were they that at their very birth they felled to the floor two curious
men who had intruded into their mother’s lodge. They grew so rapidly
that in a few hours they had become mature men of prodigious strength
and great agility. The old woman provided them with warrior costumes and
gave them presents of bows and brought a bear and a deer for the larder.
A half starved settlement now feasted. New houses were reared, and new
canoes built by these wonderful boys and great riches came to the
family.
The mother was happy in her offspring and proud, but in the midst of her
joy she began to contrast her present fortune with the unhappy days of
her girlhood. She fell to brooding, and, as she lay upon the ground, the
roar of a monster echoed through the forest. The twins rushed to her
side exclaiming,
“Oh mother, here comes Nia-gwa-he looking like a buffalo!”
The boys stood guarding their mother as toward them rushed the huge
beast. It dashed full upon them. The boys sank to their knees, and
stabbed it on the bottom of its foot. When they arose their arms were
wrapped around the creature and in a moment it was thrown through the
air into a grove of oaks and there they buried it.
14. THE ORIGIN OF THE CHESTNUT TREE.
In a lodge that stood alone in a land of hills lived Dadjedondji with
his older brother Hawiyas. Dadjedondji busied himself each day in the
forests hunting game, catching fish, gathering fruits, berries, roots
and nuts and studying the wonders of the woods. He prepared his own
meals in the lodge and always ate them alone, for, strange to relate,
his brother steadfastly refused to eat with him or, indeed, to eat in
the presence of anyone. He never hunted or cooked, but sat all day
smoking moodily.
The boy often pondered over the strange difference between his brother
and himself and at length resolved to pretend to start on his daily
hunt, then turn back and secretly watch his bother. He did as he had
planned but failed to discover his brother, Hawiyas, eating or at any
extraordinary practice. Night came and the two boys lay side by side
with their feet toward the fire. Dadjedondji remained awake in order to
continue his watch and toward midnight heard his brother stir. In his
anxiety to spy upon him Dadjedondji sat upright and his brother seeing
him dropped back upon his couch. Dadjedondji chided himself for his
impulsiveness and when, some time later, Hawiyas asked in an undertone,
“Are you awake now?” he remained quiet and did not reply.
Later Hawiyas arose cautiously believing himself unobserved and crept to
the side of the lodge. Dadjedondji was peeping through a hole in the
skin that covered him. Hawiyas pushed aside a sheet of bark and drew
forth a small kettle and a tiny bag. From the bag he took a small nut
from which he scraped a few shavings with a flint. Casting them into the
kettle he poured in a quantity of water and shaking the kettle placed it
over the fire. The water soon began to heat, and as it did so, the
kettle increased in size until a pudding was cooked, when he dipped it
out, cleaned the kettle, shook it and stored it away with the bag. Then
he began to eat greedily, and, having satisfied his hunger, lay down and
slumbered again.
The next night Dadjedondji concluded to try the experiment and while his
brother slept crept to the hiding place, found the kettle and bag, and
did exactly as his brother had done. He ate the pudding and found it
most delicious. Wishing more, he threw the entire contents of the bag
into the kettle and set it on to boil again. It was not long before the
kettle began to expand so much so that it filled half the house.
Moreover the pudding began to boil over in enormous quantities.
With a cry of dismay the brother awoke.
“Oh what have you done?” cried he, “Oh! I am dead, you have killed your
own brother. Oh!”
“What troubles you, brother?” asked Dadjedondji as he skipped out from
the lodge, “You do not look very much like a dead man.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the brother, “you have used all my food. It is all I eat
and can eat. No one can obtain more of its kind for it is far away and
charmed, so you have killed me!”
Scarcely had he spoken when the walls bulged and the building collapsed.
“Oh, do not worry brother,” said Dadjedondji, “there is more where this
grew.”
“Ah yes, but no man can get it, use what magic he may.”
The brother raved throughout the remainder of the night but Dadjedondji
slept unmoved.
When the morning came Dadjedondji sprang from the ground and expressed
his surprise at his brother’s sober countenance. “Tell me the full
history of your magical food,” he commanded.
Moodily the brother answered, “To the east is a great gap in the earth.
Beyond it is a monstrous serpent whose poisonous breath kills all that
comes where it blows. Should a man by chance, escape him, beyond are two
panthers. Should some cunning magician creep by unobserved, beyond, high
in the tree that bears the wonderful nuts, is a witch whose very look
makes men fall apart, and her six sisters devour their meat. So boast
not my brother, you cannot reach the tree. Know only this,—you have
killed your brother.”
Dadjedondji thought about it and said to himself, “All these things are
strange. They are not right, neither are they in according with the ways
I know about, and, therefore, I can conquer all these obstacles.”
Boldly he set out with his face toward the rising sun. After a day’s
journey he came to a chasm that extended far beyond the eye’s reach.
“This is not right,” thought the boy, so whittling a doll from a soft
chunk of decayed log, he threw it across the chasm and followed it with
a running jump. He landed safely on the other side and immediately
resumed his journey. For a time he hurried onward and then nearly rushed
into the yawning jaws of a big snake that leaped from a hidden cavern.
“Oh, get out of my way,” said Dadjedondji flinging a wooden doll into
its mouth.
Presently from a thicket appeared two panthers. Dadjedondji drew two
more dolls from his pouch and cast one into the mouth of each beast.
Then, without looking behind hurried onward again. A song came floating
through the air and following the direction Dadjedondji came to a large
branching tree. In its topmost branches hung the singer,—a flayed human
skin,—but her charm song had no effect upon the boy for he said, “It is
all wrong and I am right, therefore evil cannot befall me.”
The skin-woman lifted her voice and sang with increased vigor, “An
intruder comes to our clearing.”
“Come down here,” called Dadjedondji, “I have a present for you,
gaswe’´da, wampum. Promise you will be kind.”
The skin-woman seeing the handsome purple quills descended and accepted
the gift with many grimaces and then drew back into the tree.
Now wampum is the emblem of truth and the skin-woman was entirely
controlled by evil. Holding the beautiful necklace in her hand she sang,
“I have been bribed by a present of wampum not to tell of a stranger’s
approach.”
While she sang she threw the beads over her head and around her neck and
the beads grew tight and choked her into silence.
Out rushed the six sisters that had been called ravenous cannibals, but
their shouts were not those of anger or of gluttons, but glad cries of
joy. Coming up to Dadjedondji they saluted him and with extravagant
flattery thanked him for coming to rescue them from their evil sister.
They gave him a great bag of brown nuts and sent him back on his
journey. The great witch had now no food and perished.
On his return the panthers angry at the deception he had practiced on
them, pounced from the bushes.
“Go away, you are not doing right. I never heard of panthers acting as
you are. Are you not ashamed? Go now and never dare trouble men again!
You are now free!”
The panthers, surprised at their intended victim’s words, rushed off in
fright. Dadjedondji continued his journey and rebuked the serpent and
sent it wriggling to the nearest lake. Then he addressed the chasm.
“Oh, Earth, why are you rent? This is not the way of doing things. I
have never seen such fissures in my life before. Close up once again and
let men enjoy themselves!” And the earth closed with a loud crash.
Walking safely across the solid earth where once the breach had been, he
persevered until he reached the ruins of his home. His brother was
sitting mournfully on a log still lamenting, but Dadjedondji bade him
cheer up, and showed him the large bag of nuts. He gave him enough for
several meals and then sent him on to the lodge of the six sisters where
he could find a good wife to cook for him. Then he went upon the side
hills and scattered the nuts over the ground and in time beautiful trees
grew and now all the world has chestnuts. When they were confined to one
tree they were magical but now their powers have gone and they neither
spread nor burst kettles.
GENERAL NOTES.—There are a number of stories similar to this. In
some the hero is a nephew living with his uncle. The adventures of
the hero in overcoming the magic beasts that guard the paths to the
chestnut tree are various and recited in greater or less detail. In
some stories the youth pacifies the hunger of the monsters by
flinging chipmunks at them which increase in size and afford them a
full meal. In one version the last guard of the tree is the skin of
the boy’s sister, dried and hanging over the path. The skin is alive
but held by sorcery as the slave of the wicked witch sisters. When
the hero presents the wampum to her she sings out: “I cannot tell
you now that a stranger is about to assail us, for he has stopped my
mouth with wampum.” The six sisters thereupon rush forth and finding
no enemy beat the skin and tell it to tell the truth hereafter and
not give false alarms. In similar stories the hero projects himself
into the body of one of the witches, as is done in the story of the
magic arrow and the quilt of men’s eyes. He is then born and cries
incessantly for power over the tree and the witch, yielding, he
becomes master of the chestnuts. He is also the deliverer of the
dried skin which he conjures back to its normal self, when he finds
it to be his own sister. The mole is the hero’s dream animal and it
aids him to perform his deeds of magic.
15. DIVIDED BODY RESCUES A GIRL FROM A WIZARD’S ISLAND.
A brother and younger sister dwelt in a lodge together. The sister
cooked the meals and the brother did the hunting. The brother, whose
name was Crow, never allowed his sister to leave the lodge. “Oh my
sister,” he would say, “Do not even venture to the spring.” When the
young man went on a hunting trip he would set his dog as guard over his
sister and caution him to prevent her from leaving the lodge.
On a certain morning the girl began to debate with herself the reasons
why she should be kept within the lodge. Soon she decided that it was
wrong to keep her from seeing the world outside. So she pushed aside the
curtain, exclaiming, “Now I shall see!” Being thirsty she had taken a
bark water vessel and made ready to dip water from the spring. As she
sank her bowl beneath the surface of the water something grabbed her by
the hair and whisked her through the air. She did not know where she was
going but when she again felt the ground beneath her feet she looked
about and saw that she was on an island in a large lake. Soon an old man
came to her and said, “This is where you are going to stay,” at the same
time pointing to a great lodge.
All about the lodge were human bones from which the flesh had been
gnawed, and the place was most filthy. The girl then knew that she had
been abducted by a cannibal wizard, Oñgwe Iās. She knew that there was
no easy way of escape but she resolved not to give up hope. Each morning
Oñgwe Iās would come to the lodge with human flesh which he would demand
that she prepare as food for him. Then he would demand that she bring
him water from the spring, carrying it in a bark container that hung on
the center pole of the lodge.
One morning while she was at the spring she saw a young man standing
before her. He looked very pleasant and soon spoke to her. “Oñgwe Iās
has not been successful today,” he said. “Tomorrow morning when he asks
you to bring him water he will hit you with his club, seeking to kill
you. Be ready and when you reach for the bowl jump around behind the
post and Oñgwe Iās will hit the pole and break his arm. Then run to the
spring here and I will give you assistance. My name is Sgagedi, the
Other Side.”
The next morning Oñgwe Iās was very ferocious and roared at the girl,
ordering her to bring him water from the spring. Cautiously she reached
up for the water bowl and then slipped around the pole. With a crash a
great club swung against the spot where the girl had been but in a
moment she had fled from the lodge, while the monster was bellowing with
the pain of a broken arm.
Quickly the girl reached the spring where she found the young man
looking very pleasant. “Be ready now,” he called. “My canoe is on the
shore.”
She stepped into the canoe and sat in the center while Sgagedi with a
jerk shoved it from the beach, throwing one half of his body to the bow
of the canoe and leaving one half at the stern. He paddled from both
ends and went very rapidly.
Oñgwe Iās soon restored his broken arm and began to sing a charm song,
calling upon the winds to blow the canoe back to him. A strong wind
began to blow and presently the canoe was swept back to the island,
where Oñgwe Iās was waiting on shore. It seemed as though they were
doomed but just as they were about to ground, Sgagedi threw tobacco on
the water and called upon the wind to blow the other way, which it did.
Sgagedi now did not cease to paddle but kept up his effort until the
canoe was safe on the opposite shore.
With a great bump the canoe struck the beach, sliding up onto the sand.
As it did so the body of Sgagedi came together with a snap and he became
reunited.
From the beach, inland there was a path, and by this the couple ran on
into the forest. Presently the path divided and as it did so Sgagedi’s
body was cloven and each half ran on, the girl following the left side.
The path reunited and so did the body of the man. Still the two ran on
until they saw an elderly woman on the path ahead. She approached and
took the girl into a lodge. “I am glad you came,” she said. “I have been
waiting for you to become my daughter-in-law.”
After a while the young woman and Sgagedi were married, but the bride
could not be happy for she continually was saying, “Oh where is my
brother?”
Now when the brother returned to his lodge and found his sister gone he
had scolded the dog and forced it to tell what had happened. “I tried to
grasp the sister as the monster seized her,” he asserted, but the
brother called him an unfaithful friend, whereupon the dog turned into a
smooth stone. The brother grieved the loss of his sister and sat with
his head down before the ashes of his lodge fire.
In due season the sister bore two sons who were twins, and they quickly
grew to be large boys. Every day they would run down to the shore to see
their father scouring the lake after witches and monsters, seeking to
slay them. At last they, too, wished to explore the lake and so took a
canoe and paddled across it to the opposite shore. “Now we will search
for our uncle, for whom our mother continually cries,” said they to one
another.
They noticed an old streak in the sky and followed it far inland until
they came to a clearing overgrown with bushes. Looking carefully into
this opening, one twin said to the other, “A bark lodge appears to have
fallen down here.” So they went forward and examined the ruined lodge
and in pulling aside the bark and poles they felt a body and it was
breathing. They pulled it out of the rubbish and found it to be a man.
They brushed him off and restored him to his wonted self. Then one said,
“This appears to be our uncle.”
“I am your uncle,” said the old man. “My dog is a stone. Oh, will you
restore my dog to life!” So the twins restored the dog and then all went
back to the lake and entered the canoe.
By rapid paddling they reached home that day and when the sister saw her
brother she knew him and was very glad.
16. THE ORIGIN OF THE BUFFALO SOCIETY.
A youth who had wandered out into the plains of the West in search of
game, lost the trail, and though he searched with all diligence he was
unable to find it again. Throwing himself upon the ground he brooded
over his ill fortune and longed with all the intenseness of his soul
that he might be again back in his native village.
It was sunset and in the gloaming the youth saw a company of people
gathered about a fire, evidently in earnest council. Cautiously he
advanced, hoping to learn who the people were. For several minutes he
lay concealed in the tall rank grass and creeping nearer was surprised
to learn that it was he, himself, who formed the subject of the
discussion. Much greater was his amazement when an old lady arose, and
walking directly to his hiding place lifted him to his feet and said,
“Come, I have adopted you.”
“Oh is that it!” exclaimed the boy in disappointment, “I was hoping you
would guide me home.”
“No, not yet,” said the old lady, “you must learn first.”
Marveling at her words, the youth followed the old woman to her lodge
and dwelt there.
It seemed strange to him that the people of the village never hunted but
traveled together in bands over the prairies. He wondered at the shaggy
heads of the men and their dark hairy leggings. He seemed as in a dream
and yet all he saw and did seemed real. He learned much of the wondrous
tribe with which his lot had been cast, and as the months went by he
learned more and more. Often he danced in the ceremonies of the tribe,
often he sang and often he made medicine in the council lodges on the
prairies until he knew almost everything that a tribesman knew. Although
his sojourn was one full of incidents and adventures he never ceased to
mourn for his own home and people and often plead to be shown the trail,
but his foster mother would only say, “No, not yet, for you have not
learned all.” What this meant he did not know and pined as before for
home.
One night he was awakened by the far-away sound of a drum. Its slow dull
note made the youth more melancholy than before. His heart seemed to
stop in its natural course and beat slow to the tap of the drum. Greatly
depressed, he crept to the bedside of his foster mother and pleaded for
a guide to his home trail.
“No not yet, my son,” said the old woman, “but perhaps very soon. Listen
to the sound of that far distant drum. Now let me tell you that which
you have not known. Far away to the west beneath a great hill lives the
great chief of all buffaloes and an evil chief is he. When he drums it
is a sign he wishes all to gather around his mound for he is anxious for
a race. He has an evil plan. Being a mighty runner he often calls us to
his lodge and he whom the chief selects must race until death strikes
away his life from the unequal chase. The terrible race continues until
the evil chief has satisfied his insane fancy and dismissed the
assembled throngs. Soon you will hear the chief sing and when he does
all of us must answer his call by starting immediately on the journey.”
“How is it that a buffalo is your chief?” asked the youth.
“Because we are all buffaloes,” was the answer.
The youth bit his lip and felt much chagrined to think he had not known
this before. Surely he had had sufficient evidence.
Supplementing the note of the drum came a song. Simultaneously there was
a great stamping. Everyone was rushing at a furious pace in the
direction of the song. The youth ran with his mother. For ten days and
ten nights the wild rush continued, ever led on by the song.
On the evening of the tenth day the rushing multitude reached the hill
from whence the song issued and rested.
That night the old lady came to the youth and said: “This has been a
terrible rush and many have died from exhaustion, many from wounds and
many have been trampled to death. Many children have been left behind to
die. Oh that this may be the last mad stampede! Now listen, he will
challenge you to a race. Do not fear, but take this medicine and when he
calls you, race him to death. Shoot him in the red spot on his hand.
When you awake tomorrow I will give you a bow and arrow.”
The youth awoke late the next morning and to his amazement saw a great
herd of buffaloes gathered around the hill. From the summit of the hill
came a great roar. It was the chief buffalo speaking.
“There is a human boy among us,” it said, “I command him to race me.”
Trembling, the youth walked toward the hill and as he did so a shaggy
buffalo came sauntering slowly up to him. On her neck was a bow and
arrow.
“I am your mother,” said the buffalo. “Remember if you run swiftly you
may overcome the evil chief. Remember his body is, under the skin,
covered with a bony plate. His ribs have all grown together so that no
arrow can pierce to his heart. No matter what is said, shoot only at the
spot on his hand, for as a human he runs.”
“Come boy, it is time to run,” roared the buffalo chief.
Around the great hill-like mound stretched two circles of animals.
Between them was a path over which the contestants must run. The buffalo
chief started the race by shouting, “Catch me or at sunset I will
trample you to the dust.”
Undaunted, the boy leapt to the course and ran his best. Toward noon the
chief, surprised at the endurance of his intended victim, yet believing
himself safe, sat down for rest, but the youth strode faster the longer
he ran and doubly fast when the buffalo lagged.
Springing toward the chief the youth shouted, “I’ll catch you, yow!
yow!”
Up leaped the buffalo and panting, ran around the course at the top of
his speed. Close behind him was the youth, disconcerting him with his
cries of derision, and his calls of “Yow! Yow!” Calling up all his
energy the buffalo sprinted ahead and sat down for rest, but hardly had
he touched the grass when the youth with his aggravating “Yow Yow!” sped
toward him shouting, “I’ll catch you soon. You have not seen me run
yet.” So, fearing defeat, the buffalo chief ran as fast as his magic
could send him but to his intense annoyance the boy stuck close to his
heels.
The sun was sinking low and as it sank large and red to the level of the
western prairie the buffalo chief fell with a groan and moaned. “Oh I am
worsted, I am disgraced! Shoot me, boy, shoot me, your one arrow will
transfix my heart, oh I am beaten!” The crafty beast was endeavoring to
deceive the boy but the human boy saw through the beast’s subtilty.
“Arise!” commanded the boy, “I am ready to shoot you!”
“Oh my heart,” moaned the defeated chief as he arose.
“Throw up your hands!” and quicker than thought the boy sent an arrow
speeding into the red spot on his hand.
A great shout rent the air. The buffalo chief had fallen, had perished.
The glad cry of the assembled herds floated far over the plains and
rumbled like the echoing voice of the thunder gods. Long did the
stamping herds roar their shout of thanksgiving and afterward heaped
upon him honor and praise and called him their deliverer. They promised
him all the power that the race of the buffaloes could bestow.
“When you wish health and fortune, when you wish a balm for fear and a
panacea for trouble, and a cure for disease burn tobacco and call upon
the spirits of the buffalo,” was the instruction of the new chief who
was chosen.
The throngs of animals dispersed in bands, each led to its range by its
chief.
The youth accompanied the old woman back to her lodge ten days journey
away and listened attentively when she imparted to him all the secrets
the buffaloes knew.
“You know our dances, our songs and our mysteries. Preserve these things
forever in a society of human creatures,” said the buffalo woman. “Now
you may go to your home among the man animals. Now I bid you adieu, my
son, I am sorry you must go. A guide will lead you to the trail.”
The youth bade the people farewell and last of all his good foster
mother and followed the guide to the trail that lead to the land of the
human.
After many days the youth came to a village of his people and calling a
council told his adventures. To all but the old folk he was a stranger,
but when he made friends he selected a company and to them he imparted
the secret of the buffaloes.
Thus originated the Society of Buffaloes, which today exists as a power
among the Seneca.
17. THE BOY WHO COULD NOT UNDERSTAND.
A STUDY IN SENECA IDIOMS. RELATED BY EDWARD CORNPLANTER, 1906.