Long ago a whole tribe had been exterminated by powerful sorcerers. Of all the tribe only three persons remained. These were an old uncle and his two nephews, one very young and the other on the borderline of manhood.

The older boy was known as Two Feathers (DoÄ’dane´geⁿ’), and the younger received the name Turkey (Osoon), because he wore a robe made of a turkey skin. It was a magic skin and the little fellow was able to fly to the tops of trees, which gave him great pleasure.

There came a time when the uncle after watching the older nephew for some days, said, “My nephew it is my opinion that you should prepare yourself for your manhood. It is customary to depart from your abode and fast until your protecting friends appear unto you. Go forth to the river and build a sweat lodge, and when you have purified yourself, await the coming of your protectors.”

In obedience to his uncle’s directions Two Feathers departed and built himself a sweat lodge where he purified himself and fasted. On the tenth day he saw a great spider dropping down from the tops of the trees, and it spoke to him saying, “When you are in great distress I will be your protector.” Again he saw a great black snake rising from the ground and when it had reached the tops of the trees it spoke saying, “When you are in great distress and need a strong friend, I will be your protector.”

When Two Feathers returned to his uncle’s lodge he was a man and he knew that unseen powers were his friends. His uncle looked at him carefully and said, “My nephew, it is my opinion that you have become a man. Now it is customary for a man to seek a wife. It would make our lodge pleasant to have a young woman cook for us. Now, far away from here in a country to the east is a great man who has two daughters. It is my wish that you prepare for the journey and bring back a wife. It will take you several years,—how many I do not know.”

Two Feathers prepared for his journey and as he made his weapons his uncle watched him. “Come here,” said the uncle. “I would like to inspect your clothing.” So saying he looked at his nephew and then told him to disrobe. “You are not in the condition to make a woman receive you,” he said. “I will find a better costume for you.”

Opening his treasure chest, which he kept under his bed, the old man took out a fine fur robe made of raccoon skin. It was most beautiful and the fur was long and glossy. “Put this on, my nephew,” he said. Two Feathers donned the new costume and advanced for inspection. The uncle looked at him to discern any imperfection. “This robe is not good enough,” he said. “You are still not in condition to seek your wife. Disrobe and I will seek further among my treasures.”

The uncle now drew forth a robe of wildcat skin. It had short hair and was made so that it hung down like a long shirt with many tails. There were ears sewed around the neck and there were eyes on the sleeves. After looking at this shirt for a moment, the old man said, “Now, my nephew, this is a very old shirt and the wearer becomes very powerful in magic. It has eyes and ears and will guard the wearer when he sleeps. Put it on and let me see how you look.”

Two Feathers put on the shirt which just fitted him. It was very fine and he greatly admired it and wished to keep it as his shirt. The Uncle, however, surveyed it with a critical eye. Finally he said, “This shirt is not good enough. You are still in no condition to seek a wife and to overcome all the obstacles that lie in your trail from this lodge to where she resides. Disrobe, I must find something different.”

This time Two Feathers disrobed with reluctance. He wanted to keep that beautiful shirt. But as he watched his uncle he saw that another fine outfit was forthcoming. At the bottom of the treasure chest was a bundle done up in a deer skin folded into a case. This was opened and the uncle took out a panther-skin shirt, a pair of leggings, a pair of moccasins, a bow and quiver, a fisher skin pocket (pouch), a warclub and a pipe. “Now put these things on, my nephew,” said the uncle.

Two Feathers dressed and found that the panther shirt had the head of the panther as a cap and that the cap had two heron feathers above it. The whole costume was wonderful to see and Two Feathers now felt that there could be none better in all the world.

“Now, my nephew,” said the uncle. “I will show you what can be done with your clothing and accoutrements. The heron feathers on your hood will watch out for you and when you are in danger they will speak. Your fisher skin bag is alive and should anyone seek to harm you when asleep it will bite him. Your pipe and medicine root are in the bag. The medicine will give you power to spit wampum. The black end of the root will make dark wampum and the white end will make white wampum. Your pipe has the head of a bear upon it and it will growl when an enemy touches it, while the snakes on the bowl will hiss when you light your tobacco. Your bow looks old and useless, but it is filled with powerful magic and will guide your arrows straight.”

The uncle continued his instructions. “Now as you journey from here you will find three enchanted spots, and all must be avoided. You will pass a certain tree where there will be a boy playing about. He will ask you to lift him from the ground and place him in the long branch where he would like to swing up and down. Do not touch the boy for a sorcerer lives in the tree and when you lift up the boy the sorcerer will grasp you by the hair and tie you to his arrow and shoot you far away, and you will fall through the smoke hole of a witch’s lodge and will be eaten by her. She is the sorcerer’s wife. Further along the trail is a deep spring where there is sparkling water. Oh nephew, do not drink this water for there are monsters living in it who will draw you in and drown you. Further along and near the settlement where you are to go is a grove of very tall trees. Here you will see an old man who will hop around strangely. He will ask you to shoot a raccoon. Oh my nephew, do not pay any attention to him. He will be the cause of your ruin if you heed his pleas.”

Two Feathers now understood how to proceed and was about to start when Turkey, his younger brother, began to cry that he also wanted to go. Neither the uncle nor Two Feathers could dissuade him, and so he, too, made ready for departure.

Off they went on the journey. Turkey flew ahead in short flights and called back from the tree tops the condition of the trail, for it was very early in the morning and it was still quite dark. Very rapidly they traveled, until by noon they had traveled a distance that takes ordinary people three years to go. This was because Turkey flew and Two Feathers wore magic moccasins which made him take very long strides. They now saw a trail lodge and sat down to rest. Soon they espied a small boy playing about a large oak. As he played he came nearer in a friendly manner and asked to be placed in the long branch of the tree that he might swing up and down. Two Feathers placed the boy on a stump and put this under the tree. As he did this there was a great roar as if the wind were moving through the forest, and two gigantic arms came down and grabbed the stump, at the same time fixing it to the tip of a large arrow, and soon the stump flew through the air and into the witch’s lodge and knocked her into the fire.

Two Feathers and Turkey now went on their journey and in a short time came to a clearing where there was a fine spring of bubbling water continually outflowing. “Oh brother, do not drink,” said Turkey. “Remember what our uncle told us.” Two Feathers went on, but being very thirsty turned back and knelt by the spring to drink. As he leaned over a horrible creature leaped from the water and endeavored to pull him in. Two Feathers gave a pull and jumped back, throwing the monster into the clearing. “Oh put me back,” it cried. Two Feathers asked Turkey to watch it, then he went back to the spring to drink, but as he did so another monster covered with hair leaped at him and hung onto his head. Two Feathers pulled again and dragged the monster out, placing it in the care of Turkey. A third time this was repeated, after which both boys drank from the spring. The clearing was a spot where had once been a prosperous village, but sorcerers had poisoned the spring and killed all the people by dragging them into the depths of the water.

Two Feathers and Turkey made a fire and burned the monsters, and their heads bursting with shrieks, there flew away a flock of screech-owls.

The journey continued until it was near sunset. The boys sat down again and soon observed that they were in a grove of very tall trees. Presently they noticed an old man dancing about and shouting, “Hai‘, hai‘, hai‘, hai‘.” In a moment he approached and said, “Oh my nephews, there is a raccoon on that branch and I have no bow or arrow. I wish you would shoot it for me.”

Two Feathers would not listen to Turkey, who flew about gobbling, in order to draw his attention to the warning their uncle had given.

“Most truly, my uncle,” said Two Feathers. “I will shoot that raccoon for you. It is a very easy matter.” So saying, he took out an arrow, strung his bow and shot. “HiÑg,” went the arrow and hit the raccoon, piercing its heart.

Now in an altogether unexpected way the raccoon ran from the limb to the trunk of the tree and down a large hole at the top where the tree was broken off.

“Oh my nephew,” cried the old man in distress. “I am too old and weak from lack of food to climb after the raccoon, which has gone into its hole to die. Oh my nephew, climb after it for me.”

“That will be easy uncle,” said Two Feathers. “I will climb now.”

“Oh no, no, no! Do not spoil your clothing which I see is very nice. Take it off beneath the tree and I will watch it for you.” So Two Feathers took off all his clothing and climbed the tree.

Up he went like a squirrel and soon was at the top, but as he stood looking down into the hole he heard a noise behind him and caught a glimpse of the old man who shoved him into the hole. Down went Two Feathers into the hollow of the tree, and down into a pit beneath the roots where he smelt the flesh of victims and felt their bones beneath his feet. He knew that he had been trapped. Outside he could hear Turkey calling with a gobbling call, and he knew that something evil was in progress.

The old man descended the tree by a route known to himself by long familiarity, and then he went to the clothing which Two Feathers had left behind. “I have been looking for nephew’s clothing for I expected that he would pass this way. Now I shall be able to cross the river and take the great man’s daughter as my wife. Now I shall possess great magical power.”

Off went the old man, looking renewed in body and becoming more and more handsome with every step. Soon he reached the river and standing upon the bank he gave a loud clear call that could be heard for a long ways. On the other side of the river was a long house and the voice penetrated it. The elder of two sisters, ran out and taking her canoe paddled it across the stream.

When the imposter was in the canoe he said, “I have come a long ways to reach this place. I am a great hunter and am looking for a wife.”

“I think I would like to have you for my husband,” said the girl. “I will take you to our lodge and show you where we live.”

When the imposter came to the lodge he met the chief, and said he had come as a son-in-law. “You will do,” said the Chief. “Go in and see where we live.”

Going into the lodge the Chief’s wife gave him food and then the young woman showed him her bed. It was a fine bed with many soft robes of skin and a curtain made of fox skins sewed together. “Here is where you will lodge, as my husband,” said the girl. So that night Imposter ate wedding bread and was married.

When Two Feathers awoke the next morning he was very sick and could scarcely stand. His bed had been a place of filth and terror. His head felt light and he could see lights before his eyes. He began to think how he might escape, and then remembered that he had dreamed of the spider. “Come, my friend Spider,” he called, “release me, for you promised to be my protector.”

In a moment a great spider appeared above the opening and let down a braided strand of web. Two Feathers grasped it and was drawn up nearly to the top, when the web broke and he fell into the tree. He was greatly disappointed, but determined to call upon the black snake. “Come, my friend Black Snake,” he called, “release me, for you promised to deliver me from trouble.” In another moment a great serpent had climbed the tree and let down its tail, which coiled about Two Feathers and drew him forth. It then vanished.

Turkey was happy to see his brother and helped him put on the dirty clothing left by the old man. Two Feathers dressed with great difficulty and when he had put on the stiff worn-out moccasins and scabby looking cap, he looked like a very old man who was very sick. Slowly Turkey and he walked down the trail to the river. At length they reached the bank, and Two Feathers called, but his voice was so weak it could not be heard. It was like a whisper. Turkey then called and when he did so a young woman went down to the river and leaped in a canoe. Imposter saw her. “O do not go across,” he said. “It is only a dirty old man with a turkey.”

The young woman did not like Imposter, and gave him no heed. Across the river she went and took Two Feathers and Turkey in her canoe. When they were part way over the river Two Feathers said, “I have come a long ways to this place. My name is Two Feathers and I am a young man seeking a wife.”

“It is apparent that you are an old man,” said the girl. “I am the only girl whom you can marry, but how can you who look so old and filthy expect to secure a wife?”

“I met with trouble as I approached the river,” answered Two Feathers. “I helped an old man who wanted me to kill a raccoon but it was only a wizardly creation of his and he required that I should take off my clothing and climb after it. I removed my clothing, which had great power, and climbed the tree. When I was looking into the hole he pushed me in, and there were bones beneath.”

“Alas,” said the girl, “I am of the opinion that my brothers are among the victims.”

When they landed on the opposite side, the girl led the lame old man to the lodge and told him to look in. “I have brought my husband,” said she. Thereupon Imposter spoke to the Chief and asked if he would allow his daughter to marry a diseased old man. The Chief looked at Two Feathers and answered, “I am of the opinion that my daughter knows her own mind in this matter.”

So the girl took Two Feathers into the lodge and showed him her bed. It was a most beautiful bed and its robes were of the softest doe skin, with a mattress of deer hair beneath. The walls and top were covered with porcupine quill embroidery like a box, and the curtain was of martin skins sewed together, and the apartment had sweet herbs hung within, to make it pleasant. The platform over the bed was arranged as a sleeping place for Turkey.

At supper Two Feathers ate marriage bread, but nobody spoke to him but his wife, for he was not attractive in appearance and added nothing to the strength of the lodge, only providing another mouth to feed, when famine was almost upon them. When all had eaten Imposter took off his pouch of fisher skin and said that he would now smoke. He placed his hand in the mouth to reach for the pipe, and gave a wild cry, for the fisher bit his wrist and caused him great pain. In dropping the bag the magic medicine fell out, and being only like a withered root it was not noticed, so Two Feathers grabbed it and hid it in his bosom.

The time for sleep came and all retired. Imposter would not lay off his garments, much to the disgust of his wife. He was afraid that Two Feathers would steal them, and he knew that though he slept Turkey was watching.

Many days passed and Two Feathers looked more sick than ever, while Imposter grew more bold. Yet he never went on a hunt for he had no bow and arrows; these he had failed to pick up from Two Feather’s outfit, for they had looked so old and ill made. One night Two Feathers told his wife that he must have a large bowl when he awoke, for he had eaten an herb. So the next morning he called for the bark bowl, and taking it opened his mouth and blew into it, filling it with dark wampum, to the brim. “Present this to your father,” said Two Feathers, and the young woman did so to the great delight of the old man, who said, “Ah, I knew that he was a great man.”

Now when Imposter saw what had been done he felt that he had lost favor, so he asked his wife for a bowl and taking an emetic filled the bowl with all manner of foul lizards, toads and worms that he had eaten. Ordering his wife to take this to the Chief, he strutted about proudly. When the Chief saw the malodorous mess he roared in great anger and drove his son-in-law from the lodge.

The next night Two Feathers ate of the root again and called for the bowl. This time he filled it with white wampum to the delight and gratification of the Chief, who again said, “I am of the opinion that we entertain a great man.” Imposter tried to imitate Two Feathers once more but only produced little round worms that so fouled the bark bowl that the Chief ordered the wife to scrub it all day to clean it.

That night there was a great feast and Imposter ate so much that he was forced to remove his clothing, and he was so sleepy that he threw it at the foot of the bed and on the floor. Long he slept, and failed to awaken in the morning. Two Feathers was up very early and before anyone else. He took his bow and magic arrows and killed a great quantity of deer which he dragged to the lodge. Then he took his own fine clothing, which had become frayed and soiled and put it on. Immediately it became bright and new. Two Feathers also began to grow more and more youthful until he entirely recovered. His wife was very happy. The Chief, moreover, was glad and called all the people to a council.

Two Feathers was the central figure in this council and exhibited the powers of his costume. He pointed his pouch toward a woman and she fell down dead; he sprinkled her with medicine and she rose to her feet. He smoked his pipe and the bear upon it blinked its eyes and opened its mouth, while the snakes on the stem wriggled as if alive. The eyes of the panther hood glowed and the feathers spoke. Then again Two Feathers made wampum. Everybody was satisfied, most of all the Chief and his daughter.

After a while Imposter awoke and found his wife looking at him in disgust. “You are a filthy old man,” she said. “I will have no more to do with you.” She kicked him out of bed and made him put on his old clothes. “You lied to me,” she said and led him to a hole where the women customarily threw their garbage and thrust him in. Then she went away from him and nobody ever saw him again.

The Chief then said that it was his wish that all the people follow Two Feathers back to his home, for he was a great man and had slain all the wizards and monsters that infested the path. So they went and it took them a good many years to return. Turkey was now a man and took off his turkey clothes and dressed like a warrior. He, too, found a good-looking girl and married her.

After a long time the people all came to the uncle’s lodge and he was a very old man. Two Feathers told what he had done and the uncle was happy. He now had women to cook for him, and he felt that the world was rid of sorcerers. Then the old lodge was repaired and all the people dwelt there, and if you can find it you will find the people dwelling there to this day.

Now this is a Two Feathers story. All the old people of the old-time knew about this; and it happened a long time ago.

Do´cioweⁿ‘ was the place where they lived,—an old uncle and his nephew. The young man was called Two Feathers and the uncle was known by name as Woodchuck Leggings.

Two Feathers was a hunter and never feared to hunt any animal, but he was kind to the animals and could talk to them, so they became his friends. He had a pet bear in a small yard and he had a wolf that he had tamed. He said that it was the same as a man.

Now you ought to know that he had fine clothes. They were made of white buckskin and embroidered all over with porcupine quills. He had also a tobacco pouch made of a spotted fawn’s skin with the feet and head on and in this he kept a pipe having a bear’s head carved on it, and eyes that rolled when the jaws of the bear chewed the tobacco inside. He had a gustoÑ´we‘ (feathered hat), with two feathers in front, and on the hat there were two chirping birds.

Two Feathers acquired magic and became very strong, but he did not let anyone know that he was Hotci´noⁿ’ga‘, (a charm holder).

One day when Two Feathers was hunting in the woods he saw an old bark house. Cautiously approaching it he found an old man inside; though at first he thought it was a wolf. The old man was very hungry and so Two Feathers gave him meat to eat. “I have been looking for you a long time,” said the old man. “You have been merciful to me and I am going to give you my arrow. It does not look like a good arrow, but most truly it has great power.” So saying he drew forth from a bundle in which he kept many kinds of war charms, an arrow and handed it to Two Feathers. Two Feathers was glad and leaving the old man some dried meat, departed.

After a while he came to another village across a river where he slept overnight. He noticed two girls, one older and one younger, named Drooping Flower. He looked at the younger girl and she looked at him, and something went out of his eyes into her eyes, and something went out of her eyes into his. He said to himself, “That’s the one.” One of the villagers saw this and told Two Feathers that he was now under the spell of a very evil witch, the mother of the girl.

After a time Two Feathers saw the girl again and said to her, “I am coming for you by and by.” Then he went home to his uncle who all this time had been living on woodchuck meat, because he was an unskillful hunter. The old man was angry at Two Feathers for his long absence, and upbraided him.

After a time a runner came to the village near which Two Feathers and his uncle dwelt. He called the people together and told them that all the people in the valley across the river were starving. Hunters had been unable to secure game and the corn harvest had failed.

Now Woodchuck Leggings thought this a good time to find a wife, who weakened with famine, he could overcome and drag back to his lodge. Two Feathers thought about the young girl whose eyes’ light had gone into his own. He thus prepared to take the trail along a creek having rapids and falls, and to go by a short but difficult route. Off he went in great haste, taking all his bundles and charms with him. Woodchuck Leggings noticed this and was angry for he had resolved to steal them when he had an opportunity. He now resolved to follow his nephew and slay him if he could.

When Two Feathers reached the valley village he found the people starving. Drooping Flower was too weak to stand up. Two Feathers now asked all the women who could to gather about their doorways and play the plum-stone game and to sing:

He then went into the woods at the edge of the clearing and sang a magic song, at the same time taking out four arrows which had lain close to the arrow the old man had given him.

One by one he shot the arrows into the air, each in a different direction, at the same time calling, “Bring me meat from different animals.”

Returning to the lodge of Drooping Flower he sat in the doorway and waited. Soon high overhead he heard a song. The people rushed out of doors and listened, and sure enough, there was a song in the air. The words were: “The wild animals are coming.” In a moment the song had reached the ground and four animals came running to the doorway where Two Feathers sat waiting. Each animal had an arrow sticking in its heart. On they came to the lodge and then dropped dead at Two Feathers’ feet. There was a deer, a moose, an elk and a bear.

The starving village then had food and Drooping Flower recovered. Then a council was called and all the people sat around to see Two Feathers, who sat in the middle of the hall on a bench. He took from his pouch his bear-bowled pipe and put a pinch of tobacco into it.

“My friends and cousins,” he said. “I must have an ember for my pipe. How shall I get it? Ho yo ho! Fly birds, fly!” As he spoke the chipping-birds on his hat began to flutter and then to fly. They flew to the fire and took coals from it which they placed in his pipe, after which the birds sat on his hat. Oh the fragrance of the smoke was pleasing, and the bear on the bowl rolled its eyes and chewed the tobacco. “Oh you like my tobacco?” asked Two Feathers. “So does my pouch. Dance pouch, dance!” What was happening? The spotted pouch detached itself from his belt and scampered over the floor a living fawn. Then he called it back to its strap.

“It is now getting late,” observed Two Feathers. “Now bring me a good deer-skin, well tanned. I will give all of you good presents.” Drooping Flower brought a skin and placed it before him. He began, then, to make a noise like “tsut, tsut, tsut.” Opening his mouth wide he blew out a great stream of wampum beads. Immediately there was a scramble for the beads and nearly everybody grabbed a handful.

As Two Feathers left the house he saw the jealous, blazing eyes of his uncle, Woodchuck Leggings. The old man had never dreamed that his nephew had powers like these. He then began to spread mischief by saying that Two Feathers was an evil sorcerer and that he would soon become OÑgwe Ias and eat up everybody.

Now Drooping Flower’s mother was a witch and hated anybody with power. So she called Woodchuck Leggings and talked to him. He told her how to proceed to overcome Two Feathers.

That night Two Feathers and Woodchuck Leggings slept on one side of the witch’s lodge. Midnight came and the old woman began to have a bad dream. She began to throw fire upon Two Feathers but the chipping-birds chirped so loudly they awakened him, and he saw the old woman on her knees at the fire grunting, as if in a dream, “eⁿ‘´, eⁿ‘´, eⁿ‘´!” Leaping up he hit her with a corn pounder, exclaiming, “What is it, my aunt?” Pretending to awaken she answered, “It is now finished. I have had a dream and must be satisfied. Oh I must have the antlers of two large buck elk that live in a cold lake. I must have them by morning or direful things will happen.”

Two Feathers immediately set out to satisfy the old woman’s dream demand. Now no one had ever seen these elk, which were known by their splashing only, and all persons who went into the lake were devoured by the horned serpent. Two Feathers jumped into the water saying, “I know that I can do this thing.” Long he swam into the darkness, for there was no starlight or moon. After a time he heard splashing and a noise like heavy breathing. Taking his arrow from an oiled skin bag he spoke to it and then shot. There was a great flash of light in the sky and the mysterious lake elk were revealed. The arrow had pierced both of them. Mounting one of the elks he ordered them to swim ashore. “What do you want?” they asked when they stood upon the homeward beach. “I want your horns,” he answered. “Oh that is all right, nephew,” they said and shed their antlers. “I am sorry I had to kill you, but the woman desired it in satisfaction of a dream.” The elks spoke again, “The woman has deceived you.” Then they disappeared.

The gift of the great antlers only increased the old woman’s anger and the next night she dreamed that she must have the pelts of the wampum-coated deer. They had no hair but curled shells on their skins. If they saw anyone they would trample them to death. So then, Two Feathers set forth to catch the wampum deer. He made a sweat house by the lick where the deer came in the night. He threw tobacco all around it and then waited. Soon two does came and Two Feathers shot his magic arrow, killing both. Then he lighted his pipe and began to sing. Instantly a great drove of bucks came rushing to the sweat lodge but they could not touch it, so powerful was the magic of Two Feathers. After a while he heard them stamping away and he arose and went out and skinned the deer.

The beautiful pelts covered with shells only made the old woman more angry, as Two Feathers presented them at daybreak. She screeched and scolded and called him an evil sorcerer. But the next night she again asked satisfaction of a dream.

On this occasion she demanded that Two Feathers go to a hot lake and bring back two white beavers, reputed to be of great magical potency. “Oh that is very easy, my aunt,” answered Two Feathers, “I will bring them at daylight.” Setting forth he reached the lake and taking out his arrow spoke to it. “Speed on and find the game that I desire,” he commanded.

The arrow sped forth and soon it struck a beaver which came swimming toward him, bringing another with it on a wave. This he struck with a small white stone and both were dead. Taking them to the old woman’s lodge he threw them at her feet. “You may have the meat,” he said, “but I will keep the skins.” This made the old woman angry for the beavers were her brothers. So then again she dreamed and commanded him to satisfy her by dangerous tasks, but his magic power always won. At length, dispairing of causing him harm in this manner, the mother announced that her right mind had returned. She resolved upon a new plan, and became very kind to Two Feathers. When Two Feathers found that the mother was no longer the oracle of the spirits he started home where he might provide for his own father and mother.

The Do´cioweⁿ‘ people listened with great sorrow to Two Feathers’ story of the distressed tribesmen of Ganun dasey and rejoiced when he told them how his luck had delivered them. But he was restless and could not bear separation from Drooping Flower, thus he announced that he was going again to the Valley of the Pleasant River to get a wife.

Woodchuck Leggings had seen Drooping Flower and he wanted her, and hearing that his nephew was to visit her, resolved to accompany him, kill him on the journey, put on his clothing, gain the magic articles, and then steal Drooping Flower. The mother of the girl had given Woodchuck Leggings a death charm and he made up his mind to use it upon his nephew. Moreover the woman asked him to do so.

“May I go with you?” he asked Two Feathers, when he saw his nephew ready.

“No, Uncle,” was the reply.

“But I am going nevertheless!”

“Then not with me,—never!” was Two Feathers’ answer.

Two Feathers set out the next morning and when he had traveled three days he met Woodchuck Leggings, who had a day’s start on the journey. He saw him sitting on a stump with his back toward the trail.

“Niawe’´skÄno’!” shouted Two Feathers.

“Doge‘s!” was the startled reply.

“How came you here, Uncle?”

“I am on my journey.”

“Then if it is your journey you must not expect to go with me, for I will not allow it.” Two Feathers ran on ahead leaving his uncle still sitting on the stump. When night came he set up camp and kindled a fire for cooking a supper. As he lay down for sleeping he heard the night birds scream and listening he heard the crackling of sticks. Lifting his bow, he prepared for the enemy, whatever it might be. In the dim light of the dying camp fire, he saw the shadow of a ragged old man, limping along the trail. It was Woodchuck Leggings.

“Niawe’´skÄno’´, Uncle!” said Two Feathers in greeting.

“Doge‘s! Agi! dodus‘ha Ä‘kwa!” “(Truly, O give me to eat)!” gasped the hungry uncle.

Two Feathers spoke to his arrows, shot into the tree tops and a large turkey fell to the ground at the feet of the uncle, who was too frightened to move.

“Pull the arrow out and cook the bird,” commanded the nephew. But his uncle was too frightened, for the arrow was magic. (Beyond this, it was not right to touch the arrows of another hunter when they were sticking in dead game.) Woodchuck Leggings was too exhausted to prepare his own meal and fell to the earth from weakness. So the faithful and unsuspicious nephew roasted the bird and shaking the dozing man exclaimed, “Sedekoni (Come eat)!”

So he devoured the bird and ate his fill of parched corn and maple sugar. He begged that his nephew should not turn him away in the darkness, for he was afraid of the flying heads. He pleaded for a little space on one side of the fire by his nephew’s side. Two Feathers did not relish the idea but pitied the old coward, and gave him a place in which to sleep.

The crafty old scoundrel watched his opportunity. When Two Feathers was fast asleep, he made his way, stealthily to the other side of the fire and drew from his shirt a long sharp point of hickory bark. It was the death charm. Two Feathers was lying on his side. Kneeling at his back he lifted the bark high above his head and brought it down with all his strength, plunging it into the back of his victim just between the shoulders. Removing his own dirty garments, Woodchuck Leggings replaced them with the beautiful white clothes of Two Feathers. He felt for the magic pipe and pouch and found both safe, but he had forgotten the magic arrow in his haste.

In the morning he continued his journey and at sunset came to the village. A scout noted his arrival and cried, “Here comes Two Feathers!” As false Two Feathers passed by the fires between the lodges, the people noticed with wonder that the beautiful white deer skin clothing had become soiled and torn. The tobacco pouch had caught in a bush and half the quill work had been ripped off.

He entered Drooping Flower’s lodge. “Come, we can get married now,” he said.

Drooping Flower did not need to look at him a second time. “You are not real Two Feathers,” she exclaimed. “Where is Two Feathers?”

“I am he!”

“Sonohweh! You are a liar!”

“We shall see,” answered the pretender.

The next day he called a council and when all had taken their seats he strode through the door with great pomp and took his position on the singer’s bench. Grasping a rattle he began to sing, but his voice was cracked. He stopped suddenly, as he caught the gaze of the men. “I have a cold, brothers,” he apologized. “But now I will smoke, and the sweetness of my tobacco will please you; but where shall I get my fire,—Ho, ho! Fly little birds!” But his commands were in vain and he was compelled to get his own light. “My birds are bashful,” he explained. He lighted his pipe and began to blow the smoke into the air. The foul fumes filled the lodge and nearly stifled the people. Women held their breaths or breathed through their shawls; the men coughed and the babies cried. “My tobacco is damp tonight,” he said, “but you shall see my pouch dance for me,—dance pouch, dance!” The pouch clung to his side limper than ever. In spite of his commands and threats it would not move a finger’s breadth. “My pouch,” he explained, “is bashful and now as I am tired, if Drooping Flower will bring me a skin I will speak out wampum.” Drooping Flower refused to obey and whispered, “He is a liar!” Drooping Flower’s older sister, WiÄsoⁿ’, took pity on the unsuccessful conjurer, and hoping to win a man, took down a skin from the wall behind her and placed it on the singer’s bench.

“Now since all my things are bashful, I will pay you for the trouble in coming here, see—I blow out wampum when I breathe!” Sure enough, from his mouth flew a quantity of small white cylinders. The people bent over to pick up the valued wampum beads, but were again disappointed, for instead of wampum were clusters of loathly worms. With a shamed face WiÄsoⁿ’ returned the skin to the peg and the council was dismissed by the head sachem.

False Two Feathers felt that he must do something to redeem himself, so going to the woods the next morning he shot all his arrows and called for game, but failing to get any, in desperation clubbed two woodchucks to death and brought them back. No one would touch them.

The people looked at him as one who had lost power by displeasing his own charms and paid more attention to him. No one would now associate with him save WiÄsoⁿ’ who asked him to marry her, and he did.

Two Feathers awoke after several days unconsciousness and found a great herd of forest animals about him.

“Our brother, you have been sick,” said the wolf, the spokesman. “You were stabbed by Woodchuck Leggings as you were sleeping. But as you were kind, so we are not ungrateful and our blood has kept you nourished while you slept. The animal spirits are crafty and know their friends and foes. You are about to undergo misfortune but do not faint,—keep up courage and listen to what we tell you.”

Two Feathers was weak and dizzy, and it took him a long time to reach the Valley village. Painfully he crept along the sunken trail until he reached a corn field where he heard women singing as they cut the blighted corn stalks. He called, and Drooping Flower hearing his voice, found him wounded and exhausted. She stooped down and he whispered something in her ear. The crowd of women was now about him. “Where is Woodchuck Leggings?” he inquired. “You are Woodchuck Leggings; don’t you know yourself?” cried all women. Two Feathers said no more.

For nearly a year Two Feathers lived in an old bark house which hardly sheltered him from the snow or kept away the springtime rain. He looked like, and was, a sickly old man. Every one knew him by his cough and pitied him.

In those days there was a great white eagle, a magic bird. The people of the village had erected two high poles with cross-pieces, upon which the eagle was wont to alight as it passed over the settlement.

The mother of Drooping Flower worried because her daughter would not take a husband and asked her why she would not marry. To such inquiries the girl replied, “I shall never marry until the white eagle shall be shot. The man who sends an arrow through him shall be my husband!” These words pleased the mother and she told everybody about it and gave it out in council.

A day for the tournament was set and when it came a hundred young men from the entire nation gathered on the council grounds, eagerly awaiting the signal. The great white eagle, with whistling wings, flew from pole to pole, pausing now and then to give a scream. The signal was given, and a hundred arrows struck its feathers, broke, and fell to the earth below. Through all the day the contesting warriors shot their arrows upon the magic eagle, but he shook them off like snow flakes and mocked their efforts by his screaming.

Two Feathers, dressed in the tattered skins of Woodchuck Leggings, watched the flight of arrows from his doorway. The young men laughed at him and asked him if he were going to try his skill, but to no one would he reply. At length when no one was watching, the ugly, lame, coughing old man made his way to a corner of the council grounds. He had no bow, but in his hand he carried an arrow. Drooping Flower’s mother saw him, and recognized who he was, but kept her secret. She looked him in the eyes and contemptuously exclaimed “Chisna!” While she was still looking this despised old man made a pantomime motion as if grasping a bow, pulled his arrow and let fly. He hobbled back to his lodge, coughing violently.

There was a great shout followed by an excited hum of voices. “It was my arrow—no mine—liars, it was my arrow—wrong, I know my arrow by the painted shaft—mine—mine—no mine—my arrow, I know it by the red quill!” The din grew louder and wilder. Blows were exchanged and some struck with clubs. The older men rushed out and surrounded the excited throng and said they would shoot them with their arrows and commanded the riot to cease. When quiet had been restored the old sachem cried out, “That man killed the bird who can draw the arrow out!”

Man after man tried very hard but all failed. False Two Feathers made his boast and kneeling, prepared to pull it. He faltered;—his eyes filled with water. It was the same arrow that had killed the turkey for his supper on the night when he had plunged the death charm into Two Feathers! He arose and went to his house. “The eagle is shot,” said he to his wife. “No one can draw the arrow out.”

There was a great discussion and every one was asked for his opinion, but no one had any idea who the marksman was, save the mother of Drooping Flower, and Woodchuck Leggings. Then a stranger who had not hitherto ventured to speak, stepped upon a stump and shouted, “You have not asked the old man with a cough!” The people laughed at the stranger’s suggestion and watched him curiously as he ran to the abode of Two Feathers. The stranger grasped Two Feathers by the hand, by both hands, and whispered in his ear. The stranger was the wolf whom he had befriended in the lonely cabin.

Two Feathers limped to the slain bird and all the people shouted “Hoa‘ho’´! Old-Bones-with-a-cough is going to try, yo-a-hoh!”

“Old Bones-with-a-cough” touched the arrow, it clung to his finger and followed his hand into the air. All the people shouted “Whoei‘!”

The sachem took his stand and proclaimed Drooping Flower the wife of the old man with a cough, and the mother frowned as she was compelled to say, “Nio’!”

“A medicine man quick!” shouted Two Feathers. “Give me him whom you call fallen Two Feathers!”

Woodchuck Leggings hurried forward, ever ready to be where there was a chance of being looked at.

“Build a sweat lodge of fat bear skins, bring large lumps of fat and them heat fire-stones and bring them in,” directed Two Feathers.

Woodchuck Leggings built a little dome-shaped lodge by sticking the ends of flexible poles into the ground and bending them over, and after a hunter had skinned a fat bear, he covered the lodge frame with the skin, hair-side out. When the hot stones were brought in they heated the interior to such a degree that the fat on the skins melted and ran down in streams. After Two Feathers’ body was drenched with the oil, he asked that his “doctor” rub him until it had been well absorbed by the skin. He then requested the famous “medicine man” to pack a lump of fat between his shoulders, cover it with a small skin and place a hot stone over it. A cold one was selected. “Hotter, Uncle!” said Two Feathers, for the first time calling him by this name. The second stone was only slightly warmer, “Hotter yet, Uncle!” Another stone was placed on the skin but Two Feathers still shouted, “Hotter yet, Uncle.” The next stone was dull red and Woodchuck Leggings slapped it on with a thud. “Dogeⁿ’s wi’ o!” shouted Two Feathers and putting his hands to the back of his neck he threw off the poultice. He grasped the bark which had worked partly out. He gave it a hard pull. Woodchuck Leggings grew suspicious and began to tremble with fear. With a loud cry Two Feathers pulled the bark point from his neck and before the cringing man before him had time to utter a sound, Two Feathers struck him a heavy blow over the neck. The death charm sank into the flesh, passed between the bones in his back and Woodchuck Leggings lay dead.

“The sick one has recovered!” shouted Two Feathers. “Every one go away while I dress.” The wondering throng which had sat chanting about the lodge during the ceremony, went to their lodges, curious to know what had happened, for the voice which they had heard commanding them was one which in itself compelled obedience and awe, and seemed to come from neither of the men whom they had seen enter the lodge.

Two Feathers washed his body in ashes, put on his old suit which Woodchuck Leggings had ruined, but which was restored as it touched his body, and ran out into the council grounds. The people looked at him in astonishment. Who could it be? The handsome man seemed like someone whom they had known before, and yet no one ventured to say who it was.

“I shall call a council for tonight; I bring news!” shouted Two Feathers.

Two Feathers took the speaker’s seat and addressed the people. “Brothers! I am Two Feathers, the same who once delivered you from the famine, by the power of my charms, I delivered you from the two grim sisters that breathed into your faces and almost stopped your breath. So soon have you forgotten me, but remember, I am not blaming you, for I know the reason, and you are not to be blamed.”

“Brothers! I was stricken in the forest by the treachery of Woodchuck Leggings, who thought that by taking my life he could take my power, but he was mistaken, for he has taken neither. For a long time I have suffered, alone, neglected and despised by all the people, but now that I have recovered, he who designed my misfortune himself has met it. I have killed him with his own charm.”

The gestures of Two Feathers, his face and his voice thrilled the people and with one accord they shouted, “Nio’´!”

“Now friends and brothers, let us rejoice in my restored life and power. See, I smoke! Fly birds, fly and bring me a light.” The birds flew from his hat with chirps of joy. They fluttered up and down and flew through the council house from end to end. They went into the fire, pulled out a brand and placed it in his pipe. They brushed against his face again and again singing. Two Feathers caught them in his hands and placed them back on his feather cap. He spoke to his pouch, “Dance, pouch, dance,—be my spotted fawn.” The pouch leaped from his side and danced better than it had before. It danced in a circle around him as he stood on the floor, it jumped over his head, rolled and tumbled, rubbed against his legs, leaped and gave every sign of life. “Enough!” exclaimed Two Feathers, and reluctantly it ran back to his belt, nothing but a limp skin pouch. “Now brothers, bring a skin.” Someone brought him the pelt which Woodchuck Leggings had used. “What, spoiled by worms? See, I smoke.” A puff of smoke purified the skin. “See, I breathe. Now look.” Wampum dropped from the frost of his breath and piled up in a heap on the skin.

The sachems and head men now began to speak. Never did a man receive a better welcome. The people were glad, the women sang a welcome song and then all rushed to put friendly hands on him,—all but two. These slunk from the room, one with eyes brimming with angry tears and the other with a face drawn into a horrible frown. This one ground her teeth in rage, she ran her claw fingers down her cheeks until the blood flowed in streams. She tore her hair, and with shrieks ran into the darkness.

The council was over and there was a commotion in the lodge of Drooping Flower. The mother lay on her couch screeching as she tore her clothing into shreds, chewed the flesh from her fingers and bit them off at the joints. Then she suddenly sprang up and shook her hands before her face. The sinews dangled over the white bones and blood spurted from the meat. Suddenly the lodge became darkened,—a rush of air was felt and a yelp was heard, like that of a dog pierced with an arrow. When a torch was lighted the mother had gone. She could not be found though the people searched in forest and in open. Only tracks of a big dog could be seen leading from the lodge. They were traced to a pond which had neither inlet nor outlet, and there they stopped. It was found out she had been a witch.

GENERAL NOTES.—The story of Two Feathers and his jealous uncle, Woodchuck Leggings is one of the favorite tales of the Seneca. It is related in several forms but always has the same general plot. The version here given was secured during the summer of 1903 during my stay on the Silverheels’ farm, and was related by George D. Jimerson, comments being made by Fred Kennedy, a half-blood, and Peter Snyder. As auditors who nodded their approval we had Gahweh Seneca and Fred Pierce.

As here recorded this bit of Seneca fiction is an example of a folk tale taken down in note form and rewritten in the language of the transcriber. It is not an exact translation by any means. It does give, however, all the essential ideas conveyed by the narrators. The plot is followed exactly in all the peculiar turns and in some cases we have used the same expressions of the story tellers who gave the tale.

The plot is a love theme in which a hero is thwarted by a jealous uncle. Magic plays its usual part but magic is employed by the hero to bring about his own recovery in due time. The heroine’s mother turns out to be in league with the villain, and after the villain’s exposure the hero is compelled to perform certain tasks thought to be impossible. He succeeds and the evil woman stands revealed an odious witch.

When I had written out this tale substantially as here presented I read it to Edward Cornplanter. He criticized it by saying that I had received it from Christian Indians who had given locations not in the original tale and that my informants had tried to explain too much. “It is all right, though,” he said. “I do not object at all because white folks will understand it better the way you have it. Only one big mistake you have made. Now, when Two Feathers went away from that big bark house where the girl lived he made up his mind to take the girl with him to his own village. So, he grabbed her and jumped up through the smoke hole. He had his snowshoes hidden on the roof. He put on his snowshoes, grabbed the girl around the waist and then slid down the slippery roof. He was magic and sailed away right in the air for a mile and then came down on the snow as nice as you please. It was great to see it.

“Now, soon, Woodchuck Leggings missed the girl. All the time he still wants her, which makes his own woman mad. So Woodchuck Leggings tried to jump up through the roof hole but fell back in the fire and burned himself. So he climbed up on the roof with his snowshoes to sail away after Two Feathers. He started down the slippery, icy roof and went fine,—until he came to the edge of the roof. Then he fell head first in a big drift and the only thing anyone could see was a pair of snowshoes on the level with the top of the drift. This made the whole village laugh with a big roar. His wife was madder than ever for she had to dig him out, and I hate to tell you what she did to him when she got him alone. This is the best of the story.”

There was an old woman who lived with her grandson, Osoon (Turkey), in a lonely lodge a long ways from a settlement. The lodge was old and very large, but only the two lived in it, for all others had been killed by sorcerers.

Winter was coming on and the old woman was busily engaged each day in gathering firewood for the winter’s store. Every day she would cry as she started on her journey and when she returned she would cry again, for she was old and weak.

After a time the boy, Turkey, asked his grandmother why she wept continually. “Oh my grandson,” she answered, “all our people are dead and I am getting old. I have a hard time getting roots and bark for winter food and gathering wood makes me very tired.”

Then she took Turkey to the end of the long house and pushed aside a piece of bark. Beyond was another room which Turkey had never seen before. As they entered it Turkey saw that it was filled with all kinds of clothing and weapons and many strange things. “This is where I have placed all the things that belonged to our family when it lived here,” said the grandmother. “I will show you this place but you must never enter it or touch anything.”

The next day when the grandmother left the lodge to gather wood Turkey pushed aside the bark and entered the room. It was dark but after a time he could see. He found a large drum which pleased him very much. He fell to beating it and it made a sound that he thought delightful. Then he went out and closed the bark over the opening.

When the grandmother returned with her load of wood she wept again. “Why do you always weep?” asked Turkey. And she replied, “All of our people are dead. They have been destroyed by a monster wizard who eats human flesh. His lodge is to the east and near it is a great bed of strawberries. Oh, they are as large as hearts. Once there was a good village of our tribe there, but the people were killed and the houses have now fallen down.” Then she fell into a fit of weeping again.

Turkey now said, “My grandmother, now is the time for me to go. I shall shortly go.”

The next day when the grandmother was away, Turkey entered the forbidden room and found a net bat and a ball. He removed them and went out and played ball (lacrosse). Then he returned and found the drum, which he beat with great vigor. So loudly did he beat it that his grandmother heard it and returned in great fright. “Do you want the monster to find out where we live and come here and eat us?” she scolded, but Turkey only replied. “Oh my grandmother, don’t scold me. Tell me more about the monster.”

“His name is DeadoeÑdjadaseⁿ,” replied the grandmother, “and he has seven sisters who wait upon him. Oh never go east.”

“Make me some moccasins,” commanded the boy. “I am going east.”

Still forbidding him to go, the grandmother, nevertheless, made the moccasins. In a short time he was ready to start.

Now Turkey was cautious and crept along through the underbrush until he came to a clearing where he saw a dried human skin fastened by a cord to a tall pole. It swung around in the wind and watched the clearing. Turkey noticed that there was a large strawberry patch there with berries as big as hearts. He was very crafty and knew that he could not approach the Hadjoqda (dried skin), without being seen and reported to its masters. Looking about he saw a mole and made a bargain with it to borrow its coat. Shrinking himself by magic he entered the mole skin and then burrowed underground until he was directly under the skin, when he broke a little root into beads and stained them with berry juice. He called to the skin and offered to give it wampum if it would talk for a while. This the skin agreed to do, and told him all the mysteries of the clearing. Turkey learned that the master sorcerer was DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ, and that the seven sisters cooked human flesh for him, grinding it in a corn mortar with white corn meal. Only this would he eat. When the sisters were not cooking they guarded the strawberries from the deer that came into the clearing to graze.

“What more should I learn to be safe?” asked Turkey.

“What will you give to know?” replied Skin Man.

“I will rub my hands on you and make you free,” answered Turkey.

Then he learned that the lives of the sorcerer and his sister were secure, for they could not be killed, their hearts being concealed under the wing of a loon that swam in a pool under a bed in the lodge. A dog guarded the hearts and they could only be surrendered upon order of DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ, himself.

Meanwhile the sisters had been calling the skin, and louder and louder did they call. Turkey said, “Tell them that you have been making wampum for them, and that DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ is about to return spitting blood. Then I will stir up the deer and enter the lodge. Then you will report the deer and the sisters will rush out to save their strawberries. I will find their hearts and kill them. Then I will make you free.”

Hadjoqda, the skin man, returned to the lodge, saying that he had been making wampum, and was delayed. He said moreover that he saw their brother returning, being sick. The youngest sister was suspicious of the wampum, but it appeared to be good, and the sisters divided it. Skin Man then returned to his station.

In a short time Turkey had gone back to the mole and returned its coat with a gift in payment. Then he used magic to make himself appear exactly like DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ, and strode boldly into the clearing, chewing a strawberry and spitting the juice. This gave him great power. He drew near the lodge and called for food, but one sister was suspicious and offered him corn, then meat, then fish, but Turkey refused them all and roared that he was OÑgwe Ias and wanted his accustomed dinner. This they put before him and he ate it all, satisfying the women that he was indeed their brother.

Suddenly Skin Man began to call and the women all ran out of the lodge, for Skin Man was crying that the deer were in the strawberries.

When the sisters were out of sight, Turkey noticed a small dog watching one of the beds. He threw a piece of meat to the dog and then lifted up the bed. Beneath was a pool of water and a loon swimming about. “Give me the hearts,” commanded Turkey. The loon lifted up a wing but there were no hearts under it. “You give me those hearts!” commanded Turkey, once more. This time the loon lifted its right wing and beneath were the eight hearts. Turkey grabbed them and ran out crying, “I am Turkey, and I’ve got your hearts.”

When the sisters saw Turkey with the hearts they began to chase him with the clubs which they used on the deer, but as each assailant approached Turkey squeezed her heart, causing her to faint. One by one he squeezed until they all cried out and fainted but the rest arose as he released his pressure and ran after him, when by giving a hard squeeze they all fell down. By this time the women were at the flat rock where their brother killed his victims. Turkey now threw their hearts one by one on the stone and each cracked open like a flint stone.

DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ, suspecting mischief, now ran to the clearing where he met the Skin Man. Of him he made inquiries as to what the noise was all about. Skin Man was very insolent and called DeadoeÑdjadseⁿ bad names, enraging him greatly. “Turkey has your heart, Turkey has your heart,” sang the Skin Man in derision. The monster sorcerer then rushed into the clearing where he saw Turkey dancing about the flat stone. He rushed upon him, but Turkey threw the heart upon the rock and broke both heart and rock. Then he patted Skin Man all over the body and restored him to his normal form. To his surprise he found him to be his own brother, who had been held by sorcery to obey the commands of the wizard and his sisters.

Together they gathered many bones that were strewn about the flat rock. When all were piled up Turkey kicked over a pig-nut tree and called out, “Disjointed bones, arise before this tree falls upon you!” The tree fell and before it hit the ground a great host of people arose and all were quarreling, for all had portions of the others’ bodies. Turkey pacified them and told them to wait. From the throng he picked out his own relatives and with them returned to his grandmother’s lodge.

The grandmother was very happy when she saw her relatives,—her children and grandchildren. By her suggestion they all returned to the clearing where the strawberries grew and there they built a new village, and there they live to this day.

At one time there was nothing to eat on all the earth. Nearly all the people had starved to death, and a few that remained gathered together on a high hill. They lived on boiled bark.

There was a certain young man who kept saying all the time, “It will be better after a while.” Nobody believed him because things were getting worse each day. His brother used to torture him with sharp stones and say harsh things to him. The young man, however, kept thinking that something would happen soon. After a while he heard footsteps, as if on a clean path. He listened for the span of a moon and then heard them running. He told the people but nobody believed him.

One morning while he sat in the doorway of his lodge with his head down on his knees, a young woman stood before him. He heard her breathe and looked up. She smiled and handed him a basket of bread. “My mother sent me to this lodge to find a young man,” she said. “My mother wants me to marry him.”

The people came out of the lodge and looked at the young woman and the young man’s mother asked from whence she had come. “I have come from the far south,” answered the girl. “There is plenty of food there.”

So the young man ate the bread and was married to the young woman from the south.

Then the young wife said, “My mother sent me to bring food to you. Let everybody take off the tops of their corn barrels and then enter the lodge and cover their faces.”

The sun had now come up and it was hot. The people did not like their faces covered, but soon they heard a sound like corn falling into their barrels. After a time the noise ceased and the young wife said, “It is finished now.”

Out into the shed went the people of the lodge and found the barrels full of shelled corn. Everybody ate and all were satisfied, except the younger brother, who threw his food into the fire and said he wanted game. Now the young wife had cooked the corn the young man threw away, and she was made sad by his action. So she said, “My husband, go to the river and get fish enough for the people.” But the younger brother said, “It is foolish to go to the river, for fish have deserted the river. There are none.” Nevertheless, the young husband went to the river and drew out enough fish for all the people. The younger brother was very angry.

The next day the husband went hunting and while he was absent the younger brother began to torment the young wife. “Your food is not good,” he said. “I cast your food away,” and again he threw food into the fire.

When the husband returned he found his wife crying and when he asked her what was troubling her she said, “Your younger brother has spoiled everything. He has rejected my food (speaking thereby the dissatisfaction of all the people). I shall now return to my home.”

The husband was very sad and begged her not to go, but his wife told him that her mother instructed her to return if she were abused. During the following night there was a sound of scraping in the corn barrels and in the morning when the women went for their corn it was all gone, and with it the bride had vanished.

After consultation the husband determined to search for his wife, and thus he set out on a long journey. At length he came to a region of great corn fields and after a while saw a high mound covered with corn plants. On this mound he found his wife and her mother. His wife showed him her body and it was burned and scarred. “This is what your brother did to me,” she said, “when he threw the corn into the fire. He would have killed me had I remained.”

After living in the south for several months the couple returned and found the people again starving. The young wife ordered them to open their corn barrels and hide their faces once again. They did so and shelled corn fell like rain into the barrels filling them to the top.

Then the young wife told the people that corn must never be wasted or thrown away for it is food and if destroyed will cause the crops to be poor and the corn to cease to yield.

There was once a very lazy man named Twentgowa. He had a wife and several children. Twentgowa was always giving excuses to his wife as to why he did not hunt game more often like other men.

Twentgowa often went into the deep woods and had a mossy rock near a river where he would lie and dream of the things he would like to do and how he would kill big game animals if he only had a chance. More and more often he repaired to his favorite spot as his wife scolded him for not bringing home game.

One evening a man came to the lodge where Twentgowa lived. He stood in the doorway and said: “I am your friend. I have visited you before but this is the first time you have seen me. I have known your name for a long time. Now you must come often and see me. I have good things in my place of abode and there is plenty to eat and much game hanging on my rafters.” Then he walked away.

Twentgowa did not know where his friend lived but thought he might find him some day. Now on the next day there was nothing to eat in the house, save a few pieces of corn bread, and the wife scolded Twentgowa saying: “Oh you who are always squatting like a duck on a nest, you shall not eat but this food shall be for our children. Begone, and if you have a friend perhaps he will receive you.” So that is what she said.

The lazy man arose from his bed and went out of the house. “I will now go and seek my friend,” he thought to himself. He went directly to the mossy spot on the rock where he customarily sought refuge and when he arrived there he found his bed very thick with moss, making it a fine spot upon which to recline. When he had lain there a short time he looked up and saw a large bark house, with very fine poles as supports and over the door a head of some animal he could not identify.

He arose and with caution walked toward the door of the house and when he stood before it he saw his friend.

“My friend,” said he, “I did not know this house was here. I never saw it before.”

“Come in,” said his friend, “This is where I live. Oh this house has here stood for many years and I am greatly surprised that you have not seen it. Now it is time to eat. Be seated here on a mat and let us eat together. The first thing we must eat is os‘howÄ, a pudding.”

Thereupon the friend went to an upper shelf and took down a bowl into which he placed a loathly mess of substance that had the odor of a fish a long time dead. “Djiskwengo,” exclaimed the friend, and the bowl filled up with steaming pudding of most enticing odor.

So the two friends ate the food and relished it greatly. Oh, it was far better than any food that Twentgowa had ever eaten. “It is so delicious,” said he, “that I would like to take some home to my family. I would like to borrow a cooking pot to contain it.”

“My friend, there is no need of that,” said the householder. “I will give you power to do as I have done. You have only to follow my directions and you will have great power to produce delicious food for your family.”

So Twentgowa stood at the back of the lodge and his friend threw the pot of food into him right through the wall of his abdomen. It vanished through magic and power was within Twentgowa.

Twentgowa now said he was about to return to his home and he started out on his journey which seemed very much longer than ever before, as if the path had stretched. He kept thinking of his newly acquired power and thought it might be well to test it. So he sat down on a log and used his magical word, “Odjiskwagoh.” As he did this a great pile of steaming pumpkin pudding formed on the ground. “Oh my!” exclaimed Twentgowa. “Power within me is; now I shall eat forever.” He was now satisfied that he had a great friend.

Running home he entered his lodge and told his story. He told of his feasting on pumpkin pudding and of the power he had to make it by magic. So he took a jar from the top platform of his lodge and in the manner directed filled it. He placed in it the loathly substance like unto a dead fish and then conjured it until it overflowed into the large bark dish in which the jar was placed. “Ah now,” said Twentgowa, “we shall have a feast. Oh, it is so appetizing!”

His wife was very angry and would not touch the food but scolded him, for instead of real food all that was produced was a terrible mess that drove her and the children out of the house. She threw stones into the lodge and called him out, for he was dancing inside.

So the people saw that Twentgowa had lied and could not make food by unnatural means, but made that which was evil. And his wife scolded him and said: “Do not go to the lodge of that man any longer. He is none other than S‘hodie´oⁿskoⁿ’, whom we know as a mischief maker. He will make your mind abnormal and what is bad he will make you think is good. If you persist in visiting him you will suffer and great calamity will befall us all.”

Twentgowa was greatly downcast and wondered why he had failed before the people. He determined to go and see his friend again and seek an explanation. So he went as before. “My friend, I was just thinking of you,” said his friend when he entered the lodge. “Come we will now eat together. This time we will have the whole pumpkin. Oh it is most delicious.”

So when he had said this he sat down on a long bench and laid his war club against his thighs and it became as if alive. It lay upon the bench and it had a round head which was very large. Then the friend said: “Pumpkin come forth. Thou art concealed within the head of my warclub. Burst forth!”

So saying he struck the head of his war club with a long handled maul. Immediately a pumpkin rolled forth from the head of his war club. So they cooked it and ate it. Twentgowa found it most delicious and was continually saying, “Oga’´oⁿ’! Oga’´oⁿ! This is so delicious,” said he, “that I would be most happy to have the power to do the same as you have done, for in this manner I could feed my family.”

“I will give you power to so produce twice,” said the friend, “but further you must not try for it is not good to always eat pumpkins alone. Now I am ready. Stand, swing your war club until it comes ‘whack’ against the head of my club. If you can hit mine there will be power within you.”

So Twentgowa swung his war club about, spinning on his heel until he came, “squuh” against his friend’s club and it made a great whack that nearly broke Twentgowa in twain.

“Now,” said Twentgowa, “I will try my power,” so he hit his club with a maul and a pumpkin rolled forth. “Now I must go home and make pumpkins,” he said. “Now I go.”

On his way through the forest he began to wonder if indeed he had power. He thought that by some chance power was within him only so long as he was in the presence of his friend and that his friend had fooled him by magic to make mischief after the fashion of S‘hodieⁿskoⁿ’. Thereupon he sat astride a log and laid his war club before him, its round head being at the further end of the log. Then he grasped a stick and reached over and struck the head of the war club. It was as his friend had said, for a pumpkin rolled forth. He did not want to carry the pumpkin home so he made a fire and cooked it. Oh it was a delicious pumpkin and he kept continually saying “Oga’´oⁿ’.” Then he went home.

He went in his lodge and greeted his wife. “I have new power,” he said. “My friend this time has given me good power. I will make pumpkins for you. Get my stake maul with which I am accustomed to drive in the long stakes of the house. Now I seat myself upon this bench and lay my war club before me. This is the right way to proceed. Now I whack my war club with the maul.” So saying he hit at the head of his club, but in so doing he lifted up his foot upon the bench and whacked his big toe. It was a terrible and resounding whack, but no pumpkin rolled forth. Instead, Twentgowa fell off the bench like a dead man. He gave one dismal long-drawn-out howl and fainted.

It was a long time before he recovered and when he did he was very sore and limped when he walked. He could not hunt and when his wife scolded him for a lazy man, he sneaked away again and went to the lodge of his friend.

Arriving at the lodge he limped in. “Oh my friend,” said the house holder, “I have been awaiting you; come, let us go after fish.” So saying he went out and strode down to the creek where he removed his leggings. He took out his knife and passed it through his lips, moistening it. Then he began to whittle the meat off his shins so that the bone stood out sharp like a long knife. “Now, my friend,” said he, “I will wade swiftly through the water and strike the fishes before they can move to one side. They will die and float to the top of the water and I will pick them up. After a while we will have enough for a good repast.” He then waded in the water very swiftly and soon many fishes were upon the water which he picked up and flung over his shoulder into a basket. Coming ashore he put down his basket and then began to moisten his shins with salivary fluid. They quickly were restored and did not bleed at any time. Thus they made a fire and feasted on fish. Oh it was very delicious and Twentgowa kept saying, “Oga’´oⁿ’.”

“Now, furthermore,” he said, “I would like to have this power of catching fish for if I possessed it I might obtain food for my family.”

“You shall possess this power,” said his friend, “and when I touch your shins with my tongue you shall have power to twice perform this act of obtaining fish.” And it was done.

So Twentgowa tried his new power and caught many fish which he left with his friend. Then he said, “I must go now, I am going home.” Then he started home and on the way through the woods came to a stream that looked as if it had no fish in it so that he said, “I will now test my power in order that I may not be laughed at derisively.” So he whittled his shins and waded in the water, and it was as predicted,—fish floated upon the surface and when he had eaten them he went on his way.

He went in his lodge and greeted his wife. “I have new power,” he said. “My friend has given me new power. I will now go and catch fish for you but you must not mind if they have cuts in them. It is my manner of catching fish.” So saying he went to a creek and taking off his leggings whittled his shins. As he cut the flesh blood flowed out and he was in great pain. He tried again and fell down bleeding. He bled very much and began to howl. For a long time he bled until he fainted again.

As night began to draw nigh his wife missed him and went out looking for him along the stream. Soon she saw a red trickle in the creek and going toward it saw her husband bleeding from cuts in his shins. She dragged him to the lodge and then called upon her dog to go and fetch S‘hondie´oⁿskoⁿ’, the magical friend, to come and heal the husband. The dog went and soon the friend returned. When Twentgowa returned to his mind he scolded his friend, but his friend applied salivary fluid to the wounds and they healed. Then said the friend, “I gave you power twice, but further than that I did not give you. You have cheated and wasted your power. I shall go now. Come to see me again.”

Then did his wife scold Twentgowa and said, “You must cease your visits to the evil mischief maker. He is only a maker of trouble and you have never profited by his tricks. If you would get busy like a man and hunt like a man you would have food. You are no good, but a bad, lazy man. I forbid you to associate with anyone, not even the dog.”

Now when Twentgowa thought about the matter he decided to go once more to his friend and procure power for obtaining food. So he went away by stealth and sought his friend. When he had come to the bark house he found his friend in the doorway.

“I have been waiting for you,” said his friend. “I am all ready to go hunting. Come now, I am ready.” He then took a skein of twisted elm bark cords each about as long as a man’s arm. With these he went to a lake to which Twentgowa followed him. “Where are your arrows?” asked Twentgowa. And his friend replied, “Oh you will never understand my ways. I hunt underwater with strings. I am now going down into the water and hunt ducks.”

Away out on the lake were ducks swimming and soon one duck after another disappeared. When all had vanished, after the manner of ducks diving and not returning to the surface, the friend returned to the shore with a large bundle of ducks tied by the feet with the elm bark cord. “Now we may eat,” said he. So they ate duck and Twentgowa kept saying, “Ogao.” Moreover he said, “Oh I would like this power of catching ducks for if I possess it I might feed my family.”

“You shall have this power,” said his friend, “but only twice may you try it. I have only to hit your nose with a fish bladder I have held in my mouth and to lick your bark cords with my tongue.” So he did the necessary thing, touching Twentgowa’s nose with a fish’s air-bladder and biting a bundle of cords. Twentgowa was delighted and danced down to the water, into it and under it. Soon he returned with two ducks.

Then he said, “Now I must go home. Now I go.” So saying he started homeward, and on his way came to a big pond in which he saw ducks swimming. “I will now use my power,” he said and immediately went into the water, returning with the ducks. Thereupon he threw the ducks away and went home.

Again he went into the lodge and greeted his wife. “I have new power,” he said. “My friend has given me power this time and I shall bring you many ducks.” So then he went into the woods where there was a lake.

Into the lake he went for he saw upon its surface a great flock of ducks swimming closely together. He had trouble this time but as all the ducks were together he tied several together and then poked one of them to scare it.

Upward flew the ducks with such impetus that Twentgowa was drawn up into the air and over the forest. When the ducks had flown a short way the string which he was holding broke and down he fell and into the top of an enormous hollow stub. He stood there stunned until he heard a noise outside. He peeped through a knot-hole and saw a damsel gathering wood. He made a squeaking noise to frighten her and she ran up to the tree and looked into the knot-hole. She saw his head against the hole and immediately thought that there was a bear inside. So Twentgowa rapped on the inside of the tree and it resounded like a drum. Twentgowa then sang “Djii-ha-ha, djii-ha-ha!” many times, and the damsel danced.

After a while she went home and told her sisters that there was a bear tree near by and that a bear within it sang and drummed. So they all went to the bear tree and said, “Oh Bear, make a song for us. We wish to dance.” Again Twentgowa sang and they all danced. He found that he could not stop singing, though he was tired, and the damsels found that they could not stop dancing. After a while a man came and stood near them. “There is a bear inside this tree and we are dancing, come dance,” they called out to him. He was smiling and after a while began to laugh. “I’ll show you what kind of a bear is inside,” he said. Then the singing and dancing ceased. He took an axe and chopped down the tree. Where he made the first hole black shaggy hair showed through. It looked like a bear. He kept on chopping and after a time the stub fell over and there inside was a man with his clothes torn off. He had on only his loin-cloth. The damsels ran in fright.

In their place stood the wife and she was very angry. She scolded him for making the damsels dance and for singing so long for them. She scolded him for going to the mischief maker’s house and threatened him if he ever went again. Oh, she gave him a terrible scolding and it made him frightened.

Then the friend came out of the bushes where he was hiding and he said, “Now you two who are married, I will speak to you. Twentgowa must not go to the woods any more to the spot where he has been accustomed to recline. He may not come to my house any more. Henceforth he must hunt like other men.”

Then his wife said to Twentgowa, “Come along home and be a man like other men. You never will be a magician for you haven’t the sense to be one. You must be through with all wizardry.”

Twentgowa went home and was a changed man. He never went to the house of the mischief maker again. He became like other men and hunted for his family.

GENERAL NOTES.—This tale of Twentgowa (Big Duck) and the Mischief Maker is related as a humorous story. It is a consistent Seneca folk-tale and contains the customary magical elements.

It relates the adventures of a lazy man who would not hunt, and before whom appeared his “unseen friend,” the “Mischief Maker.” Twentgowa goes to the lodge of Mischief Maker and learns how to produce food by magic. The fact that he is told that he can do it but twice does not impress him. He receives the orenda, or magical ability and immediately demonstrates his power to “the friend.” Departing for his own home he grows skeptical and tries again in the woods. Succeeding, he returns home rejoicing and bragging of his power. When he attempts to demonstrate it, however, he makes a miserable failure and is driven out of the lodge. Again he returns to his friend and obtains magic for another episode, but repeats the experiments and in a final attempt fails. We are reminded, through Twentgowa’s experiences, of the man who said he frequently thought he had very funny jokes to relate until he told them to his wife, when he saw how flat they were. Just so, Twentgowa could never satisfy his wife that he possessed any magic.

The various episodes here given are without doubt only a few of the many that the story teller might have given. The final escapade, however, is the one that cured our hero, and the Mischief Maker relents.

There was a Thunderer named Hi’´noⁿ who often hovered about a village where he sought to attract the attention of a certain young woman. He was a very friendly man and would have nothing to do with witches. He hated all kinds of sorcery and his great chief up in the sky whom we call Grandfather Thunder hated all wizardry and sorcery too. All the Thunderers killed witches when they could find them at their evil work.

Now, this Hi’´noⁿ was very sure that he would win the girl he wanted and he visited her lodge at night and took a fire brand from the fire and sat down and talked with her, but she kept saying, “Not yet, perhaps by and by.”

Hi’´noⁿ was puzzled and resolved to watch for the coming of a rival. He told the girl’s father that he suspected some witch had cast a spell on her or that some wizard was secretly visiting her. So they both watched.

That same night a strange man came. He had a very fine suit of clothing, and the skin had a peculiar tan. It was very clean, as if washed so that it shone with a glitter. Over his back and down the center there was a broad stripe of black porcupine quills with a small diamond-shaped pattern. He had a long neck and small beady eyes, but he was graceful and moved without noise. He went directly to the lodge and taking a light sat at the girl’s bedside.

“Are you willing?” he asked her. “Come now, let us depart. I want you for my wife. I will take you to my house.”

The girl replied, “Not yet, I think someone is watching, but in three days I will be ready.”

The next day the girl worked very hard making a new dress and spent much time putting black porcupine quills upon it as an ornamentation. It was her plan to have a dress that would match her lover’s suit. Upon the third day she finished her work and went to bed early. Her apartment was at the right side of the door and it was covered by a curtain of buffalo skin that hung all the way down.

Hi’´noⁿ again called upon her, taking a light and seating himself back of the curtain. “I am willing to marry you,” he said. “When will you become my wife?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I am not ready now to marry.”

“I think you are deceiving me,” answered Hi’´noⁿ, “for you have on your new dress and have not removed your moccasins.”

“You may go,” the girl told him, and he went away.

Soon there came the stranger and he too took a little torch and went behind the curtain. Soon the two came out together and ran down the path to the river.

“I shall take you now to my own tribe,” said the lover. “We live only a short way from here. We must go over the hill.”

So onward they went to their home, at length arriving at the high rocky shores of a lake. They stood on the edge of the cliff and looked down at the water.

“I see no village and no house,” complained the girl. “Where shall we go now? I am sure that we are pursued by the Thunderer.”

As she said this the Thunderer and the girl’s father appeared running toward them.

“It is dark down there,” said the lover. “We will now descend and find our house.”

So saying he took the girl by the waist and crawled down the cliff, suddenly diving with a splash into the lake. Down they went until they reached the foot of the cliff, when an opening appeared into which he swam with her. Quickly he swam upward and soon they were in a dimly lighted lodge. It was a strange place and filled with numerous fine things. All along the wall there were different suits of clothing.

“Look at all the suits,” said the lover, “when you have found one put it on.”

That night the couple were married and the next day the husband went away. “I shall return in three days,” he announced. “Examine the fine things here, and when you find a dress that you like put it on.”

For a long time the girl looked at the things in the lodge, but she was afraid to put on anything for everything had such a fishy smell. There was one dress, however, that attracted the girl and she was tempted to put it on. It was very long and had a train. It was covered all over with decorations that looked like small porcupine quills flattened out. There was a hood fastened to it and to the hood was fastened long branching antlers. She looked at this dress longingly but hung it up again with a sigh, for it smelled like fish and she was afraid.

In due time her husband returned and asked her if she had selected a suit. “I have found one that I admire greatly,” said she. “But I am afraid that I will not like it after I put it on. It has a peculiar fishy smell and I am afraid that it may bring evil upon me if I wear it.”

“Oh no!” exclaimed her husband, “If you wear that suit I will be greatly pleased. It is the very suit that I hoped you would select. Put it on, my wife, put it on, for then I shall be greatly pleased. When I return from my next trip I hope you will wear it for me.”

The next day the husband went away, again promising soon to return. Again the girl busied herself with looking at the trophies hanging in the lodge. She noticed that there were many suits like the one she had admired. Carefully she examined each and then it dawned upon her that these garments were the clothing of great serpents. She was horrified at the discovery and resolved to escape. As she went to the door she was swept back by a wave. She tried the back door but was forced into the lodge again by the water. Finally mustering all her courage she ran out of the door and jumped upward. She knew that she had been in a house under water. Soon she came to the surface but it was dark and there were thunder clouds in the sky. A great storm was coming up. Then she heard a great splashing and through the water she saw a monster serpent plowing his way toward her. Its eyes were fiercely blazing and there were horns upon its head. As it came toward her she scrambled in dismay up the dark slippery rocks to escape it. As the lightning flashed she looked sharply at the creature and saw that its eyes were those of her husband. She noticed in particular a certain mark on his eyes that had before strangely fascinated her. Then she realized that this was her husband and that he was a great horned serpent.

She screamed and sought to scale the cliff with redoubled vigor, but the monster was upon her with a great hiss. His huge bulk coiled to embrace her, when there was a terrific peal of thunder, a blinding flash, and the serpent fell dead, stricken by one of Hi’´noⁿ’s arrows.

The girl was about to fall when a strong arm grasped her and bore her away in the darkness. Soon she was back at her father’s lodge. The Thunderer had rescued her.

“I wanted to save you,” he said, “but the great horned serpent kept me away by his magic. He stole you and took you to his home. It is important that you answer me one question: did you ever put on any dress that he gave you? If you did you are no longer a woman but a serpent.”

“I resisted the desire to put on the garment,” she told him.

“Then,” said he, “you must go to a sweat lodge and be purified.”

The girl went to the women’s sweat lodge and they prepared her for the purification. When she had sweat and been purged with herbs, she gave a scream and all the women screamed for she had expelled two young serpents, and they ran down and slipped off her feet. The Thunderer outside killed them with a loud noise.

After a while the young woman recovered and told all about her adventure, and after a time the Thunderer came to her lodge and said, “I would like to take you now.”

“I will give you some bread,” she answered, meaning that she wished to marry him. So she gave him some bread which he ate and then they were married.

The people of the village were now all afraid that the lake would be visited by horned serpents seeking revenge but the Thunderer showed them a medicine bag filled with black scales, and he gave every warrior who would learn his song one scale, and it was a scale from the back of the horned serpent. He told them that if they wore this scale, the serpent could not harm them. So, there are those scales in medicine bundles to this day.

There was a certain young man who married a young woman. Now the young man had three sisters who were very jealous of the young wife, because of her beauty and skill, and because of their brother’s affection for her. And so it was that the trio resolved to devise a plot and destroy the young wife.

It was the season when huckleberries are ripe and the sisters had invited the wife to take a canoe trip with them to a small island that arose from the middle of a large lake. Huckleberries were reported to grow there in abundance. Suspecting nothing, the wife mended her baskets and started to prepare food for the excursion.

“Oh no food is needed!” exclaimed the older sister. “We do not need a lunch where so many berries grow. Our baskets will soon be filled and we will return long before our hunger comes, meanwhile we can feast on berries.”

The four women entered their canoe and paddled to the island far out in the lake. When at last they had beached their canoe and turned to look about, they found the island covered with bushes laden with berries. The sisters seemed anxious to go farther inland but the wife said that she deemed it wiser to stop where they were and pick, thus making it unnecessary to carry heavy baskets a greater distance to the canoe. So, stooping over she commenced to strip the berries from the bushes. This is exactly what the sisters wished as it gave them an opportunity to leave her behind, and, grumbling at her laziness, they disappeared in the bushes.

The wife worked diligently and soon had her large pack basket full to the brim. Lifting it to her back and throwing the burden strap (gusha´a‘) over her forehead, she walked slowly back to the shore expecting to find her sisters-in-law waiting for her. To her horror, however, though she searched in every direction, there was no sign of canoe or women. The situation then dawned upon her, and discouraged beyond all measure, she sat down on the sand and gave vent to her emotions by a burst of tears.

She was alone, a solitary human creature upon a far-away isle. She knew not what evil ghost might be lurking there to transform her to a crow or a wolf. Perhaps he might destroy her in the darkness and feast upon the body. These and other fearful thoughts tortured her mind until at last, as the sun sank low, she lay down exhausted by grieving, and slept. Far into the night she slumbered. Time sped by and she was awakened by a whoop upon the waters. Sitting up she looked out over the lake where she heard a clamor of voices and a multitude of dancing lights. Soon the lights appeared upon the shore and shortly were arranged in a circle on the island.

Creeping up to a log that lay close to the circle of lights, she saw a company of creatures gathered in council. The beings seemed like men and yet more like animals. Sometimes when she looked they were beasts and then again men. One began to speak.

He said, “Now this woman has been deceived by her sisters-in-law and we are met to plan how to save her. She must be taken from this island for the berries are poisoned and if she dies not from them the segowenota (singing wizard) will enchant her.”

For some time the speaker talked and finally asked, “Who now will carry her basket to the land?”

A large tall being with a deep bass voice answered quickly, “I will!”

“No, you may not, your pride is before your courage,” said the chief speaker.

A huge bulky creature arose and called out, “I will save her!”

“No, you are too terrible in form and would frighten her,” was the reply.

Several more volunteered but all were rejected until a very tall slender being arose and in a clear ringing voice said he would use his utmost power to save the unfortunate young wife if only permitted.

“You are the chosen one!” exclaimed the chief. “You are one close to the (knowledge of) people.”

The council adjourned, the voices gradually died away and the lake was dotted again with flickering lights. The young wife crept back to her bed, half afraid and yet hopeful of the morrow.

Before sunrise a voice called from the water, and, starting up the young woman ran to the beach and saw what at first appeared to be a monstrous canoe, but looking again she saw a great serpent from whose head arose proud curving horns like a buffalo’s.

The creature lifted his head from the waters and called.

“I have come to rescue you. Trust me and make your seat upon my head between my ‘feathers.’ But first break twelve osiers and use them upon me should I lag in my swimming.”

The girl took her seat upon the creature’s head and laid her whips in her lap. With an undulating motion his long glistening body moved through the ripples but the wife sat high and not a drop of water spattered upon her.

As her mysterious rescuer journeyed his way he told her that he must hasten with all speed as he belonged to the race of underwater people whom the mighty He’´noⁿ hates.^[35] Even now the scouts (small black clouds) might have spied him and be scudding through the sky bringing after them a host of thunder clouds. Nor was his an idle surmise, for scarcely had he spoken when a small black cloud appeared and sped with great rapidity toward them. Instantly the wind commenced to blow and the great serpent called back to his charge, “Whip me, Oh whip me! He’´noⁿ has discovered us and is driving onward his warriors!”

The frightened girl lashed the monster with all her strength until nearly all her withes were broken. In the distance the thunder began to roll and soon again in loud claps. The dark clouds piled thicker and came faster. The great serpent in his wild speed was lashing the black waters into a foam that flew through the wind and covered the lake. There was an ear-splitting crash. The Thunder Spirit was coming nearer. The gleaming arrow he had thrown had riven a floating oak tree. The young woman trembled beneath the dark cloud-banked sky and feared. The rumble of thunder was deafening. He’´noⁿ was casting his javelins faster. A great sheet of fire flashed from the heavens and lit up the lake and the shore. The thunder crashed and cracked and rumbled. In the awful fury of the tempest the great serpent cried in terror: “Oh use your lashes! Oh spur me onward! My strength is failing! Scourge me! I must save you and if I do, oh will you not burn tobacco upon the shore twice each year for me? Oh lash me more!”

A blinding flash of fire shot from the rumbling clouds and buried itself in the water at the side of the serpent.

“Jump now!” cried the creature, “He’´noⁿ has his range and I must dive.”

Hope faded from the young wife’s heart. How much better would death have been in the midst of the waters or by the lightning’s stroke than within sight of the shore. With a cry of agonized despair she slid from the head of her rescuer and sank into the turbulent waters. The horned monster with a booming sound plunged beneath the lake and disappeared.

The light broke through the clouds and the storm began to retreat. The young woman struggled with the swirling waters. Her esteem for her would-be-deliverer sank to a bitter hatred for he had abandoned her to perish. Her tired limbs could no longer battle with the lake. Her feet sank but to her unspeakable surprise they fell firm on the sand. Wading forward in the semi-darkness she came safely out on the shore. Walking inland she sat down beneath a tree to recover from exhaustion and fright.

The storm sped away growling that it had failed to slay Djodi´kwado‘ the monster serpent.

The young wife arose, wet and bedraggled, but happy that she was safe again. Now her heart was full of gratitude to her hard-pressed deliverer.

Ahead of her, wandering aimlessly, with hanging head and melancholy mien, was a man. His body was drenched with rain and his spirit with heavy sorrow.

The woman neared him and called, “Husband, Oh husband, is it truly you?”

The man turned with a shout of joy and answered, “Wife, oh wife, returned living, is it you?”

The drenched and storm-bruised couple joyfully turned homeward. The three sisters were there. “Begone now and forever,” said the husband.

Then were the couple happy, and envy and jealousy found no place with them. So here the story ends and so it is spoken.

The daughters of a woman who was a clan matron and name-holder disappeared. She grieved greatly, but her husband who was chief of another clan said nothing. He was a bad man and was chief because he had lied about his brother Donya´dassi.

Now Donya´dassi had once been a skillful hunter but his hunting charms had been stolen, and so with his wife, Gawisas, he lived away from the village in a poor bark hut.

The mother of the lost daughters, whose children should some day be in the sachemship line, offered large rewards for their recovery and continually urged the young men to hunt for the girls, promising them as wives to the successful finder. They were most beautiful young women and there were many searchers, but when winter came, all returned without news.

Now, it happened that Gawisas, the poor woman, was boiling corn over the fire in her lodge and thinking very intently about the lost daughters of her sister-in-law. She thought that their father, jealous of them, might have cast a spell over them and hidden them away. While thus thinking she heard a strange sound outside, a sound so unusual that it alarmed her. Her husband was absent on one of his not always profitable hunts. Soon someone knocked at the door, but Gawisas failing to respond, a strange creature entered, looked into her face, and then advanced to the fire. This being was Bushy Head, a dwarf with an enormous bushy head. Upon its chin was a long white beard that dragged upon the floor. He seemed to be all head. The snow and ice had so caught and frozen in its beard that as he walked it dragged behind him like a log. Bushy Head stood before the fire, reeled up his beard and thawed out the ice. Gawisas could not speak because she was so frightened, so she sat on her bed. The monster looked at her and then ran his cane into the fire, stirring up the ashes. The sparks flew upward and fell into the soup. Again the being looked at Gawisas but she only stared blankly back. Grasping a ladle he filled it with ashes and threw them in the soup, and turning, eyed the frightened woman again but she did not move or speak. He kept looking at the woman until he had filled the kettle with ashes and then departed. After his departure Gawisas recovered in a measure from her fright and dragging the kettle out of doors emptied and scoured it. To her dismay the creature, whom she had named Sogogo, returned on the next day and for six consecutive days, each time behaving as before and Gawisas remaining silent to all proceedings. At last on the seventh day her husband, Donya´dassi, returned and she told him of all the strange happenings.

“Well, what did you say to him?” he asked, and when she replied, “Nothing,” he bade her speak the next time the Sogogo came. “He wants to tell you something,” he said. “So ask him what he wishes.” Having given this advice Donya´dassi departed on another hunting excursion, for he had come home empty-handed. He was a chief also, but could not rule, because his wife’s uncle was his enemy.

Sogogo returned soon afterward and peered into the face of Gawisas who could only summon up enough courage to say, “Ä-Ä-Ä-Ä-Ä.”

“Ä-Ä-Ä-Ä-Ä,” replied Sogogo, and filled up the kettle with ashes again.

The next day passed with the same results, but on the third day Gawisas tremblingly asked, “What do you wish, Sogogo?”

“At last,” he answered, you have spoken. “I can only speak as I am spoken to, and hoped, since you would not greet me, you would chide me when I spoiled your soup. Now let me tell you that I know where the chief’s daughters are and have chosen you and your husband as the ones to claim the reward. You are poor and plenty of wampum will make you powerful. Now tell your husband, and if he is willing to aid me bid him hang half the liver and half the lights of every animal he kills upon a low branch of the nearest tree. For a sign that I am telling the truth, let him chop down the big tree before your lodge and within it will be a bear.”

Sogogo departed and when Donya´dassi came back from his hunt, successful this time, he was told the news. He felled the tree as directed by his wife, killed the bear and hung half the liver and half the lights on the branches on the nearest tree.

The wife was cutting some choice pieces of bear meat to cook for the afternoon meal when in walked Sogogo, and greeting Gawisas and her husband, sat down and began talking to the man. He explained his plan for rescuing the lost daughters of the chief. Donya´dassi was to go to the top of a certain mound and seat himself in a large basket which he found there. This basket would rest on Sogogo’s head and would bear him to the inside of the mound, where the chief’s daughters had been hidden.

Accordingly the next day Donya´dassi seated himself in the large basket which he found on the mound and sank down under the earth.

Arrived there, Sogogo lifted the basket from his head and proceeded to instruct Donya´dassi how he must rescue the daughters.

“Go to the first lodge on the right hand side of the trail,” he said. “There you will see one of the girls. Tell her you are her rescuer. Bid her sweep the floor as soon as she hears her captor approaching and continue to sweep until you depart with her. Her captor, who wishes to become her husband, has seven heads. You must kill the creature in order to gain the girl. He will ask you to drink berry juice with him. Poison will be in your cup but when he winks change the cups. Then he will want to fight. When you fight him use this short crooked knife, and rushing toward him thrust it between his seven heads and cut off the middle one. Previously instruct the girl to sweep it in the fire so that the flames will burn his eyebrows and lashes. That will destroy his power and all seven heads will die. When you have done all this return to me with the girl so you may know what to do next.”

Taking the sharp bent knife that Sogogo held toward him, Donya´dassi thrust it in his pouch and ran down the trail until he saw a large bark house at the right. Entering it he saluted the young woman whom he recognized as the eldest of the chief’s stolen daughters. He instructed her, as bidden, and had scarcely finished when the seven-headed man entered and spying the stranger he cried, “Kwe! Come, let us drink a little strawberry juice.” He placed two gourd cups on a bench and said, “Now drink.” Just as he winked Donya´dassi transposed the cups and when the monster lifted the berry juice to his lips and tasted it he exclaimed, “Ho ho!” meaning, his power was lessened.

“Come, let us fight now,” he cried. “Here are the clubs; take your choice. How does that fine new one suit you?”

“No, I’ll take that old one,” said Donya´dassi pointing to a half decayed stick. “I’ll fight you left-handed,” he continued, “So ready!”

The daughter began to sweep and the men to fight. Rushing upon the monster so close that no club could hit him he thrust his knife between the heads and with a quick jerk of his arm cut off the middle one. The girl swept it into the fire and when the eyelashes and brows had been singed the swaying body and six howling heads crashed to the floor. The girl dropped her broom and followed Donya´dassi as he ran out and down the trail.

Sogogo was waiting for them and after listening to the story of the successful fight said, “On the left hand side, the fourth lodge down, is another lodge. Go there and rescue the other daughter. A seven-headed monster is keeping her prisoner. Instruct the girl as the first. The monster will enter and ask you to eat. When he winks change the spoons, for there is poison in the wood. Then he will challenge you as the first. Chop off his ear with your knife and when the daughter sweeps it into the fire the creature will begin to die.”

Donya´dassi obeyed and events occurred exactly as Sogogo had predicted. When in the fight Sogogo had cut off the left ear from the seven-headed man and the ear had been swept into the fire, all seven heads began to whine and the middle one said, “You have plotted to kill me! You have been unfair! The woman has planned it. Oh you wicked woman, you have been a traitor to me.”

“It is untrue,” shouted Donya´dassi. “Your own rule has been to fight all who enter your door and now you are defeated. Before our fight you boasted you would grind me in your mortar and commanded me to do the same with you and feed your body to the birds.”

“Age, age, age!” moaned the monster and died.

“Shall I smash his body?” said Donya´dassi, but the maiden did not know. “Go, then,” said he, “and ask Sogogo.”

When she returned she told him to grind the body to a pulp in the corn mortar and hasten back to Sogogo who awaited him. Donya´dassi pounded the monster heads and flung the mass to the big crows that already had clustered about the lodge.

Running up the trail, with the girl following him, Donya´dassi found Sogogo waiting. The two girls and Donya´dassi seated themselves in the basket, Sogogo lifted it upon his head and in a short time they emerged from the top of the mound and breathed the outside air once again.

Sogogo led the three to his lodge far back in the forest where he told all his history and then bade Donya´dassi run to the lodge of the great chief and tell him to call a great council at which important news would be revealed and presents given.

When the chief had listened to Donya´dassi he asked, “What news can you bring and what presents can you give?”

“I have luck now,” was the answer.

The feast day came and people flocked from distant villages to hear the news and receive the presents.

Donya´dassi arose and said, “I have come to tell our great chief that his daughters have been found and are now safe and near here and shall be restored on one condition, that he remove his spell from a certain young man whom he has conjured.”

The chief was greatly angered that any condition should be given and refused to grant it.

Meanwhile Donya´dassi was arranging long strings of wampum and piles of skins in piles on the council house floor, one for each person present.

“These cannot be distributed until our chief grants my condition,” he said.

The chief remained obdurate. The people were anxious for their feast and gifts. The chief’s wife begged him to consent and regain his lost children. So, fearing the anger of his people and fury of his wife, he at last asked that the young man who rested under the spell be brought to him. Sogogo entered. The chief looked ashamed and then frowned in anger. “Come,” he said and led the way to a small dome-shaped lodge, pushed Sogogo in and then entered himself. Heating some round stones he threw a handful of magical herbs upon them. Then taking his rattle chanted a song. The smoke from the herbs enveloped Sogogo and when the song ended he had become a handsome young warrior. The chief and the transformed Sogogo reËntered the council.

“Where are the daughters!” shouted the people.

Drawing out a red bark box from his pouch he opened it and out fell the two girls. There was a great shout and the chief’s wife rushed forward and embraced her children.

Donya´dassi distributed his presents.

Donya´dassi then advanced to the chief who gave him the reward, but so small was it in comparison with Donya´dassi’s liberal gifts that it seemed a mere trifle.

The chief soon lost his influence but Donya´dassi, who had grown rich and successful, succeeded him in the hearts of the people but Sogogo, the transformed, was happy with his two wives, the chief’s daughters. He took both, that was all right in those days.

Long ago Teg´wanda’^[37] married a beautiful maiden and went far away with her to his hunting grounds.

Teg´wanda’ was famous as a successful hunter but his wife’s family had “dry bones”,^[38] so her elder sister and mother took council together and said, “Come, let us go and live with Teg´wanda’ and we shall ever be filled.” The prospect of a never failing supply of venison and bear was tempting to those who had long subsisted on tubers and maize.

The wife of Teg´wanda’ was kind and never questioned his actions. He never went long from the house, yet he ever had game in abundance and skins piled high in his stores. This made her marvel, but she never made inquiries. The lodge was divided in two compartments but the couple lived only in one. The other was almost empty, but Teg´wanda’ often went there. She would hear him singing alone in the room, then there would come a crash like a splintering tree and soon afterward Teg´wanda’ would bring in a new pelt and the carcass of some beast. This made her marvel but she never questioned.

The young couple lived contentedly and never quarreled. No trouble or sorrow came to mar their happiness until one day, unheralded, came two women to the door of the lodge. These were the wife’s mother and sister. When the unbidden guests had eaten their fill of good and mealy nut pudding they began to seek the excuse for complaint. Then, oh the railing, the endless rebukes, the sneers and sarcasm! At last the matters turned from the lodge to the couple themselves.

“How does Teg´wanda’ obtain his meat? Surely he must be a wizard and likely to eat all of us women when his charms fail. He is evil, he is lazy! Let us drive him away.” These and other things the mother said to her daughter. So it came to pass that the sister insisted she must go with the husband wherever he went and learn something of his habits.

“If you must go,” said the wife, “obey him implicitly, else evil will occur.”

The husband was downcast but would not yield to his fear of the woman. Taking a basket of salt he sprinkled the white crystals upon a flat rock and entered the closed room with the woman.

“Do not move or touch a thing,” he commanded. “Let no fear, let no surprise cause you to stir!”

Then he commenced to sing. The woman looked about critically. In one corner was a pile of quarry flakes, beside them a bench and in a heap before it was a pile of keen edged flint chips. A sudden sound drew her attention from the lodge. Teg´wanda’ ceased singing. Outside some creature was snorting, “swe-i-i-i-sh, swe-i-i-i-sh!”

Picking up a handful of flint chips the man flung them with all his strength against the wall nearest the flat rock. The woman was now curious to find what was outside and pushed aside the curtain to get a glimpse of the mysterious things. Instantly the entire door curtain was torn from its fastenings and a monstrous elk rushed in and trampled upon Teg´wanda’. Then tossing him upon its antlers, bounded out and fled through the forest. The frightened woman ran after the elk, but fell back dispairing. Moaning she crept back to the lodge and confessed to the wife.

The wife burst into tears and then bitterly chided her sister for her meddlesome ways. Throwing on her robes she hastened to rescue her husband. Carefully she tracked the elk and after many days journey she heard a low trembling song. She knew her husband was near, so cautiously advancing she came to a spot where she could see a herd of elks feeding in an open. A deer was grazing near by. Gently she whispered. “Come, good brother, lend me your coat. You can do me good service thereby.” “Certainly,” responded the deer with alacrity, and, walking inconspicuously into the bushes, she removed her coat and threw it upon the woman. In her new habiliments the wife bounded off into the midst of the elks. In the middle and surrounded by the rest was a large reclining elk whose antlers held the emaciated form of Teg´wanda’. In a feeble whisper the husband sang.

Walking toward the elk she made a sudden dash and inserting her horns beneath her husband’s body lifted him off and dashed away before the astonished animals could remonstrate, and indeed, they were too frightened to do so. Galloping breathlessly into the thicket she set down her husband, removed the deer’s skin and gave it back with expressions of gratitude. Then lifting her husband upon her shoulders, she carried him homeward.

On her journey she pondered how she could restore him. He was exhausted and covered with bruises and wounds, his body had wasted away to a skeleton covered with skin and his mind was turned with his sufferings. Sitting down upon a hollow log she pondered. A sudden inspiration came. Quickly she pushed her husband into a hollow log and gave him a shove with her foot that sent him sliding through. When he emerged from the other end he was completely restored.

Together they tramped back home happy to be together once more. Entering the lodge the husband cast out the inquisitive sister and quarrelsome mother and sent them running down the trail.

“One woman is sufficient female company for any man,” he said. “More in one house make great trouble.”