man-beings, there were seven brothers. All were hunters, but one was not
as skillful as the others, and he was called the Lazy One.
The brothers on a certain occasion had failed to find any game though
they had hunted many moons. They became very hungry and their minds were
charged with magic because of their long fast. When their hunger seemed
unendurable they resolved to go out and make one last effort to find
game. One brother was reluctant to go and clung to his bed, but the
others wrestled with him and forced him to go with them, but he assumed
to be so weak that they had to make a burden litter upon which they
carried him. Four brothers carried this burden, one went before with a
torch and one behind with a kettle, hoping for food.
When they had gone a long way in this manner the leading brother said:
“By aid of my torch I see the tracks of a large bear. I believe that we
shall soon overtake him.” When he had said this the lazy brother in the
litter said, “I am very weak and you must bathe me with your salivary
fluid.”[14] They paused to do this though the brothers did not like to
delay their hunt.
After a time the bear tracks appeared to be fresh before them and all
five brothers made ready for the hunt. The rear brother commenced to
gather firewood for the feast. Thus they traveled for three days more
until the bear appeared just ahead. “We must now abandon you, brother,”
said the litter-bearers, “for we are weak and all of us shall have to
assist in killing him before he overpowers us. Now, we shall leave you
here alone and we hope you may recover.”
When the lazy brother found himself abandoned he leaped up and ran
ahead. Being full of power from the bath he had received and from his
rest, he quickly engaged the bear and killed it with an axe.
When his brothers came up he had skinned the bear and had cut off some
meat. Soon the brother who bore the torch made a fire and the brother
with the kettle had placed the meat therein.
When all were satisfied they looked about them and discovered that they
were far up in the air and that the earth was a good ways below them.
They looked down and saw that the blood and oil from the bear had
stained the leaves of the trees and made them red, orange and yellow.
This is how the autumn leaves became colored.
After a time they went on their journey and soon found that the bear had
revived, though they had killed and eaten him. So they again pursued
him, being hungry, and when they killed him it was autumn again.
This bear chase keeps up all the time,—year after year, and has been so
since the first people came. If you will look into the sky where the
bear-chase cluster is seen to the north, you will find the man with the
torch at the end of the group (big dipper or great bear constellation),
and will see the man with the pot in the middle of the handle.
It seems also that there is a cave in which the bear hides and out of
which he comes at the time the brothers are very hungry. Then he is
pursued until killed by the brother who has saved his strength. This
keeps on forever. So we call those stars Nia´gwai’ hadēs´he’ (Bear they
pursuing are).
[Illustration:
THE SEVEN DANCING BROTHERS.
From a painting by Richard J. Tucker.
]
5. THE SEVEN BROTHERS OF THE STAR CLUSTER.[15]
Seven brothers[16] had been trained as young warriors. Each day they
practised in front of their mother’s lodge, but this did not please the
mother. With the boys was an uncle whose custom it was to sit outside
the lodge door and drum upon a water drum, that the boys might learn to
dance correctly.
In time the boys became perfect in their dancing, and then announced
that they were about to depart on an expedition to test their skill. The
seven assembled about the war post and began their dance. They then went
into their mother’s lodge and asked her to supply them with dried meat
and parched corn for their journey but she sent them away, scoffing at
their presumptions.
Again they danced and again returned for food. “I will not give you so
much as a small cake of corn bread,” said the mother hoping to restrain
them. But they went back to their dance. A third time they returned but
again were repulsed.
The fourth dance started and the oldest youth changed his tune to the
song of Djihaya. With great enthusiasm he sang compelling his brothers
to dance a dance of magic.
Hearing the wierd music the mother rushed out of the lodge and saw her
sons dancing in the air over the trees. This greatly startled her and
she cried, “Return, my sons! What manner of departure is this?” But the
song continued and the boys danced higher and higher.
Again the mother cried, “Oh, my eldest son, will you not return?” But
the eldest son would not listen, though his heart was touched. Then the
mother screamed, “Oh my eldest son, will you not hear your mother’s
voice? Only look down to me!” Then was the oldest son’s heart touched
very deeply, but he did not respond, for fear of making his brothers
weak.
“Oh my brothers,” he called. “Heed no sounds from the earth but continue
dancing. If you look down you shall fall and never more be able to
dance.”
The mother now gave a heart-broken cry and called, “Oh my first born
son, give your mother one look,—one last look or I die!” This weakened
the heart of the oldest son and he looked down toward the figure of his
mother with outstretched arms, weeping for him.
As he looked he lost his power to master the air, and began to fall.
With great rapidity he fell until he struck the earth and penetrated it,
leaving only a scar where the soil came together again.
The mother rushed to the spot and swept aside the rubbish, but no trace
of her son could she find. Finally looking up she saw her other boys
dancing far up in the sky. They had become the “dancing stars.”
In deep sorrow the mother with covered head sat beside the spot where
her first born had fallen. For a whole year she wept as she watched.
Winter came and her dancing boys appeared over the council house and
each night were observed overhead, but no sign of her eldest could be
seen.
Came springtime and the time of budding plants. From the spot where the
eldest had disappeared a tiny green shoot appeared. This the mother
watched with great solicitude. It grew into a tall tree and became the
first pine. This tree was guarded by the melancholy old woman and she
would allow no man to touch it; she knew that it was her son and would
sometime speak to her.
The winds blew and the tree swayed, it began to speak, and the mother
heard. Only she could interpret the sounds that came from the waving
branches, only she could see the face of the young warrior with his
plumes.
A careless hunter slashed at the tree and blood flowed, but the mother
bound up the wound and drove other intruders away. In time the tree bore
small short feathers (cones), and more trees grew. These the hunters
slashed in order to get pitch for canoes and ropes.
Every winter the pine tree talked to its dancing brothers in the sky and
the mother knew that her eldest son should be her comfort while she
rested on this earth.
GENERAL NOTES. This legend I had from Edward Cornplanter but being
so familiar with it I made only a few rough notes which I have
transcribed. This myth is similar to the Huron and Wyandot forms
recounting the origin of “the cluster.”
6. THE SEVEN STAR DANCERS.[17]
Now this even happened a long time ago in the days when the whole world
was new. Our Creator it was (S‘hoñgwadiĕnnu’k´dăon), had finished his
work.
One of the first men beings lived with his nephew in a lodge near a
river. The river was broad and had a wide sandy shore. The nephew
received the name Djinaĕñ’´dă’ and his uncle sent him away to dream on
the shore of the river, there to stay and dream until his dream helpers
appeared. For a long time he did not eat, but drank water and sweat
himself in a sweat lodge.
One night he thought that he saw a light upon the water and he looked
and saw lights moving toward him. Hiding in the reeds on the shore he
watched. Soon he saw seven shining young women dancing[18] in the water
against the shore and they made no splashing but went up and down. He
heard them speak but could not understand what they said. He observed
them all intently, for all were without clothing and were very beautiful
of body. The youngest appeared the most beautiful of all. The young man
watched her and thought that she would do for a wife.
Hoping to catch her he rushed out from his hiding place but the maidens
were alarmed and leaped into a great corn basket and were drawn rapidly
up into the sky and he looked and said, “They are dancing,”
(De‘hoñnont´gwĕ^n‘).
Djinaĕñ’´dă’ (Elk) continued his vigil and the next night he saw the
dancers swing back over the water in their basket. Soon they came to the
shore and alighted. Again he heard their voices and again they began
their bewitching dance. Djinaenda’s eyes were upon the youngest dancer
and she appeared more beautiful than ever. He waited until she danced
very near to him and away from the basket, then he rushed out from his
hiding place and pursued the maidens, at length grasping the youngest
before she touched the basket, but she gave a leap, and the youth
holding to her was drawn upward as she fell into the basket. She looked
to see who held her so tightly and immediately both fell to the earth.
The maiden gazed upon Djinaenda and asked him what he wanted. “I want to
marry you,” he said. “You have caused me to love you.”
“Then we shall be married,” said the maiden, “but we must return to the
sky and prepare for living upon the earth.” So the basket came down and
drew them into the sky.
Djinaenda was taken to the lodge of the dancing sisters and then led to
the lodge of a great chief who caused him to recline upon the ground.
The chief then took him apart, joint by joint and removed all his
organs. After cleansing them he replaced them and Djinaenda was
regenerated. He now felt very strong and able to do mighty things.
His bride now came to him and said that she would now return to the
earth with him and live as his wife. The sisters then placed the couple
in the basket and lowered them to the earth. They came down on the beach
of the river but it was changed and there was a great village of men
beings there.
Djinaenda inquired where his uncle lived but no one knew. Finally an old
man said, “An old man such as you describe lived in the woods with his
nephew near this place more than a hundred years ago.”
The couple now tried to live contentedly but could not understand the
ways of the people, and so, in time the two returned to the sky. The
wife rejoined her sisters but she had lost her brightness, and Djinaenda
roamed the sky world hunting game which he captured by running it down.
My grandmother told me that they are up there yet.
7. THE COMING OF SPRING.[19]
In the ancient times when this world was new an old man wandered over
the land in search of a suitable camping spot. He was a fierce old man
and had long white flowing hair. The ground grew hard like flint where
his footsteps fell, and when he breathed the leaves and grasses dropped
and dried up red, and fell. When he splashed through the rivers the
water stopped running and stood solid.
On and on the old man journeyed until at last on the shores of a great
lake by a high mountain he halted. He gathered the trees that had been
uprooted by hurricanes and made a framework for a dwelling. He built the
walls of ice and plastered the crevices with branches and snow. Then, to
guard his lodge against the intruder, he placed uprooted stumps about on
every side. Not even bad animals cared to enter this house. Everything
living passed by it at a distance. It was like a magician’s house.
The old man had but one friend. It was North Wind, and it was he alone
who might enter the door of the stronghold and sit by the fire. Very
wonderful was this fire and it gave flames and light but no heat! But
even North Wind found little time to enter and smoke with the old man,
for he took greater pleasure in piling high the snow and driving hail,
like flints, against the shivering deer or hungry storm bound hunter. He
liked to kill them. There came times, however, when North Wind needed
new tricks and so he sought the advice of the old man,—how he might pile
up the snow banks higher, how he might cause famine or make great
snow-slides to bury Indian villages.
One very dismal night both North Wind and the old man sat smoking, half
awake and half dreaming. North Wind could think of nothing new and the
old man could give no more advice. So, sitting before the fire, both
fell asleep. Towards morning each sprang to his feet with a cry. Not
their usual cries, either, were their startled yells, for instead of a
shrill “agēē! agēē! agēē!” the North Wind only gasped hoarsely and the
old man’s jaw opened with a smack and his tongue, thick and swollen
rolled out on his chin. Then spoke the North Wind:
“What warm thing has bewitched me? The drifts are sinking, the rivers
breaking, the ice is steaming, the snow is smoking!”
The old man was silent, too sleepy to speak. He only thought, “My house
is strong, very strong.” Still the North Wind called loudly:
“See, the rivers are swelling full, the drifts are getting smaller.”
Then he rushed from the lodge, and he flew to the mountain top where
snow made him brave again. So he was happy and sang a war song as he
danced on snow crust.
At the lodge of the old man a stranger struck the doorpost. The old man
did not move, but dozing, thought, “oh some prank of North Wind.” The
knocking continued and the old man grew more sleepy. The door rattled on
its fastenings but the old man’s head did not raise to listen but
dropped on his chest and his pipe fell down to his feet.
The logs of the lodge frame shook,—one fell from the roof. The old man
jumped to his feet with a war yell.
“Who is it that dares come to my house in this way? Only my friend North
Wind enters here. Go away, no loafers here!”
In answer the door fell down and a stranger stood in the opening. He
entered and hung the door upright again. His face was smiling and as he
stirred the fire, it grew warmer inside. The old man looked at the
stranger but did not answer his pleasant words, but his heart was very
angry. Finally when he could no longer keep silent he burst forth:
“You are a stranger to me and have entered my lodge, breaking down my
door. Why have you broken down my door? Why have your eyes a fire? Why
does light shine from your skin? Why do you go about without skins when
the wind is sharp? Why do you stir up my fire when you are young and
need no warmth? Why do you not fall on my wolf skins and sleep? Did not
North Wind blow the sun far away? Go away now before he returns, and
blows you against the mountains. I do not know you. You do not belong in
my lodge!”
The young stranger laughed and said, “Oh why not let me stay a little
longer and smoke my pipe?”
“Then listen to me,” yelled the old man in anger. “I am mighty! All
snows and ice and frosts are my making. I tell the North Wind to cut the
skins of men to let the blood through to make war paint on the drifts. I
tell him to freeze things that are food. Birds and animals run away from
the North Wind. I pile the drifts on the rocks on the mountains and when
it gets very high the North Wind knocks it off to crush the villages
beneath.”
Listlessly the stranger viewed the raving old man, and only smiled and
said, “I like to be sociable, let me stay a little longer and we will
smoke together.”
So, shaking with fear, the old man took the pipe and drew a breath of
smoke and then the warrior sang.
“Continue to smoke for me, I am young and warm, I am not afraid of
boasting, I am young and strong. Better wrap up, you are old. I am here.
I am here, keep on smoking. I am Dedio‘s‘nwineq´do^n, the Spring. Look
at your hair, it is falling out, look at the drifts, they are melting.
My hair is long and glossy, see—the grasses are sprouting! I want to
smoke with you. I like smoking. See—the ground is smoking! My friend
Dăgā´ĕ^n‘´dă, the South Wind, is coming. I guess your friend is dead.
You had better wrap up and go away. There is a place. You cannot own all
things always. See—the sun is shining. Look out now!”
As the young warrior sang the old man shrank very small and shriveled up
smaller until his voice only whispered, “I don’t know you!”
And so the young warrior sang, “I am the Spring, I am the chief now. The
South Wind is coming. Don’t be late. You can go yet while I sing.”
A rushing wind made the lodge tremble, the door fell in and an eagle
swooped down and carried Hă’´t‘howā´ne‘ away toward the north.
The lodge fire was out and where it had burned a plant was growing and
where the provisions were buried in a hole a tree was starting to have
buds.
The sun was shining and it was warm. The swollen rivers carried away the
ice. So the winter went away and in the morning it was spring time.
8. THE COMING OF DEATH.
When the world was first made men-beings did not know that they must die
sometime.
In those days everyone was happy and neither men and women nor children
were afraid of anything. They did not think of anything but doing what
pleased them. At one time, in those days, a prominent man was found
prone upon the grass. He was limp and had no breath. He did not breathe.
The men-beings that saw him did not know what had happened. The man was
not asleep because he did not awaken. When they placed him on his feet
he fell like a tanned skin. He was limp. They tried many days to make
him stand but he would not. After a number of days he became offensive.
A female man-being said that the man must be wrapped up and put in the
limbs of a tree. So the men did so and after a while the flesh dropped
from the bones and some dried on. No one knew what had happened to cause
such a thing.
Soon afterward a child was found in the same condition. It had no
breath. It could not stand. It was not asleep, so they said. The
men-beings thought it was strange that a girl man-being should act this
way. So she was laid in a tree.
Now many others did these things and no one knew why. No one thought
that he himself would do such a thing.
There was one wise man who thought much about these things and he had a
dream. When he slept the Good Minded Spirit came to him and spoke. He
slept a long time but the other men-beings noticed that he breathed
slowly. He breathed (nevertheless). Now after a time this man rose up
and his face was very solemn. He called the people together in a council
and addressed the people. The head men all sat around with the people.
The wise man spoke and he said, “The Good Minded spirit made every good
thing and prepared the earth for men-beings. Now it appears that strange
events have happened. A good word has come to me from the Good Minded
spirit. He says that every person must do as you have seen the other
persons do. They have died. They do not breathe. It will be the same
with all of you. Your minds are strong. The Good Minded spirit made them
that way so that you could endure everything that happened. So then do
not be downcast when I tell you all must die. Listen further to what I
say. The name of the one that steals away your breath is Shondowekowa.
He has no face and does not see anyone. You cannot see him until he
grasps you. He comes sometimes for a visit and sometimes he stays with
us until many are dead. Sometimes he takes away the best men and women
and passes by the lesser ones. I was not told why he does this thing. He
wants to destroy every person. He will continue to work forever. Every
one who hears me and every one not yet born will die. There is more
about you than living. Any moment you may be snatched by Shondowekowa,
he who works in the thick darkness.
“You must now divide yourselves into nine bands, five to sit on one side
of the fire and four on the other and these bands shall care for its
members. You must seek out all good things and instruct one another, and
those who do good things will see the place where the Maker of all
things lives when their breath goes out of their body”.
V.
BOYS WHO DEFIED MAGIC AND OVERCAME IT
9. ORIGIN OF FOLK STORIES.
There was once a boy who had no home. His parents were dead and his
uncles would not care for him. In order to live this boy, whose name was
Gaqka, or Crow, made a bower of branches for an abiding place and hunted
birds and squirrels for food.
He had almost no clothing but was very ragged and dirty. When the people
from the village saw him they called him Filth-Covered-One, and laughed
as they passed by, holding their noses. No one thought he would ever
amount to anything, which made him feel heavy-hearted. He resolved to go
away from his tormentors and become a great hunter.
One night Gaqka found a canoe. He had never seen this canoe before, so
he took it. Stepping in he grasped the paddle, when the canoe
immediately shot into the air, and he paddled above the clouds and under
the moon. For a long time he went always southward. Finally the canoe
dropped into a river and then Gaqka paddled for shore.
On the other side of the river was a great cliff that had a face that
looked like a man. It was at the forks of the river where this cliff
stood. The boy resolved to make his home on the top of the cliff and so
climbed it and built a bark cabin.
The first night he sat on the edge of the cliff he heard a voice saying,
“Give me some tobacco.” Looking around the boy, seeing no one, replied,
“Why should I give tobacco?”
There was no answer and the boy began to fix his arrows for the next
day’s hunt. After a while the voice spoke again, “Give me some tobacco.”
Gaqka now took out some tobacco and threw it over the cliff. The voice
spoke again: “Now I will tell you a story.”
Feeling greatly awed the boy listened to a story that seemed to come
directly out of the rock upon which he was sitting. Finally the voice
paused, for the story had ended. Then it spoke again saying, “It shall
be the custom hereafter to present me with a small gift for my stories.”
So the boy gave the rock a few bone beads. Then the rock said,
“Hereafter when I speak, announcing that I shall tell a story you must
say, ‘Nio,’ and as I speak you must say ‘Hĕ^n‘´,’ that I may know that
you are listening. You must never fall asleep but continue to listen
until I say ‘Dā´neho nigagā´is.’ (So thus finished is the length of my
story). Then you shall give me presents and I shall be satisfied.”
The next day the boy hunted and killed a great many birds. These he made
into soup and roasts. He skinned the birds and saved the skins, keeping
them in a bag.
That evening the boy sat on the rock again and looked westward at the
sinking sun. He wondered if his friend would speak again. While waiting
he chipped some new arrow-points, and made them very small so that he
could use them in a blow gun. Suddenly, as he worked, he heard the voice
again. “Give me some tobacco to smoke,” it said. Gaqka threw a pinch of
tobacco over the cliff and the voice said, “Hau’nio’´,” and commenced a
story. Long into the night one wonderful tale after another flowed from
the rock, until it called out, “So thus finished is the length of my
story.” Gaqka was sorry to have the stories ended but he gave the rock
an awl made from a bird’s leg and a pinch of tobacco.
The next day the boy hunted far to the east and there found a village.
Nobody knew who he was but he soon found many friends. There were some
hunters who offered to teach him how to kill big game, and these went
with him to his own camp on the high rock. At night he allowed them to
listen to the stories that came forth from the rock, but it would speak
only when Gaqka was present. He therefore had many friends with whom to
hunt.
Now after a time Gaqka made a new suit of clothing from deer skin and
desired to obtain a decorated pouch. He, therefore, went to the village
and found one house where there were two daughters living with an old
mother. He asked that a pouch be made and the youngest daughter spoke up
and said, “It is now finished. I have been waiting for you to come for
it.” So she gave him a handsome pouch.
Then the old mother spoke, saying, “I now perceive that my future
son-in-law has passed through the door and is here.” Soon thereafter,
the younger woman brought Gaqka a basket of bread and said, “My mother
greatly desires that you should marry me.” Gaqka looked at the girl and
was satisfied, and ate the bread. The older daughter was greatly
displeased and frowned in an evil manner.