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

Once Hatcinondon led a large company of warriors to the Cherokee country on a raid. In time they arrived at a place called Oyada368 [433]Thadinongeh, which was within the Cherokee country. They knew well that the Cherokee were on the lookout for them. Having reached this place, Hatcinondon told his men to remain where they were, and that he would go ahead to spy out the land and to learn what could be done. Then he departed from the camp of his men. Soon it was discovered by the enemy that he was in the Cherokee country, and he was closely pursued by them. He fled into a region covered with a heavy growth of reeds, which was in two great sections, with a narrow strip of comparatively clear land between them. Hatcinondon managed to escape into one of these stretches, unobserved by the enemy, who believed that he had concealed himself in the other part. So they set guards at the narrow strip of land dividing the two sections of reedy land. After they had set fire to the reeds and burned them up they made a careful search for his charred body; but Hatcinondon had fallen asleep from exhaustion in the other stretch of reeds. During the night, however, two men came to him, who seized him by the arms, saying: “We have come for you.” When they had brought him to the place whence they had been sent, they said to him: “We have now brought you to this man who sent for you.” Whereupon the two men pointed out a lodge, with the words: “There is where the Heron lives who sent for you.” Hatcinondon went up to the lodge, but could find no doorway; but after he had searched for some time without success he heard a voice on the inside say, “Come in!” and a door opened of itself, and Hatcinondon entered the lodge. Within he found a man, who said: “I sent for you, and you have now come. Are you not hungry?” At this Hatcinondon thought: “This is a strange way; this is not the way I do. I would give the food at once.” But Ne Hononhsot, knowing the thought of Hatcinondon, laughing, remarked: “I said that only in fun.” Arising, he got half a loaf of bread made of corn meal, half a wild apple, and half a pigeon, which he offered to his guest. Hatcinondon said, laughing: “How little it is that will satisfy me.” To which Ne Hononhsot answered: “If you eat this I shall give you more.” As soon as Hatcinondon began to eat he saw that as he ate everything became whole again, so that he was not able entirely to consume anything. He was finally satisfied with what he had eaten. Then Ne Hononhsot said: “Now that you have finished eating I will speak with you further.”

While Hatcinondon was speaking he heard footsteps of someone approaching on a run, and suddenly the door was thrust open, whereupon the Sun came in so quickly and with such brightness that he had to hold his head down to shield his eyes. The newcomer conversed with Ne Hononhsot but Hatcinondon could not understand a word that was said. In a short time the visitor started off toward [434]the east. Then Ne Hononhsot said to Hatcinondon: “This man is the one whom you Seneca call Endekha Gaahgwa.369 It is night now down on the earth, so he is hurrying toward the east. He told me of a great battle that is now ended.”

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

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

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

Shortly after this affair another Seneca party started away to fight the Cherokee, and Hatcinondon accompanied it. They soon encountered the Cherokee, and in the ensuing fight Hatcinondon was captured. He was led away, bound, to the Cherokee village, where a great council of war was held. It was a standing rule with the Cherokee that when any person from the Six Nations of the Iroquois [435]was captured his or her fate was left to the decision of two women, whose privilege it was to determine how such a person should be tortured. These two women at this council decided that Hatcinondon should be hung up and tortured to death by fire. So he was securely bound to a tree, the war post, and wood was carefully piled up under and around him. He had given himself up as lost. They were about to set fire to the pyre of wood when a violent rainstorm came up, causing the women to defer the execution until the storm should have passed over. All the people sought shelter from the storm, leaving Hatcinondon tied to the war post. While there alone he saw an old woman coming toward him, who said: “My grandson, you think that you are going to die, but you are not. Try to stir yourself.” Thereupon, moving himself about, he found that his bonds were loosened and that he was free. “You see now that you are free,” she said; “I thought that I would come to return your kindness. You remember your people once made a circle of fire and I was in the middle of it. You recall, perhaps, that you saw a toad in the middle, and that you saved the toad, placing it in your bosom. I was that toad. You carried me until you came to water, in which you placed me. This is the reason I am returning your kindness, for I see that you are in trouble now. I brought that rainstorm and now I want you to run in the direction of the next stream, and you must continue down the stream.”

When the rainstorm was over the two women returned to the war post, only to find that Hatcinondon had escaped. They gave the alarm at once, and the warriors assembled, calling the dogs, which forthwith took up the trail. Soon they reached the stream and followed the current. As Hatcinondon fled he came to a tree that leaned over the water. He found that the trunk was hollow and that he could get into it from the water and then crawl farther up. Here the dogs lost the trail and finally the pursuit was abandoned. When the pursuers had departed he heard two people approaching the spot, talking. Presently they sat on the tree at the very place where he was concealed. He overheard them say, “It is wonderful how that man escaped from us.” Hatcinondon was very careful not to cough lest he should be discovered. But at last he heard them depart and there was no further sound of talking. At last, having come out of the hollow in the tree, he went southward, down the stream. When night was approaching, while walking along he heard a blow which sounded like that of an ax on a tree. Being greatly frightened, he became very wary in his movements. While standing listening, he saw three men, who had made a fire where they were going to camp for the night. When darkness had fully set in he crept up stealthily, shielded by a very large tree. Standing behind this tree, he saw that the men were sound asleep and were snoring. [436]Without disturbing them he secured their weapons, with which he armed himself, carefully hiding those he did not need. Then with an ax he killed the three men, whom he scalped. Thereupon he said: “The blood is too strong, so I shall go aside from this place.”

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

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

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

Once there was a man who had not much substance, who thought he would fool the S?hagodiyoweqgowa. Going to their place, he invited them, saying, “Your help is required at a certain place” (naming it). They went there, but found no one, and nothing was ready. After waiting a while, the chief one said: “We have been trifled [437]with. This will not do. Godiont did not do this. Some other person has trifled with us. The one who has done so must die. We are not to be trifled with. The people must understand this. It is best for us to move away from this place.” “I will tell you,” said he to Godiont, “what I want you to do. Make masks as near like our faces as you can, and let men wear them, and we shall work through these masks and thus help the people.” “Soon the man who has trifled with us must come here,” said the oldest S?hagodiyoweqgowa, “and you shall see what will happen to him.” Soon the man came on a run. He was in a kind of crazy fit. Coming right to the spot where the S?hagodiyoweqgowa were, he fell down and began to vomit blood, and finally died. After that day the people knew it was wrong to make fun of the S?hagodiyoweqgowa.

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

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

Three men were hunting in the woods. One of them, who was married, had his wife and child with him. While the men were off in the forest the woman and child remained in the lodge. The child was small and swathed to a cradleboard. [438]

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

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

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

One morning the Stone Coat Woman said to the hunters: “A visitor is coming, and you must do all you can to defend yourselves. My husband is mad, and perhaps he will kill us all. When I left him, I ran away and came to you; he is angry, and when he comes I will fight with him as well as I can. You must be ready with a basswood stick. Sharpen it and harden it in the fire a little to make it effective. When he throws me to the ground, as he will do, you must spear him from behind and kill him. He will come some time this afternoon. Then you must be on the lookout for him continually.” At last they saw him approaching; he came up and talked with his wife. She begged him not to make any trouble, saying she would go home with him, but he would not listen to her words. He saw there were two men there; so he became jealous and began fighting. He knocked down his wife, and as he leaned over to beat her, the men ran the basswood spear into his body, thus killing him. Then the woman, having gotten up, said: “I do not know what will happen to us now, for my husband has two brothers, who know he is dead, and who will come here and kill us. The river is open; you have canoes and must escape that way.” [439]

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

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

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

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

The Stone Coat rubbed his son-in-law’s hands, feet, and body with an object like a bone, and then told him to go out hunting. The young man felt himself growing so strong that he felt he could carry off everything he laid his eyes on. There was a certain young man of the Stone Coats who loved the old Stone Coat’s daughter and wanted to marry her. Being angry with the Seneca, he came up to him, saying, “You and I must have a foot race. If I should outrun you, thereby winning, I shall cut your head off and take your wife. If you win you may cut my head off.” The appointed day came, and [440]all the Stone Coat people assembled to see the race. The young man’s father-in-law said, “You need not be afraid. I will help you.” Taking some substance out of a stone box, he rubbed it over the man’s body. Thereupon he and his opponent, locking arms, ran until they reached a tree, when they were to have let go and run on, but the Stone Coat held on to the man’s hand, so that their locked arms bent over the hemlock tree. When they got nearly to the end of the tree the Stone Coat let go, causing the tree to spring back, throwing the man backward a good distance. The young man, hurrying forward, outran the Stone Coat, and cut his head off in the presence of all.

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

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

Once three Seneca went out on the warpath against some other tribes. They journeyed directly westward from the place where the Seneca lived. After a day’s journey they encamped in a deep ravine at the head of a stream. When they had made their fire they saw a fine-looking man coming toward them. When he came up, he said: “I think it well to do what I am going to do. I have come to tell you that there are hundreds of people on the warpath who intend to eat people. Tonight you must camp here. They will make their camp in sight of yours. One of you three must go to their fire and say: ‘Hallo, I have discovered your fire. Where are you going?’ They will answer: ‘We are on the warpath.’ Your man must reply: [441]‘I, too, am on the warpath,’ to which they will respond: ‘Well, we must fight.’ Then your man must leave them and come back to your camp.”

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

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

One night a great uproar was heard in the village, and jumping up from their couches, men, women, and children, running out of their lodges, fled as fast as they could in every direction. The weather was very cold. Among the people of the village was a woman who two days before had given birth to a child. She ran for her life, holding the infant in her arms; it was wrapped up and she carried it as a bundle. On the way she determined to throw the bundle down so as to be able to run faster, and on coming to a tree having a hole in one side, not far from the ground, she dropped the bundle into it. [442]This was a bear’s den, and as the bundle fell into the hole the old bear found it. The woman, running for her life, overtook some of her people, who asked her what she had done with the child, but she made them no answer. After many had been killed, the enemy (who were Indians) disappeared, and the Seneca made new homes for themselves.

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

“Very well,” said the man; “I know this is true. You will be my son now.” The boy did not like this, but he agreed to it at last. The man promised that all he had or would get should be his. He stopped crying, and the man, strapping him on his back, carried him to camp. After this, whenever the man went out to hunt, he tied the boy so that he could not get away, until one day the boy said, “Do not tie me. I will never leave you” (his nature had now become human). The hunter had buried the mother bear without taking off her skin. As the boy had promised not to run away, the man let him go with himself to hunt. The boy seemed to have some way of knowing where bears lived, but he never told his father where a female bear was, only where male bears were to be found, and his father shot them. This man had always been a poor hunter until he found the boy; afterward he had wonderful luck. Some time having passed, the man said, “We must go back to our own village.” When they reached home the boy said, “That woman (meaning his mother) will [443]see and know me.” “Pay no attention to her,” said the man; “she threw you away.”

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

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

When the hunter came back he had killed several bears and had driven one to the lodge. Calling the boys, he said, “I drove this [444]one home only to let you have a hand in killing it.” Instead of killing the bear at once they plagued and tormented it. When they had killed it the man was well pleased and told them that was the way they must do thereafter.

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

Two Genonsgwa lived in this lodge, and it was through their great orenda (magic power) that everything was drawn to them. One of the two said to the other, “Hai! now we will have something to eat,” and running splints through the bodies of the boys, each took one to [445]roast. The two Genonsgwa did not seem to be of the same family, for each sat on his own side of the fire and cooked for himself. As the bodies began to cook the fat came out, falling on the fire and simmering. A body was standing on each side of the fire, and one called out to the other, “You are burning.” “Guah!” said the Genonsgwa, “that one has a voice, but this one is roasting finely; it can not burn. When one begins to burn the other tells him of it.” One of the Genonsgwa then began eating. “Oh! how delicious this is,” he said, smacking his lips. After he had eaten off all the flesh that was well cooked, he put the rest back to finish roasting; thereupon the partially eaten boy said to the body on the other side, “You are burning.” “How good they are; they won’t let each other burn. It is queer game that talks like this,” said one of the Genonsgwa. The Genonsgwa kept on roasting and eating until one and then the other finished, neither leaving a particle uneaten.

As the first finished he began to be in terrible pain; the other told him that he must help himself, for he was eating his last morsel. Soon he, too, began to groan, and he said to the other, “There is some mystery about this game; it must be that which makes us so sick.” All night long they groaned, each lying on his own side of the fire. Toward morning one quieted down, and at break of day the other also ceased groaning. The two boys were born again, and both Genonsgwa had died from the terrible pain of giving birth to them. One boy said to the other, “If these men had not bothered us, we should have been far from here. Let them be as full of witchcraft as they can be, they do not amount to anything in comparison with us. We have gotten through with them. I have always heard that these men, our uncles, were very potent magically, but they are not. This is why our father warned us not to go far from the lodge. We will go back and tell him all.” While they were there everything was moving. The game which was not killed passed through the lodge. The elder boy said, “Let us go!” As they were starting he saw his mother passing through the lodge; they stood there laughingly, but did not speak to her. The younger said, “Now we will destroy the lodge. Our uncles have done great harm to people. A man should not eat another man. There shall be no more of this. Henceforth men shall eat only game.”372 The younger boy said this. Of the two boys he had the greater power of witchcraft and was the first to be born after being eaten by the Genonsgwa. He walked around the lodge, throwing red paint such as they used to paint their faces; this action stopped the movement of the stream of land and everything became quiet. He then said, “Now, let us run!” They ran a short distance; on halting and looking back they saw the lodge in flames. The Genonsgwa one after the other burst with a loud report. [446]

When the boys arrived near home they heard singing, whereupon the younger said, “Our father is feeling bad because he thinks we are dead.” The other replied, “When we get to the lodge, you will tell him of our adventure.” “No; you must tell him. He will believe you sooner than he will me, for you are older,” was the answer. When they entered the lodge, the hunter was sitting by the fire; his song was about the loss of his children. “Father,” called out the boys, “we have been hunting and we have come back. We have not been killed and we shall not die. There is no trouble in the world for us, for nothing can harm us.” The elder man, looking around, greeted his boys, whom he was very glad to see. At night they began telling their adventures: How far they had been; how they had seen a stream of dry land and had ridden on it to the Genonsgwa lodge; how they had killed the two Genonsgwa and burned their lodge. “And now,” said the younger, “we are going farther.” The hunter said: “Your uncles are ferocious men; they have killed all my people except you. You will find beyond the lodge you burned other lodges; they are all inhabited by your uncles.” The younger boy said: “I do not care about them. I meet all people with pleasure; their action or treatment matters not. I am determined to try everything.” The man made up his mind to say no more; he was astonished at their resolution and became aware that his children were possessed of potent orenda (magic power), and that, though there were many witches and wizards, they were far above them all. The younger boy seemed to have control of his father’s mind, and it was through his influence that the father let them do as they liked. The advice of the younger was: “You stay at home and never worry about us. We will go to see our uncle who lives beyond Genonsgwa lodge; perhaps he will tell us some stories. We are lonesome.” Their father said, “I am afraid that if you go you will never come back. Your uncle is full of orenda, and it is his custom to kill his visitors.” The little fellow answered: “Let us go. I want to know all persons who possess orenda.” The hunter replied: “Beyond the lodge you destroyed is another. Your uncle lives there, and beyond that other uncles dwell. The first lodge is ‘three looks’ from here; the lodges are all ‘three looks’ apart.” Having heard this, the boys departed.

When they came to the Genonsgwa place they halted; looking around, they could see some object at a distance. There was the end of the first “look.” Getting near to that object, they looked again, and seeing a similar object, they went to it; then looking off at a distance and seeing an opening in the woods, they said, “Our uncle must live there.” They advanced cautiously, in the hope of surprising their uncle. As they got out of the woods they saw a lodge, and as they came near it there seemed to be no one in it, all was so [447]quiet. The younger boy crept up carefully, and making a sudden leap, sprang into the house, calling out, “I have caught you, uncle!” “How are you, nephew?” said the uncle; “I am glad you have come. I am sick; you shall give me medicine.” “All right,” replied the younger boy, “whatever you wish shall be done. What is it you take most pleasure in?” “It is this, nephew,” said the uncle. “When a person comes to see me I play hide and seek. If you find me, I lose my head; if I find you, I take yours.” The boy looked around everywhere. The lodge was entirely empty, but he saw hanging from the rafters where they met in a point, a very small bag, and concluded it was there that his uncle would hide. The uncle told the boys to hide first. The younger said, “All right,” for he had decided where to hide. As was usual in those days, there was a very large log on the fire, and the fire was all there was within the walls of this lodge. The old man said, “The finder must go over the top of the hill, and when the hider is ready he must call.” Thereupon the old man went out, fastening the door behind him. The boys heard the clatter of his bones as he ran beyond the hill. The younger boy said: “I will go into the log and you go behind the sun. When you are ready I will give the word.” The elder boy, flying off through the air, hid behind the sun. Then the other called out, “Now, ready!” “This is what I do to my nephews,” said the old man, as he came running into the lodge. He expected to find them sitting around somewhere, but seeing no one, he caught up his club and singing out, “Here you are; come out of this,” he struck at the wall. He went to every part of the lodge, saying, as he hit the wall with the club, “Here you are; come out.” The boy in the log was looking at his uncle, laughing; the boy behind the sun was also watching him, and could see the club as it hit the walls of the lodge. When the old man’s time was up, he said, “Come out. I can not find you. I give up.” As he said this, the nephew behind the sun showed himself, and laughing at the old man, came down to the lodge. The other boy crawled out on his hands and knees from the heart of the log. The old man, laughing loudly, said, “Now I will hide; you go beyond the hill, and when I am ready I will call.” They started off and had been waiting some time when they heard the old man call, “Now, ready!” At this they ran to the lodge. The younger, picking up the old man’s club, did as he had done. At every crack and crevice he gave a thump, saying, “You are here; come out.” He was sure the old man was in the bag, but he kept on as though he did not suspect it. The man was so large that, even after making himself small, he was so crowded that the boy could see the bag move occasionally. At last, going up to the bag, he gave it a heavy thump with the club, [448]saying, “Come out, uncle!” The old man came out, laughing, and said, “My little nephew, you are full of sorcery; no one ever found me before.” The boy said, “It is customary when a person makes a bet to live up to it. You have lost your head.” The man begged his nephews to give him time to smoke. “No,” said the younger; “if you had won, I should not have asked it.” Upon this he ran up, and catching his uncle by the hair, cut off his head. Thereupon the elder boy picked it up, and striking it against a tree, commanded that trees should hereafter have heads (knots) on them, which could be used to make ladles and bowls (to this day all trees with knots have the uncle’s head fastened on them). Then they burned the home. The elder boy said, “Our uncle has delayed us; otherwise we might have been a long way on our journey by this time.”

The youths traveled on until they found tracks, and not long afterward they came to the edge of the woods, where they saw a lodge near by. The younger said, “You stop, and I will go to this lodge alone.” The elder boy saw his brother go into the lodge; then he waited a long time. There were four witches in this lodge, and as soon as the boy went in the old woman said, “Hurry up! get the pot over the fire.” The boy looked on, thinking that very likely they were going to make a feast for him. The girls were sisters of the boys’ uncles. The elder boy getting out of patience waiting, at last called his fetish, the mole. When it came, he said: “I have called you to take me to that lodge. My friend went there, and I wish to see what has become of him.” They went together into the ground. He told the mole to stop in front of the younger boy, but underground. The women were such witches that they knew when anyone was approaching. When the old woman was ready, she said to the boy, “Come and sit on this side,” and to her eldest daughter she said, “Lay a skin on the ground and put on the skin the game that has come to see us.” The boy knew that she intended to kill him. Another of the women took a mallet from the wall, but as she raised it to strike him, the youth said, “Let the mallet strike the old woman.” As the mallet came down, it struck the mother; and as the girl raised it again, he commanded it to strike one of the sisters, whereupon they began immediately to fight among themselves. The boy sat commanding the mallet to strike first one and then another. There was a terrible struggle, a great sound of blows, and at last there was silence. All the women were dead. Then a voice from under the ground asked, “What are you doing, brother?” Knowing that it was his comrade who spoke, he said, “Oh! the women have had a little sport of their own.” “All right,” said a voice behind him, for there stood the other boy. “I got out of patience,” said he; “we might have gone a long way on our journey if it had not been for these women. We will burn up their lodge, after which I think we will go home. [449]We have done harm enough.” “What have we done?” said the other; “we have only put an end to man-eaters, who have killed many of our people.” “Very well,” answered the other, “I do not want my mind to be different from yours.”

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

They soon came to an opening, in the center of which stood a pole, and many people were scattered around. As the two went forward the younger said to the chief, “We have come to challenge you. What are your rules?” “We wager our heads in betting,” replied the chief. “I thought you had something else to wager. Everyone seems to bet heads,” said the challenger. He saw there were many animals around, which these people fed with heads. “There must be two on a side,” said the boy. The chief told his people that the strangers challenged them to a game of lacrosse ball and that there were to be two players on a side. “But you must take part yourself,” said the boy; thereupon commanding a spider to weave a web across the ball ground, so that the ball could not pass it. When the game began the ball flew off in the direction of the spider’s web and, hitting it, was thrown back. The elder boy, catching the ball, ran for the first point, which he made, thus scoring one point, at which he called out, “The game is mine; we have won, and the game is finished.” “No; it is not,” replied the chief. “That is the way we play,” retorted the younger boy; “whoever gets one inning has the game.” The chief assented, saying, “You have won the heads of the men you played with.” “Not true,” said the boy; “we bet with you; no matter who did the playing for you.” Thereupon the elder boy, running up, [450]caught the chief by the hair and cut his head off, saying, “Do not let us talk with the fellow; if it had not been for him we might have been far along on the way.” The chief had wolves, panthers, and all kinds of carnivorous animals. Going up to their dens, the younger boy ordered a panther to come out, which it did, and then he said to it: “Your masters wanted to feed you with human flesh; that is not the desire of Hawenniyo. He put you on earth to be free; henceforth you must never allow yourselves to be captured and fed with human flesh.” All the animals rose and separated. To the bear the youth said: “I wish you to eat that dead man’s body that lies yonder. Then go and never be seen in this part of the country again; your place is among the cliffs and mountains.” The people there asked the boys to be their chiefs, saying that they had never liked the old man. The boys, having agreed to this, commanded the people to remain where they were, as it was not the will of Hawenniyo that his people should leave their old homes.

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

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

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

The young man started on his journey, and after traveling two months he came to a country where everything was white—the forests, the ground, the water, and the grasses. He could not go farther. It hurt his feet to walk on the white substance, so he turned back. On returning home he sent word to the chief, who said, “I do not believe he has been around the world, but we shall hold a council and hear what he has to say.” The council was held, at which the young [451]man said that he had not gone very far, but that he had proceeded as far as he was able, and he told all he knew about the White Country.

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

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

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

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

The old man, the bald-headed chief, was learning something all the time. Various people went, one after another; each came back with a story slightly different from those told by the others, but still no one satisfied the chief until one man said: “I will start and will go around the world before I return.” The old man looked at him; he was very uncouth but strong. The chief said: “I think you will do, and you may go.” Thereupon the man went home to his people, who held a council of their entire tribe. Each one of their best travelers agreed to make a journey by himself in a different direction, and afterward to come home and tell all he had seen to the one who had promised the bald-headed man to go around the world. So the man and his whole tribe journeyed for forty months. At the end of this [452]period they returned, and, at a council, each told what he had seen. Then the old man whom the chief had sent out announced his return. The chief called a great council, before which the man appeared, telling all that he had seen himself and all that each one of his nation had seen and related to him. He finished with the words: “I have been all around the world; I have seen all kinds of people, all kinds of game, all kinds of woods and rivers. I have seen things which no one else has ever seen.”

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

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

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

When starting out one day he passed on the outskirts of the village a lodge in which an old woman and her granddaughter lived. As he passed, the granddaughter was standing outside the lodge, and when she saw him coming she shrugged her shoulders, saying, “Hu, hu! there goes a poor hunter.” Running into the lodge she told her grandmother that “All-kinds-of-trees” had just gone past, giving him a nickname which derided his medicines, which were made from the bark of “all kinds of trees.” But the grandmother chided her, saying, “Why do you make fun of him? He is a good man—the best in this village. He keeps on hunting, no matter whether he kills anything or not. I wish he were your husband.” The young woman answered, “If you say so, I can go with him.” Her grandmother told her that she would better go. So they made bread in great haste, and when it was ready they put it in a basket, which the girl placed on her back; then she followed the trail of the man. When night overtook her she lay down beside a log to sleep. She had not been there long before she heard some one at a distance calling in a pleasant voice. As the sound of the voice approached the girl became [453]frightened. Shortly Djogeon came up to her, saying, laughingly, “Ha, ha! There is Gadata374 sleeping, and she is following the trail of a very poor hunter. Get up. Do not sleep. Your man is near here, and you should go to meet him.” But the girl, covering her face, kept quite still. He shook her, called her names, and teased her in all manner of ways to seduce her, but without result. When daylight came he ran away. Thereupon Gadata arose, and after making a cold bite do for breakfast, she again took up the trail. Just as she had been told, she found the camp of the hunter not far from the spot where she had slept the night before. When the hunter saw her, he said to her, “Are you following me?” She replied, “Yes. My grandmother told me that I should try to become your wife, as she said you are a good man.” He then welcomed her, and they went on together. At midday he ate some of the bread which the young woman had brought, and in the afternoon he killed a deer. After this he had very good luck at all times, for he had a wife.

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

A man with his wife and child lived happily together in a village. One day the man said to his little family, “We will start off to the woods tomorrow to hunt.” They set out the next day and were two days and nights on the road. Having reached their destination, they [454]built a fire, and the man started off hunting, telling his wife to boil samp and that he would be back in time to put meat with it. He went up a stream and came back in time with game. Having cut up some of the meat, his wife put it with the samp. About dusk supper was ready and they ate heartily. The man continued to hunt every day, killing one to three deer, and also bear, so they soon had a great deal of dried venison and bear meat, whereupon the man said, “We shall soon have plenty of meat.”

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

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

Early the next morning her husband went hunting. At night the dogs began to bark and became terribly frightened. The husband said, “I think that Genonsgwa is going to come and kill us. You would better go home with the child.” “I will stay with you and will be killed, if necessary,” replied the woman. She begged her husband to go with her, but he said, “No; I will stay and save our meat.” Then he heard the bushes around the lodge breaking and a wind blowing down the smoke-hole. [455]

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

On the way the mother said to her child, “You have now no father, poor baby.” When she was near home she saw that there was a light there. The three men, having parted, went to their homes. The woman hurried on, crying, Go'weh! go'weh! meaning that a man had been killed. The people who heard the cry hurried to meet her. She told everything. Taking her home, they put her in her lodge. An old man came to the lodge and asked, “Are you telling the truth?” “Yes,” she replied. “Well, we will have a dance,” said he, “and call the neighbors together. You must hide so that nobody will see you.” He hung up a blanket in a corner of the Long Lodge, and when the people were coming in she hid behind it. When the people were dancing one of the three hunters came with blood on his clothes, while the other two had blood on their backs. The old man said to them, “Your backs are all bloody.” “Yes; we are good hunters,” they replied; then they danced a while—[456]the women first, then the men. After fastening the door the old man asked the three men about their hunting. He said they should dance once more, and then they would talk a little. All felt free and happy, and one of the three men was talking pretty loud. The people danced again, and having finished, sat around a while. Then the old man said, “I will ask these three men whether they are free of crimes during their absence.” They replied, “We are; we hunted all the time.” Thereupon the old man brought out the woman, who told all. The old man next called on the warriors present to kill these three men, and they did so, afterward scalping them one after another. Then the people, going to the lodge in the woods, brought home the body of the dead man in a robe.

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

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

At last the orphan requested the people to be so good as to make him an arrow of red willow and also a bow, assuring them that he would shoot Hinon. So they made him a bow and an arrow out of red willow. One day, while standing in the doorway of the bark lodge which he called his home, during a passing storm he suddenly shot at Hinon, the arrow swiftly winging its way into the clouds. Soon the people saw it come down near a large tree some distance from the lodge. Rushing to see it, they found it sticking in the ground, but there was no man nor other object near it; but they could not pull the arrow from the ground, no matter how much they tried. Thereupon, returning to the boy, they told him what they had discovered, and that they could not draw his arrow from the ground. As an answer to them he accompanied them back to the tree and, taking hold of the arrow, drew it forth without trouble; but as he did so there appeared the body of a dead human being, which had been shot through the heart by his arrow. It was the body of a small person, not more than four or five feet in height, beautifully ornamented with the finest feathers they had ever seen. The people constructed a neat little lodge of bark, which they lined [457]with fine skins and furs. In this they carefully and reverently laid the body of the strange personage. From time to time they would go to this lodge to view the body. When they were going to war they would take two or three feathers from his arms, in the belief that these would secure them success. If they wished for rain, they had only to carry these feathers along after dipping them in water. All their trails were obscured in this manner. The people kept this body many years, and the feathers served them during this time; but after the advent of the whites these Indians, being driven from their home in the south (North Carolina), lost both the body and the feathers.