house. Cautiously approaching it he found an old man inside; though at
first he thought it was a wolf. The old man was very hungry and so Two
Feathers gave him meat to eat. “I have been looking for you a long
time,” said the old man. “You have been merciful to me and I am going to
give you my arrow. It does not look like a good arrow, but most truly it
has great power.” So saying he drew forth from a bundle in which he kept
many kinds of war charms, an arrow and handed it to Two Feathers. Two
Feathers was glad and leaving the old man some dried meat, departed.
After a while he came to another village across a river where he slept
overnight. He noticed two girls, one older and one younger, named
Drooping Flower. He looked at the younger girl and she looked at him,
and something went out of his eyes into her eyes, and something went out
of her eyes into his. He said to himself, “That’s the one.” One of the
villagers saw this and told Two Feathers that he was now under the spell
of a very evil witch, the mother of the girl.
After a time Two Feathers saw the girl again and said to her, “I am
coming for you by and by.” Then he went home to his uncle who all this
time had been living on woodchuck meat, because he was an unskillful
hunter. The old man was angry at Two Feathers for his long absence, and
upbraided him.
After a time a runner came to the village near which Two Feathers and
his uncle dwelt. He called the people together and told them that all
the people in the valley across the river were starving. Hunters had
been unable to secure game and the corn harvest had failed.
Now Woodchuck Leggings thought this a good time to find a wife, who
weakened with famine, he could overcome and drag back to his lodge. Two
Feathers thought about the young girl whose eyes’ light had gone into
his own. He thus prepared to take the trail along a creek having rapids
and falls, and to go by a short but difficult route. Off he went in
great haste, taking all his bundles and charms with him. Woodchuck
Leggings noticed this and was angry for he had resolved to steal them
when he had an opportunity. He now resolved to follow his nephew and
slay him if he could.
When Two Feathers reached the valley village he found the people
starving. Drooping Flower was too weak to stand up. Two Feathers now
asked all the women who could to gather about their doorways and play
the plum-stone game and to sing:
“Ganio daweeni, the game is coming.”
He then went into the woods at the edge of the clearing and sang a magic
song, at the same time taking out four arrows which had lain close to
the arrow the old man had given him.
One by one he shot the arrows into the air, each in a different
direction, at the same time calling, “Bring me meat from different
animals.”
Returning to the lodge of Drooping Flower he sat in the doorway and
waited. Soon high overhead he heard a song. The people rushed out of
doors and listened, and sure enough, there was a song in the air. The
words were: “The wild animals are coming.” In a moment the song had
reached the ground and four animals came running to the doorway where
Two Feathers sat waiting. Each animal had an arrow sticking in its
heart. On they came to the lodge and then dropped dead at Two Feathers’
feet. There was a deer, a moose, an elk and a bear.
The starving village then had food and Drooping Flower recovered. Then a
council was called and all the people sat around to see Two Feathers,
who sat in the middle of the hall on a bench. He took from his pouch his
bear-bowled pipe and put a pinch of tobacco into it.
“My friends and cousins,” he said. “I must have an ember for my pipe.
How shall I get it? Ho yo ho! Fly birds, fly!” As he spoke the
chipping-birds on his hat began to flutter and then to fly. They flew to
the fire and took coals from it which they placed in his pipe, after
which the birds sat on his hat. Oh the fragrance of the smoke was
pleasing, and the bear on the bowl rolled its eyes and chewed the
tobacco. “Oh you like my tobacco?” asked Two Feathers. “So does my
pouch. Dance pouch, dance!” What was happening? The spotted pouch
detached itself from his belt and scampered over the floor a living
fawn. Then he called it back to its strap.
“It is now getting late,” observed Two Feathers. “Now bring me a good
deer-skin, well tanned. I will give all of you good presents.” Drooping
Flower brought a skin and placed it before him. He began, then, to make
a noise like “_tsŭt, tsŭt, tsŭt_.” Opening his mouth wide he blew out a
great stream of wampum beads. Immediately there was a scramble for the
beads and nearly everybody grabbed a handful.
As Two Feathers left the house he saw the jealous, blazing eyes of his
uncle, Woodchuck Leggings. The old man had never dreamed that his nephew
had powers like these. He then began to spread mischief by saying that
Two Feathers was an evil sorcerer and that he would soon become Oñgwe
Iās and eat up everybody.
Now Drooping Flower’s mother was a witch and hated anybody with power.
So she called Woodchuck Leggings and talked to him. He told her how to
proceed to overcome Two Feathers.
That night Two Feathers and Woodchuck Leggings slept on one side of the
witch’s lodge. Midnight came and the old woman began to have a bad
dream. She began to throw fire upon Two Feathers but the chipping-birds
chirped so loudly they awakened him, and he saw the old woman on her
knees at the fire grunting, as if in a dream, “ĕ^n‘´, ĕ^n‘´, ĕ^n‘´!”
Leaping up he hit her with a corn pounder, exclaiming, “What is it, my
aunt?” Pretending to awaken she answered, “It is now finished. I have
had a dream and must be satisfied. Oh I must have the antlers of two
large buck elk that live in a cold lake. I must have them by morning or
direful things will happen.”
Two Feathers immediately set out to satisfy the old woman’s dream
demand. Now no one had ever seen these elk, which were known by their
splashing only, and all persons who went into the lake were devoured by
the horned serpent. Two Feathers jumped into the water saying, “I know
that I can do this thing.” Long he swam into the darkness, for there was
no starlight or moon. After a time he heard splashing and a noise like
heavy breathing. Taking his arrow from an oiled skin bag he spoke to it
and then shot. There was a great flash of light in the sky and the
mysterious lake elk were revealed. The arrow had pierced both of them.
Mounting one of the elks he ordered them to swim ashore. “What do you
want?” they asked when they stood upon the homeward beach. “I want your
horns,” he answered. “Oh that is all right, nephew,” they said and shed
their antlers. “I am sorry I had to kill you, but the woman desired it
in satisfaction of a dream.” The elks spoke again, “The woman has
deceived you.” Then they disappeared.
The gift of the great antlers only increased the old woman’s anger and
the next night she dreamed that she must have the pelts of the
wampum-coated deer. They had no hair but curled shells on their skins.
If they saw anyone they would trample them to death. So then, Two
Feathers set forth to catch the wampum deer. He made a sweat house by
the lick where the deer came in the night. He threw tobacco all around
it and then waited. Soon two does came and Two Feathers shot his magic
arrow, killing both. Then he lighted his pipe and began to sing.
Instantly a great drove of bucks came rushing to the sweat lodge but
they could not touch it, so powerful was the magic of Two Feathers.
After a while he heard them stamping away and he arose and went out and
skinned the deer.
The beautiful pelts covered with shells only made the old woman more
angry, as Two Feathers presented them at daybreak. She screeched and
scolded and called him an evil sorcerer. But the next night she again
asked satisfaction of a dream.
On this occasion she demanded that Two Feathers go to a hot lake and
bring back two white beavers, reputed to be of great magical potency.
“Oh that is very easy, my aunt,” answered Two Feathers, “I will bring
them at daylight.” Setting forth he reached the lake and taking out his
arrow spoke to it. “Speed on and find the game that I desire,” he
commanded.
The arrow sped forth and soon it struck a beaver which came swimming
toward him, bringing another with it on a wave. This he struck with a
small white stone and both were dead. Taking them to the old woman’s
lodge he threw them at her feet. “You may have the meat,” he said, “but
I will keep the skins.” This made the old woman angry for the beavers
were her brothers. So then again she dreamed and commanded him to
satisfy her by dangerous tasks, but his magic power always won. At
length, dispairing of causing him harm in this manner, the mother
announced that her right mind had returned. She resolved upon a new
plan, and became very kind to Two Feathers. When Two Feathers found that
the mother was no longer the oracle of the spirits he started home where
he might provide for his own father and mother.
The Do´ciowe^n‘ people listened with great sorrow to Two Feathers’ story
of the distressed tribesmen of Ganun dasēy and rejoiced when he told
them how his luck had delivered them. But he was restless and could not
bear separation from Drooping Flower, thus he announced that he was
going again to the Valley of the Pleasant River to get a wife.
Woodchuck Leggings had seen Drooping Flower and he wanted her, and
hearing that his nephew was to visit her, resolved to accompany him,
kill him on the journey, put on his clothing, gain the magic articles,
and then steal Drooping Flower. The mother of the girl had given
Woodchuck Leggings a death charm and he made up his mind to use it upon
his nephew. Moreover the woman asked him to do so.
“May I go with you?” he asked Two Feathers, when he saw his nephew
ready.
“No, Uncle,” was the reply.
“But I am going nevertheless!”
“Then not with me,—never!” was Two Feathers’ answer.
Two Feathers set out the next morning and when he had traveled three
days he met Woodchuck Leggings, who had a day’s start on the journey. He
saw him sitting on a stump with his back toward the trail.
“Niawĕ’´skäno’!” shouted Two Feathers.
“Dogĕ‘s!” was the startled reply.
“How came you here, Uncle?”
“I am on my journey.”
“Then if it is your journey you must not expect to go with me, for I
will not allow it.” Two Feathers ran on ahead leaving his uncle still
sitting on the stump. When night came he set up camp and kindled a fire
for cooking a supper. As he lay down for sleeping he heard the night
birds scream and listening he heard the crackling of sticks. Lifting his
bow, he prepared for the enemy, whatever it might be. In the dim light
of the dying camp fire, he saw the shadow of a ragged old man, limping
along the trail. It was Woodchuck Leggings.
“Niawĕ’´skäno’´, Uncle!” said Two Feathers in greeting.
“Doge‘s! Agī! dodŭs‘ha ä‘kwa!” “(Truly, O give me to eat)!” gasped the
hungry uncle.
Two Feathers spoke to his arrows, shot into the tree tops and a large
turkey fell to the ground at the feet of the uncle, who was too
frightened to move.
“Pull the arrow out and cook the bird,” commanded the nephew. But his
uncle was too frightened, for the arrow was magic. (Beyond this, it was
not right to touch the arrows of another hunter when they were sticking
in dead game.) Woodchuck Leggings was too exhausted to prepare his own
meal and fell to the earth from weakness. So the faithful and
unsuspicious nephew roasted the bird and shaking the dozing man
exclaimed, “Sĕdekonĭ (Come eat)!”
So he devoured the bird and ate his fill of parched corn and maple
sugar. He begged that his nephew should not turn him away in the
darkness, for he was afraid of the flying heads. He pleaded for a little
space on one side of the fire by his nephew’s side. Two Feathers did not
relish the idea but pitied the old coward, and gave him a place in which
to sleep.
The crafty old scoundrel watched his opportunity. When Two Feathers was
fast asleep, he made his way, stealthily to the other side of the fire
and drew from his shirt a long sharp point of hickory bark. It was the
death charm. Two Feathers was lying on his side. Kneeling at his back he
lifted the bark high above his head and brought it down with all his
strength, plunging it into the back of his victim just between the
shoulders. Removing his own dirty garments, Woodchuck Leggings replaced
them with the beautiful white clothes of Two Feathers. He felt for the
magic pipe and pouch and found both safe, but he had forgotten the magic
arrow in his haste.
In the morning he continued his journey and at sunset came to the
village. A scout noted his arrival and cried, “Here comes Two Feathers!”
As false Two Feathers passed by the fires between the lodges, the people
noticed with wonder that the beautiful white deer skin clothing had
become soiled and torn. The tobacco pouch had caught in a bush and half
the quill work had been ripped off.
He entered Drooping Flower’s lodge. “Come, we can get married now,” he
said.
Drooping Flower did not need to look at him a second time. “You are not
real Two Feathers,” she exclaimed. “Where is Two Feathers?”
“I am he!”
“Sonohweh! You are a liar!”
“We shall see,” answered the pretender.
The next day he called a council and when all had taken their seats he
strode through the door with great pomp and took his position on the
singer’s bench. Grasping a rattle he began to sing, but his voice was
cracked. He stopped suddenly, as he caught the gaze of the men. “I have
a cold, brothers,” he apologized. “But now I will smoke, and the
sweetness of my tobacco will please you; but where shall I get my
fire,—Ho, ho! Fly little birds!” But his commands were in vain and he
was compelled to get his own light. “My birds are bashful,” he
explained. He lighted his pipe and began to blow the smoke into the air.
The foul fumes filled the lodge and nearly stifled the people. Women
held their breaths or breathed through their shawls; the men coughed and
the babies cried. “My tobacco is damp tonight,” he said, “but you shall
see my pouch dance for me,—dance pouch, dance!” The pouch clung to his
side limper than ever. In spite of his commands and threats it would not
move a finger’s breadth. “My pouch,” he explained, “is bashful and now
as I am tired, if Drooping Flower will bring me a skin I will speak out
wampum.” Drooping Flower refused to obey and whispered, “He is a liar!”
Drooping Flower’s older sister, Wīäso^n’, took pity on the unsuccessful
conjurer, and hoping to win a man, took down a skin from the wall behind
her and placed it on the singer’s bench.
“Now since all my things are bashful, I will pay you for the trouble in
coming here, see—I blow out wampum when I breathe!” Sure enough, from
his mouth flew a quantity of small white cylinders. The people bent over
to pick up the valued wampum beads, but were again disappointed, for
instead of wampum were clusters of loathly worms. With a shamed face
Wīäso^n’ returned the skin to the peg and the council was dismissed by
the head sachem.
False Two Feathers felt that he must do something to redeem himself, so
going to the woods the next morning he shot all his arrows and called
for game, but failing to get any, in desperation clubbed two woodchucks
to death and brought them back. No one would touch them.
The people looked at him as one who had lost power by displeasing his
own charms and paid more attention to him. No one would now associate
with him save Wīäso^n’ who asked him to marry her, and he did.
Two Feathers awoke after several days unconsciousness and found a great
herd of forest animals about him.
“Our brother, you have been sick,” said the wolf, the spokesman. “You
were stabbed by Woodchuck Leggings as you were sleeping. But as you were
kind, so we are not ungrateful and our blood has kept you nourished
while you slept. The animal spirits are crafty and know their friends
and foes. You are about to undergo misfortune but do not faint,—keep up
courage and listen to what we tell you.”
Two Feathers was weak and dizzy, and it took him a long time to reach
the Valley village. Painfully he crept along the sunken trail until he
reached a corn field where he heard women singing as they cut the
blighted corn stalks. He called, and Drooping Flower hearing his voice,
found him wounded and exhausted. She stooped down and he whispered
something in her ear. The crowd of women was now about him. “Where is
Woodchuck Leggings?” he inquired. “You are Woodchuck Leggings; don’t you
know yourself?” cried all women. Two Feathers said no more.
For nearly a year Two Feathers lived in an old bark house which hardly
sheltered him from the snow or kept away the springtime rain. He looked
like, and was, a sickly old man. Every one knew him by his cough and
pitied him.
In those days there was a great white eagle, a magic bird. The people of
the village had erected two high poles with cross-pieces, upon which the
eagle was wont to alight as it passed over the settlement.
The mother of Drooping Flower worried because her daughter would not
take a husband and asked her why she would not marry. To such inquiries
the girl replied, “I shall never marry until the white eagle shall be
shot. The man who sends an arrow through him shall be my husband!” These
words pleased the mother and she told everybody about it and gave it out
in council.
A day for the tournament was set and when it came a hundred young men
from the entire nation gathered on the council grounds, eagerly awaiting
the signal. The great white eagle, with whistling wings, flew from pole
to pole, pausing now and then to give a scream. The signal was given,
and a hundred arrows struck its feathers, broke, and fell to the earth
below. Through all the day the contesting warriors shot their arrows
upon the magic eagle, but he shook them off like snow flakes and mocked
their efforts by his screaming.
Two Feathers, dressed in the tattered skins of Woodchuck Leggings,
watched the flight of arrows from his doorway. The young men laughed at
him and asked him if he were going to try his skill, but to no one would
he reply. At length when no one was watching, the ugly, lame, coughing
old man made his way to a corner of the council grounds. He had no bow,
but in his hand he carried an arrow. Drooping Flower’s mother saw him,
and recognized who he was, but kept her secret. She looked him in the
eyes and contemptuously exclaimed “Chisna!” While she was still looking
this despised old man made a pantomime motion as if grasping a bow,
pulled his arrow and let fly. He hobbled back to his lodge, coughing
violently.
There was a great shout followed by an excited hum of voices. “It was my
arrow—no mine—liars, it was my arrow—wrong, I know my arrow by the
painted shaft—mine—mine—no mine—my arrow, I know it by the red quill!”
The din grew louder and wilder. Blows were exchanged and some struck
with clubs. The older men rushed out and surrounded the excited throng
and said they would shoot them with their arrows and commanded the riot
to cease. When quiet had been restored the old sachem cried out, “That
man killed the bird who can draw the arrow out!”
Man after man tried very hard but all failed. False Two Feathers made
his boast and kneeling, prepared to pull it. He faltered;—his eyes
filled with water. It was the same arrow that had killed the turkey for
his supper on the night when he had plunged the death charm into Two
Feathers! He arose and went to his house. “The eagle is shot,” said he
to his wife. “No one can draw the arrow out.”
There was a great discussion and every one was asked for his opinion,
but no one had any idea who the marksman was, save the mother of
Drooping Flower, and Woodchuck Leggings. Then a stranger who had not
hitherto ventured to speak, stepped upon a stump and shouted, “You have
not asked the old man with a cough!” The people laughed at the
stranger’s suggestion and watched him curiously as he ran to the abode
of Two Feathers. The stranger grasped Two Feathers by the hand, by both
hands, and whispered in his ear. The stranger was the wolf whom he had
befriended in the lonely cabin.
Two Feathers limped to the slain bird and all the people shouted
“Hōa‘ho’´! Old-Bones-with-a-cough is going to try, yo-a-hoh!”
“Old Bones-with-a-cough” touched the arrow, it clung to his finger and
followed his hand into the air. All the people shouted “Whoei‘!”
The sachem took his stand and proclaimed Drooping Flower the wife of the
old man with a cough, and the mother frowned as she was compelled to
say, “Nio’!”
“A medicine man quick!” shouted Two Feathers. “Give me him whom you call
fallen Two Feathers!”
Woodchuck Leggings hurried forward, ever ready to be where there was a
chance of being looked at.
“Build a sweat lodge of fat bear skins, bring large lumps of fat and
them heat fire-stones and bring them in,” directed Two Feathers.
Woodchuck Leggings built a little dome-shaped lodge by sticking the ends
of flexible poles into the ground and bending them over, and after a
hunter had skinned a fat bear, he covered the lodge frame with the skin,
hair-side out. When the hot stones were brought in they heated the
interior to such a degree that the fat on the skins melted and ran down
in streams. After Two Feathers’ body was drenched with the oil, he asked
that his “doctor” rub him until it had been well absorbed by the skin.
He then requested the famous “medicine man” to pack a lump of fat
between his shoulders, cover it with a small skin and place a hot stone
over it. A cold one was selected. “Hotter, Uncle!” said Two Feathers,
for the first time calling him by this name. The second stone was only
slightly warmer, “Hotter yet, Uncle!” Another stone was placed on the
skin but Two Feathers still shouted, “Hotter yet, Uncle.” The next stone
was dull red and Woodchuck Leggings slapped it on with a thud. “Doge^n’s
wi’ o!” shouted Two Feathers and putting his hands to the back of his
neck he threw off the poultice. He grasped the bark which had worked
partly out. He gave it a hard pull. Woodchuck Leggings grew suspicious
and began to tremble with fear. With a loud cry Two Feathers pulled the
bark point from his neck and before the cringing man before him had time
to utter a sound, Two Feathers struck him a heavy blow over the neck.
The death charm sank into the flesh, passed between the bones in his
back and Woodchuck Leggings lay dead.
“The sick one has recovered!” shouted Two Feathers. “Every one go away
while I dress.” The wondering throng which had sat chanting about the
lodge during the ceremony, went to their lodges, curious to know what
had happened, for the voice which they had heard commanding them was one
which in itself compelled obedience and awe, and seemed to come from
neither of the men whom they had seen enter the lodge.
Two Feathers washed his body in ashes, put on his old suit which
Woodchuck Leggings had ruined, but which was restored as it touched his
body, and ran out into the council grounds. The people looked at him in
astonishment. Who could it be? The handsome man seemed like someone whom
they had known before, and yet no one ventured to say who it was.
“I shall call a council for tonight; I bring news!” shouted Two
Feathers.
Two Feathers took the speaker’s seat and addressed the people.
“Brothers! I am Two Feathers, the same who once delivered you from the
famine, by the power of my charms, I delivered you from the two grim
sisters that breathed into your faces and almost stopped your breath. So
soon have you forgotten me, but remember, I am not blaming you, for I
know the reason, and you are not to be blamed.”
“Brothers! I was stricken in the forest by the treachery of Woodchuck
Leggings, who thought that by taking my life he could take my power, but
he was mistaken, for he has taken neither. For a long time I have
suffered, alone, neglected and despised by all the people, but now that
I have recovered, he who designed my misfortune himself has met it. I
have killed him with his own charm.”
The gestures of Two Feathers, his face and his voice thrilled the people
and with one accord they shouted, “Nio’´!”