “Come here, my dog! I am thankful to you, for you have saved me from destruction. You are the cause of my being now alive. Let us two start for home and let us go to the place where dwell together they who are your brothers.” So they started and went on for some distance and then encamped for the night. Thereupon the young man said: “As regards me, I am very hungry; so it behooves you to kill a deer.” At once the dog ran afar off, and in a short time it returned, dragging along the body of a fawn. This the young man skinned, and after quartering the carcass he set pieces of it all around the fire to roast. It was night, and when the roasts were done they two ate their supper, the man and the dog, sharing the meat. In the morning they again started for their home, and they kept traveling until they stopped for the night. In turn the young man went hunting for raccoons, climbing a tree in order to kill them. Having dressed and cooked a raccoon, they ate it. When they had finished eating, they laid down together, the man and his dog.

In the morning they two started, and they had not gone far when they saw in the distance a lodge. In this they were surprised to find a man half of whose hair was red, and there they found, too, the younger sister of the young man. The latter said: “Now has returned our brother who was lost, the Dog.” They asked him: “Where did you two meet?” He answered: “We met at the place of high cliffs. It was he who saved my life when I was in danger of death. This is the reason why we have been able to return to the place where you two, his brother and sister, dwell and where your mother also dwells. Now I give myself up here where you dwell, and we shall all be together always, because he has saved my life and is [680]your brother. I, too, am a master of game and a good hunter. So we shall be very contented in our minds.” Then the man half of whose hair was red said: “So be it. I, too, am a good hunter, and I will also help to make ourselves contented.” Thus did they make a compact that they would all compose a single family for all time.

This is the length of the legend.

In times past there was a boy who spent his time in hunting birds to kill and in cooking and eating them.

On one of his expeditions he came to a large rock, beside which he took his seat to rest, for it was drawing toward sunset, and began to make arrow points.

While seated there a man spoke, saying: “I shall relate a story.” The boy at once began to look around to learn who it was that had spoken. He finally came to the conclusion that it was the rock beside which he was sitting that had spoken for his benefit. In reply the boy said: “What is the name of it?” The man answered: “It is called a fable (tradition); now you must make me a present of a bird (for telling you this story).” The boy, replying “So be it,” left one on the rock. Then the man again spoke, saying: “You must return here; I shall relate a legend, but as to us we remained at home in the world that was.” And the boy went home.

In the evening the boy returned to the rock and seated himself upon it. Thereupon the man said: “Well, now, I shall say that you must speak; you must say, ‘What?’ I shall tell you what is called a legend. As soon as I make an end of telling one legend I may go on with another. But if you become sleepy, as you may, you must tell me, and we will take a rest; and you can come again to-morrow evening.”

The boy hunted birds, and he had many different persons to accompany him. He said to each: “You must accompany me (to hear) a man telling legends, as I think they are called. In the evening they two would take their seats on the rock and listen until they became sleepy, and then all would take a rest for the night. The next day they two would again return to the rock, and finally other persons followed them to the place. In the evening they would again sit around, and the man would relate another legend. On the following evening they would again repair to the rock. There were now a large number who went to the place where the great rock stood; and the man would again tell a legend. In this manner did it come to pass that there are legends in the world, as these stories are called.

Finally the man at the rock said to the boy: “You will grow old in years. You shall use these legends to aid yourself in your old [681]age (by telling them to persons who will pay you for doing so). So it came to pass that as the boy became old he did not cease telling legends.

It was in this manner. When in the evening he would tell a legend some brought on their backs loads of wood for fuel; others brought meat; others brought bread; and still others brought tobacco. These things were left in the lodge of the old man who had been at the rock when a boy. People gave him these things to repay him for telling them some legend. Many times the lodge would be full of people who had come to hear him relate the legends of their people.

So it was that legends came into being, for the people of the former other world were people who possessed great and powerful orenda. The stories of their acts have become the legends of this world. The scene of this story was laid in the former world.

The end.

In ancient times this event came to pass as other like things had taken place. A man went out to hunt on the game preserve of his people.

It so happened that he camped in the night in a large forest. He had four hunting dogs with him. There he made his camp and kindled a fire for the night, and in due time the hunter and his dogs fell asleep. Some time after this the dogs began to bark, and one went to inform the hunter of his danger. Shaking him to arouse him, it said: “I think that we shall now die; near here are men who are very large in size going about stealthily. They must be, I think, what are called Genonsgwa.” Thus did the dog speak, and continuing, he said: “Perhaps there is (time) yet in which you yourself may escape. As to the beast, as much as lies in our power and opportunity we shall attempt to prevent it from overtaking you. So you must do this: You must make three torches, which you must carry and which will suffice, I think, for your purpose in reaching the place where dwell other human beings. You must do thus when you see a forked branch your height above the ground; you must insert one of the torches therein as you pass along, when the torch is nearly burned out; this will become a hindrance to the Genonsgwa, for he will think that you may be near at hand taking a rest and will stop without fail. This will be an aid to you, for you can then gain a good start on him. Then at a suitable distance you must insert another one of the nearly-burned-out torches.”

At that moment he heard the dogs approach, barking, from the direction in which he had come, and he fled with all possible speed. When he had only one torch left he heard the barking of the dogs [682]quite near him, for they had reached the place in which he had fixed the second torch. When the man arrived there it became evident to him from the sounds he heard that one of the dogs had just been killed in the distance. Thereupon the hunter stirred up the firebrands to cause them to blaze up and throw out more light. Soon they gave sufficient light to enable him to see as far as the tree indicated by the dog, behind which the strange man, or being, moved around stealthily; with great hands he held to the tree and he had, too, very long legs. Having made the needed preparations, the hunter at once fled from the place.

Having reached a point out of sight of his camp, when his torch that he was carrying was nearly extinguished, he heard sounds which told him that another dog had been killed, and he knew, too, from this that the Genonsgwa was close at hand. Remembering the advice of the first dog that informed him of his danger, he began to cry out the sign of distress, Go'we?, go'we?, go'we?, for he was then aware that the settlement of his people was not far away. They were still all awake and, hearing the cries of distress in the distance, they at once ran in the direction from which these came. Having reached the place, they found the man. The Genonsgwa was then very close to the hunter, who was nearly exhausted. The latter fell into the circle of his friends none too soon, for the Genonsgwa, seizing him by the leg, tore off some flesh. Then at once he turned, fled from the people, and disappeared, and no one knew whither he had escaped.

The end.

It so happened in times past that three warriors left their homes for distant regions. They started away for the purpose of killing any people whom they might find in order to obtain their scalps. So they would travel for many days, and when they observed that they had arrived near a settlement they would conceal themselves, and one or more spies would be sent out by night to make a reconnaissance for the purpose of learning when, where, and how to make the attack.

It was a custom with them for the chief or leader of the little party to say: “Who will volunteer to go to investigate that light which appears in the distance?” Thereupon one of the warriors would reply: “I will go to reconnoiter that light,” and he would go, if alone, without definite instructions as to how he might find his companions in case he had to retreat; but if two decided to go, they would first agree on some point as a rendezvous in case they should have to retreat in haste. Then the spy or spies would go to the place whence the light had appeared. Having arrived there, he would [683]manage to crawl stealthily into the shelters or lodges he might find, and he would also find the inmates lying asleep and their garments hanging on the supports of the structures.

In making such a reconnaissance one of the spies found the inmates asleep, and he saw that their garments, which were of stone, were set up against the trees which stood near by. He was surprised by one of these sleepers arising and saying to him: “What are you doing here? What do you want?” The spy replied: “I do not want anything; I intend nothing; I want peace.” But the other person said to him: “You intend, as you know, to kill all persons who may fall into your power; so you and I shall fight. That is verily what you and your companions are doing on your way here; you come with the intention of fighting all persons whom you do not fear. To-morrow at midday you and I shall meet face to face yonder in a place not far from here, in a valley which is very deep and has very high cliffs. You shall enter it from one entrance and I from the other, and there in the valley we shall meet.” He said this and ceased speaking. The spy replied: “So let it be.”

Having returned to the camp of his companions, the spy told what he had seen, saying: “I have seen a distressing sight. I saw beings who had assumed human forms and actions but who were not human. I saw their clothes, which were stone in material,458 set up against the trees about their camp. One of their number arose and said to me, ‘What are your intentions?’ I replied, ‘Nothing; only peace;’ but he as quickly said: ‘You desire to kill all persons who may fall into your power; so to-morrow at midday in a valley that is near here, and that is very deep, we, you and I, shall meet; you must enter it from the opposite side, and I shall enter it from this side; then you and I shall fight.’ I do not think that we have the ability to overcome and kill these people. They are numerous, forming a large body.”

The chief of the little party remained silent, thinking over the situation. Finally he said: “By means of a sacrifice we must ask Him who has made our lives to aid us in the coming battle. Moreover, we shall use in the sacrifice of prayer native tobacco, which I shall now cast on the fire.” Then he took from his pouch native tobacco, which he cast on the fire with the following words: “Thou who hast made our lives, give most attentive ear to the thing I am about to say. Now we are about to die. Do Thou aid us to the utmost of Thy power. Thou, ruler, it was Thou who gavest us this native tobacco; it is this that I am now employing. Here, take it; it is offered to Thee. Thou hast promised us that Thou wilt always be listening when we ask in prayer by sacrifice. Now, it matters not whether Thou Thyself shall stand here, or whether it shall come by the way of a dream, do Thou tell us fully what we must do in this crisis which [684]Thou knowest confronts us so closely. Now I finish my tale. So it is enough. Now, moreover, we will lie down to sleep.”

Then they lay down to sleep. At midnight the chief, who was awake, heard some one speak there, saying: “I have heard your prayers asking me to aid you; so now I have arrived here. In this manner you must do, to-morrow. Verily, you two have agreed to meet in the deep valley at midday. You must act in this manner. You must go along the top of the ridge at the cliff’s edge, and you must lie prone, resting on your elbows; this you must do before it is midday. You must remain perfectly still, and you must not carry out your agreement with them. Then you must watch the opposite cliff, and as soon as you see a bear on the run there you must shout Pa—'a p-hu-e. Then you must retreat a short distance and stop, whereupon you shall see how truly I will aid you. You will hear them when they come into the valley, for the sound tau—u which they will make will be very loud.”

The men followed the directions given them by their Creator, to whom they had appealed in their extremity, and went to the cliff and lay down just as they had been instructed to do. They had not waited long before they heard their enemies coming along in the valley, with their chief singing as they marched. The chief of the warriors was intently watching the opposite cliff, when suddenly he saw a bear running along on the edge of it. At this he shouted, as he had been instructed to do, Pa—'a p-hu-e, and then, quickly arising and turning back, they fled; but after going a short distance they stopped, and turning around, they looked back to see what was taking place in the valley. As they watched, the sound of the oncoming of the Genonsgwa increased in volume and intensity; and when they had all got into the valley the sound of their marching became a veritable roar, sounding like doo-o.

Now they saw what astonished them; they saw the earth from the sides of the valley fall into it, carrying with it the forests which grew on it in the region of the valley. At once the sounds of the marching of the Genonsgwa died out, and the only sounds they then heard were the breaking and crashing of the trees as they settled down under the mountains of earth that fell into the valley. Then they heard the voice of their Creator saying: “What you asked of me has been granted in full. I am He whom you usually call Our Master. Verily, I continue to aid you, who are called the Seneca people. I aid you in all things, in ball-playing, in foot-racing, and in warfare. Now you shall go to your homes, to the places where your dwelling-places are. Never in the future must you do what you were doing. It is much better that you shall settle all differences which you may have with all other peoples. You must stop your present course, for if you do not do so, you yourselves shall bleed in turn. So you must [685]make peace with all your neighbors, must bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the bow and the arrow, and the battle-ax. All these you must bury in the ground, and you must leave them there, and thus put them out of the world. Now I am through.”

Then the warriors started for home and soon arrived at their dwelling places. Immediately the chief assembled the people; he went through the village, and as he walked along he said to them: “We will hold a council, and we must assemble in the Long lodge; we must assemble there early in the morning as soon as the morning meal has been eaten. Everyone must be there—children and women; the entire body of this people must be there to listen to the tiding which we have brought back.”

Early the next morning the chief made a second announcement, saying: “We will hold a council to-day.” So a large body of persons gathered in the Long lodge in which was the council chamber, and when they had taken their places the chief arose and addressed them thus: “You must give strict attention to what we have to say to you. We have been absent in distant regions, where we had intended to kill any people whom we might find. There we saw people such as we had never seen before, for their garments were of stone. It is probable that we never could kill them; they were very numerous. It so happened that we encamped very near them and that when they kindled their fire we saw it in the distance. Then I, who was the chief of the band, said ‘Come, we will go to reconnoiter in the vicinity of that light.’ One of the warriors answered: ‘I will go there,’ but I went in his stead to the neighborhood of the light to investigate. Having arrived there I found persons lying around asleep, and I saw that their garments were of stone, and that they were set up against the neighboring trees. Suddenly one of the sleepers, springing up, said to me, ‘What are your intentions?’ I said in reply, ‘I do not intend to do anything,’ for I was afraid. He replied: ‘Do you not intend to kill anyone you can? Now you and I shall fight. To-morrow when the sun is at midday, there where the deep valley is, in the bottom of the valley, you must come from the one side and I, for my part, will enter the valley from the opposite side, and therein we shall meet; then you and I will fight.’ I replied to him: ‘Let it be so,’ and departed thence and returned to our camp, where I at once told my friends what I had seen. I said: ‘I have seen an astonishing condition of things. When I arrived there I found the people lying down, and near by, leaning against the trees, were their garments, which were of stone, so it is probably impossible for us to kill them. So let it be.’ I will make a sacrificial prayer to Him who has completed the structure of our lives; I will cast on the fire sacrificially native tobacco. At once I took tobacco, and holding it in my hand, I said: ‘Thou hast promised to aid those [686]who shall pray to Thee with an offering of this native tobacco,’ and then I cast it on the fire, and forthwith arose smoke from the burning tobacco. Thereupon I said: ‘Now aid us; tell us what we must do; perhaps You may come to us in a vision; perhaps You might send the advice to us through a dream; at all events tell us what to do. Now, we will lie down to sleep.’

“Just at midnight I was surprised to hear one speak, saying: ‘I have come to aid you; I tell you that to-morrow just before midday you and your men must go to the valley, and there overlooking it you must lie down prone and rest on your elbows.’ And he said, too: ‘You must watch carefully the opposite side of the valley, and when you shall see a bear running along the opposite cliff you must shout Pa—'a p-hu-e, and thereupon you must all arise and flee from the place a short distance and must stop and look back toward the valley, and then you shall see what shall happen, what shall happen to the persons of your adversaries when they will enter the farther entrance to the valley—these Genonsgwa.’ The noise made by these Genonsgwa as they came forward was very great; the sound that they made was du—um. As they came on, the voice of their chief was heard singing; he chanted the war song of the Genonsgwa, saying: ‘No one has the power to overcome me;’ this is what he said in his singing.

“Just then the cliffs on each side of the valley with the forests growing on them were upheaved with a deafening roar and crash and fell into the valley upon the advancing Genonsgwa; this was followed by the sounds of breaking trees and their limbs as they were crushed under the weight of the overturned cliffs, and then all was silent. Thus did this event come to pass.

“Now I shall speak to this assembly as it is here listening to what I have related. He who aided us was the Master of Life. He told us to return home, and He bade us never to undertake an enterprise such as that which took us from our homes. He bade us to make peace with all tribes of men, of whatsoever land or language they might be; for if we should not follow His advice we ourselves might one day shed one another’s blood; and He bade us to bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax and the war-club. He bade us to put all these things out of this world, telling us that if we do this we shall be contented and happy in the future, if we consent to this and to inform all our people of this advice and the chiefs, too. But as we do not know what the chiefs will do in this matter we have called this council to ascertain this important opinion of our chiefs. Now we have told you these tidings which we have brought with us, and now you must take great pains in considering this matter in all its bearings; I mean you, our chiefs. There, I am through with my address.” [687]

During the entire day they discussed this matter in all its bearings. Some said that it would not be good for them to adopt this kind advice, as many of their relations had been killed by the enemy, and they had always intended to have revenge for their deaths.

Others spoke for and against the proposition which had been presented to them by the returned warriors. The discussions took a wide range and consumed the entire day. Finally one of the leading chiefs of the place arose and said: “It is better that we take a recess until early to-morrow morning, at which time we will again assemble here. I will then speak, telling you my views on this question after having thought on them during the night. For this reason all should be present again; so you must come and hear what I have to say to you. So there.”

Then they dispersed and went to their homes. In all the lodges there was much speculation as to what the chief would tell them in the morning. All had different views as to what he would say, and they made up their minds that they would go to the Long lodge at early forenoon.

So in the morning of the next day they again assembled in the Long lodge, and there was present a very large body of people.

Then the chief arose to his full height and began to speak, saying: “The time has now come. I said that to-day I should speak to you. My mind is now made up; I have decided what to say to you, and now I will tell you what I have thought best for us to do. I agree to the proposal to make peace with our enemies; that to that end we must certainly bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife and the war bow and arrow and the battle-ax; and that we must leave these things there out of sight and reach. You must put these things out of the world. So let this come to pass. Let everyone who has come here carry out this resolution as I have indicated it to you in what I have said. So there. Come, then, let us now make preparations. I suppose that we must send an embassy of two persons to that neighboring tribe, although we may not be certain whether they will be at all willing to make peace with us and thereby settle our difficulties. So we must commission our ambassadors to pray them to cease waging war against us; and we, too, must stop fighting on our part, and must cast away deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax. These we must throw away, and thus you will put them outside of this world. When the two (ambassadors) arrive in the country of our enemies they shall say: ‘We have been sent by the chiefs of our people to know whether you are willing to agree to settle our difficulties and to make peace with us.’ This is what you two shall say. This is all.”

After some deliberation the chief arose again and said, “Come, now. Who will volunteer to go far away to the foreign land where [688]our enemies dwell?” Then a certain man said, “I am willing to go.” “So be it,” replied the chief; “who else is willing to go? There is one lacking.” Then another man said, “I am willing to go.” The chief accepted him by saying, “So let it be.” Then the last volunteer asked the chief: “I ask you, who art the chief, what must be done, should they perhaps kill us, and you would not hear anything about it? Should we become angry should they attack us there, even though by doing so we should probably lose our lives? So there (is what I have to say).”

Then the chief arose, and addressing the two ambassadors, said: “You have asked me a question. I shall tell both what you must do when you discover that the people whom you are going to visit dwell not far ahead of you. When you make this discovery you must leave there in safety your scalping-knife and your bows and arrows and your battle-axes; and you two must also carefully wash your faces so that there shall be no more paint on your faces. Then you must go to the village of the people; and according to custom they will not kill you because you have not your scalping-knives, your bows and arrows, or your battle-axes, and because you will not have your faces painted.”459

Then the warrior answered: “So be it. I think that my friend and I may perhaps start this evening just as soon as it becomes quite dark.” During the entire day they made their preparations so they would be able to start in the evening. In the early part of the evening they came together, whereupon one said: “My friend, now let us start, and you will leave directly from here in your own way, and I, too, will leave here directly in my own way.” The friend replied: “Do you feel that you have sufficiently potent orenda?” He answered: “I think so.” The other continued: “What kind of thing does it (your body), usually pretend to be as it flies along?” His friend replied: “Oh, just the night owl, saying wu, wu, wu, wu, hu, hu-u.” At this the other, laughing, said: “My friend, you are indeed a brave man (a male).” His companion answered: “With regard to yourself, what kind of thing does it (your body) usually pretend to be as it goes along? Now I have asked you.” In replying the other man said: “As to myself, I shall be a fox, and I will go along barking; and we shall keep apart just the distance that I can hear the hooting of the night owl. How far do you say?” He replied: “Let us be just so far apart that it will be possible for me to hear the barking of the fox. And this, too, must be done. As daylight approaches we must draw nearer to each other, and when it is morning we will rejoin at some convenient place.” Then they started.

They observed their order of going, and when they had concluded that they had arrived in the neighborhood of the people whom they [689]were going to visit, they were surprised to see the lights of a number of fires. So they stopped and sat down on a log. Then one of the men said: “We must leave our things, our weapons, here—our scalping-knives, our bows and arrows, and our battle-axes—and we must remove the paint from our faces, too. There, on that side of the log, you may lay your things, and you must cover them with moss and earth very carefully; and I will lay my things here on this side of the log, and I will cover them even as you do.” Thus they completed this task of concealing their weapons. Then one of them said: “My friend, it shall be that he who shall be spared alive shall dig up these things, for we shall soon see them, and when they see us there is no assurance that either of us shall be left alive; but should one of us escape then let him dig up and carry home both these buried outfits.”

Then they went toward the place where they believed the enemies lived. They had not gone far when they were surprised to see in the distance a temporary shelter made of corn husks, for this was at the time of the corn harvest and the people were drying the strings of ears of corn. Thereupon one of the men said: “I will do the talking when we arrive at that temporary shelter; so do you not speak a word about anything. So now, come, let us go thither to the lodge.”

When the two men had arrived near the temporary shelter the children noticed their approach and fled into the shelter. On arriving at the shelter the two men found that the doorflap was of deerskin. When they had stepped inside they saw a woman sitting there; they noticed also that the children had hidden themselves, and that the woman was greatly frightened, for the color of her face had changed. One of the men at once said to her: “Do not fear us; we do not come on an evil errand, and you may know this to be true because we have not our scalping-knives, bows and arrows, or battle-axes, and we have no paint on our faces. So do not be afraid. We have come on a good errand; do not fear us.” All at once the woman spoke, saying: “Oh, children; verily, they will not kill us.” At this the children came forth from their hiding places, and the mother, too, regained her composure. The spokesman of the two visitors said, “Are you and your children here alone?” The woman replied, “No; our old man has gone yonder into the valley where in fact we dwell; he will soon return.” Then the man said: “So let it be. We will remain here until he returns.” The woman answered: “Let it be so.” So when the old man had returned the spokesman of the two ambassadors said: “We come as messengers. Let us talk together in peace. We are not thinking of evil purposes, and these, our peaceful sentiments, are shown by the fact that neither of us has a scalping-knife, [690]a bow and arrows, or battle-ax, and is not painted on the face. For this reason let there be peace while we talk together.” It seemed at first that the old man was angry, but when he had heard this statement his mind changed, and he said, “Come, then, do you relate the message which you have been sent to bring to us. Come, now, tell us.” The man replied: “So be it. We have come to you to propose that we at once settle all our differences, because we have slaughtered not only ourselves, but also our friends and kinsmen. Let us stop this slaughter; and let us bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax; in the earth we will put these weapons; so if you are willing to accept our proposals you will put these murderous things outside this world, if you are only willing to do so.” The old man replied: “So be it. Let us go to the place where usually we assemble in council in the Long-lodge, for indeed the chiefs dwell some distance from here. I will tell them what you have brought as a message to us. I do not know what answer they may give. I think you two should remain here, and I will go yonder to the Long-lodge, where are the chiefs of our people. It would not succeed well if you two should go there, for usually they are angry when they see an enemy. I will prepare myself properly to tell them the message which you have been sent to bring to us. Then I shall come for you should their reply be favorable to a conference with them. Thus it shall be done.” One of the ambassadors answered, “Let it come to pass as you have suggested.”

Thereupon the old man started for the Long-lodge to confer with the chiefs of his people. When he had reached a point near the village he began to cry out: Go'we?, go'we?, go'we?. This is called proclaiming. As soon as his cries were heard everybody came forth from their lodges and at once went to the Long-lodge to hear what news the crier was bringing them. So a large assemblage crowded the Long-lodge. Then the old man, who was still crying out the cries of warning, entered the Long-lodge, whereupon they set him down on one side. One of the chiefs arose and said: “Now, you must relate the important news which you bring to us, so tell us. That is all.” Arising, the old man said: “I will tell you of a very important matter which has come to pass. I saw two men who were in the lodge when I returned to my home. I was astonished, but one of these men at once arose and said: ‘We assure you that we are not intending anything evil, and this is proved by the fact that we have no scalping-knife, no war bow and arrows, and no battle-ax, and we have not our faces painted. We have been sent by our chiefs to learn whether we can not settle all our difficulties. We have been killing ourselves and shedding each other’s blood; so let us stop doing this, and let us bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let us lay these very deep in the ground. You must put [691]these things outside the world. Thus it shall be done, provided that you will agree to this proposition. So this is the number of words which has been sent you by us.’ I am now through with what I have to say. So, there.” In reply, the chiefs of the village said to the old man: “Perhaps you would better fetch the two men here and let them come into this place. You alone go back after them. You must hasten your steps as you go, and you must bring them at once with you.” The old man, replying, “So let it be,” at once went out of the lodge and started on a run toward his temporary lodge, where the two men were awaiting his return. On entering, he said to them: “I have come after you.” Arising at once, they started for the place where the council was being held, and having reached there, they entered the Long-lodge. One of the ambassadors was in a frenzy of fear, seeming to fear they would be killed, for before entering he kept saying to his friend: “Have courage, my friend; one of us will certainly escape.” When they entered the Long-lodge they made room for the two messengers, or ambassadors, to sit. One of the chiefs of the village, arising, said: “Is it true that you have been sent to come into our country? Are the things true which our friend has told us in full? That is what you two must tell us, for we do not know whether what he told us a short time ago is the truth or not.”

Then the spokesman of the two ambassadors, arising to his full height, said: “We two will now tell you that we were commissioned on a very important errand by our chiefs. We come to you to propose that your people and our people shall settle all the troubles which have caused them to shed each other’s blood. What your chief has told you is an important matter. I am through.”

Then one of the chiefs of the village, arising, said: “Lo! now do you talk, everyone who has something to say, you who are the chiefs of this village, whether we shall agree to settle our difficulties with the people who have sent these two men to us, and to bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax. Come, now, let each one say which side of the proposal he takes, whether we shall make peace, or whether we shall reject these overtures for peace. There are only two opinions that can be given; when one speaks he must tell which is his opinion. So I am done.”

Then another chief arose to speak, saying: “I am next in order to speak my sentiments. I am unwilling to consent to settle our difficulties with the people represented by these two messengers, because the many stains which have come from the blood of my own kinsmen, shed by these two men who are sitting here, are scarcely dried. In my heart there are constant passions arising which prompt me to take vengeance for this cruel slaughter of my own kinsmen; and I am tempted to scalp these two enemies who sit here in our presence.” [692]

Then another chief, leaping to his feet, said to the one who was speaking: “Do you stop at once. Do not say that again; you must stop that kind of talk. I will say but a few words for my part. You two who are sitting here must listen and must hear all that I have to say in my own behalf and in that of my people. I think that we all realize that what we are about to do is a very important affair. One person alone has made us of one flesh and of one form, and of a reddish color. Now, too, you shall hear me declare that I agree to accept your proposal for an adjustment of all difficulties between your people and ours. We must bury deep in the ground all those things with which we fight; and you must put them out of the world; and this statement you must make when you two return to your own homes.” The chief accepted this proposition, saying: “So now we will meet in joint council at the river, which is just halfway from here to our own country; we will meet there on one side of the river, and there you may prepare your camps. You must all go—children, women, and men—all must be present there. On the opposite side of the river we will make our camps. After the tenth night from now we must all be in camp there, and I shall bring all the people—children, women, and the warriors. So there; thus it shall come to pass. Then we shall lie down to rest and in the morning you and I will talk together, as thou art a chief and as I, too, am a chief. So you shall stand on the other side of the river, and I shall stand on this side of the river. Then it shall be that you will tell me how you and I may adjust our differences; and you shall accomplish this within the time of 10 days. After 10 nights you will have arrived on your side of the river, and I, too, shall have arrived on my side of the river. So there is what I have to say. Come, now, make your preparations, and when you have completed them we shall start to go to the river.”

In the meantime the two ambassadors had returned to their home and had made their report, and their chiefs had given the people instructions to prepare themselves to go to meet their former enemies at the river that bounded their lands. On both sides the people and the chiefs kept tally of the days that passed; the next day was one; the next, two; the next day, three, and so on. On the eighth day the chief on each side said: “Come now, let us start.” Thereupon they left their homes for the place of meeting; none remained behind. They traveled a long distance before they stopped for the night. In the morning they started again and arrived at the river bank at a seasonable hour. The chief of the opposite party said, too: “Come now, let us depart for the river bank where we are to meet in council.” All started, not one remaining at home. They, too, traveled a long distance before camping for the night, and in the morning early they, too, continued their journey and in good time [693]arrived at the river bank, at the place of meeting. There was assembled a large body of people.

Then one of the chiefs, standing beside the river, said: “Behold! now tell me what your thought is as to how you and I may be able to adjust our troubles in peace. Tell me this. So there is what I have to say.”

Then the chief on the opposite side of the river, standing near the brink, said: “Now has come to pass what I think that He who alone has made our lives, desires, but where He abides I do not know, for our lives are alike, our forms are alike, and the color of our skin is the same, for we are reddish in color. We have blundered. We have only killed one another, and we have only shed one another’s blood. So let us stop this evil work, and let it not come to pass again; and let us bury the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let all these be left deep in the ground; and thereby we shall put these out of the world. So this is my opinion. Let us be at peace in the future; let us be at peace in our minds; and let the minds of our people be at peace, those of our children, our women, and our warriors. Such is my opinion, and I who speak it am a chief. So this is enough. Now it is for you to speak, you who are a chief. I do not know whether what I have said is pleasing to you. This will I do. I have finished.”

There was a great sound—dauÑ—made by the assembled tribes, for there were very many people. Then the chief on the opposite side of the river, standing on the shore, said: “Now, you who are a chief have ended your address, and I agree to all that you have said; hence you and I will adjust all our troubles and difficulties so that they may never return. Now, too, you and I will bury deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; all these things we will place in the earth, so that none of them shall come forth again, and there they shall disappear from the earth. Thus let it come to pass. So, there.”

Then, on the opposite side of the river, the other chief who had proposed this conference, arising, said: “I am, indeed, thankful that my desires have been fulfilled in this peaceful agreement. I do give you many thanks for your part in this matter, and so now you and I will bury in the ground all those things with which you and I have been accustomed to kill each other, in such manner that they shall never again come forth. We will put them out of the world, so that so long as the earth stands such things shall not again take place. So, there.”

Then the chief on the other side of the river, arising in his place, said: “I am thankful for the accomplishment of this great compact of peace, and I congratulate you as well, you who are also a chief. So now we shall prepare it; and it shall be very broad. [694]You and I must set to work so that we may make this good thing for our people; and this shall be a level (peaceful and fruitful) country; and thereon we must, one and all, take one another by the arm (hand)—all women, children, and men; and by this means each one will bear testimony to the fact that truly, indeed, we have made peace and have settled harmoniously all our difficulties; and when we shall have taken one another by the arm then we must dance to express our joy and good will and hope for the continuance of this peace during time to come.”

Then all who were able to do something were set to work, and they prepared a symbolical field of peace460 whereon they and theirs might enjoy life and might promote their welfare in such manner as seemed to satisfy their desires. When they had completed the task they cried to those across the river who had accepted the propositions of peace: “Come now! Do you come across the river and let us enjoy ourselves together.” Willingly obeying, the people soon crossed the stream, and they soon were standing on the prepared field of peace, whereon they ranged themselves in long files preparatory to taking part in the dances. Then the leaders grasped each other’s arms, saying, “Now, let us all take hold of one another’s arms, and then let us dance,” and then they continued, “We must now dance all night long.” Then they danced. Thereupon the singer began to sing: HÄ' 'Ä' hoia'ne?, hÄ''Ä' hoia'ne?; wa'?hu, wa'?hu, wa'?hu, hÃ''Ä' hoiÃ'ne?. (The only word in this line which has a clear meaning is the second, which is the title of the highest order of federal chiefs.—Ed.)

When daylight had come, one of the chiefs made an address of thanksgiving. He said: “I am very thankful that day has dawned in peace on this assembly here present. So now we give our thanksgiving to Him whose place of residence we still do not know but who has made our lives. So now you and I have finished this work, which puts an end to any bitter feeling between us that might in the future lead some one to scalp another. So now we will separate again. So now we, for our part, will start for our homes, and you, too, will return to your homes.”

So it came to pass that the two peoples arrived safe at their homes, whence they had come forth to make peace with their enemies, and this peace has lasted unto this day.

So this came to pass in this way. And this is the end of the legend.

It is said that among wild pigeons the white ones are the chiefs of their communities. According to tradition, a white pigeon once flew into the forest lodge of a noted old man, the Wild Cat. The visitor [695]did not appear ill at ease but stood in the lodge wherever it seemed good to him, and then without remark he flew away.

The old man, Wild Cat, somewhat amazed by the quiet conduct of his visitor, related the incident to his neighbors, saying that this visit portended that something out of the ordinary was about to happen. But an entire year passed and nothing unusual had happened to old Wild Cat and his fellows and neighbors.

But at about the same season the next year the same White Pigeon again visited the old man’s lodge. At this visit the old man believed that the White Pigeon was a man (i.e., one of his own kind of beings), so he conversed with him on many subjects. During this visit White Pigeon informed the old man, Wild Cat, that all the various tribes of birds had held a council at which it had been decided that the wild pigeons should furnish a tribute to mankind, because their Maker had selected the wild pigeons for this important duty as most other birds had only very little to give up because their mode of life required them to live dispersed here and there, and so what they had to offer could be obtained only with difficulty, while the others had nothing to offer toward the support of mankind.

So, the pigeons being the only tribe of birds which built their nests and reared their young in a single community, it was resolved by the various tribes of birds that the pigeons should spare some of their young to men for food. White Pigeon continued by saying that he had come purposely to notify old man Wild Cat of this momentous decision, and to tell him the young pigeons were to be taken at the proper season, and the manner in which this must be done.

He said: “In the season of the roost, when the young pigeons have attained a suitable size for eating, the people should select a suitable person as superintendent or master of the hunt, and he should give the needful directions to the people for making their preparations for the hunt before starting for the hunting grounds in which the pigeons have their roost in the forest.”

On such a hunting expedition the entire community was engaged, and so it was not unusual to have a very large multitude of people moving along a common path at this time. But to secure order and obedience certain rules for the march must be observed by all. Of these, one was that when the party halted to rest, to eat, or to camp for the night, the leader would place a rod, suitably painted, across the path, and no one was permitted to pass over it or to go around it for the purpose of continuing the journey regardless of the rest of the party. It was held that should one break this injunction some misfortune would inevitably befall the party. When the party was ready to proceed the leader would take up the rod and then the journey would be resumed. [696]

Upon nearing the roosting place of the pigeons it was customary to make a collection of gifts from the people, consisting of various articles of ornament and trinkets of all kinds, for an offering to the pigeons. These freely given gifts were placed in a bark bowl and this was borne solemnly into the forest to some swampy place where tall weeds were plentiful, and these gifts were spread out on a piece of elm bark while native tobacco was burned and an invocation to the offering was made to the pigeons and their Maker.

Tradition reports that for the first hunting expedition the people as a whole did not observe the rules of the master of the hunt, which he had learned from the White Pigeon. So some went around the painted rod placed across the path when the party halted for any purpose; others withheld presents from the offering, and many accidents happened to them; some broke their legs, others their arms, some fell sick, and some died. A great number of misfortunes befell the expedition.

After the expedition had returned to the home lands this fact aroused much discussion. So the old man, Wild Cat, questioned his people as to their conduct, and they informed him. He declared that they had brought these ills upon themselves and urged them to observe strictly the rule which the White Pigeon had given them for their guidance if they wished to avoid these misfortunes. So the following season the people went out to the hunt, but they carefully observed the rules laid down for their guidance and all went well, and so every spring for 20 years they continued to go out on these expeditions without any marked untoward events taking place.

But toward the end of this period many factions had arisen among the people. The young people asked, What is the need for these things? Pigeons may be killed at any time of the year. They are fit for food at all seasons of the year. What can pigeons do with these offerings of ornaments and trinkets which they are not able to wear or make any use of? Another faction of the people killed the pigeons wherever and whenever they found them, killing both the young and the old pigeons. Another faction boasted that its members had no faith in what was done, and so they had no desire to engage in pigeon hunting, even refusing to eat any of the pigeon meat when it was offered to them. But it was not long before misfortune began to assail these seditious factions. The members of the faction which had refused to eat any of the pigeon meat died off one by one. Before the visit of the White Pigeon they never died, they seemed to be immortal; but now disease and death abounded among them because they had failed to obey the regulations prescribed by the White Pigeon for their guidance.

These conditions continued for some time, becoming more and more distressful as time elapsed. Then, for the third time, the [697]White Pigeon visited the old man, being just 20 years after the second visit. The old man did not know that he was talking to the chief of the pigeons, for he appeared to him in all respects as a man.

The White Pigeon informed the old man that thereafter as long as the world should last men and women would die because they had disobeyed the rules proclaimed by the Pigeon people. And, further, that in the future people must not kill any white pigeon, and that they must observe the rules for the hunting of pigeons, and that this was his last visit to him. And immediately he flew away.

The conditions among the people did not change for the better; the several factions still existed, and there seemed to be no common purpose in the community; some of the factions observed the rules for hunting, some only in part, while still others paid no attention to them, even mocking those who did. Some years passed when a stranger came among this people and finding his way to the lodge of the old man he said to him, “You must accompany me.” Without any question the old man followed him, for he regarded him as a man like himself.

They traveled for a number of days until finally they came to the place in which lived the tribe of the stranger, which was a place situated on the top of very lofty mountains. The stranger’s friends received the old man with every mark of respect and kindness. This people were the Donyonda (i.e., Eagle people), although to the old man they appeared to him as men like himself.

There were among the old man’s people persons without faith in the teachings of the old man which he reported he had learned from the White Pigeon. And there came a day when a man of the Crow tribe of people told one of these disbelievers that the old man, their chief, was at that time living among the Donyonda, or Eagle people, and offered to conduct him to the land of the Donyonda people. The disbeliever accepted the proposal of the Crow man and so they set out together. The Crow man and his companion finally reached the land of the Donyonda people on the top of a very lofty mountain.

The old chief recognized the man from his home, but he would have nothing at all to do with him either by word or act. He even went so far as to say to his adopted friends, “This man has come here for no good purpose; the working of his mind is very different from that of ours.” Consequently, the chief man of the Donyonda people ordered one of their warriors to take this man away and to throw him onto the moon. So on the following day the warrior placed the man on his back and bore him swiftly away; and when he reached the side of the moon he cast the man onto the moon’s side and left him there, and he remains there to this day.

But old Chief Wild Cat lived with the Donyonda people for a number of years. As time passed, however, the mind of the old chief [698]became affected and he became morose and despondent, which resulted in his becoming obnoxious to the people of his adoption. Things went from bad to worse, and so finally the Donyonda people held a council, where it was stated that because the old chief could or would not think the things which harmonized with their thoughts they would send him to a tribe of people who agree with no one, not even with their own people, and who were hostile to all other tribes of people. So they chose one of their principal men to take the old chief the next day to the brink of the mountain and to roll him down the mountain.

This was done, and the old chief rolled swiftly down the mountain side. He went down so swiftly that he screeched with fear; but finally he reached the foot of the mountain and the level ground. Upon reaching the foot of the mountain he was transformed into the bodily form of a wolf and also found that he was in a swamp in which the Wolf tribe dwelt. They welcomed him in a most friendly manner. So he lived here among the Wolf people for some time.

But the old man had not lived here long before trouble arose between him and the Wolf people. The lapse of time only emphasized the disagreements and the hostility of the Wolf people against the old man. Finally the Wolf people began to be very angry with the Wild Cat for his provocative acts, and then it was not long before the Wolf tribe fell upon the old man, Wild Cat, and tore him in pieces and devoured him. They left his bones gnawed clean on the ground.

At the time that the Eagle man visited the old man, Wild Cat, the old man had a grandson who was a mere boy—a child. But at the time the old man was devoured by the Wolf people the grandson of old Wild Cat had grown up to be a young man. And he still remembered his grandfather, Wild Cat, and at times he would wonder where his grandfather had gone and what had become of him.

So there came a day when the grandson said, “I will now travel to see what has become of my grandfather. I will seek for him in the lands toward the sunrise.” So, after making suitable preparations, he started on his quest for his grandfather.

He journeyed eastward for many days, when finally he met a man who questioned him, asking, “Where are you going? Where are you from?” The grandson replied, “I am traveling in search of my grandfather.” After this conversation each went on his way. The grandson continued his journey for some time when he met the second man, who asked, “Where are you going? Where are you from?” The grandson replied, “I am traveling in search of my grandfather.” Then the man said, “I have seen your grandfather living among the Eagle people.” The grandson continued his journey eastward until [699]he finally came to the dwelling place of the Eagle people on the mountain. Here he was informed that his grandfather had been expelled from these people, and that he had been rolled down the mountain to the Wolf tribe. “What am I to do?” asked the grandson. “You had better go home,” said the old chief of the Eagle people, “for if you do not return home you shall lose your mind and the mind of your people; you shall become something else, someone else.” Then the grandson asked, “Can you change me now so that I may go to the place where my grandfather is?” They replied, “Yes; we can change you so that you can go thither with perfect safety.”

The grandson having given his consent to this proposition, he was soon changed into a panther and then rolled down the mountain into Wolf swamp, where many Wolf people lived. The presence of the panther aroused the bitter hostility of the Wolf people, who attacked him savagely in an attempt to kill him. But owing to his great strength they were unable to accomplish their purpose.

So he traveled from place to place in the Wolf country, where he was regarded as an open enemy, although he was engaged only in looking for his grandfather. There came a day when he found his bones, and placing together the bones under a large hickory tree he pushed against the tree, shouting “Arise, oh, grandfather. The tree is about to fall on you.” His grandfather heard his warning and at once sprang up. He recognized his grandson.

But the grandfather would not agree with his grandson as to how to live, where to go, or what to do. So, after much bitter fighting, they finally separated. The grandfather went in search of his own people and the grandson in quest of his.

When the grandfather met the acquaintances of his early life he was no more able to agree with them than he was before he left them; so, after much strife and fighting, the people finally became so enraged at him that they fell on him and for the second time he was killed and eaten up, and his bones were left bleaching on the ground where they had devoured him.

The grandson journeyed from place to place for a long time, and he encountered many difficulties and disappointments in his quest for people of his own tribe.

But one day he was pursued by a hunter with three dogs. When the dogs came within reach the grandson killed them one by one before the hunter could come to their assistance, and thus he escaped from death at the hands of the hunter.

So, passing beyond this place, he met one day a woman of his own tribe. He addressed her pleasantly and she replied in the same mood. This woman finally agreed to marry the grandson. As the years passed they became possessed of a large family, consisting of several boys and girls. It was not many years before these children [700]were large enough to look out for themselves. In the meanwhile the father and mother quarreled bitterly, then these boys and girls quarreled among themselves, and lastly with their parents. The result of this condition of affairs was that the family dispersed, each one going off alone.

Again, the grandson was left alone, having no friends or family of his own. He was left completely to his own resources for providing the means of his living and for protecting himself from his enemies. He traveled many dreary days in solitude. But there came a day when he met a woman of the Panther tribe of people, who was cooking some deer meat for herself. As the grandson was very hungry he asked this woman to share some of the deer meat with him, but she refused absolutely to spare him a morsel.

So, hungry as he was, he had to pass on without anything to eat. Some time afterwards he was fortunate enough to kill a deer. So, after dressing it and preparing it properly and cooking it, he sat down to eat. And while he was enjoying his venison the woman who had refused him a portion of venison boldly came up and asked him for some of the venison. He showed his teeth and growled and snarled so fiercely that he finally drove the old woman away.

When he had finished his meal he packed up his belongings and departed. He traveled several days from place to place. Suddenly he became aware that several hunters with three dogs were pursuing him. So he fled from that place until he became wearied and then he climbed a very tall tree. There he hoped to escape his pursuers, but the dogs tracked him so well that soon the hunters were under the tree. Whereupon one of the hunters shot him, mortally wounding him, and he fell to the ground in a dying condition. The dying Panther man said to the hunters, “This, your act, shall cause bitter hostility between your people and my tribe, and many of both tribes will die in consequence.”

As the hunters were bearing the body of the Panther man homeward, a Panther man met them and saw the dead body of the Panther man—one of his own kindred. At once he returned to his people, telling them what he had seen. So with two other Panther men he retraced his steps to find the guilty hunters.

The three Panther men were not long in finding the camping place of the hunters and they quickly succeeded in killing the dogs and the hunters and in devouring them, leaving their bones to bleach on the ground.

The friends and kinsmen of the hunters waited many days for the return of the hunters and their dogs, but they waited in vain. So a number of them formed a party and went out in search of them. They found their bones on the path and also the dead body of the Panther man. In the thickets near by they also found other Panther [701]men asleep. These discoveries were reported in the village of the dead hunters, and there was aroused a bitter feeling against the Panther people; and so all who were able to go out to hunt Panther people started out to destroy the Panther tribe.

This resulted in a bitter strife between the people of the village and the Panther tribe, and many of the bravest on both sides were killed without bringing any satisfaction to either side. During this struggle the bones of the grandson lay bleaching on the path in the forest. But it so happened that one of his sons one day passed along that path, and he recognized his father’s bones. So by gathering them together under a large hickory tree and setting them in order the son of the Panther man brought his father back to life by pushing against the hickory tree and shouting, “Father, arise lest the tree topple over on you.”

When the father arose he had the form which he had when he left his home in the village in search of his grandfather. This transformation frightened the son so much that he fled through the forest away from that place, and the grandson made his way home to the village of his own people. He entertained his friends and kindred with the recital of his adventures.

There came a day when the old Eagle, who had enticed away old man Wild Cat, was in a reminiscent mood, and so he wondered what had become of the old man whom he had left among the Wolf tribe. So he finally resolved to pay a visit to the country of the Wolf people. He left his home and traveled along toward the Wolf country. At last he was greatly surprised to find scattered around the bones of the old man, his friend. So he decided to aid his old friend by bringing him to life again. He therefore collected together the bones lying about and placed them in order under a great elm tree, and when he had gathered all the bones he stepped up to the elm tree and suddenly exclaimed, “Be quick, friend, arise, lest the tree fall on you.” At once the old man, Wild Cat, leaped up in his original shape and condition in form and mind, a man. So, after the usual greetings, the old Eagle chief led his friend home to his own people, whence he had taken him so long ago. Having arrived there, old man Wild Cat found his grandson, and to him he related all his adventures while away from his people. He declared, “We must highly esteem the Pigeon tribe of people.” (Then I left there.)

There was in the olden time a village of the Iroquois which was situated in a very fertile and beautiful country. They raised corn and beans and squashes, and for many years they were contented and prosperous. But there came a time when their crops began to fail them—the corncobs were bare of grains, the bean pods were empty, [702]and the squashes would wither away before the time to harvest them. The people went hungry, for they had no food from their fields and game was very scarce.

One day a very old woman, who was Matron and Chief of her clan, was walking near her planted field, meditating on the misfortune of her people. As she walked she heard bitter weeping out in the field, and she at once decided that some one must be in deep distress. So, walking into the planted field, she was surprised to find that it was the corn that was weeping; and the beans were weeping too; and the squashes were weeping also. The old woman had great compassion for the corn and the beans and the squashes for their weeping. She stopped beside a hill of corn and asked, “Oh, you dear Corn, why do you weep? Tell me the reason.” The Corn between sobs said, “You place us in the ground to grow, but you do not perform your further duties to us. You do not cover us with sufficient earth as you know you should; and you do not hill up the earth about our feet so that we can stand firm; and you fail to dig up the earth sufficiently around us to give us water; so it is that many of us have remained only a few hours or a day or two and then have gone home; only a small number of us remain and now we are all dying because of your neglect. You even permit our enemies to strangle us to death.”

As the old Matron listened to this pitiful story she was bitterly grieved. She then went to the Bean people and to the Squash people, and from both she heard the same painful story of neglect by her people. She was deeply moved, and so she went to her lodge and wept along the path homeward. Having seated herself on her couch in her lodge, she kept on weeping. Her people having heard her sobbing were much puzzled by it, and they being moved by sympathy also began to weep with their Matron. Soon many persons had assembled at her lodge, and they all were mourning with the old woman.

Finally, the chief of the clan came to the lodge and addressing the people he told them to cease their weeping and to be of good cheer; and that he would ask their Matron what had caused her to return from the planted field with such grief. So the people ceased their weeping, and then the chief, addressing their Matron, who was still sobbing bitterly, asked, “Mother, what caused you to weep while you were in the planted field?” After somewhat composing herself she replied to this question by saying that she had heard bitter wailings in the planted fields and that on going there to learn the cause the Corn people, and the Bean people, and the Squash people had complained to her that she and her people had not properly cared for them by not covering them with sufficient earth to enable them to live and by permitting their enemies to grow up around [703]them so that they had no more ground on which to stand. Then the Matron ceased talking, but kept on weeping.

Upon hearing this statement the people assured the chief that this was the first information they had received as to the reason why their Matron had been grieving so bitterly.

Thereupon the chief called a council of his clan and laid before it the remarkable statement of their Matron. The council upon hearing this recital resolved that in the future whoever planted either corn or beans or squashes must cover the grain with sufficient earth to give it sustenance, and must care for the growing plants by properly hilling them and by digging around them to loosen the earth to make it mellow, and lastly, by destroying their enemies (the weeds) who grew about them so luxuriantly.

So, in the following spring, when planting time returned, they were again admonished as to the proper methods of planting the corn, the beans, and the squashes. The people all agreed that they would follow the advice of the council in this matter because of the statement of their Matron as to the real cause of their withered crops.

So, in accordance with this resolution, the next springtime they did place the seed corn and beans and squashes sufficiently deep in the ground to give these grains sufficient covering of earth to grow well. The old chief stood by the planters while they were seeding their fields to see that the work was properly done. Later, when the tender sprouts of corn and beans and squashes had reached such height that they required more earth to support them, the people were called together and urged to hill up their growing crops and to destroy thoroughly the enemies (weeds) of these useful plants. These plants were growing luxuriantly and were strong, but toward harvest time something came and destroyed these growing crops. A certain nation of people came and carried away the corn and the beans, leaving only some squash shells. Again the people mourned their loss, confessing that they must have been guilty of some other form of negligence.

So the following spring they again took great pains in their planting and in their care for their crops; but just as soon as the green corn was becoming fine and fit to eat a certain nation of people began to steal the corn and beans and squashes. The people suspected what people had come and carried away their corn and beans and squashes.

So the chief of the people called a council to discuss the situation and to suggest means to meet it. It was finally resolved that several stout and alert warriors should be set to watch the planted fields to see who might come to steal the ripening crops. These watchmen went into the fields in the evening. Toward the dawn of day they [704]discovered a number of persons who were tearing off the ears of corn and the bean pods, and also others who were stealing the squashes. These thieves they captured and held as prisoners. These prisoners were taken in the morning to the council lodge before the clan chief.

The chief, after looking the prisoners over, remarked that these thieves were their enemies because they had stolen their corn and beans and squashes. Then he asked one of the corn thieves, “Where do you live?” “A long way hence in the forest,” came the reply. “Are there many of your people?” continued the chief. “We are a large nation,” came the answer. In like manner he questioned the squash thief and the bean thieves, and these made replies similar to those made by the corn thieves.

They bound the corn thieves and daily they took them out of the lodge and all the chiefs and the people came to see them, and everyone was privileged to strike these thieves a blow with a staff, and the thieves would weep bitterly at this treatment. Then they would be taken back into the lodge. The bean thieves and the squash thieves were also daily punished in this way.

Daily the corn thieves wept loudly. After a long time had elapsed these thieves were told that if they would conduct the people to their own nation they would be set free. The corn thieves agreed to this proposition and the old chief selected a party of his warriors to lead the thieves back to their own nation.

The corn thieves led the warriors a long way into the forest. But at last they came to a settlement, and the thieves said this is a village of our people. The warriors killed many of the people, and then they set free the thieves whom they had brought back to their country. The people whom the warriors had killed were carried home.

Then some warriors were sent to the squash stealers with an order to split their upper lips so that they would not be able to eat squashes again.

It is said that the warriors whipped the corn thieves so much during their captivity that they wept so much that their faces were striped and their backs were striped and their tails were ringed, from the blows they received; and these marks have remained to this day. The corn thieves were raccoons. The squash thieves were rabbits (hares?), and their lips have remained split to this day from this punishment.

Tradition says that the ancestors of the Seneca thought that all trees and shrubs and plants were endowed with human life and were divided into families, having brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers. And that in like manner the Corn, and Beans, and the Squash have human lives, and that if one offended them they would grieve and would depart and would leave the people without food. [705]

In the long ago an uncle and his nephew, his sister’s son, dwelt together in a lodge. It so happened that the uncle, the elder man, had to keep a recumbent position. He had lain so long that the roots of a tree standing near their lodge had overgrown his body, so it was quite impossible for him to arise.

As time passed he called his nephew to him and said to the youth: “Go yonder in the distance to the clearings, where the logs are lying one on the top of another, and plant there beans, corn, and squashes. They make good eating, I assure you. And if these things should grow under your cultivation they will furnish us with something to eat in the future.” Thus spoke the old man.

In a short time he continued: “Bring forth from under the couch yonder a basket in which there is some seed corn, as it is called.” The youth brought the basket and placed it beside the old man. With the seed corn were the beans for seed and the squash seed.

Then the old man said to the youth: “Bring me from under the couch yonder the small baskets, 10 in number; I need them; for you must make a girdle of baskets around your body.” So the nephew brought the baskets to his uncle, who with his own hands placed in each of the baskets some of the several kinds of seeds, thus dividing the seed corn, the beans for seed, and the squash seed. He carefully completed his task.

Having done so, he addressed his nephew, saying: “Come, now! go yonder to the clearings where the logs are lying one on the top of another, and there you must plant these seeds.” The young nephew replied: “So be it, my mother’s brother. I will place beside you all the things which may be necessary for you while I shall be absent planting the seeds.” So the nephew placed beside his uncle a bark dish containing hominy, a fire poker and a knife, and a cake of boiled corn bread. Then he said to his uncle: “I am now going to plant the seeds.”

Having arrived at the clearings he set to work preparing the ground for planting the seeds which he had brought. He had been at work a considerable time and had already planted a number of hills when he heard the voice of his uncle singing. The words of the song were: “Now, now, now I believe that I have arisen, now indeed.” At this the youthful nephew ran back swiftly to the lodge to prevent his uncle from arising. Having arrived there the young man seized his uncle and repressed his desire to arise, asking him, “What has come to pass that you began to sing?” The uncle replied: “I became thirsty, and so I began to sing.” The young man brought his uncle water to drink, and after the latter had quenched his thirst the youthful nephew said to him: “You must now lie quiet, as I ask [706]you to do.” The uncle answered: “Return again to the clearings to plant the seeds. As there are no more left in the lodge you must pick up those which you dropped from your baskets.” He referred to the 10 small baskets in which he had himself placed the various kinds of seeds.

So as soon as the young man had gathered up all the seeds which he had spilled along the path as he had hastened toward the lodge he again began to plant them in hills. Again, as he had nearly finished seeding, he heard the voice of his uncle singing: “Now, now, now I believe that I have arisen, now indeed.”

The nephew at once started on the run for the old lodge, but when he had gone only half the way he heard a loud report, ba'?! caused by the breaking of the roots which had been holding his uncle down. When he arrived at the lodge he found that his uncle was not there. This grieved him greatly, for he felt that he would become very wretched and poor without the aid and advice of his uncle. So he began to weep and mourn for his uncle, but at last he ceased to do so. He then entered the lodge to think upon his situation, and finally came out to see whether he could not learn whither his uncle had gone by noting the tracks he had left on the ground. For this purpose he went carefully around the lodge, examining the ground as he went. At last he found his uncle’s tracks, which showed the direction he had taken, for they had made very deep impressions in the ground as he fled in haste. From the tracks he learned that his uncle had taken a course directly westward. The young nephew then said: “So be it. I suppose it is for me to go to the place whither my uncle has gone. I will follow the tracks of my uncle, my mother’s brother.”

Thereupon the young nephew, having gotten his bow and arrows, at once started on a run on the trail of his uncle. He kept the trail in the forests for three days, when he reached the shore of a lake, and there indeed the trail ended so far as the nephew could see; so he stopped there and stood looking around; thus he stood for some time.

At last he was somewhat startled at seeing not far away a canoe,461 which was being paddled toward him quite swiftly, and which contained what appeared to him to be a man. The canoe stopped at some distance from the spot where the young nephew was standing. He saw that a number of wild geese supplied the propelling power for the canoe, six wild geese being attached to one side of the canoe and six to the other side. Then he overheard the man who was in the canoe address the geese with these words: “My servants, you may now go forth to seek something to eat.” The wild geese at once obeyed and flew upward, making the sound stum?. [707]

The young nephew stood there silent for some time. Then the man in the canoe said to him: “Come hither.” The youth, replying, “So let it be,” went to the place where lay the canoe, in which stood the strange man. The stranger, addressing the youth, said: “I am thankful that you are well. Is it not true that Okteondon is your uncle? He is my uncle also. I am thankful, too, that you and I, who are brothers, have seen each other at this time. It so happens that you and I resemble each other and are of the same stature. It would be still more convincing if we should put this to proof by trial. As I have been saying, our bows and arrows are alike and are of the same length. Let us test my statement by a trial.” Thereupon the man took his bow and arrows out of the canoe. Held up together, they were found to be of the same kind of wood and of the same shape; their arrows were of the same kind of wood and of the same length.

Then the stranger said, “Come; let us see. We have the same speed, I believe.” He continued: “Let us now string our bows, as I am now stringing mine; let us stand here side by side.” While the two stood side by side again the stranger spoke, saying: “This we do in order that there may be a race between us and our arrows. Let us shoot our arrows, and as soon as we let fly our arrows then you and I must start to run.” Then they let fly their arrows, at the same time starting to run swiftly. They ran evenly, keeping well together. All that could be heard was the sounds made by the passage through the air of small stones picked up by their swiftly moving feet, for they were running at a rapid pace. Looking upward, the youth saw two arrows flying along together. In this trial of their fleetness of foot they caught the arrows before they fell to the ground, each one catching his own.

After this test the strange man said to his young companion, “Now, let us return to the place whence we started.” So they went back to the spot where the canoe lay. Then the strange man repeated what he had been saying again and again: “Have I not been saying that you and I are indeed brothers? We have the same fleetness of foot; we are of the same stature; our bodies are alike in form and condition; our bows are exactly alike; our arrows are also alike. These things indicate that truly you and I are brothers and that Okteondon is your uncle, as he is my uncle. Come, then, let us go hence. We will amuse ourselves. We will go to a distant place where I am in the habit of playing.”

The young man replied unsuspectingly: “So let it be.” Whereupon the strange man said: “Come, come hither, my slaves, you wild geese. Do you come hither at once.” He had hardly ceased speaking when the wild geese alighted beside the canoe and attached themselves [708]to it. Then the strange man again got aboard of the canoe and invited his friend, the young man, to accompany him. When the latter had also boarded the canoe his companion said to the wild geese: “Come, now, do you go to the place where the island floats in the water.” At this command the geese began paddling, thus propelling the canoe very swiftly toward the place designated. Then the strange man began to sing: “Now, now, now, it seems true, I have started, indeed.” This song he kept singing as the canoe sped along toward the island of his promised sports.

They finally arrived at the island, and the two men having landed the strange man said to the wild geese: “Come, now, my servants, go now to find something for food for yourselves”; thereupon they flew away. He continued: “Whenever I say to you ‘Come hither’ you must return here at once. But it must be I who shall say this.”

Drawing the canoe up on the shore he said to his young companion: “Now, we will go to the place where I am accustomed to amuse myself,” and they two started. Having arrived at the spot, the young man saw lying there a very large white stone. His companion said: “It is, indeed, here that I have my playground; and now you shall see what I will do.”

Then the stranger undressed, making himself entirely naked. Then raising the great white rock he cast it into the water, which was very deep. Down it went with the sound bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?. The strange man next dived into the lake after the rock and remained under water for a long time. The youthful nephew of Okteondon was watching anxiously what his strange companion was doing. Finally, the youth was surprised to see his companion come to the surface of the water bearing the great white rock in his arms. When he had got on dry land he set the rock down, saying to the young man: “Thus now you, too, must do as I have shown you.” The latter replied: “So be it. I will try at once. After removing all his raiment and being naked he took up the great white rock and going to the edge of the lake he cast it far from shore into the depths. Again the rock sank with the sound bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, as in the first instance, and the young man dived after it.

As soon as the young man had plunged into the waters of the lake the strange man, taking up not only his own garments but also all those belonging to his companion, returned to the point where the canoe had been left. Arriving there, he called out: “Come, now, my servants. Come you hither,” and shoving the canoe into the water he boarded it. The wild geese soon alighted alongside of the canoe and attaching themselves to it began to paddle it along. Their master merely said to them, “Go directly back to the place whence we started,” and the geese obeyed him, causing the canoe to move swiftly thither. [709]

In a short time thereafter the young nephew of Okteondon rose to the surface of the water bringing with him, as did the stranger, the large white rock, which he cast aside as he came out of the water. He found no one around and he saw that his garments were missing, so he ran to the place where he remembered the canoe had been beached. When he arrived there he found that the canoe, propelled by the swift feet of the wild geese, was far out on the lake. As he reached the shore he overheard the strange man in the canoe say in a loud voice: “To you who feed on flesh and who dwell in the waters of the lake I offer this flesh to eat.” These flesh eaters were highly pleased with the idea that they would soon have more flesh to eat. By flesh the stranger signified the flesh of the young man whom he had entrapped on the island. The name of the strange man was S?hagowenot?ha.

Then the youthful nephew of Okteondon started away, going from place to place in a hopeless effort to find some way of escape. When he found that he had been victimized by S?hagowenot?ha, he began to cry, and he went about crying and saying to himself, “Now I know that I am about to die.”

In his wanderings around the island he found, scattered in numerous places, many bones of human beings in different degrees of decomposition. Among these decaying bones he was surprised to find the half-decayed body of a man lying on the ground, and he was still more astonished to hear this half-dead man say to him,462 “My sister’s son, Oh, nephew! come to me.” The youth, in his surprise, obeying the voice, went to the spot where the man lay stretched out; there he stopped and stood waiting the pleasure of the man who had addressed him as “my sister’s son.”

Then the man continued to address him, saying, “Oh, my sister’s son, you will now become very wretched, for S?hagowenot?ha has now shut you in on this island. Take new courage and exert yourself, for, though you may not know it, you are endowed beyond measure with orenda. You must now put it forth by taking courage to overcome these deceptions of S?hagowenot?ha. Moreover, you must take the following measures for this purpose. When the sun is near setting you must run to and fro all over the island, from one end to the other. You must cover it with your tracks. As soon as it becomes night and darkness is here, then you must return to the place where the canoe was beached at the canoe landing of S?hagowenot?ha. When you have arrived there you must dig a trench in the sand sufficiently large to hold your body. In this you must conceal yourself by covering yourself with sand, but you must leave a small aperture for your mouth. Your enemy, of course, will come to visit you, as is well known; he will come at about midnight. Do not under any circumstances become impatient and do not fear at all. He will bring with [710]him his dogs, and as soon as he lands he will urge them to find you by saying, Twu'a?, twu'a?, twu'a?. They will then begin to follow your tracks from place to place, smelling and sniffing as they run, and ever at their heels will be S?hagowenot?ha. Just as soon as you know by the faintness of the sounds of these pursuers that they have gone to some distant part of the island, you must come forth from your hiding place.

You must also make out of rough bark and soft wood three dolls or figures resembling the human body. When you have completed these you must make for each one a bow and arrows suitable for their size. When you have finished this work you must place one of these figures high up in some convenient tree crotch, and you must fix in the hands of the figure, in the attitude of shooting, the bow and the arrows. This you must do with the three figures.

After taking breath, for he was, indeed, very weak, the man who lay there a mere pile of bones said: “Yonder in the distance under that prostrate old rotten log you will find my skin-pouch of fisher skin, which do you bring me at once.” The young man brought the pouch of fisher skin to his uncle, who took from it a knife, a flint for striking fire, and a piece of punk. The knife he gave to the young man.

At once the young man began to fashion the three dolls which his uncle had advised him to make. He made also the three bows with arrows, to be held by these dolls or counterfeit men, which he had been counseled to fix in the crotches of trees to deceive the great man-eater S?hagowenot?ha, when he should come looking for the young man to devour him.

When the youth had completed this task he began to run over the island in such manner as to mislead the enemy and his dogs. The elder man cheered him in his undertaking, saying: “Have courage, my nephew; if you will perform my instructions with care you shall live, as I have said.” The young man replied: “So shall it be as you have instructed me.”

Then, going forth with the three dolls, he selected for each one a suitable place in which to secure the doll, choosing invariably a tree standing far from the landing place of the enemy. With some difficulty he fastened the doll in a fork of the tree in such manner that from the ground one might be misled into thinking that a person was hiding in the tree.

When it became dark he started for the spot near the landing place which he had selected for his own hiding place. Having arrived there he began to dig a trench large enough to hold and fully conceal his own body, and in time he had quite effectively concealed himself in the sand. When night came he lay there quite still, awaiting the return of his enemy, S?hagowenot?ha. He lay in [711]such a way that his mouth was not entirely covered with the sand, so he was able to breathe without much difficulty. He thus waited patiently many long hours, knowing from his uncle’s counsel that he had to contend with a crafty old cannibal, who was a past master in deluding his victims into a false feeling of security, the more easily to destroy them at his leisure.

It was some time after midnight when the alert young man heard peculiar sounds approaching the island. He was not long in recognizing the voices of the wild geese that had propelled the canoe which had left him a prisoner on the island. He heard also the then distant yelps of impatience of the dogs as they hungrily anticipated a bloody meal when they should reach the island. They were eager to pursue their prey, for they well knew the habits of their master. Finally the attentive ears of the young man heard the sounds which told him of the landing of his pursuers; and it was not long before he heard S?hagowenot?ha saying to his dogs: “Go you to find the person of the man. It may be that he lies now somewhere a heap of bones.” Then after releasing the dogs the old man shouted, “ÇtuÄ?', ÇtuÄ?', ÇtuÄ?'” signifying, “Go, go, go ye” (usually applied only to dogs, much like the familiar “sick’em” in English).

With their keen noses the dogs soon took up the tangled trail of the young man, and followed it from place to place over the entire island. S?hagowenot?ha was overheard by the young man to say to the wild geese: “My servants, do you now go to seek for your food,” at which command they flew away. Thereupon S?hagowenot?ha followed his dogs in the direction they had taken. Just then he heard in the distance the barking of the dogs, Wau, wau, wau, as they seemed to say. When the old man arrived near the place where the dogs were barking, he heard one of them burst out, crying, KweÑ?, kweÑ?, kweÑ?. Having arrived there, he found one of the dogs lying dead from the effects of an arrow which had fallen down its throat. S?hagowenot?ha was grieved to lose one of his dogs, which he highly valued, and he exclaimed: “Oh! it is discouraging. It would seem that his body is, indeed, in a measure possessed of orenda.” In a short time he again heard in the distance the barking of his dogs, and he at once started on the run toward the place. On drawing near the place he again heard one of the dogs utter loud cries, KweÑ?, kweÑ?, kweÑ?. Once more he found one of his dogs lying there, also with an arrow protruding out of its mouth, into which it had fallen from the second doll in the tree. Again the old man loudly exclaimed, “Oh! discouraging, discouraging, is this. He is, I think, somewhat of a sorcerer.” By that time the last dog was heard barking in the distance and the old man started on the run for the place. As he neared the spot, he heard the last dog crying KweÑ?, kweÑ?, kweÑ?. Thereupon fear came over the old cannibal, who exclaimed: “Now I shall [712]flee from this place, for he has now killed them all, my dogs. He is indeed a great sorcerer.” At once S?hagowenot?ha ran toward the canoe landing, which was some distance away.

In the meanwhile the young man, who was on the alert, saw his opportunity, and arising from his place of concealment in the sand, he went to the shore of the lake. Pushing the canoe into the water, he called loudly, “Do you come hither, my servants, you wild geese.” The geese with the sound dauÑ?' all came to the side of the canoe and at once attached themselves to it. Then the young man, boarding the canoe, said to the wild geese, his servants: “Let us go back to the place whence we started, and you start at this time.” Obeying his command, the wild geese at once began to paddle and the canoe moved swiftly in the water, the paddling of the wild geese sounding su?, su?, su?, su?.

When S?hagowenot?ha reached the shore and found the canoe moving away with the young man in it, as its master, he called out to him: “Oh, my brother! Turn back hither. I had come back here after you, be it known to you.” To this appeal the young man paid no attention, for he had been thoroughly informed of the character of his enemy by his uncle. So he kept on his way. He tauntingly said, for the benefit of his enemy, to the monsters of the deep: “I devote food to all of you who live on meat—to you who live in the depths of the lake.” Hearing this, these watery monsters rejoiced and were happy, for they desired meat, on which they fed. In their glee they uttered the sounds, Hist, hist, hist, hist, hai, hai, hai. Then S?hagowenot?ha again called to the young man: “Oh, my brother! have mercy on me; take pity on me and turn back. Is it not possible for you to agree to turn back and come to me? I am indeed not S?hagowenot?ha; I am only a servant to him. He, of course, is at his home.”

The young man, however, did not answer this appeal of his great enemy, but said to the wild geese which were propelling his canoe: “Go directly to the place whence you started.” The young man and his geese arrived at the landing place, at their home, just as day was dawning. After landing, he said to the wild geese: “My servants, you may now go to seek for your food.” Thereupon they flew away with the sound dauÑ?'. He had already said to the geese: “Hurry back as soon as I recall you.” Drawing the canoe ashore, he departed. Climbing the steep bank and going aside a short distance, he came to a lodge, which he entered. Within he found a very young woman. As he entered the lodge, without his garments, the woman arose, and going forward, embraced him, saying: “You are indeed in a wretched situation here. I am your younger sister, for verily your uncle is one who is called Okteondon.” The young man answered her: “He is, indeed, my uncle, as you say.” She continued: [713]“He is, too, my uncle, this Okteondon is; for this reason you and I are brother and sister. Very long ago he stole me from our lodge. Now dress yourself again; your garments hang yonder where he hung them when he brought them back.” So the young man dressed himself again in his own garments. Then his sister said: “Here are your bow and your arrows.” The young man took them, for they indeed belonged to him.

Thereupon the young woman said to her brother: “You and I must now return home. I will lay down bark in strips, and on these you must step to conceal your tracks until you reach the canoe; for you and I shall surely die if my husband should meet us before we reach the canoe. They carried out faithfully this precautionary device for concealing the brother’s footprints. When they reached the shore the brother pushed the canoe into the water and then called out to the wild geese: “Come hither, my servants.” When they arrived he continued: “You must go directly to the place where my racing ground is.” Having said this, the brother and sister boarded the canoe, and the wild geese began to propel it rapidly through the water, making the sounds su?, su?, su?, su? as they propelled it. Then the young man began to sing his song of triumph: “Now, now, now, I am certain that I am on my way homeward.” Turning to the wild geese he said: “Have courage463; be brave and do your duty, my servants.”

After going some distance it seemed to the two that the canoe kept the same position, although the wild geese were paddling with great vigor, making the sounds su?, su?, su?, su?. Turning her head, the young woman saw a fishhook attached to the end of the canoe, and she saw also that her husband, who sat on the opposite shore, was steadily pulling on the line, causing the canoe to move backward toward him. Taking up a stone hatchet from the bottom of the canoe she struck the hook a blow which broke it. At this the canoe again shot forward very swiftly, and they went a long distance, while the young man kept saying: “Have courage, my servants. Exert yourselves to the best of your power.”

But in a very short time thereafter they again noticed that the canoe was seemingly going backward, although the wild geese were still paddling with all their might. Turning her head and looking back across the lake the sister saw her husband lying prone on the shore, rapidly drinking up the water of the lake, and the canoe was now moving swiftly toward him. His mouth was enormous and his belly was likewise of incredible capacity. His whole body had swollen to huge proportions, owing to the floods of water he was drinking. The canoe and its occupants were fast being drawn into his open mouth, although the geese were paddling with all their might. [714]

When they drew quite near to the point where S?hagowenot?ha was lying the young man, stringing his bow, made ready to shoot at the great, swollen body lying on the shore, which was indeed stupendous in size. When within bowshot the young man, taking good aim, sent an arrow with great force into the body, which caused it to give out a loud sound, b-u'?! as the waters burst forth through the wound. The outrush of the waters sent the canoe flying back toward the shore whither it was bound. Then the young man vehemently urged the wild geese to exert themselves in paddling the canoe onward, and finally he arrived with his sister at the place whither they were bound—at the racing place of S?hagowenot?ha.

When they arrived there he said: “Now, you wild geese shall be free henceforth. S?hagowenot?ha has made you his slaves and servants—an act which was indeed, as you know, a great wrong. Now you are again free and independent. It was not the intention of S?hoÑgwadieÑnu'kda'on, our Creator, that anyone should be a slave or a servant.464 As is well known, it was his intention that every one and everything among the animals and the birds and the fowl should be in all things independent and free. He did not will that anyone should hold any being in bondage, even among the animal kingdom. Now you must depart hence and go your ways. It shall continue to be your custom in advancing across the earth to go to and fro in the form of a wedge. Thus you shall be seen by those who shall be born hereafter howsoever long the earth may continue its existence. This is all. So now depart, and when you go you must follow one another.” Thereupon the wild geese started away in freedom.

Then, turning to his sister, the brother said: “Now, let us depart hence.” Started on their way, they went along slowly as they two traveled homeward. When night overtook them they would encamp; and in the morning after breaking their fast they would resume the journey. They camped for five nights before they reached their home. They were unmolested on their journey by the sorcerers, who commonly infested the way on such occasions.

When they had reached their home the young man said to his sister: “Oh, my sister! I do not know you, because, perhaps, I was so small when you went away. We have now arrived at our home. I know now that Okteondon is your and my uncle. When I started away from this place I followed the tracks of our uncle until they led me to the lake. I verily believe that he was killed by the man with the great mouth. Now you and I must love and respect one another, as we are brother and sister. I shall greatly respect you, and you yourself must greatly respect me. Now I, myself, will go to hunt, and you shall keep the camp.” The brother proved himself a great hunter, and they had an abundance of meat for food in their camp.

This is the length of the story. [715]

Ne'' That (it is) o'nen?dji? ancient time-very hodi'non?sot their (an.)-lodge-stands ne?' the yadadiwa'den' they-two-uncle (and), nephew ne?' the ganon?sa'oÑ'we?. it-lodge, large-(was). Ne' 'gwa That-yet (But) diiut'gon always, (ever) hayas'?nen' he (an.)-lay-supine ne?' the hagen'dji?, he (an.)-ancient-one (was), ne'' that diiui'wa' it-reason (was) ne'' ho? there (in that place) gÄ'it it (n.)-tree-stands gaeÑdas'deÑ' it (n.)-tree-large-(was) okde'oÑdon' it (n.)-root-had-several ne?' the haya'da''ge?, his-(an.)-body-on, ne'' that na'e? truly-(verily) da'a'oÑ? not it-able (be) weÑ'don? ever (sometime) aat'ken?. could he arise.

Ne''ho?s?hoÑ There-only (alone) de?hni''dyon', two-they (masc.) abode, o'yonis?he't. it-long-time-was. DyeÑgwa's?hoÑ Suddenly-just ne?' the hagen'dji? he (an.)-ancient one (was) ne?' the haoÑwa'den', his-nephew woo?t?ha'has he-him-talked to wai'eÑ', he it said “HoÑ'we? “Yonder (over there) ho''se thither-thou-go heoÑ'we? there-where tgaya'sa'oÑnyon'. there-it-one-tiered-many (logs) has. Ne''ho? There na'e? truly en?syeÑ't?ho' wilt-thou-it-plant ne?' the o?sae''da', it (neut.) bean, ne''kho? that-and (that-too) oneÑ'on', it (neut.) corn, ne?' the onyon?'sa'-kho?. it-squash-and. Oka''on? It savory, delicious (is) ne'?ho?, indeed (in fact), ga'nyo' (if it-rules) enwadoÑ'ni' will it grow (will it-itself make) enwatchi?s?a'-kho?. will it itself ripen and. Da' So (there) ne'' that (it is) en'hnik, will thou-I-it eat, ne'' that en?ni?nhe?'go'oÑk will thou-I-it use ever to live ga'nyo' if (= if-it rules) gowa'nen? much (great amount) en?syeÑt'?hwaku'.” thou will it harvest (= unplant).” Ne'' That (it was) wai'eÑ' he-it-said ne?' the hagen'dji?. he-old-one (ancient one).

De'aonis?he''oÑ' Not-it-long-time-(was) o'nen? now (then) wai'eÑ' he-it said ne?' the hagen'dji?, he (an.) ancient-one (was), “Da' “So (there) o'nen? now (then) ho'se'go? thence do thou-it-fetch hoÑ'we? (over there) yonder ganankta'goÑ, it (n.)-bed-under, ne''ho? there ga'yen' it-lies ne?' the ga'as'?ha', it (n.) basket, ne''ho? there igaa'' it is-contained na'e? truly ne?' the ganeÑ'gwen' it (n.) seed-grain gaya'son?.” one-it-has named.”

Da' So (there) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-youth (= great child) waa'go' thence-he-it did fetch ne?' the ga'a?sÄ' it (n.) basket ne''ho' there waa'yeÑ' did he-it lay heoÑ'we? there-where hayas'?hen' he (an.) lay supine ne'' the hagen'dji?. he (an.) ancient one (was).

Da' So (There) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the hagen'dji? he (an.) ancient-one (was) wai'eÑ', he-it-said “Hau''”, “Go to, “Come ne?' the ga'as?hÄ' it (n.) basket ho'se'go? thence-do-thou-it fetch ganankta'goÑ it (n.) couch-under niwa's''a, so it-size-small (is), was'?heÑ? (it-hand-full) ten ni'yoÑ. so-it-many (are). Den Wilt sat'wa?ha' thou-self-it-gird with ne?' the ga'as'?hÄ'. it (n.) basket. DewagadoeÑdjoÑ'ni?.” I-it-in-need-of-stand.” [716]

Da' So (There) ne''ho? thus (there) naa'ye' thus he-it did ne?' the haksa''gowa. he (an.) youth (= great child). O'nen? Now (then) haon?han' he (an.) alone, himself ne?' the hagen'dji? he (an.) ancient one (is) ne''ho? there ga'as?hÄ'goÑ it (n.) basket-in he' thus (where) ni'yoÑ so many it numbers ne?' the oneÑ'on'. it (n.) corn. Gagwe'gon? It-entire (All), he' thus ni'yoÑ so many it numbers waoÑ'dÄ?; did he-it-put in gagwe'gon? it (n.) entire (is) ne''ho? thus (there) naa'ye' so he-it did ne'' that was'?heÑ? it (n.) handful = ten ni'yoÑ? so many it numbers ne?' the ga'as'?hÄ'; it (n.) basket; o?sae''da'-kho? it (n.) bean-and ne''ho? there waoÑ'dÄ?, there he-it-put in, gagwe'gon? it (n.) entire waadyeÑno'k'den'. did-he his-task complete.

O'nen? Now (then) wai'eÑ' he-it-said ne?' the hagen'dji?, he (an.) ancient one (was), “Hau''', “Go to, “Come, o'Ñen? now (then) ne''ho? there heoÑ'we? there-where tgaya'sa'on', there-one-clearings has made, ne''ho? there en?cyeÑ't?ho' wilt thou-it plant gagwe'gon?. it (n.) entire (is). Da' So There, o'nen? now (then) saa?deÑ'di?.” thou (do) start.”

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa'gowa he (an.) youth (= great child) wai'eÑ', he-it said, “Nyo?'. “So be it. Ne'' That gwa' still, yet, too, noÑ' perhaps ne''ho? there engege'oÑ' will (shall) I it pile heoÑwe? there-where ne'' that syas'?hen', thou lying-supine (art), he' thus ni'yoÑ so many it numbers gens' customarily desadoeÑdjoÑ'ni?.” thou-it-in need of, standest.

Da' So There o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa'gowa he (an.) youth (= great child) wao'sai'en?. did he-hasten. Ne?ho? There waaksai'eÑ' did-he-it-dish lay ga'snen' it (n.) bark ne?' the gak'sa' it (n.) dish (bowl), onon'dÄ' it (n.) hominy iga'', it-contained (is), gadjisdoÑia's?hÄ?-kho?, it (n.) fire poker-and, gagan'ia's?hÄ'-kho?, it (n.)-knife-and, oÄ?kwa'-'kho? it (n.) bread-and gagaisden'don'. it (n.)-corn-hulled-by-boiling.

Ga'nio' As soon as waadieÑnu''kden' did he-his task complete o'nen? now then na'e? truly wai'eÑ', he-it said “Gno''sen, “Oh, uncle, “Oh, mother’s brother, o'nen? now then engieÑt?'hwa?sa' shall I-it-(to) plant go he'oÑwe? there-where tgaya''saon'.” there it-one-clearings has made.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) waa?deÑ'di'. did-he (an.) start.

Wa'ha'ion' There he arrived he'oÑwe? there-where tgaya''saon', there one-it-made-clearings, o'nen? now (then) na'e? truly wooio''den'. did-he-it-work. Waaeo'do'go', Did he-it-weeds-remove, waae?daweÑ'ie'-kho?. did he-it-earth-stir up-and. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) na'e? truly [717] waayeÑ't?ho' did he-it-plant to?ka''a? numbering few, few ni' so many gana'gens'?hÄge. it (n.)-hills-number. Da' So (then) dieÑgwas'?hoÑ all at once, suddenly o'nen? now (then) hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-heard da?hadeÑno'den' thence he his song-uttered ne?' the hono''sen?. he-him-uncle. (mother’s brother). (is) GaeÑnagoÑ'wa? It (n.) song-in hot?hyu'wi, he-it-tells, ha'don?, he-it-says, repeatedly “O'nen?, “Now (then) o'nen?, now (then) o'nen? now (then) gi' I-it think ne?' the o'gat'ken?, did I-myself-raise up, o'nen? now (then) wai?'.” certainly.”

O'nen? Now (then) wai?' certainly, (of course) ne?' the haksa'go'wa he (an.) child-great (is) saa?deÑ'di' again-he-departed, (= went home) waadiano'Äd. did-he-his-pace-hasten. Wa'dji'a? (While-small) In a short time o'nen? now (then) saa'yon' again-he-returned ne?' the he'oÑwe? there-where t?hodinon'?sot. there-they (an.)-it lodges stands. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) wooye'na' did he-him-seize ne?' the hono''sen? he-him-uncle (= mother’s brother) (is). wai'eÑ' did he-it say. kho?, and “Ana'aweÑ?' “What it happened hakno''sen??” he-me-uncle (= mother’s brother) (is)?” Daai?wa'sÄ'ko' Thence he-it replied ne?' the hagen'dji? he-ancient-one (is) wai'eÑ', did he-it-say, “O'kha'dat'?hen? “Did my throat become dry ne'' that oi?'wa' it (n.) reason (is) o'gadeÑno'den'.” did I song-utter, sing.”

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) wai'eÑ', did he-it-say, “O'nen? “Now (then) ho'ge'go' thence I-it (n.) fetch ne?' the o?ne'ganos. it (n.) water. Hau'', Come, o'nen? now (then) sne'giha.” thou-it (n.)-liquid drink (do).”

Ga'nio' As soon as (= it-it-rules) waa?ne'giha' did he-it-liquid-drink ne?' the hagen'dji? he-ancient-one (is) o'nen? now (then) wai?' certainly (of course) saadyas'?heÑ'. again he-self-laid supine. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he-child-great (is) wai'eÑ', did he-it say, “Gno''seÑ?, “My uncle, “Oh, my uncle, hau'' Come o'nen? now (then) densadye'enk-s?hoÑ shall-you quiet-just keep en?syas'?heÑda'k.” shall you-supine keep-lying.”

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the hagen'dji? he (an.) ancient one (is) wai'eÑ', did he-it say, “Giwa'den', “Oh, my nephew, ne''ho? there (where) hoÑsa'se? thither again go thou he'oÑwe? there where tgaya''saon' there one-it (n.)-clearings-made ne''ho? there na'e? truly en?syeÑ't?ho' shalt thou-it-plant ne?' the oneÑ'on'. it (n.)-corn. Ten''en? Not (it is) ganonsgoÑ'wa? it (n.) lodge-in de'sga'yen', at all again it-lies (is), gagwe'gon? it (n.) all (= it-(n.) entire) o'ga'it did-it-spill out wai?'; certainly; gagwe'gon? it (n.)-all (= it-(n.) entire) dentc'hek. shalt thou it-gather up. Da' So (then) dja'gon? do thou (be) brave = hurry up diq'.” moreover.”

Ga'nio' As soon as (it-it-rules) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) gagwe'gon? it (n.)-all (= it (n.) entire) saas''a?t again he-it-finished saasnon'kweÑs again he-it-gathered up [718] ne?' the oaa''ge? it (n.) path-on o'ga'it did-it-spill out tchis?hadak'he' as again he ran (homeward) ne?' the oneÑ'on'. it-(n.) corn. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) a'e' again saayeÑt?ho'?sa'. again he-it to-plant went.

Agwas' Very a'e' again (once more) o'nen? now (then) t?ho'ha? nearly (close by) heÑons''a?t will he-it complete (finish) aayeÑt'?ho' would he-it-plant o'nen? now (then) a'e' again hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears (= is hearing) daadeÑno'den' thence he-his song uttered ne?' the hono''sen?, he-him-uncle of (is), hadon'', he kept saying, “O'nen?, “Now (then), o'nen?, now (then), o'nen? now (then) gi'' I think o'gat'ken?. did I-self-raise (= I arose). O'nen? Now (then) wai?'.” certainly.” indeed.

Da' So (Then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) o'nen? now (then) wai?' certainly ha'doÑsaen?'dat thence again he ran he'oÑwe? there (where) t?hodinon?saga'ion?. there their (masc.) lodge old (is) (ancient).

DyeÑgwa's?hoÑ Suddenly, all at once, o'nen? now (then) ha'dewaseÑ'non just it-half way, middle-(was) ne''ho? there (where) wa'hadak'he' thither he running went o'nen? now (then) wai?' truly indeed hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears wa'ot'kae? did-it-make a sound, noise otkae''ni it makes sound loud “ba'',” “ba'',” ne'' that diioi'wa' there it-it caused o'dwadekte'nya'k did-it (n.) root break ne'' that he''oÑwe? there (where) hayas'?hen' he (an.) lay supine ne?' the hono''sen. he-him-uncle. (his)

Da' So (then) ne'' that na'e? truly o'nen? now (then) hoÑsaa'yon' there again he-did arrived he'oÑwe? there (where) t?hodinon?'sot there it-them-lodge stood ten''en? not de's?hen''dyon' at all again he abides (at home) noono''sen, the-his-uncle (mother’s brother), o'nen? now (then) de'sgatga''ho?. not at all again anywhere.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) wao'?sens; did it-him-grieve; o'nen? now (then) wa'e' did he-it-think o'nen? now (then) noÑ' probably enwagideÑs't?he't, will-it-me to be poor-cause, aweÑdoÑ'nya't-kho? it-it-lonely has made and o'nen? now (then) o'wa'don'' it became ne'' that diioi'wa' there it-it caused ne'' that o'nen? now (then) de'sgatga''ho? at all again anywhere noono''sen?. the-he-him uncle (mother’s brother).

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) na'e? of course waas'daeÑ' he (an.) wept ho'nigonÄhet'gen's-kho? it-him-mind-grieves and o'yo'nis?he't. it-it-to last caused. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (there) na'e? verily waeÑni'?hen' did he-it-cease he?' where hasda'?ha' he was weeping ho'nigonÄhet'gen's-kho? it-him-mind-grieves-and, ganonsakda'die's. it (n.) lodge beside (here and there). O'nen? Now (then) hoÑsaa'yon' thither again he entered [719] ganonsa'goÑ it (n.) lodge-in waeÑnondoÑ'nyon'-kho? did he think repeatedly-and he?' where nionakdo'den?. such-his-situation-kind of (was). Da' So (there) o'nen? now (then) doÑdaaya'gen't thence he came forth wae''q did he-it-think gatgat'?ho? let me look ka'we? whither noÑ' probably heawe'noÑ thither he has gone noono''sen?. the he-him-uncle (is). O'nen? Now (then) na'e? verily o't?hadaweÑ'nye' did he-self-move from place to place ganonsakda'dye' it (n.)—lodge beside (around) hokdoÑ'dye' he-it-looked-closely along adeyeÑnoÑ'ni''ge?, a way careful-in, he'?he' he-it-thought adi''gwa possibly noÑ' probably ne''ho? there (where) hayanaeÑ'nyon' he-track-appeared-successively ne?' the hono''sen?. he-him uncle (is).

DyeÑgwa's?hoÑ Suddenly all at once o'nen? now (then) waa'gen' did-he-it-see he'oÑwe? there (where) heodakhe'noÑ, thither he running-has gone, ne'' that ne?' the niyo?cyos'ton such it-it-deep-has gone (his tracks) he'oÑwe? there (where) heodakhe'noÑ. thither he running-has gone. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) waa'gen' did he-it-see o'nen? now then hegÄÄ?gwen's'gwa thither-it (n.) Sunsets towards heodakhe'noÑ thither he running-has gone noono''sen?. the-he-him-uncle.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Ni'yo?. “So be it. Ne'' That gwa' just noÑ' perhaps ne''ho? there (where) o'nen? now then heÑ'ge' thither will-I go neÑ' this one i''a? I (myself) he'oÑwe? there (where) heawe'noÑ thither he-has-gone ne?' the hakno''sen?. he-me-uncle. EneyaneÑ'auÑ' Will-I-him-track take along na'e? verily o'nen? now (then) ne?' the hakno''sen?.” he-me-uncle (is).”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) o'nen? now (then) wa'ha'go' did-he-it get ne?' the ho'eÑ'non' his-bow ga'non'-kho?, it (n.) arrow-and, da' so (then) o'nen? now (then) wooyaneÑ'auÑ' did-he-him-track take along ne?' the hono'' he-him-uncle sen?; (mother’s brother); da' so (then) o'nen? now (then) waa?deÑ'di' did he depart o't?hen?'dat, did he-run, o'nen? now (then) wooyaneÑ'auÑ'. did-he-him-track take along. Ga?hadagoÑ's?hoÑ' It (n.) forest-in-only hadakhe''s?hoÑ he running only goes sen' three na'o'da' so many it-night-passed o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there (where) waa'yon' did he arrive ganyoda'e', it (n.) lake-stood out ne''ho? there (where) na'e? indeed he?'hodya'no'k there-his-trail ended noono''sen?, the he-him-uncle, ne''ho? there (where) wooen''he't did he stop o't?hatga'don?-kho?. did he look around and. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) o't?ha'da't did he stand still ganyadak'da'. it (n.) lake beside.

Da' So (then) ne?ho'?-s?hoÑ' there (where)- just, only hada'die's he stood in different places dyeÑgwa?'s?hoÑ suddenly just, all at once waa'gen' did he-it-see [720] we'en? far away dagagawe'' there it (n.)-paddled ga?hoÑ'wa' it (n.) canoe o?stoÄ'die'. it (n.) swift went. Ne'' That o'nen? now (then) dosgen'hagwa nearby-towards dyeÑgwa?' suddenly si' lo! ne'' that ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being da'non?dak'he', hither-he-aboard-was coming, si' lo! niyo'we' so it distant (is) ne''ho? there (where) daa'di'he't. there did-he-stop.

O'nen? Now then ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) waatgat'?ho' did he look waa'gen'-kho? did-he-see-and ne''ho? there (where) ga?hoÑwakda'die' it (n.) canoe beside along ne''ho? there (where) ne?' the hoÑgak' goose (geese) wadiya'dani'yoÑt, they (f.) gender-body-attached, ne'' that ne?' the ye'i' six niwÄÑ'nandi so they many (n.) number ne?' the hoÑgak' geese ne?' the sgagÄ'di, one-it side, ho'gwa other side ye'i'-kho? six-and niwÄÑ'nandi so they many (n.) number wadiya'dani'yoÑt. they (f.) gender-body attached.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears ne?' the hoÑ'gwe? he (an.) human being wai'en', did-he-it say, “O'nen? “Now (then) na'e? indeed enswadekhwi?sak'ha' will you-self-food-to seek go ages?henen''s?hon'.” my-servants-severally.” Da' So then o'nen? now then ne?' the hoÑgak' geese wa'dwadi'den', did they (n.) fly up, “Stum?” “Stum?” o'gi'. it (n.) sounded.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) ne'ho?'s?hoÑ there (where) just i'yad? he-stood t?hiodieen?'s?hoÑ. just-he-remained quiet-only. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the ga?hoÑ'wagoÑ it (n.) canoe-in ha''non? he (an.)-was in wai'en': did-he-it say: “Gadji?', “Do thou come hither, dediaden?nondÄ'.” thou-I-brothers (are).” O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) wai'eÑ', did he-it-say, “Hau'', “Come, nio?'.” so be it.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover waa?'deÑdi' did he-start ne''ho? there where wa'e' thither-did-he-go he'oÑwe? there where tga?hoÑwa'ien', there it (n.) canoe was lying, ne''ho? there it?hÄd' there-he-was in noÑ'gwe?. the he-human being. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the heÑ'gwe? he (an.)-human being wai'eÑ, did he-it-say, “Nia'wen, “May it happen askeÑ'non' it (n.)-peaceful (and in health) is t?hi'son?he'. so-thou-livest. Is' Thou wai?' of course iano''sen? he-the uncle (is) ne?' the Okte'oÑdon'. Okteondon. I'' I hae''gwa? also, at the same time hakno''sen?. he-me-uncle (mother’s brother) (is). Da' so (then) nia'wen? may-it-happen diq' moreover I'' we dediadennoÑ'de' both-thou-I-brothers (are) o'nen? now (then) o'didiadade'gen'. did-thou-I-self-see (see one the other). Do'gens-kho'? It-true-and (is) ne?'ho? as a matter of fact dedjidiadie'en?; both-thou-I-self-resemble; ne''kho? that-and [721] ne?' the s?ha'dedineÑ'ies. equal-both-thou-I-stature-long (is). Si' Behold, ni?ha'a? is it not better diadenÄn''geÄd, (let)-thou-I-it-test, ne'' that ne?' the niwak'nigono''deÑ. such-my-mind-kind of (is). Da' So (then) ne'' that na'e? verily, truly, ne?' the do'gens (it is) true, certain ne'' that ne?' the tcika'ton as-I-it-have-kept-saying ne''kho? that-and ne?' the ne'' that oÑgia'Än'non' thy-my-bow(s) s?ha'de'io'dÄÑ alike-both-it (n.)-in-form (are) ne''kho? that-and ne?' the ne'' that oÑgia''non' thy-my-arrow(s) s?ha'de'io'dÄÑ alike-both-it (n.)-in-form (are) ne''kho? that-and ne?' the s?ha'de'ioÑs equal-both-it (n.)-in length (are) si' lo, ni?ha'a?.” so-is-it-not better.”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) noÑ'gwe? the-human being (= man) waada?'go' did-he-it-take out ne?' the ga?hoÑ'wagoÑ it (n.) canoe-in ne?' the wa'ÄÑ'non' it (n.) bow ga''non'-kho?. it (n.) arrow-and. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover o'tiaÄÑnoÑgÄÑ'is; did-thou-I-bow(s)-compare (bring together) s?ha'de'io'dÄÑ alike-both-it (n.)-in form (are) ga''non'-kho? it (n.) arrow-and s?ha'de'io'dÄÑ, alike-both-it (n.)-in-form (are), agwas' very s?ha'ga'da? just-one-(they are) (one and the same) ga?seÑnia''di? one-it-make-used ne?' the na''ot. such kind of thing.

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the oia''dji? elsewhere t?hawe?'di? thence he has come noÑ'gwe? the human-being wai'en' did-he-it-say “Hau'', “Come, o'nen? now (then) diadenÄn''geÄd let thou-I-it-attempt test i'wi I it-think s?ha'dediiano'we'kho? equal-both-thy-my-pace swift (is) and ne?'ho?.” as a matter of fact.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “DediiongwÄgÄ'dat; “Let thou-I-it-bend; i''kho? I-and dengiongwÄgÄ'dat. will-I-it-bend-bow. Hau'', Go to, Come, ga'dji? hither do thou come ne'kho? here dedi'dat, doth let-thou-I-stand ne'' that ne?' the dendweÑ'en?dad will we (pl.) run (a race) ne?' the oÑgni'non''s?hon'. both our arrow-several. Hau'', Go to, Come, o'nen? now (then) enhni''yak. will thou-I-it shoot. Ganio'' As soon as endidiat'ka', will-thou-I-it-let loose, da' so o'nen? now (then) dendien?'dad both-will-thou-I-run o'nen?. now (then).

O'nen? Now (then) na'e? verily, truly, wani''yak they two (m.)-it shot o'nen?-s?hoÑ'kho? now then just-and o'dien?'dad. did they two (m.) run. Ne'' That ne?' the agwas' very s?ha'degada'die'; even-both-it-flew along ne'' that we'geÑ ?simply ne?' the ot'ka? it (n.)-sounds ne'' that ga'skwÄ''s?hon'a it (n.)-stone-several-small deiodideÑ's?hoÑ they (n.)-flying (are)-just he' where niio?sno'we' so-it-swift is ne?' the deidak'he'. both they ran along.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) he''tken? above upward waatgat'?ho' did he look waa'gen' did he-it-see [722] ne''ho? there degi'die' two they (n. an.) ne?' the hni'non''s?hon'a both-their-arrows-several s?ha'degada'die'. even-both-it-flew along. Ne''ho? There he''tken? above on high o't?hinan'hoÑ'nia'k did-both-they (m.)-it-caught (on the fly) hni'non''s?hon'a both-their-arrow-several agwas' very s?ha'dia'wen?. alike-they-two (n.)-happened.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ', did he-it-say woo'wi' did-he-him-tell ne?' the haksa''gowa, he (an.)-child-great, “Hau'', “Come, o'nen? now (then) djidia?'get.” let us two turn back.” OÑsani'ion' There-again-both-they returned he'oÑwe? there where tka?hoÑwa'ien'. there it (n.)-canoe lies.

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being ha'don? he kept saying ne''ho? there I'e's: he walked around: “Da' “So (then) ne'' that tchiga'don?. while-I-keep-saying. I'' We na'e? verily, truly, dediadennoÑ'de'. both thou-I-brothers-(are). S?ha'dediiano'we'; Equally both-I-swift of foot (are); s?ha'dediia'do''den?-kho?; alike both-thy-my-body-and shape (is); s?ha'dedineÑ'ies-kho?; alike both thy-my-height and long (is); oÑgia'Ä?non''s?hon' thy-my-bow-several s?ha'deio''dÄÑ, alike-both-it (n.)-inform (are), oÑgia'non's?hon'-kho? they-my-arrow-several-and s?ha'deio''dÄÑ. alike-both-it (n.)-in-form (are). Da' So (then) ne'' that wai?' of course gayende'i it-it-knows (shows) ne'' that do'gens true (it is) I'' we (two) dedyadÄnnon'de'. both thou and I brothers (are). Is' Thou yano''sen he-thy-uncle (is) ne?' the OkteoÑ'don', Okteondon, I''-kho? I-and hagno''sen. he-my-uncle (is). Da'. So (then). Hau'', Come, o'nen? now (then) endya?deÑ'di' will-both-thou-I-start (go) ho'gwa aside yonder hendyatga'nie'. there will thou-I amuse ourselves. HoÑ'we? There (where) hen??ne' hence will thou-I-go ne''ho? there ni''a? I alone gatganie''t?ha'.” I-self-amuse-use-(it).”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) de'a'dokha' not-he-it-comprehends ne?' the na''ot kind of thing hot?hiu'wi he-it-telling (is) wai'en', did-he-it-say, “Nio?'.” “So be it.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne'' that noÑ'gwe? the-human being wai'en', did-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come, o'nen? now (then) ga'sni? hither come ye hoÑ'gak wild geese nene?' the which ages?henen''s?hon'a?. it-my-slaves severally (are). Ga'o' Hither nonda'sue?.” again-hither-come ye.”

Ganio'' As soon as waadweÑno'kden' did-he-his-word end o'nen? now then ne?' the hoÑ'gak wild geese ne''ho? there o'nen? now (then) o'dweÑni'dyoÑ'da't did they (n.) alight gaoÑwankda'die-kho? it (n.)-canoe-side-along-and o'weÑnÄndia'daniioÑ'den'. did-they (n.)-own-body-affix (to it). O'nen? Now (then) diq' moreover ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being saade'non'da again-he-self-embarked ne?' the gaoÑ'wakoÑ it (n.)-canoe-in ne''ho?-kho? there-and a'e' again waade'non'da did-he-self- ne?' the haksa'gowa. he (an.)-child-great (is). O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the [723] oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ' did-he-it-say woo'wi' did-he-them-tell ne?' the hoÑ'gak, wild geese, “Hau'' “Come, o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there ho''swe? hence ye-go he'oÑwe? there where tgawe'not.” there it (n.) island (is) protrudes.”

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the hoÑ'gak wild geese o'wadi'gawe' did-they-it-paddle osnoÄ'die' it (n.)-swift went along ne''ho? there wa'ne' thither-both they go he?' there tgawe'not. there-it-(n.)-island-protrudes.

Da', So (then), o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover waadeÑno'den' did-he-his-song utter ne?' the oÑ'gwe?, human being, ha'donk, he-it-saying kept, “O'nen?, “Now (then), o'nen?, now (then), o'nen? now (then) gi' it seems ne?' the o'ga?deÑ'di'.” did-I-self-start.” Ne''s?hoÑ That-only hodeÑnoda'die' he-own-song uttering went along he'niiowe' there-so-it-distant (is) wani'ion' there-did-they-two arrive he'oÑwe? there where hot?hiu'wi he-it-telling-kept hatganies't?ha'. he-self-(to) amuse uses.

O'nen? Now (then) na'e? verily, truly, ho'gi'ion' there-did-they (n.) arrive ne''ho?, there, ho'wa'di?'he't there-did-they (n.)-stop gwa''ho?. also, too. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover wayade'non?da?'go' did-they-two-disembark he'oÑwe? there where gawe'not. it (n.) island-projects. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come, o'nen? now (then) ages?henen''s?hon', my-slave (-s = several) hoÑ'gak, wild geese, swadekhwi?'sakha?.” you-self-food-seek-go.” O'nen? Now (then) diq' moreover o'weÑnade''go' did-they (n.)-flee (disperse) o'tgoÑdiden'. did they (n.) fly. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Ganio'' “Whenever engi'', will-I-it-say, ‘Ga'o' ‘Hither nonda'swe?, hither-again-(do) ye come, I'' I na'e? verily (truly) ne'' that engi'',” will-I-it-say,” ne'kho? there endjiswa'yon'.” with you (pl.) arrive.

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover waadyeÑ't?ho' did-he-it-draw ne?' the gaoÑ'wa' it (n.)-canoe ne''ho? there ganiadak'da' it (n.) lake-beside woo'en''he't. did-it-it-stop. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “O'nen? “Now (then) diq' moreover ne''ho? there he'dne? thither-thou-I-go (let) he'oÑwe? there where gatga'nie't?ha'.” I-self-(to)-amuse-use.” O'nen? Now (then) waaya?deÑ'di'. did-they-two-depart.

Da'aonis?he''oÑ? Not-it (n.)-lasted long o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there wani'ion'. (there)-did-they-two-arrive. Da' So then ne?' the haksa'gowa he (an.)-child great (is) [724] ne''ho? there waa'gen' did-he-it-see nan'da? this (so) noÑ' perhaps ni'wa' so-it (n.)-large (is) ne?' the ka''skwa' it (n.) stone ganeÑyagÄn'ent it (n.)-stone-white (is) ne''ho? there iga'yen'. it (n.) lay. Da' So (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ' did-he-it-say ne''ho?, there, “Ni'gen' “But (so it is) ne'kho? here gatganie't?ha'. I-self-it-to-amuse-use. O'nen? Now (then) diq' moreover densega'ne'k both-will-thy-eye(s)-on (it) be he?' how (there) nengye'Ä' so-will-I-it-do ha'djigwas'.” shortly.”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) wai?' truly verily waaga''tchi' did-he (an.)-it-undo ne?' there ho?cioÑ'ni, he-self-dressed-(has), waade'nostoÑ'ni'. did he-self-naked make. O'nen? Now (then) gwa''ho? next in order o''t?hak did he-it-take up ne?' the ga''skwa' it (n.) stone ne'ne?' that which ganeÑyagÄn'ent it (n.) stone-white-(is) ne''ho? there wao'di' thither-he-it-cast one'ga'ge? it (n.) water-on gwa''ho?, next in order agwas' very ono`des, it (n.) depth-long (is), “bub?, “bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, o''gen'. did-it-it-say. O'nen?-kho? Now-(then) and ne''ho? there waadya'do''yak did-he-his-own-body cast waa?'do' did-he-self- o'yo'nis?he't. did-it (n.)-last long time.

Da' So (then) ne?' the howanwan'den' he-his-nephew ne?' the Okte'oÑdon' Okteondon ne''ho? there deagane''s?hoÑ, both his eyes on it (is)-severally he?'niodie'en? such so it-it-has-done ne?' the oÑ'gwe?. human being. Da' So (then) dyeÑ'gwa? suddenly si' lo! saa?'dogo' again-he-self-dis-immerses ne?' the deya'di both they together (are) ne'kho? here nioyeoÑ'die' so-he-it-has-done coming back ne?' the ga''skwa'. it (n.)-stone. Ganio''s?hoÑ As-soon-as-just saade'sko'go' again-he o'nen? now (then) ho'gwa aside yonder wao'di' there-he-it-threw ne?' the ga''skwa'. it (n.)-stone. O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Ne''ho? “There o'nen? now (then) nis' the-thou ne''ho? thus (there) nen'cye'.” so-wilt-thou-it-do.”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child great (is) wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come, nyo?'. so let it be. O'nen? Now (then) engade'nyeÑ'den'.” will-I-self-it-attempt.” O'nen? Now (then) na'e? verily, truly, waaga''tchi' did-he-it-undo ne?' the ho?cyoÑ'ni, he-it-self-dressed-has agwas' very waade'nostoÑ'ni', did-he-self-naked make, o't?hak-'kho? did-he-it take up -and ne?' the ga''skwa' it (n.) stone ne?' the ganeÑyagÄn'ent it (n.) stone-white (is) ne''ho? there we'en? far o?nega''ge? it (n.)-water-on [725] wao'di', did-he-it-throw, o'nen?' now (then) diq' moreover ne''ho?-kho? there -and hae''gwa too also, waa?'do', did-he-dive, waadya'do''yak did-he-own-body-lanced o?nega''ge?. it (n.) water-on. O'nen? Now (then) diq' moreover ne?' the ga''skwa' it (n.) stone “bub?, “bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?, bub?,” bub?,” so''gen'. again-it-it-did say.

Ganyo''s?hoÑ As-soon-as-just waa?'do' did-he-self-immerse (dive) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) o'nen? now then na'e? verily, truly. ne?' the hoÑ'gwe, he (an.) human being o''t?hak did-he-it-take up ne?' the hocyoÑnyas'?hÄ' his-raiment ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child great (is) ho'wen?, he-it-owns, wa?'ha' did-he-it take away ne?' the gagwe'gon. it (n.) entire (all). Ne''ho?-kho? There-and a'e' again hoÑsa'e' thither-again-he-goes he'oÑwe? there where tka?hoÑwa'yen'. there-it (n.) canoe-lies. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there wa'ha'yon' did-he (an.)-arrive o'nen? now (then) hae''gwa also waÄn'nonk did he-it-call wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come, o'nen? now (then) ages?henen''s?hon' my-slave(s)-severally ga'o' hither nonda'swe?.” again hither-do-you-come.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) o't?ha?dja'en' did-he-it-push ne?' the gahoÑ'wa' it (n.) canoe o?hnega''ge? it (n.) water-on wa?'ho' there-he-it (n.)-put in-to (liquid) waade'non?'dÄ-kho?. did-he-self-put-into (it)-and. “O'nen? “Now (then) diq' moreover wai'eÑ' did-he-it-say “O'nen? “Now (then) ne''ho? there hoÑsaswado'gennt thither-again-(do)-you-go he'oÑwe? there where diyoÑgwa?deÑ'dyoÑ, thence-we (incl.) started-have, ne?' the ages?henen''s?hon' my-slave(s)-severally ne'' that ne?' the hoÑ'gak.” wild geese.” Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) o'wadi'gawe' did-they-paddle ne?' the hoÑgak wild geese o?sno'Ädie'. it (n.) swift-went along.

Da' So (then) ne''-kho? that-and ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child great (is) ne'ne?' that-the Okte'oÑdon' Okteondon howÄnwan'den' his nephew saa?'do'go' again he-self came up haa'wi' he-it-carried ne?' the ga''skwa' it (n.) stone ne''ne?' that-the ganeÑyagÄn'ent-gowanen it (n.)-stone-white-(rock) large ho'gwa-kho? aside-yonder-and wao'di' did-he-it-throw o'nen?-kho? now (then) and saade'sgo'go'. again-he-self.

O'nen? Now (then) na'e? verily deotka?toÑ'nion' both he-his-eyes-casts around successively de'gatga''ho? not-anywhere-at-all ne?' the oÑ?gwe? human being ne'' that 'kho? and ne?' the de'gatga''ho? not anywhere at all ne?' the ho?cioÑnias'?hÄ'. his-raiment (his garments). Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) [726] diq' moreover ne''ho? there waadak'he' thither-he-running-goes he'oÑwe? there where ne'' that he'e' he-it-thought tgahoÑwa'yen'. there-it (n.)-canoe-lies. Da' So (there) o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there waa'yon' did-he-arrive waatgat'?ho' did-he-look o'nen? now (then) na'e? verily, truly, we'en? far away waodigawea'die' thither-they-it-paddling-go-along ne?' the hoÑ'gak wild geese ne?' the gahoÑwa' it (n.) canoe ne''ho? there ha'non?dak'he' he (an.)-aboard-goes ne?' the oÑ'gwe?. human being.

Ganio'' As soon as ganyadak'ta' it (n.)-lake-beside waa'yon' there he arrived ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) o'nen? now (then) hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears daas'nie't thence-he-it-spoke ne?' the oÑ'gwe?, human being, ne'ne?' that-the S?hagowenot?ha' Sagowenota haya'son?, he-called (is) wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “O'nen? “Now (then) o'gwa'non? did I-you-it-give (as food) heni'djoÑ there so you many number ne?' the o''wa' it (n.)-meat i'swas, you-it-eat habitually, ne'ne?' that-the ganyodÄ'goÑ it (n.) lake-in swanaÑ'ge'. you-dwell. Hihe?'.” Hihe?' (excl.).”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being o''wa' it (n.)-meat wÄÑ'neks they (g.)-eat-it-habitually wa'ono'es'?ha' did they rejoice ne''ne?' that-the oÑ'gwe? human being o''wa' it (n.)-meat o'nen? now (then) en'wak. will you eat. (Ne'' That ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being heÑ'don? he-it-means ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child great (is) ne''ho? there en?ha'weÑ'da't will he (an.) perish he'oÑwe? there where wooweno'den'.) did-he-him en-island.

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover o'nen? now then ne?' the hauÑwan'den' his (an.)-nephew ne?' the Okte'oÑdon' Okteondon waa?deÑ'di' did-he-start o't?hadaweÑ'nie'-kho?. did-he-self-stir-from place to place and. Waasda'en' Did-he-lament (weep) o'nen?. now (then) Hasdae'ne's He-weeping goes about ne''ho? there i'e's, he goes about, ne?' the diioi'wa' thus-it (n.)-(matter (is)-reason-is) ne'' that ne?' the de'o'non?don' not-he-it-knows weÑ'don? when ens?ha''nyagen't will-again-he-escape (get out of hand) he?' where-in woowe'noden' did-he-him-island cause to be ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha', Sagowenota, wa'e' did-he-it-think na'e? verily o'nen? now (then) noÑ' perhaps ni'' I o'gi'?he'. did-I-die.

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover he'oÑwe? there where deodaweÑ'nie he-self-stirs-from place to place ne''ho? there waa'gen' did-he-it-see he'oÑwe? there where t?ha'dihes't?ha' there-he-self-it-(to) stop-uses ganeÑyageoÑda'die' it (n.)-bone(s)-piled-along ho'dwagayonsda'ne'. every-it-(n.) old (age)-stands to. [727] Da' So (then) ne''ho? there waa'gen' did he-it-see ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being hayas'?hen' he (an.)-supine-lies 'a?'son still hon'he' he-alive (is) ne'' that sen''en in fact, indeed haya'di'ge? his body-on o'nen? now (then) ot'gen?. it-rotten (is). DyeÑgwa's?hoÑ Suddenly-just (all at once-just) o'nen? now (then) woi?waneÄ'go' did-him (it)-matter-skin-to-shake-canoe ne''ne?' that-the heÑ'gwe? he (an.) human being (is) woo?t?ha'has did-he-him-talked to wai'eÑ, did-he-it-say,

“Hi'wÂn'den', “My nephew, ga'dji hither-do-thou come ne'kho?.” here.” O'nen? Now (then) wai?' of course ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) ne''ho? there wa'e', did-he-go, ne''ho? there wak''a? nearby o't?ha'da't did-he-stop-(standing) he'oÑwe? there where hayas'?hen' he (an.)-supine lies ne?' the hot'?ha' he (an.)-talking (is) he'' he-it-desired denoi?was'nie' will-he-his-matter-attend to ne'ne?' that-the hono''sen?. he-his-uncle (is).

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the heÑ'gwe? he (an.)-human being (is) wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “HiwÂn'den', “My nephew, o'nen? now (then) enseÑdens't?he't. will, shall-thee-it-poor-to-be-cause. O'nen? Now (then) neÑ' this one is' thou wayaweno'den' did he-thee-island place on ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha'. Sagowenota. Da' So (then) djia'gon (do) thou be-brave diq'. moreover. Heyogon'sot There-it (n.)-over-tops ne?'ho? verily sadya'­dat'kon'. thy-own-body-potent-magically (is). Da' So then djia'gon (do)-thou-be-brave diq'. moreover. Da' So (then) o'nen? now then diq' moreover neÑ'da this (thing) nen'sye' so-wilt-thou-it-do denseeÑnogeÑ'ni' shalt-thou-him-orenda-overmatch ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha'. Sagowenota. NeÑ'da This (thing) na'e? indeed nen'sye' so-wilt-thou-it-do ne?' the o'nen? now (then) ensayo''den?. wilt-thou-it-work.

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover ne?' the o'nen? now (then) hegÄÄ?gwa''a? there it (n.)-sun-sets low (= is setting small) o'nen? now (then) wai? of course enstakhe?'soÑ' shalt-throw-running-go-repeatedly heniga'wena'. thus-so-it (n.)-island large (is). Agwas' Very ensadyana'ho' wilt-thou-self-it-track-put-on gagwe'gon it (n.)-entire (is) heniga'wena'. thus-so-it (n.)-is-large (is). Da' So (then) ne'' that diq'. moreover. Ganyo'' As soon as enyo''gÄ?, will-it-it-darken, da' so (then) o'ne? now (then) ne''ho? there hentc'he' there-again-shalt-thou-go he'oÑwe? there-where t?hat?oÑwayeÑda'kwa' there-he-it-his-canoe-to stop-uses ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha'. Sagowenota. O'nen? Now (then) ne''ho? there hen'cyon' there-wilt-thou-arrive da' so (then) o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there ensnon''gwat shalt-thou-it-dig-up o'ne?sa'goÑ it (n.)-sand-in ha'degaye'i' just-both-it (n.)-fitting nenson''he't so-shalt-thou-it-large-to be-cause ne''ho? there hensadyas'?heÑ', there-wilt-thou-self-supine lay, o?stoÑ's?hoÑ it (n.)-little-just (is) tenwÂn''hÄk will it-project ne?' the se?sa'gain. thy-mouth. [728] Dent?hyakdoÑ'ne' Hence-will-he-thee-to-visit-come ne?'ho? verily ha'dewasoÑt'?hen. just-it (n.) night-middle (is). SeÑ'non? Do-thou-it do-not ensa'no?­toÑ'k wilt-thou-fear-(be afraid) ne'' that ne?'ho? verily dent?hawi'noÑdie' will-hither-both-he-it (z.)-bring-severally ne?' the otci'yÄ's?hon' ne?' the o'nen? now (then) ne'kho? here wai?' of course ens?ha'yon'. will-again-he-return. Da' So (then) ga'nyo' as soon as enoÑ'di'he't will-they (z.) stop (land) o'nen?, now (then), da' so (then) o'nen? now (then) en'eÑ', will-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come hesesni'ya'di?sakha?. there-his-you-two-body-to-seek-do go. Twu'a?, Twu'a?, twu'a?, twu'a?, twu'a?.” twu'a?.” O'nen? Now na'e? verily o'don?. it sounds.

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the dji'yÄ? dog(s) ensayaneÑ'aun' will-thy-(they) track take up ha'de'yoÑ just as many as sadya'­naeÑ'nion', thou-self-it-track put-on-hast, enweÑneÑni'yo?swaeÑ'nioÑ', will-they (n.)-it-scent-successively, denweÑnÄn?'dat?'hoÑ' will-they (n.)-run-severally to and fro ne''ho? there o?non'gen''s?hon'a? behind, just in the rear, just enadakhe' will-he-running-go ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha'. Sagowenota.

Ga'nio' Just as soon as agwas' very o'nen? now (then) en?'se' wilt-thou-it-think o'nen? now (then) na'e? verily we'en? far, far away, he's' he-goes-to and fro o'nen? now (then) en?satgo?heÑ'kwa', wilt thou-self-head-uncover, o'nen? now (then) he?' where tgahoÑwa'ien' there-it (n.)-canoe-lies ne''ho? there hen?'se'. thither.

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) en?se?cioÑ'ni' wilt-thou-it-make ha'e'gwa also (again-just) ne?' the gaya''da' it (n.)-body ne'ne?' that-the gaya'doÑ'ni it (n.)-body-made (is) (doll) (figure) na'n'ot such-kind-of-thing ne'ne?' that-the ha'densgyadye'eÑk just-both-it-shall-again-alike-be ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being heniyeya'do''deÑ, such-as-one (an.)-body-kind of, shape of, sen?' three nen'yoÑk, so many will-it-number owa'djisda' it (n.)-rough-bark o?he?'sa' it (n.)-rotten log kho?' and ne?' the nan''ot such-kind of thing en?soÑ'nya't. wilt thou-it-to-make-use. Ga'nio' As soon as en?sadyeÑno'kden' wilt-thou-it-task-complete ne''ho? there gens' usually ha'-deyo'hoÑweo'geÑ just where two-it-it-branch (is) divided dena'da't will-he-stand ne?' the gaya''da' it (n.)-body, (figure) ga''non' it (n.)-arrow wa'eÑ'non'-kho? it (n.)-bow-and gens' usually enaa'wa'k will-he-it-hold, have in-hand ne''ho? there nenyo''deÑ'oÑk so will-it-appear ayeÑ'' would-one-it-think en?ha'a'gwa'. will-he-it-shoot. Gagwe'gon? It (n.)-entire (all) ne''ho? there (thus) nen'cye'.” so-wilt-thou-it-do.”

O'nen? Now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) ne''ho? there wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, daas'nye't, back-he-it-spoke, [729] “Gano'on' “It (n.)-hopeless na'e?. verily. Da'gwais'den' Not anything da'a'gyen' not-I-it-have ne'ne?' that-the agadye'Ä'duk.” should-I-self-it-employ-with.” De'aoÑnis?he''oÑ' Not-it-long-time was o'nen? now (then) ne?' the ha'neÑyaden?da''s?hoÑ he (an.)-bone-lying flat just daas'nye't, thence-he-it-answered, odÄnÄnt' it (n.)-pitiful (is) he-niodon?honga'nyeÑ, where-so-he-suffering (is), wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “He'oÑwe? “There where hui'geÑ that-it-is ga?swen''daiyen' it (n.)-rotten lies log ne''ho? there sen''en? indeed, ga'yen' it-lies ne?' the agoÑ'ges?hÄ', my-skin-pouch, skayanane'gen' fisher nan''ot, the-kind-of-thing go''ge? in-haste ho'se'go?.” thence-thou-it-bring.”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.) child-great (is) waa'go' thence-he-it-brought ne?' the hoÑges'?hÄ' his-skin-pouch ne'ne?' that-the skayanane'gen' fisher nan''ot. the-kind-of-thing. O'nen? Now (then) diq' moreover ne?' the hono''sen? he-his-uncle (is) ne''ho? there waa'da?go' did-he it-take out ne?' the gaganya's?hÄ', it (n.)-knife, kho?' and ne?' the ot?hÄ''­gwen'da' it (n.)-flint yenieÑkao'k't?ha' one-it-to-make-uses a-spark kho?' and ne?' the onÄ?'sa'. it (n.)-spunk DaoÑwai'yen' He-it-him-gave ne?' the haksa''gowa. he (an.)-child-great (is).

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover o'nen? now (then) ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) waa?sa'wen' did-he-it-begin waa?cyoÑnia'noÑ' did-he-it-make in succession ne?' the gaya''da's??hon'a?, it (n.)-body-several, (dolls) sen?' three ni'yoÑ, so many it-numbered, wa'Ä'non' it (n.) bow ga'non'-'kho? it (n.) arrow and gens' usually haa'', he-it-holds, tgaye'i' both-it-alike (is) heni'yot where-so-it-form is wa'has'nye't did-he-it-say ne?' the hono''sen. he-his-uncle (is). O'nen? Now (then) waadyeÑno'k'den' did-he-self-task-complete gagwe'gon. it (n.)-entire. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) o't?henÄ?dat'?hon'. did-he run successively. Ne'' That diiui'wa' so it (n.) reason (is) waaya'doÑnya'noÑ' did-he-dolls-make-severally ne?' the gaya''da' it (n.)-doll enho'nigon?geÑ'ni' will-it-his-mind-overmatch ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being i'yas, he-it-eats, ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha', Sagowenota, no'nen? the now (then) when ens?ha'yon' will-again-he-return ne?' the o'nen? now (then) enyo''gÄ?. will-it-it-darken (become dark).

Ga'nio' As soon as waadyeÑno'k'den' did-he-self-task-complete gagwe'gon, it (n.)-entire, da' so (then) o'nen? now (then) na'e? verily o't?henÄ?dat'?hon' did-he-run-successively he-nigawe'na' where-so-it (n.)-island-large (is) ne'' that diiui'?wa' such-it-season-(is) ne'ne?' that-the enho'nigongeÑ'ni', will-he-his-mind-overmatch, [730] enho'nigonhon''dÄn', will-he-his-mind-deceive ne'ne?' that-the ho?swa'ens he-him-hates ne'' that kho?' and ne?' the hos?henen''s?hon'a he-it-slave(s) several ne?' the tci'yÄ'. dog(s).

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) ne?' the hagen'dji he (an.) ancient-one wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Hau'', “Come, dja'gon, be brave, hiwa'den'. my nephew. Enson'?hek Shalt-thou-alive-be ne?'ho? it is a fact ne'' that ne?' the en?siwaye'is wilt-thou-it-matter-fulfill neÑ' this (thing) nan''ot such-kind of thing o'nen? now (then) o''gi'.” did-I-it-say.” Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) daas'nye't thence-he-it answered wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Ni'io? “So (be) it ne''ho? thus (there) nen'gye', so will I-it-do, engiwaye'is, will-I-it-matter-fulfill, neÑ' this (thing) nan''ot such-kind-of-thing o''si'.” didst-thou-it-say.”

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover waa?deÑ'di' did-he (an.)-start ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) haawinon'die' he-it-carrying goes along ne?' the gaya''da'. it (n.)-body (doll). O'nen? Now (then) gens' usually ne''ho? there he'oÑwe? there where deyo'hoÑweo'geÑ two-it-it-branch forked (is) ne''ho? there gens' usually o't?ha'das did-he-it-cause to stand ne'ne?' that-the gaya''da' it (n.)-body sen?' three ni'yoÑ so many it-in number (is) ne''ho? there (thus) gens' usually nÂn'ye'. so-he-it-did. We'so' Much waak'doÑ' did-he-it-search hegawa'not where-it (n.)-island-floats ne'ne?' that-the ganakdi'io it (n.)-place-fine (is) he' gÄ'it, where-it (n.)-tree stands, ne'' that na'e? verily gens' usually ne?' the we'en? far away he' gÄ'it where-it-(n.)-tree stands ne?' the he'oÑwe? there where wat?hoÑwayeÑdak'hwa'; it-self-canoe-to-lie-uses; ne''ho? there (thus) nÂn'ye' so-he-it-did he?' where (so that) denho'nigongeÑ'ni' so-will-he-his-mind-overmatch ne?' the ho?swa'ens he-him-hates ne?' the o'nen? now (then) dent?hoÑwaya'­di?sak'ha' thence-will-he-his-body-to-seek-come ne?' the o'nen? now (then) = when enyo''gÄ?. will-it-it-darken.

Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) na'e? verily o'gÄs''a? it-it-darkens a little o'nen? now (then) ne''ho? there wa'e' thither-did-he-go ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) he'oÑwe? there where t?hat?hoÑwayeÑdak'hwa' there-he his-canoe to-lie uses it ne?' the ho?swa'ens, he-him-hates, he'oÑwe? there where nionakdÄ'gweÑ there-he-it-place has selected he? where enada?se?'da'. will-he-self-conceal. Ga'nio' As soon as ne''ho? there waa'yon' there-he-arrived o'nen? now (then) waadyo''dat did-he-self-set-to work ne'ne?' that-the waayadoÑ'ni' did he-it-hole make ne''ho? there [731] o'ne?'sagoÑ it (n.)-sand-in ne''ho?'dji? there-just (=just right) ni'wa's. so-it-large-is. De'aonis?he''oÑ' Not-it-long time-is o'nen? now (then) waadyeÑno'k'den', did-he-his-task-complete, da' so o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover ne''ho? there waadyas'?heÑ' did-he-self-lay o'ne'?sagoÑ. it (n.)-sand in. Ne?' The o'nen? now (then) wa'o''gÄ? did-it-it-darken ne''ho? there hayas?hen''s?hoÑ, he supine lay just ne''ho? there ost?hoÑ's?hoÑ it-small-just dewa''ha' it-projects ne?' the hasagain', his face-hole = his mouth tgaye'i' it (n.) correct (is) na'e? verily ha­doÑ'nye's. he-breathes. Ne''ho? There wai?' of course ha'nigon'?Än' his-mind-is-on ne?' the o'nen? now then ens?ha'yon' will-again-he-arrive ne?' the ho?swa'ens, he-him-hates, ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha'. Sagowenota.

O'yo'nis?he't Did-it-delay-long ne?'ho? there hayas?'hen' he-supine lay ne''ho? there ha'nigon'?Än' his-mind-is-on ne?' the o'nen? now (then) ens?ha'yon' will-again-he-arrive ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being(s) i'yas. he-it-eats. Honon?'don' He-it-knew he-ni'yoÑ there-so-it-numbers-many ne?' the hot?hyu'wi he-it-him told ne?' the honon''sen his-uncle gagwe'gon it (n.) entire (is) engaiwaye'i?. will-it-matter fulfilled be. Honon?'don' He-it-knew wai?' of course he-nioya'dat'gon' there-so-his-body ot-kon (is) ne'ne?' that-the da'gwisden' not-anything de'aon­weÑdjana'go'wÄs. not-it-him-earth-affects.

Da' So (then) ne'ho?'s?hoÑ thus-just (there) ni'yot so it is o'yo'nis?he't. did-it (n.)-remain. (endure). Ha'dewa?soÑt?'hen Just-it (n.)-night-middle o'nen? now (then) o'ga'at, did-it-it-pass o'nen? now (then) noÑ' perhaps t?ho'ha nearly dendweÑdo'den' will-it-day-project (protrude) o'nen? now (then) dyeÑgwa?'s?hoÑ suddenly-just hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) tchihoga'eÑ'yon' while-he-it-was-watching he'-ganyo'dae' where-it (n.)-lake o'nen? now (then) dayodi's'da'die' hither-it (n.)-noise-arising-comes adi'gwa' unknown nan''ot such-kind-of thing ne''ho? there odogen'di? itself-steers directly he?' where gawe'not. it (n.)-island-floats.

Da'aonis?he''oÑ' Not-it-lasts-long o'nen? now (then) hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears dayonadi'sda'die' hither-they (n.)-their-noise-arising come ne?' the hoÑgak' wild geese odigaweoÑ'die' they (z.)-paddling come ne?' the ga?hoÑ'wa' it (n.)-canoe ne'ne?' that-the howe'noden he-him-island-put on ne?' the haksa''gowa, he (an.) child-great (is), ne''kho? that-and hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears ne?' the dji'yÄ? dog(s) onadi's'da', their (z.)-self noise agwas' very igeÑ' it-is odiga'yens they (z.)-keenly-willing (are) awadis'?he' should-they-it-pursue ha'gwis'den', whatsoever thing, ne'' that diiui?'wa' there-it (n.) reason (is) ne?' the ne'' that ne''ho? there wa'diks they (z.)-it-eat gawe'na'ge? it (n.)-island-on ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being o''wa'; it (n.)-meat; flesh; [732] gayeÑde'i it (z.)-it-knows he?' where nihayeÑno''den? such-his-manner-of-doing-kind of (is) ne?' the ne'' that ho?s?henen''s?hon' his (an.)-slaves-several ne?' the oÑ'gwe? human being i'yas. he-it-eats.

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover o'nen? now (then) tci-hot?hon?diyos'don as, while, he his ear(s)-fine-has made hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears dayotka'e?, there-it-sound-arose o'Ñen? now (then) waa'di'he't did-he-land ne?' the ne'' that haoÑwaya'di?sak'ha' thence-he-his-body-to-seek-comes ne?' the hoÑwa?swa'ens. he-him-hates. Da' So (then) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears o'nen? now (then) ne?' the

S?hagowe'not?ha' Sagowenota wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “Hau'' “Come, “Go to, o'nen? now (then) seswaya'di?sak'ha? his-you (pl.)-body-to-seek do go ne?' the hoÑ'gwe? he (an.)-human being (is) gawe?' where (in what place) adi''gwa unknown nia'neÑya'yen'.” there-his-bone(s) lie.” Ganio'' As soon as diq' moreover o'­hat'ga' did he-it-let go ne?' the honas'kwaiyen' his slave(s)-owned ne?' the dji'yÄ? dog(s) o'nen? now then wai'eÑ', did he-it say, “Snidja'gon, “You-two-be brave, snidja'gon. you-two-be brave. HestuÄ?', Hence you-two-go, hestuÄ?', hence you-two-go, hestuÄ?'.” hence you-two-go.” (It is usual to confine the use of this last command only to dogs; it signifies ‘go ye, go ye, hence.’—Ed.)

Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover ne?' the dji'yÄ? dog(s) o'nen? now (then) o'weÑneÑni'yo?swa'eÑ' did-they (z.)-take scents he'oÑwe? there where hodyana'?hon' he-his-tracks-has traced ne?' the haksa'gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) o'nen? now (then) diq' moreover wao?'se' did-they-him pursue he'oÑwe? where there hodak'he?son' he-running-went to and fro ne?' the haksa''gowa. he (an.)-child-great (is). Da' So (then) ne'' that diq' moreover ne?' the haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) hot?hoÑ'de' he-it-hears ne?' the S?hagowe'not?ha' Sagowenota waas'nye't did-he-it-speak wai'eÑ', did-he-it-say, “HoÑ'gak, “Wild geese, ages?henen''s?hon' my-servants-several o'nen? now (then) swadekhwi?sak'ha?.” you-own-food-to-seek-do go.” Ne?' The haksa''gowa he (an.)-child-great (is) hot?hoÑde?tci?hwen he-it-hears-distinctly ne?' the nan''ot kind of thing ha'don he-it-says ne?' the hagen'dji. he-(an.) ancient one (is). O'dwadi'den' Did-they (z.)-fly away o'nen? now (then) ne?' the hoÑ'gak. wild geese.