Distinct from the myths, which relate to the gods, supernatural beings, and natural phenomena, are the tales, from which must be gleaned hints regarding the past hunter, warrior, and family life and history of the Iroquois.

In time of peace, during the long winter evenings, among his group of friends, the returned hunter narrated his achievements, or some famous story-teller told of those days in the past when men and animals could transform themselves at will and hold converse with one another. If musical, the entertainer would relate ingenious fables, with songs introduced, to give zest to the narration.

All these historical traditions, legends of war and hunting, fairy tales, and fables have been handed down through the ages, kindling the enthusiasm of the marvel-loving listener.

These story-tellers were gifted with such imaginative powers, and were so free from the trammels of adapting their tales to any standard of possibility, that no easy task lies before the careful student who seeks to detect in them the scaffolding of truth around which so elaborate a superstructure has been reared.

BOY RESCUED BY A BEAR.

From their close relations with wild animals Indians' stories of transformations of men into beasts and beasts into men are numerous and interesting. In nearly all of these, wherever the bear is introduced he figures as a pattern of benevolence, while many other animals, such as the porcupine, are always presented as noxious. One of these bear stories, as told me on the Cattaraugus Reservation by a grandson of Cornplanter, was as follows: A party of hunters, who were encamped a long distance from home, discovered, as they were preparing to return, that a young boy of their company was missing. After searching vainly for several days they concluded that he had been killed, and sadly departed without him. They were no sooner gone, however, than the lost child, in an almost famishing condition, was discovered by a very kind-hearted bear, who reasoned thus: "If I attempt to relieve the child in my present form, he will surely be frightened to death. I will therefore transform myself into a woman and take the boy home with me to become a playmate for my little cubs." The boy was accordingly rescued from starvation, and, living in the same hollow tree with the bear family, fed with them upon nuts, corn, and berries. But when fall came, and with it the return of the hunters, the good bear explained her device to the boy, saying: "My cubs must now take care of themselves, and you can rejoin your friends; but always feel kindly toward the bear tribe"; upon which she resumed her proper shape and disappeared into the woods. The boy never, even when grown, was known to kill a bear.

INFANT NURSED BY BEARS.

A man and his wife and child went off hunting from an Indian village and encamped a long way from home. At first, good luck attended the hunter, who brought into camp plenty of deer and other game. At last, game became scarce, and day after day the hunter returned empty-handed and famishing with hunger. Before leaving, the hunter resolved to try his luck once more. Soon after he had left the camp his wife, in searching for roots, found a hole in a large tree in which was a black bear. This she succeeded in killing, and after cutting it up and cooking some for herself and child she carefully secreted the remainder from her husband. But the boy hid a piece for his father, who soon returned, very weary. Then the hunter was enraged at the conduct of his wife, whom he forced to eat of the meat until she died, with her little infant to which she had given birth the same hour.

Then the hunter buried his wife and threw the infant into the hollow tree. After this the hunter had better luck, and continued to live in the same place with his little boy. In the course of time he found that his little son must have had company, for little foot-prints were to be seen around his wigwam. So he left a second small bow and arrow, which, in time, he found had been used, and his son told him that a small boy had been playing with him. The next day the father watched and saw a little boy leave the tree where he had placed what he supposed to be the dead child. Then he entered his home and said to the child, "You are my child"; but the boy could not understand him, and was frightened and uneasy, and ran away to the tree, where the hunter discovered he had been nourished and cared for by a friendly bear. The hunter would not kill the kind benefactor, but took some of the soft bed of dried bark, to which the child had been accustomed, to his home, whereupon the child was happy and contented to remain with his father and brother.

In time the two excelled in hunting and brought home owls and strange birds. Finally, they told their father they were going to the far west to kill the great beasts which were harming the human race. The hunter, who perceived that the children were becoming very strange, was afraid of them and consented. Then they bade him go back to his native home and get three of the bravest warriors to follow them to the west, where the warriors would find the carcasses of the animals which they would kill. So he went home and told his story, and the warriors started out and finally found traces of the boys, and in time found the carcasses of the animals almost reduced to bones. Two of the men died of the stench.

THE MAN AND HIS STEP-SON.

This tale was narrated by a granddaughter of Brant.

A certain man had a step-son whom he hated. He devised all means of getting rid of him. At last an idea struck him. He went out hunting very often, and one day he saw a porcupine's hole. "The very thing," said he. When he came home he called his step-son. "See here," said he, "I have found a porcupine's nest. I want you to creep into the hole and catch some of the young ones. Come, crawl in." The boy obeyed, and as soon as his heels were in, the step-father closed up the hole and made him a prisoner.

When he had found himself betrayed he cried and cried till he cried himself asleep. When he awakened he found that he was in a room. He saw an old woman walking around. She brought him something to eat, but it was so bitter that he refused. Then she called many animals around her to a council—wolves, bears, foxes, and deer. She told them that there was a boy there who could not eat the food that she lived on, and asked what they would advise to give which might support a human being? The fox said, "I live on geese and fowls. I'll take him, but still he can't eat raw food."

The council decided that it was useless for him to assume the charge.

Then the deer and each animal in turn told what they lived upon, but none could offer proper food for a lad.

Last of all the bear spoke. "I live," said he, "on nuts, and he can live with my young ones." So this was agreed to. All the animals promised to assist in getting the nuts, and the boy was given over to the keeping of the bear. He kept him for several years. One day the bear said, "A hunter is coming; he means to chop down the tree."

True enough, next day a dog ran barking up, and the tree was cut down and the old bear and two cubs were killed.

The hunter thought there might be still another cub, so he looked into the tree. The boy made a noise just like the cubs. The hunter caught him, and was so astonished at his appearance that, instead of killing him, he took him to his wigwam, tamed him, and taught him to speak and to grow up like a man. After some years he forgot he had lived like a bear. He married a daughter of the hunter, but his mother-in-law was always angry because he never brought home tender bear-meat. So at last he went hunting and killed a bear, but on his return home he fell on a sharp stick and was instantly killed.

THE BOY AND HIS GRANDMOTHER.

An old woman lived with her grandson in the wilderness. The boy amused himself by shooting with his bow and arrows, and was very happy. His grandmother cooked and cleaned. She talked much to him of the future and the time when he should go out into the world. "Never, my grandson," she would say, "never go west—go always to the east." And the boy wondered very much at this, because, he said, all other boys went west, and they found much game there. But he promised.

However, one day he asked his grandmother so often why she always forbade him to go west, that she told him: "Far away in the west," said she, "there lives one who waits to destroy us, and if he sees you he will injure you and me. I warn you do not go that way." But the boy questioned how and why, and thought to himself that on the first opportunity he would see for himself. So he struck out for the west, keeping a sharp lookout for the man, because his grandmother had taught him he should always bow first.

As he neared the lake he heard the man's voice, but, although he looked all around, he could see no one. The voice said: "Ah! ah! my little fellow, I see you." Still he could see no one. "What shall I do now?" thought he. Then the voice said, "What would you think if I sent a hurricane to tear your grandmother's cabin all up?" The boy replied, "Oh, I should like it. We have hard work to get wood. It would be a good thing." And the voice replied, "You had better run home and see." So he went home to his grandmother. As he neared his cabin he heard a great noise, and his grandmother called to him, "Come in, come in; we shall be blown away. You have disobeyed me; now we shall be destroyed. The hurricane is upon us." But the boy only laughed and said, "We will throw the house into a rock." And he turned it into a rock, and when the hurricane was over they were unharmed, and found plenty of wood to burn.

Then said the boy, "Grandmother, we are all right." But the old woman said, "Do not venture any more; next time he will destroy us." But the lad thought he would try again. In the morning he started off east as long as his grandmother could see him, then he turned to the west, and kept a sharp watch right and left as he neared the pond.

Then, all at once, he heard the man's voice again. "What," it asked, "would you say if a great hailstorm came down upon your mother's cabin, with spears as sharp as needles?" "Oh," replied, the youngster, "I have always wanted some spears; I would be glad of some." "You had better go home and see," said the voice. So home he sped, hearing the gathering of a great storm.

The grandmother said, "We are going to be destroyed with a hailstorm of spears." But he laughed aloud and said, "I need spears for fishing; let them come. We will turn the house into a rock again." And he did, and when the storm was ended he and his grandmother came out and the ground was covered with spears. "No matter," said he; "I will get poles and fit them on for fishing"; but when he brought the pole he could not find any spears. "How is this?" he asked. And his grandmother said, "They are melted—they were ice."

The boy was very much disappointed and mourned aloud. "What can I do to punish the old fellow?" he cried. "Heed my warning," said his grandmother, "and leave him alone."

But the lad was determined. He started off once more, taking with him a stone round his neck as a charm. He watched the direction in which he had heard the voice, and all at once he saw in the middle of the lake a great head, with a face on every side of it. He cried out, "Ha! ha! uncle, I have you now. How should you like it if the lake dried up?" "That it will never do," said the voice. "Go home," mocked the lad, "and see!" And he threw the stone which he had. As it whirled through the air it became very large and fell into the lake, when, at once, the water began to boil.

Then the boy returned to his grandmother's cabin and told her all about it. She said, "It has been tried again and again, but no one has ever seen him before or has been able to hunt him."

Next morning he went over to the lake and found it all dried up and all the animals dead, and only a large frog remained, into which the man had been turned. So the boy killed the frog, and no more trouble ever came to him or his grandmother.

THE DEAD HUNTER.

A man and his wife went hunting, and after a hard day's march they came to an empty wigwam. So they entered and found in it a dead man, laid out with his tomahawk and all his fine things. They found corn in plenty, and the squaw made bread, and then they all went to bed, the man on one side and the woman and her baby on the other. They placed some of the bread between them, and in the middle of the night they heard a noise, and the dead man was sitting up and eating. The hunter sprang up. "We are all dead folks," cried he, "if we remain here"; so he made a pretense, and whispered to the squaw, "You must go for water. I will mind the child." As soon as she was gone, he pinched the baby till it cried. "Oh," said he, "I must follow the mother or the child will die; she is too long fetching the water." He hastened and soon caught up with the woman, but behind him came the dead man, holding a lighted torch. To save themselves they put the child down on the ground, and the hunter seized his wife's hand and hurried her on faster and faster, but the sound of steps behind them was plainer and plainer. So the man let his wife go, and fled on by himself as hard as he could. Soon he came to a hollow log, into which he crept. The steps came nearer and nearer, until at last he felt the strokes of the dead man's hatchet, and heard the dead man's voice saying, "Ah! you are here. I have caught you." Then the dead man took a pole and tried to poke the hunter out of the hollow, but he could not. At last his hatchet broke, and then the hunter heard him say, "I must go; my night is coming on." So, after a while, the hunter crept out of the hollow log and went after his wife and child, and returned to the settlement and told all about it; and the chief sent and burnt up the dead man's wigwam until it was nothing but ashes.

A HUNTER'S ADVENTURES.

This was told by Mr. Snow, Seneca Reservation:

A hunter far from home had expended all of his arrows, when he arrived at a lake. He saw a great number of wild geese. Having been unsuccessful, he now reflected upon the best means of capturing some of these geese, and he finally concluded to pursue the following plan: He procured a quantity of second-growth bass-wood bark, which he tore into withes. These he fastened to his belt, then, swimming out into the lake, he dove down under the floating flock and succeeded in tying a few of the geese to his belt, whereupon the struggling geese, with their companions, flew up into the air, carrying the hunter with them. While unfastening a few of the tied ones, so that he might be let down to the ground in a gradual manner, the whole of the captured ones broke away, and the poor hunter fell into a tall and hollow stump, from which he found it impossible to free himself.

He remained in this miserable prison nearly two days, when he with joy heard a thumping sound upon the outside of the stump, and also the voices of women choppers, who were cutting down the stump for wood, but the cries of the man on the inside of the stump frightened the women so much that they went away in search of aid to secure the game which they supposed they had found in the stump.

The hunter was finally delivered safely from his perilous situation, and he remained with his kind rescuers until he had again provided himself with a large stock of arrows, when he started anew for a hunt farther to the south. Having arrived at his destination, he built a lodge and had excellent luck in killing large numbers of deer, bears, and other game, the oil of which he carefully preserved in leathern bottles. When he concluded to return to his home and friends he remembered his experience in flying, so he prepared wings for himself, which wings he made from thinly-dressed deer-skin. Taking his bottles of oil for ballast, he started homeward, but as he passed over the lodges of the good women who had rescued him, he threw down several bottles to these his good friends, who to this day do not know from whence they came. After this the flying hunter flew swiftly and safely to his home. His return to his clan was announced by runners, and all assembled to listen to the hunter's narration of his exploits and adventures.

THE OLD MAN'S LESSONS TO HIS NEPHEW.

A man and his nephew lived together in a solitary place. The old man one day said to his nephew, "You are now a young man. You should be hunting larger game—a bear or a deer—for our support." And he replied, "I will go." Then the old man gave him the best bow and arrows, and in the morning he departed. When he returned home he brought that which he had killed—a deer—and thought himself lucky for a first attempt. "I should like," he said to his uncle, "to go every day." Then the old man said, "Now and again you may see a bear go up a tree; if you see a hole in the tree and the marks of the bear's claws you can be sure of the bear."

So one day as the young man was out he saw a hole in a tree, and he saw the claw marks of the bear, showing that he had gone up, so he returned and told his uncle, and in the morning they started together. The old man said, "I believe there is a bear inside now. Our plan is to knock around the outside of the tree and make the bear uneasy; presently he will come out." So they knocked, and the first thing they knew the bear was sticking his head out of the hole. "Now," said the uncle, "I will tell you when to shoot. If you will shoot just where there is no hair, you will surely kill him." The young man saw that the paws were without hair and he hit the bear on the fore-paw. "Shoot again," said the uncle. So he shot the other paw. Then the old man pointed and said, "Shoot here." And the nephew aimed and shot the point of his uncle's finger. Then the old man's hand hurt him, so to direct his nephew he pursed out his lips and pointed with them, and the young man shot through his lips. Then the bear came down and made his way off, while the uncle was explaining that his meaning had been to shoot under the fore legs. The young man asked, "Why did you not say so?" Then they started home for that day without game. "To-morrow morning," said the uncle, "watch, for if you will look between the roots of the large trees you may find a bear in that way."

Accordingly, the next day-the young man found a hole near the root of the tree and saw a large bear inside. So he went home and asked his uncle for instructions how to get at the bear. The old man began to explain, but, unfortunately, in a way that he could not understand. He went into the corn field, gathered the corn-stalks and stuck them around the entrance to the hole, so that he surrounded the place where the bear must come out. Then he knocked on the other side of the tree, and the bear came out, as, of course, there was no reason why he should not, for the stalks fell before him. The young man took his arms and went home. Then the uncle asked what he had done, and he told. "You did not understand," said the old man. "You should have shot him as he left the den; first on one side then on the other." "After this," expostulated the young man, "make your explanations clearer and do not give so many illustrations. Had you told me this at first all would have been right."

One day the old man said, "I'm going to make a feast. You can invite the guests. I cut sticks to represent so many friends. You invite them. Go to the highest tree you can find and leave this stick there. Then go along till you find a place all swamp—bad place, and leave one stick there," &c.

So the nephew went around and used up the sticks and returned. "Have you done as I said?" asked the old man. "Yes," said he. Yet when the day came and the feast was ready, nobody came. "Why," asked the uncle, "has nobody come?" "How," inquired the young man, "could the tall tree and the swamp come here?" So they ate together, and then the young fellow went off in the world to learn his lessons by experience, for he had become tired of his uncle's parables.

Once on a time there was a man whose name was "Hemlock Bows." He used to go hunting every day and always had good luck. He would kill so many deer that he could not carry them all home. One day he killed thirty deer. He was determined to carry them all home, so he took them and shook them, and shook, and shook, till they were as small as squirrels, and he carried them all home, and when he got there he shook, and shook, and shook, till they were good-sized deer again. Sometimes when he killed so many he would sit up all night to fix the skins on his wigwam so he could make clothes for himself and his children. One day a boy was born unto him; the father was very fond of him and he planted a few hills of corn and beans, but they lived mostly on meat. After the child was born the mother slept alone with it on the other side of the fire-place.

After three years more a little girl was born. After the birth of her second child the wife seemed to care no more for her husband. He was a great worker. He had a large boxful of skins all dressed for his children.

When the father went hunting the mother would call the boy and make him go and bring her some water, and she would wash and dress up very fine and take a long strap and an ax and leave the children alone all day until almost time for the father to come home. Then she would hurry home to cook for the man. One night the little boy told his father all about his mother going away every day. He felt very badly when he heard it, and at once resolved to follow her the next day and find where she went. The next morning early he left the cabin and went off. The woman soon sent the boy for some water, and, after she had dressed, started with her ax and the long strap which was used in drawing wood. She passed her husband on her way but did not see him, but he tracked her very closely. Soon she came to a large black-ash tree, which was hollow, and upon which she pounded with her ax. A very nice-looking man came out of the tree to meet her. He wore a turban filled with bright feathers. He went up to her and kissed her, and seemed very much delighted to see her. Her husband was watching them all the time, and when the man kissed her he drew his bow and arrow and shot at the man, and the arrow went between him and the woman. She was very angry, and took a club and beat her husband till he could not see. Then she went home, put the boy and girl out in the cold and snow, and then set fire to the cabin and burned it down and went off.

Soon the father came and found the children. He felt very badly when he saw them, but he told the boy he must mind the dog, for he must go after their mother. The dog fixed the boy and girl in a house in the snow, and the next day they started on a long walk. While the boy was traveling along with his little sister on his back she saw a flock of large white turkeys, and she wanted one. The boy put her down and ran in the bushes to find one for the little girl, but while he was after it a bear came and carried off the little girl, and the dog followed after the bear. The boy felt very bad. He cried and cried, and wished that he might die. He tried to hang himself, but the strap broke. Then he jumped down a steep place onto a lot of stones, but still he was unhurt. He traveled on and soon came to a lake. He plunged into the water, but it was very shallow. He walked a little way, when he saw a great fish coming towards him with its great mouth wide open. Now, not far from this lake lived a woman and her daughter. They had fences of osier fixed in the lake to catch fish. In the morning the girl went out to see if there were any fish caught, and she saw a very large one. They killed and dressed it, and when they cut it up there they found the boy alive. They were very glad to find the boy, and soon he told them all about himself and family.

Some time after this they heard that the boy's mother was going to be married to another man. The woman told the boy she thought he had better go and kill the man and his mother. So they fixed him up and he went and found them. There was a number of cabins and between two of them was a long stick put up, and on it was an eagle, and the one that shot the eagle was to marry the woman. She was very nicely dressed and sat on a raised platform. He saw his father near her, looking very sick and sad. The boy went around among the wigwams, and in one he found his sister hanging to a crane in a chimney and near her the dog. He got his father, sister, and dog away, and then went back and set fire to the cabin his mother was in. It burned so fast that she could not get out and she died. When her head cracked open it shook the ground, and out of the ashes of his mother there rose up a screech owl. His father got well, and they all went to live with the woman and her daughter. The old man married the woman, and the boy the daughter, and so they were happy at last.

THE CHARMED SUIT.

An old man brought up his son very quietly in a solitary place. As he grew up, his father sent him daily into the woods and told him to listen and come home and tell what he had heard. So the boy sat on a log and waited to hear what might come. He heard a sound at last, "Ch-R-Ch," so he ran to tell the old man and then thought he would wait till he heard it again. The Ch-R-Ch was repeated, and he ran to his home and cried out, "I have heard it! I have heard it!" "Wait! wait!" said the old man, "till I get my pipe," and when he had lifted it he said, "Now, what did you hear?" "Oh," replied the lad, "I heard Ch-R-Ch; twice it was repeated." "That," said the father, "is not what I wanted you to hear; that was only a snow-bird."

So the boy went, morning after morning, and heard various sounds from snow-birds, wolves, owls, &c., but still never what the old man expected. One day whilst he was listening he heard quite a new sound and as the sun began to rise, it was like a voice singing. "That is strange," said he, "I never heard that before." The song was like this:

Which means:

It was a sweet woman's voice. So the boy listened and said to himself, "Surely this is the song." So he shouted for glee, and ran and fell near the door, he was so excited. "Now," he cried, "I bring the news"; but the father said, "Wait! wait! till I get my pipe." "Now," said he, as he smoked, "tell me." So the boy began. "As I listened," said he, "I heard a voice from the west, a woman's voice, so I turned and listened to it singing":

"Ah!" said the father, "that was what I was waiting for. The chief of a distant village sends his two daughters to see us. Run half way back and see if you can hear them again." So he went and heard again the same song.

He returned at once and told his uncle. "Now," said the old man, "they are almost here. Sit down by the ashes." And he took the shovel and threw ashes all over the boy's bed and put on him his best feathers and astonished the boy very much by saying, "Do not look at the maidens when they come in; they come to see me, not you; hold your head down while they stay."

Then they heard the song:

The feathers were all on his head; still the old man repeated, "Now, keep still."

Soon the maidens arrived and the old man opened the door. The younger of the two carried a beautiful basket on her back; this she set down near the old man. The boy looked around a little, and his father called out, "Dirty boy; hold your head down." The visitors looked around and thought, "What a place! what a place!" "Sit down, sit down," said the old man to the visitors, but although they removed the blankets they stood still. So he smoked on quietly.

When they saw how dirty it was where the boy sat they began to go around and clear up, and as the evening passed the lad did not know what to do with himself. They fixed themselves a clean bed on the other side of the wigwam. They refused to sit by the old man, and when at last the boy went to sleep they lifted him out of his dirty bed, strewn with ashes, and put him into their clean bed.

In the morning the younger one admired him and said, "What a beautiful young man!" Then they said, "We had better cook something." So they cooked corn and rice, and the boy ate with them, and the old father smoked. After a while he said, "Good woman; can clean up, can cook, can make good wife." Then he let the boy look up. The younger visitor sang again:

So the old man smoked his pipe and the sisters went back to their people. Then the two lived quietly together, but the young man often thought of the beautiful maidens.

One day as they were conversing the old man said, "Now you have become a young man you must go." "Which way," asked he, and the uncle replied, "You must go where those young maidens are who are chief's daughters. You must have fine bows and arrows; here they are—try them before you go. They give luck in hunting." Then he looked where he kept all the fine things for the young warriors and dressed him up well with a swan stuffed. "Now," said he, "when you take this outside it will be on your head, but it will soon come back to life, and when that happens you must run in a circle and return, and you will see that many deer and bears will follow your track." So off he went. When he returned he said that so many bears and so many deer came out every time as he crossed the track and he shot them, and took the best out and sent them home to show them to the old man. And all the time the swan was alive and beautiful.

The old man exclaimed at his luck as he told his tale. "You have done well," said his uncle. "We must save all the meat. Now, hold yourself ready to go to-morrow. I warn you there are dangers in your path. There is a stream that you must cross. There stands a man and he will try to kill you. He will call out to you that he has a couple of wild cats and will say, 'My friend, come, help me kill these.' Pay no attention; go right on along, or you will be in danger and never get to the town." The nephew promised to obey, and his uncle brought out a curious thing, made of colored string and elk hair of deep red, about a foot long. "I shall keep this by me," said he, "and so long as you are doing well it will hang as it is; but if you are in danger it will come down itself almost to the ground, and if it does reach the ground you will die." "I will be careful," said the young man, and so he started with his directions, following his uncle's advice. He had almost reached his destination when he heard a noise, and there in his path stood a man while he watched two animals going up a tree, and he tried in vain to make them come down. As the young man approached him he said, "Please help me, if you can; but kill one of these animals; it will be a good thing. Do help me." So he begged, and the young man thought it could do no harm, so he took out his arrow and said, "Don't be in a hurry." Then the old man handed him the arrows and asked him, "Where are you going?" and he told him; and the stranger said, "Stop all night with me; that is a long way you are going; go on to-morrow."

Now the uncle at home was watching the signal. He saw it go down almost to the ground, and he cried out in his alarm, "Oh! oh! my nephew is in danger, he will get into trouble with that old man." But the young man listened to the persuasions of the tempter and agreed to remain with him all night, and the old man made up a fire and began to tell stories as they sat beside it till the youth fell asleep. Before they sat down he had gathered together some sharp prickly bark, pretending it gave a good light, and as the young man slept he said to himself, "Now, I can fix him." So he took some of the sharp-pointed bark and placed it on him; so he writhed in agony. Then he took off the young man's handsome clothes and dressed him up instead in his own old rags, dirty and rotten. "I shall keep these things," said he; "they are mine," and forthwith he started off to the chief's house where the beautiful women were, and he had the young man's pipe and his spotted deer skin, and the handsome bag made out of it, with little birds to light the pipe. When he reached the chief's cabin he went in and the younger sister was there. She was so disappointed when she saw him, she said, "This cannot be the young man." But her elder sister said: "Yes, it is he. He has the fine clothes and the deer skin, and the deer-skin bag, and the little birds to light his pipe." But still the younger sister was disappointed, and then the people heard that the young man they expected had come from the east and many came to see him and watched all his movements. At length he got his pipe, which, when it was filled, the two little birds were expected to light, but they would not for a stranger, so he said it was because there were people all around, and he must be alone. The older sister believed him. Then he told her, too: "When I spit it makes wampum, so spread out a deer skin and save my spittle." So he spat many times and she did as he said and saved it up, but it never became wampum, although he did it every night. Each day he went hunting, but he killed only things not good to eat, and made the older sister, who became his wife, cook them. The younger one, however, would never go near him. Even when he commanded the little spotted deer-skin bag to stand up she observed that it did not obey him.

One day she went out to the fields to husk corn, and as she finished her task she observed a man near a fire in the field. She drew near. He was fast asleep. She gazed at his face and recognized the beautiful young man, but how greatly changed! She stood for a while looking at him till he awakened. "Who are you?" she asked; "whence do you come? where are you going?" "I come," said he, "from the far east; I came only last evening." And he related his story, and told how nicely he had been started by his uncle, until she was quite satisfied of the truth of his story. She did not tell him she was the daughter of the chief whom he sought, but she went home and fetched food for him. She laid meat and drink before him, and while he ate she returned to her task of husking corn. Then she went home. The old fellow meanwhile had asked often, "Where is the young sister? Why does she never come to see me, or sit near whilst I smoke my pipe? May be she has found for herself a sickly man out in the field."

At last the younger sister told the young man who she was, and that the old man that had robbed him was in the chief's cabin and had all his fine things; and the young man felt better, and said, "I want my things back. I will make a dream. Go and tell the chief, your father, that I have dreamed a dream and all the people must come to hear it, and I will tell how all the things the old man has are mine, and then the birds will obey, and all the things will come alive again."

Then the old chief listened to the entreaties of his youngest daughter, and called a great council and the young man told his story in the form of a dream, and when he spoke of the birds they came and filled his pipe, and the swan skin when placed upon his head also came to life, and his spittle became wampum. So the chief knew he was the rightful owner of the clothes and they were returned to him, and the impostor was obliged to resume his old rags. The young man was then married to the faithful maiden, and returned to his home in safety, where he became in time a noted chief.

THE BOY AND THE CORN.

An old man brought up his nephew in a solitary place. One day as they walked through the field the uncle picked an ear of corn, but he did not eat it. "Strange," thought the boy, "that I never see him eating anything;" and he watched him when the old man thought he was asleep. He saw him go to a hole and take out a kettle and a few grains of corn, which he put into it. Then he took a magic wand and tapped the kettle till it grew big; then he ate some corn and again tapped the kettle till it became small once more.

In the morning when the uncle left home the boy got at the hole and did as he had seen him do, but as he tapped the kettle it grew so large that he could not stop it, and it went on growing until his uncle came home, who was very angry. "You do not know what harm you have been doing," said he; "we can get no more corn; it grows in a place that is so dangerous that few who go there come back alive." "We have plenty in the house," said the boy. "And when it is gone, what then?" But the boy persisted that he knew where the corn grew, and could easily fetch some. "So, uncle," he added, "tell me how to proceed," "I shall never see you again," moaned the uncle. "Oh, yes, you will," said the boy, and he started. Now, the uncle had warned him that he would come to a lake where the woman witches lived, and that he never could escape them. But he made himself a canoe and picked some peculiar nuts and launched himself upon the water. Then he threw the nuts before him to feed the fowls who guarded the shore, that they might not betray his coming. He landed on the other side safely and filled his pockets with corn, and was hastening to put off in his boat, but before he did so was curious to know what was in a lodge on the shore. So he peeped in and stole a bear's leg which he saw.

Now, all his nuts were gone; so when he passed the birds they were alarmed and set up their call and out came the witches with their hooks and cords. But he launched his canoe, and when a hook reached him he broke it off, and reached the opposite shore in safety. There he saw a number of ducks, and he stripped a tree of its bark and caught them and started home. As he neared his home he heard his uncle singing a dirge—"My poor nephew, I shall never see him again." The animals had been telling the old man sad tales of his death, so when the boy knocked at the door he did not believe that it was his nephew. But the boy heard the Hi-Wadi, and he knew his uncle. So he said, "Uncle, I am coming, I am coming; stop your mourning." His uncle thought it was an animal on the outside, and he called out, "Put your hand through the hole." So the nephew put his hand through and caught hold of the rope and pulled it out and tied it to a post, and then opened the door. And when the old man saw his nephew he called out, "So you have got home safe; where have you been?" and he made many inquiries. And the young man explained everything to him, and told how, at last, he had returned safely to his home with plenty of corn.

THE LAD AND THE CHESTNUTS.

This is another version of the foregoing tale:

A man lived with his younger brother alone in the deep wilderness. Game was plentiful—very plentiful. The elder brother hunted it; the younger staid home to gather sticks and build the fire against the hunter's return. When he came, bringing deer, the younger one said, "I will cook the venison; give it to me to prepare for supper." The elder one replied, "I will smoke before I eat." When he had smoked he went to lie down. "I should think," said the younger, "you would want to eat now." But no, he slept instead of tasting the food, and when he awakened he bade his brother go to bed, and leave him to help himself.

The lad wondered, but he obeyed. Still he found the same thing happened every day. In the mornings the elder brother left without eating; in the evenings he bade the boy leave him alone. This awakened the curiosity of the younger. "I will watch," said he; and he watched. "He must eat something," he added to himself, "or he would die. He must eat at night." So he pretended to take no notice. At bedtime he lay down and made believe to sleep, but he kept one eye open, although he seemed to be sound asleep.

After a while the elder brother rose and opened a trap-door, and, when below the ground, he began to make strange motions, and presently drew out a kettle and commenced scraping it on the bottom. Then he poured water onto it, and at last he took a whip and struck the kettle, saying, as he placed it over the burning wood, "Now, my kettle will grow larger"; and as he struck it, it became bigger with every blow; and at length it was very large, and he set it to cool, and began greedily to eat the contents. "Ah," thought the younger brother, as he watched, "now, to-morrow, I will find out what he eats;" and he went to sleep content.

At daylight the elder set off to hunt. Now was the opportunity. Cautiously the boy lifted the trap-door, and there he at once saw the kettle. In it lay half a chestnut. "Now I know," said he, "what my brother eats;" and he thought to himself, "I will fix it all ready for him before he comes back." As night drew on he took the kettle and scraped up the chestnut, put in some water, and found the stick. He at once commenced whipping the kettle as he had seen his brother do, saying, "Now my kettle will grow large;" and it did; but it kept on growing larger and larger, to his surprise, until it filled the whole room, and he had to go up on the roof to stir it from the outside.

When the elder brother returned he said, "What are you doing?" "I found the kettle," replied the younger, "and was getting your supper." "Woe is me," said the elder, "now I must die." He struck and struck the kettle, and reduced it by every blow, until at last he could restore it to its place. But he was sorrowful. When morning came he would not get up, nor eat of the venison, but asked for his pipe and smoked.

Day by day passed. He grew weaker each day, and after each smoke sang, "Hah geh-he geh, Non ta ge je Õ dah!" "Bring me my pipe and let me die."

The younger lad was very anxious. "Where," he asked his brother, "did you get the chestnuts? Let me go and seek some for you." After many questions at length the brother said, "Far, far away is a large river, which it is almost impossible to cross. On the further side, at a great distance, stands a house; near it is a tree, a chestnut tree; there my forefathers gathered chestnuts long ago, but now none can reach it, for there stands night and day a white heron watching the tree and looking around on every side. He is set there by the women folks; half a dozen of them take care of him, and for them he watches. If he hears a sound he makes his Thr-hr-hr. Then the women come out with war-clubs and are always on their guard lest any one should gather the chestnuts, as many fall on the ground. Even a mouse is suspected of being a man. There is no chance, no chance at all." But the brother said, "I must go and try this for your sake; I cannot have you die."

So he departed on his way, after he had made a little canoe about three inches long. He walked on and on, day and night, until at last he reached the river. Then he took out of his pouch his little canoe, and drew it out and out until it was a good size, and in it he crossed the river. Then he made it small again and put it in his pouch. On and on he walked until he could see the house, and before it the chestnut tree. Then he called a mole out of the ground. The mole came and sniffed around a little plant, the seed of which the heron dearly likes. It is like a bean. Some of these seeds the young lad took and then followed the mole to its hole, and crept under the leaves until he neared the heron. Then he threw the seeds to the bird. The heron saw them and began eating them. Whilst he was occupied and noticed nothing else, the boy filled his bag with chestnuts and set off homewards; but now the heron, no longer occupied with his oh ÔÑ hi, suspected danger and gave his warning Thr-hr-hr. But the lad was already far away near the great river. Once more he took out his canoe, and was on the water when the women rushed out. They threw a long fish line and caught his canoe to pull him in, but he cut it and got loose. Again the second threw a line and caught him, but again he cut loose, and so on till they had no lines left. So he reached home at length, fearful lest he should find that his brother had died during his absence, but he found him still barely alive, and shouted, "Now, brother, I'm home with the chestnuts, will you have your pipe?" And he began cooking just as his brother liked them, and he narrated all his exploits, and the brother said, "You have done me a great favor, now I shall be well, and we will be happy."

THE GUILTY HUNTERS.

There was a certain tribe whose main occupation was to hunt and to fish. In one of its hunting excursions two families of different clans of this tribe happened to pitch their respective camps quite near to each other. One of these families, in which there was an infant, had very fine luck and the other poor luck. While the father of the child was out hunting, the mother went to a neighboring stream to get some water, but before she dipped her vessel she looked into the water and saw, peering up through the sparkling stream, a very handsome young man with painted cheeks. When her husband returned she told him what she had seen, and, after a consultation, they came to the conclusion that something strange was about to happen, for what the woman had seen was but the reflection of some one hidden in the branches overhanging the stream. They rightly judged that this was an evil omen, and naturally knew that something must be done to avert the impending misfortune, for the woman said that she recognized the face as that of a man from the adjoining camp.

When night came the husband said to his wife, "You and the child must be saved. Go; I shall meet misfortune alone." She then started with the child through the forest, and went on until she came to a hollow log, into which she crept, and then she heard a great noise in the camp, and a voice saying, "You have bitten me." Soon she saw the light of torches borne by people searching for her and the child; nearer and nearer they came, until they reached the log (her hiding-place), into which they pushed their sticks, but the woman remained quiet, and heard them say, "She must be somewhere near here; any way, she cannot live long." She waited until they had left and all was quiet before she emerged from her refuge, and then traveled on as fast as she could until morning, when she came upon a trail, to which, instead of following it, she took a parallel course, and did not see any signs of life until she came to an opening, which appeared like a camping-ground. In the center of this clearing stood a large hemlock tree, into which she climbed, and made herself and child as comfortable as she could.

Soon after ascending the tree she heard approaching voices, one of which said, "We might as well stay here as to go further." They were hunters, heavily laden with skins, meat, &c. During the night one of them said, "My thumb is painful; what shall I say bit me?" The woman heard the answer: "Say a beaver bit you."

In the early dawn the men departed and the woman began to make her way down the tree, but she saw one of the party returning, so she remained until he, finding his bow, again started homeward. When all were out of sight she brought her child down, and, taking again the course parallel to the trail, she hurried onward during the day and reached home just at twilight. When once home she related what had happened to herself, child, and husband, to her many friends who secreted her, and made preparations to have the matter investigated. The head chief was informed, and he sent out "runners" to all the members of the tribe to call them to a general council.

When the time for all to assemble had come, none but the hunters were absent, and they came after repeated and persistent requests to be present. When they did come the head chief said, "We have come to congratulate you in that you have prospered and been preserved from harm. Now, relate to us all the things that have happened to you and tell why you have returned without the other party." The hunters refused to tell anything about their affairs and pretended to know nothing about the other party.

The head chief, after severely cross-examining them, ordered that the woman be brought forth to tell her story. When she had finished her narrative of facts, as stated above, she told that one of them had his thumb bitten, explaining that he was bitten by her husband in defending himself against these robbers, who took from her murdered husband the skins and the meats which they had brought home. Hereupon the head chief gravely said to the waiting and impatient warriors, "Go, do your duty;" and they, with their war-clubs and tomahawks, soon put to death the wicked hunters.

MRS. LOGAN'S STORY.

An old man and his little nephew once lived in a dark woods. One day the man went hunting, and just before leaving told the boy he must not go eastward. But the boy became tired of playing in one place, and was one day tempted to go in the forbidden direction until he came to a large lake, where he stopped to play. While thus engaged a man came up to him and said, "Well, boy, where do you come from?" The boy told him that he came from the woods. Then the man said, "Let us play together at shooting arrows." So they shot off their arrows up into the air, and the boy's arrow went much the higher. Then the man said, "Let us see which can swim the farthest without breathing," and again the boy beat the man. Then the latter said, "Let us go to the island, where you will see many pretty birds." So they entered the canoe. Now, on either side of the canoe were three swans which propelled it. As soon as they were seated in the canoe the man began singing, and very soon they arrived at the island, around which they traveled for some time, and then the man took off all the boy's clothes, and, jumping into his canoe, said, "Come, swans, let us go home," and he began to sing. When the boy perceived that he was deserted he went up the bank and sat down and cried, for he was naked and cold.

It began to grow dark very fast, and he was greatly frightened when he heard a voice say, "Hist! keep still," and, looking around, he saw a skeleton on the ground near him, which beckoned him and said, "Poor boy, it was the same thing with me, but I will help you if you will do something for me." The boy readily consented. Then the skeleton told him to go to a tree near by, and dig on the west side of it, and he would find a tobacco-pouch full of tobacco, a pipe, and a flint; and the boy found them and brought them to the skeleton. It then said, "Fill the pipe and light it;" and he did so. "Put it in my mouth," said the skeleton; and he did so. Then, as the skeleton smoked, the boy saw that its body was full of mice, which went away because of the smoke. Then the skeleton felt better, and told the boy that a man with three dogs was coming to the island that night to kill him, and in order to escape he must run all over the island and jump into the water and out again many times, so that the man would lose the trail. Then, after tracking the island all over, he must get into a hollow tree near by, and stay all night. So the boy tracked the island all over and jumped into the water many times, and at last went into the tree. In the early morning he heard a canoe come ashore, and, looking out, saw another man with three dogs, to whom the man said, "My dogs, you must catch this animal." Then they ran all over the island, but not finding him, the man became so angry that he killed one of the dogs and ate him all up. Then, taking the two remaining, he went away. The boy then came out from his hiding-place, and went to the skeleton, who said, "Are you still alive?" The boy replied, "Yes." "Well," said the skeleton, "the man who brought you here will come to-night to drink your blood, and you must go down to the shore where he will come in, and dig a long pit and lie down in it and cover yourself up with the sand so he cannot see you, and when he comes ashore and is off, you must get into the canoe and say, 'Come, swans, let's go home,' and if the man calls for you to come back you must not turn around or look at him."

The boy promised to obey and soon the man who had brought him came ashore on the island. Then the boy jumped into the canoe, saying, "Come, swans, let's go to our place;" and as they went he sang just as the man had done. They had gone but a little way when the man saw them. He began to cry, "Come back! Oh do come back!" but the boy did not look around and they kept on their way. By and by they came to a large rock in which there was a hole, and the swans went up into the rock until they came to a door which the boy proceeded to open. Upon entering the cave he found his own clothes and many others, and also a fire and food all prepared, but no living person. After putting on his clothes he went to sleep for the night. In the morning he found a fire and food, but saw no one.

Upon leaving the cave he found the swans still waiting at the entrance, and, jumping into the canoe, he said, "Come, swans, let's go to the island." When he arrived there he found the man had been killed and nearly eaten up. He then went to the skeleton, which said, "You are a very smart boy; now you must go and get your sister whom this man carried off many years ago. You must start to-night and go east, and by and by you will come to some very high rocks where she goes for water, and you will find her there and she will tell you what to do."

The boy started and in three days arrived at the rocks, where he found his sister, to whom he called, "Sister, come, go home with me"; but she replied, "No, dear brother, I cannot go; a bad man keeps me here, and you must go, for he will kill you if he finds you here." But as the boy would not be persuaded to leave without her she allowed him to stay. Now this very bad man had gone to a great swamp where women and children were picking cranberries. The sister then went to the house and, taking up the planks over which her bed was made, she dug a pit underneath it sufficiently large for her brother to sit in; then she went to her brother and bade him follow her, and to be sure and step in her tracks and not touch anything with his hands or his clothes. So she covered him up in the pit she had prepared for him, and made her bed up again over the place. She then cooked a little boy for the man, put it with wood and water by his bed, and then went and lay down. Soon the man and dogs returned; then immediately the dogs began barking and tearing around as if they were mad. The man said, "You surely have visitors"; she replied, "None but you." And he said, "I know better"; and he took a stick and commanded her to tell him the truth, but she denied it, saying, "Kill me if you like, but I have none." He then went to his bed and sat down to eat his supper; but he said to himself, "She has some one hidden; I will kill him in the morning." He then called her to build a fire, but she replied, "You have wood, build your own fire." Then he said, "Come, take off my moccasins"; but she replied, "I am tired, take them off yourself." Then he said to himself, "Now I know she has seen some one, for she was never so saucy."

In the morning he started off for the swamp to get some children for his dinner. A short distance from home he concealed himself to watch the girl. As soon as he was gone she called her brother and said, "Come, let us take his canoe and go quickly." So they ran and jumped into the canoe and went off, but the man saw them and ran, throwing a hook which caught the canoe, but as he was pulling it ashore the boy took a stone from the bottom of the canoe and broke the hook. Then they proceeded again very fast. Then the enraged man resorted to another expedient: Laying himself down upon the shore he began to drink the water from the lake, which caused the boat to return very fast. The man continued to drink, until he grew very big with so much water in him. The boy took another stone and threw it and hit the man so it killed him, and the water ran back into the lake. When they saw that he was dead they went back, and the boy said to the two dogs, "You bad dogs, no one will have you now; You must go into the woods and be wolves"; and they started for the woods and became wolves.

Then the boy and his sister went to the island. The boy went to the skeleton, which said, "You are a very smart boy to have recovered your sister—bring her to me." This the boy did, and the skeleton continued, "Now, gather up all the bones you see and put them in a pile; then push the largest tree you see and say, 'All dead folks arise'; and they will all arise." The boy did so, and all the dead arose, some having but one arm, some with but one leg, but all had their bows and arrows.

The boy then said to his sister, "Come, let's go home." When they arrived home they found their own uncle; he looked very old. For ten years he had cried and put ashes upon his head for his little nephew, but now he was very happy to think he had returned.

The boy then told the old man all that he had done, who said, "Let us build a long house." And they did so, and put in six fire-places. Then the boy went back to the island for his people and brought them to the house, where they lived peacefully many years.

THE HUNTER AND HIS DEAD WIFE.

Once upon a time there was a man and his wife who lived in the forest, very far from the rest of the tribe. They used to go hunting together very often, but after a time there were so many things for the wife to do that she staid at home and he went alone. When he went alone he never had good luck. One day the woman was taken sick, and in a day or two she died. The man felt very badly and buried her in the cabin. He was very lonesome; and after a day or two he made a wooden doll about her size and dressed it in the clothes she used to wear. Then he put it down in front of the fire-place and felt better. Then he went hunting; and when he came back he would go up to the doll and brush the ashes off from the face, for as the wood fell down the ashes would rattle onto the face. He had to do his cooking, mending, and making fire, for now there was no one to help him; and so a year passed away. One day when he came home from hunting there was a fire and wood by the door. The next night there was wood and fire and a piece of meat all cooked in the kettle. He looked, all over to see who had done this, but could find no one. The next time he went hunting he did not go far and went back quite early, and when he came in sight of the cabin he saw a woman going into the house with wood on her shoulders; he saw, and opened the door quickly, and there was his wife sitting in a chair and the wooden doll was gone. Then she spoke to him, saying, "The Great Spirit felt sorry for you, so he let me come back to see you, but you must not touch me till we have seen all of our people; if you do, you will kill me." So they lived along for some time, when one day the man said, "It is now two years since you died. Let us go home. So you will be well." So he prepared meat for the journey—a string of deer meat for her to carry and one for himself; and so they started. It was going to take them six days to get to the rest of their tribe; when they were within a day's journey of the camp it began to snow, and as they were very weary they lighted fire and partook of food and spread their skins to sleep; but the desire of the man to once more clasp his wife in his arms was too great, and he went up to her and put out his hands; but she motioned him away and said, "We have seen no one yet." He would not listen to her, and he caught her in his arms, and, behold, he was holding the wooden doll! His sorrow was very great. He pushed on to the camp and there he told them all that had befallen him. Some doubted, and they went back with him and found the doll; they also saw the track of the two people in the snow, and the track just like the foot of the doll. The man was ever after very unhappy.

A SURE REVENGE.

Far in the ages of the past, a tribe of the Senecas settled upon the banks of Lake Erie. One eventful winter their enemies, the Illinois, came in great numbers upon the peaceful settlement, surprised the people in their homes, and, in spite of a stout resistance, killed a large number of them and took a middle-aged woman and a boy captive. They started off with the prisoners, and the first day's journey was one of pain and restlessness to the captives. They were foot-sore and weary when camp was pitched for the night. Then around a roaring fire the warriors gloated over the bloody deed. They called the boy and bid him join them in their songs of triumph, adding that they had no desire to hurt him; if he sang well he might enjoy himself. The lad pretended that he could not sing their language, but said that he would sing their song in his tongue, knowing that they could not comprehend a word of it. To this they agreed, and while they shouted out their jubilant delight he repeated, again and again, "I shall never forget what you have done to my people. You have stolen a helpless woman and a little boy from among them. I shall never forget it. If I am spared you will all lose your scalps." The Illinois warriors understood not a word; they thought he was joining in their triumph, and were satisfied that he would soon forget his own people.

After they had marched three days the woman became exhausted, and she was too faint to be dragged further. The warriors held a council, and she meanwhile spoke to the Seneca boy in earnest tones. "Avenge my blood!" said she; "and when you return to your own people tell them how the cruel Illinois took my life. Promise me you will never cease to be a Seneca." As he finished promising all she asked, she was slain and left dead on the ground.

Then they hurried forward, nearing their own settlement early in the evening. Next day two runners were sent to the village to proclaim their success and return, and all the population turned out with shouts and cries of joy to meet them.

Now the fate of the boy had to be determined. He listened as the chief, with exaggerated gestures and exclamations, gave an account of the successful expedition. The people, as they listened, grew so excited that they beat the ground with their clubs and wished they could exterminate every Seneca in the world. They longed to kill the boy, but the chiefs held a council and decided that there was stuff in him, and they would therefore torture him, and if he stood the test, adopt him into their own tribe. The boy meantime had dreamed a dream, in which he had been forewarned that the Illinois would inflict horrible tortures upon him. "If he can live through our tortures," said the chief, "he shall become an Illinois." The council fire glowed red with burning heat. They seized the captive and held him barefooted on the coals until his feet were one mass of blisters. Then they pierced the blisters with a needle made of fish bone and filled up the blisters with sharp flint stones. "Now run a race," they recommended; "run twenty rods." In his dream he had been told that if he could reach the Long House and find a seat on the wild-cat skin, they would vote him worthy of his life. His agony was intense, but up in his heart rose the memory of his tribe; and as the signal for his start was given he commenced singing with all his might, saying, as they thought, their war song, but in reality the words: "I shall never forget this; never forgive your cruelty. If I am spared you shall every one of you lose your scalps." This gave him courage. He forgot his agony. He bounded forward and flew so swiftly that the Indians, who stood in rows ready to hit him as he passed with thorn-brier branches, could not touch him. He rushed into the Long House; it was crowded, but he spied a wild-cat skin on which an old warrior sat, and he managed to seat himself upon the tail, remembering his dream. The chiefs noticed his endurance and said again, "If we spare his life he will be worthy to become an Illinois; but he knows the trail, so we had better kill him." A solemn council was held. All the warriors agreed that he had borne the tortures well, and had stuff in him to make a warrior. "He may forget," they said. Still others disagreed and gave their opinion that he ought to be tried still more severely. The majority finally decided that he must die, and in three days should be burned at the stake.

When the day arrived a large fire of pine knots was prepared, and they bound the lad to a stake, and placed him in the midst. Torches were ready to set fire to them, when an old warrior suddenly approached from the forest. It was the chief who had trained other captive Indians. He stood and looked at the boy. Then he said, "His eye is bright. I will take him. I will make a warrior of him. I will inflict our last torture upon him, and if he survives I will adopt him into the tribe." He cut the thongs that bound the boy, and led him away to a spring. "Drink!" he said. And as the lad stooped, he pressed him down under the water until he was well nigh strangled. Three times he subjected him to this barbarity; then as he was still alive, although very weak, he took him to his wigwam and dressed his feet, and told him henceforth he should be an Illinois. No one guessed that revenge was in his heart.

Time passed. He became a man. He had a chief's daughter as his wife. The tribe thought he had lost all memory of his capture. He followed the customs of the Illinois, and was as one of them. He was named Ga-geh-djo-wa. They did not permit him to join them in their warlike expeditions, but he joined in their war dances when they returned. And so as the years passed on he was much esteemed for his feats as a hunter, and his strength and endurance were by-words among the Illinois.

He had been fifteen years among them when he heard them speak of an expedition against the Senecas. He begged to join, and they listened with delight when he declared that he, Ga-geh-djo-wa, would bring home more scalps than any. "He is one of us," they said, and gave him the permission he craved.

Early in the morning the warriors started, and, delighted with his eloquence and readiness to go against his own tribe, they elected him chief of the expedition. They marched on and on for many days, little guessing how his heart beat as they approached the wigwams of the Seneca settlement. He began to issue orders for the attack. "Send scouts," he said, "to the sugar camp, and let them hide in a bush, and return and tell us what they have seen."

Two warriors obeyed his directions, but returned saying there were no signs of the tribe. Then he sent others in a different direction. Their report was the same. Ashes everywhere, they reported, but no smoke and no fires. The Senecas must have left. Then at the council held that night Ga-geh-djo-wa proposed to go himself, with another warrior. This was agreed to, and they set out together. When they had gone five or six miles, the wily chief said to his companion, "Let us separate and each take a different pathway. You go over the hills; I will go through, the valley. We will meet on the mountain at dusk." So they parted, and Ga-geh-djo-wa, remembering his way, sped where he guessed he should find some of his old tribe. He found, as he expected, a family he knew. In hurried words he explained to them their danger: "The treacherous Illinois are upon you. Warn all the tribe of Senecas: bid them come early and hide along the range above the valley. I will be there with a heron's plume on my crest, and when I stumble it is the signal for the Senecas to attack. Go and tell the word of Ga-geh-djo-wa. He is true."

Returning to the appointed spot he reported that he had seen nothing, and hastened back to the camp. Then he said: "I remember these hills. I know where the Senecas hide. Give me the bravest warriors and we will go ahead. I can track them to their hiding-place. See! there below rises the smoke of their wigwams. Send two warriors after us at a short distance. We will surprise the Senecas."

Early morning saw the camp in activity, every warrior panting for the scalps he yearned to procure. Little they dreamed that already five hundred Senecas awaited them in the valley. The march commenced. As they entered the valley Ga-geh-djo-wa gazed anxiously around and delightedly caught sight of a face among the bushes. Now he knew the Senecas had heeded him. He led his men forward; then, pretending to miss his footing, he fell. Instantly the war-cry sounded; the Senecas rushed from their ambush, and he left his treacherous foes and rejoined his own people.

The slaughter was great. All the Illinois warriors but two in the rear were slain. Three hundred scalps revenged the treachery of the Illinois. Ga-geh-djo-wa was seized by the jubilant Senecas and borne in triumph to their settlement. Around the fires, as they displayed the scalps of their enemies, they listened to his recital of their cruelty, of his tortures, and of the woman's death. Never again did he leave them. He lived many years, the most esteemed warrior and chief of the Senecas, and when he died they buried him with the highest honors they knew, and have kept his name sacred in the legends of the tribe to this day.

TRAVELER'S JOKES.

An Indian traveler, tired of his uneventful journey, undertook to create an excitement after the following fashion: An old Indian custom is for runners, or those carrying important news, to announce the fact and gather the people together by crying, in singing tones, "Goh-weh, goh-weh." This the traveler began doing, and when the crowd called upon him to stop and tell his news, he began, "As I came through the last village the people were so delighted with my news that they all danced for joy, and shouted and kissed me." This he told so earnestly and sincerely that the people, not wishing to be outdone by any other tribe, also began singing and kissing him and making merry; and while the excitement was at its height, pleased with his success, the facetious traveler escaped and continued his journeyings.

Arrived at the next village he again began calling, "Goh-weh, goh-weh"; and the people and chiefs gathered around him, crying, "Let us hear." And he answered, "As I passed through the last town some people wept at my news, others began quarreling, kicking, and fighting." Immediately his contagious news produced its effect, and in the confusion he again escaped, saying to himself "What fools people are."

That night, as he was preparing to camp out, a man passed who inquired the distance to the next village; but the traveler said, "You cannot reach it to-night. Let us camp together." As they were each recounting stories, and the new-comer was boasting of his superior cunning, the traveler inquired, "What log is that you now use for a pillow?" and he guessed hickory, elm, &c. But the traveler said, "No, it is everlasting sleep." In the morning the traveler took some pitchy resin and rubbed over the eyes of his sleeping comrade and left, laughing at the probable chagrin the man would feel when attempting to open his eyes, and in the recollection of the warning regarding everlasting sleep and his boasts of superior cunning.

No further accounts of the traveler's jokes are told.

KINGFISHER AND HIS NEPHEW.

An old man and his nephew were living together in a good home near the river, where they enjoyed themselves day after day. One morning the old man said to his nephew, "When you are a man, remember in hunting never to go west; always go to the east."

The young man reflected and said to himself, "Why should this be so? My uncle To-bÉ-se-ne always goes west, and brings home plenty of fish. Why should he tell me not to go? Why does he never take me with him?"

He made up his mind at last that he would go, never minding about the advice. So he set off in a roundabout way, and as he passed the marsh land near the river he saw his uncle. "Ha!" he thought, "now I know where he catches his fish"; and he watched him take from his pocket two sharp sticks and put them in his nose, and then plunge into deep water and come up with a nice fish. He watched him carefully and then returned home. Presently the uncle came back, bringing some nice fish, but he never guessed that the nephew had seen him.

The young man now felt certain that he could fish as well as his uncle. Accordingly, one day when the old man had gone deer hunting, he thought at a good opportunity to try the new method. He hunted among his uncle's things until he found two sticks, and then he set off to the same log where he had seen his uncle sitting, which projected above the water in the river. He saw the fishes swimming about, so he at once stuck the two sticks into his nose, and plunged in. Then the sticks went deep into his nose and made it ache dreadfully, and he felt very sick. Home he hurried and lay down, thinking he should die of the agony. When his uncle came home he heard him groaning, and said, "What ails you? Are you sick?" "Yes, uncle," replied he, "I think I shall die. My head is sore and pains me." "What have you been about?" asked the uncle, severely. "I have been fishing," confessed the young man; "I took your things, and I know I have done wrong." "You have done very wrong," said the uncle; but he took the pincers and drew out the sticks, and the young man promised never again to fish in the west, and got well.

After a while, however, he thought that he would go and see once more, although he had been forbidden. So he started west. He heard boys laughing, and he had none to play with, so he joined them. They invited him to swim with them and he accepted, and they had a very gay time together. At last they said, "It is time to go home; you go, too." Then he saw that they had wings, and they gave him a pair and said, "There is an island where all is lovely; you have never been up there-over the tall tree up in the air; come." So they started up in the air, far away above the trees, till they could see both sides of the river; and he felt very happy. "Now," said they, "you can see the island"; and he looked down and saw the print of their tracks on the island; so he knew they had been there. Then said they, "Let us go in swimming again." So they went into the water. Then they said, "Let us see which can go down and come up the farthest"; and they tried one at a time, and he was the last, so he must go the farthest; and while he was in the water the rest put on their wings and, taking his also, flew up in the air. He plead in vain for them to wait; but they called, as though speaking to some one else, "Uncle, here is game for you to-night." Then they flew away in spite of his entreaties, and he thought to himself, "I shall surely be destroyed, perhaps by some animal."

As he looked around he perceived tracks of dogs which had clawed the different trees, and then he concluded that perhaps they would tear him to pieces. In order to confuse them in their scent he climbed each tree a little way, and so went on until he reached the last tree on the island, in which he remained and listened in suspense. He soon heard a canoe on the river and some one calling the dogs. Then he concluded his conjectures were true. After making a fire the man sent out his dogs. The man had a horrid-looking face, both behind and before, which the poor nephew could see by the fire-light. Then the dogs began barking, having traced the tracks to the first tree; they made such a noise that the man concluded they had found the game, and went to the tree, but found nothing. So they went on to the next, and the next, with the same experience, and this they continued the night long. Then the old man said, very angrily, "There is no game here; my nephews have deceived me." And he returned, leaving the last tree.

After sunrise the poor fellow came down from the tree, saying, "I think I have escaped, for if those young fellows return I will watch them and contrive to get their wings from them." He then concealed himself and patiently awaited their coming. He soon heard their voices, saying, "Now we will have a good time." They first jumped around to warm themselves, and then said, "Let us all dive together." Then he rushed out, and, taking all the wings, he put on one pair, and flew away, calling out, "Uncle, now there is plenty of game for you"; and when they entreated him he replied, "You had no mercy on me; I only treat you the same." Then he flew on until he came to his old home, where he found his old uncle, to whom he recounted the whole story; and after that time he remained peacefully at home with his good uncle, where he still resides.

"So many times my old grandfather, chief Warrior, told me that story," said Zachariah Jamieson to me on the Seneca Reservation.

THE WILD-CAT AND THE WHITE RABBIT.

[Told by Zachariah Jamieson.]

The wild cat, roaming disconsolately in the woods, experienced the sense of utter loneliness which calls for companionship. A friend he must have or die. Cats there were none within speaking distance, but rabbits it might be possible to entice. He commenced a plaintive ditty. His soul craved a white rabbit above all else, and his song was pathetic enough to entice the most obdurate:

His meaning was simple as his song, "When you are frightened, sweet rabbit, you run in a circle."

He was wise in his generation. A short distance off lay a white rabbit in his lair; hearing the melodious ditty he pricked up his ears. "Heigho!" exclaimed he, "that dangerous fellow, the wild-cat, is around; I hear his voice; I must scud"; and away he ran, turning from the direction in which the voice came and hastening with all his might. He had gone but a short distance when he stopped, turned back his ears and listened. There was the song again:

He waited to hear no more. On he sped for awhile; then once more he laid back his ears and halted again; surely this time the song was nearer. He was still more frightened. "I will go straight on" said he; but he thought he was following an opposite direction. On and on he sped, scarce daring to breathe; then a pause; alas! the singer is nearer—nearer yet. Unfortunate rabbit! he could but follow his instinct and run in a circle which brought him each time nearer his enemy. Still the song went on, until, circling ever nearer, white rabbit fell a victim to the wild-cat.

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