CHAPTER IV: IROQUOIS MYTHS AND LEGENDS

Iroquois Gods and Heroes

The myths of the Iroquois are of exceptional

interest because of the portraits they present

of several semi-historical heroes. The earliest

substratum of the myths of this people deals with the

adventures of their principal deity, Hi'nun, the

Thunder-god, who, with his brother, the West Wind, finally

overcame and exterminated the powerful race of Stone

Giants. Coming to a later period, we find that a

number of legends cluster round the names of the

chiefs Atotarho and Hiawatha, who in all probability

at one time really existed. These present a good

instance of the rapidity with which myth gathers round a

famous name. Atotarho, the mighty warrior, is now

regarded as the wizard _par excellence_ of the Iroquois,

but probably this does not result from the fact that

he was cunning and cruel, as some writers on the tribe

appear to think, but from the circumstance that as a

great warrior he was clothed in a garment of serpents,

and these reptiles, besides being looked upon as powerful

war-physic, also possessed a deep magical significance.

The original Hiawatha (He who seeks the Wampum-belt)

is pictured as the father of a long line of persons

of the same name, who appear to have been important

functionaries in the tribal government. To him was

ascribed the honour of having established the great

confederacy of the Iroquois, which so long rendered

them formidable opponents to the tribes which

surrounded them. Like many other heroes in myth--the

Celtic Mananan, for example--Hiawatha possessed

a magic canoe which would obey his slightest behest,

and in which he finally quitted the terrestrial sphere

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for that shadowy region to which all heroes finally take

their departure.

Hi'nun

Many interesting myths are related of the manner in

which Hi'nun destroyed the monsters and giants which

infested the early world. A hunter, caught in a heavy

thunder-shower, took refuge in the woods. Crouching

under the shelter of a great tree, he became aware

of a mysterious voice which urged him to follow it.

He was conscious of a sensation of slowly rising from

the earth, and he soon found himself gazing downward

from a point near the clouds, the height of many trees

from the ground. He was surrounded by beings who

had all the appearance of men, with one among them

who seemed to be their chief. They asked him to cast

his eyes toward the earth and tell them whether he

could see a huge water-serpent. Unable to descry

such a monster, the chief anointed his eyes with a

sacred ointment, which gave him supernatural sight

and permitted him to behold a dragon-like shape in

the watery depths far below him. The chief

commanded one of his warriors to dispatch the monster,

but arrow after arrow failed to transfix it, whereupon

the hunter was requested to display his skill as an

archer. Drawing his bow, he took careful aim. The

arrow whizzed down the depths and was speedily

lost to sight, but a terrible commotion arose in the

lake below, the body of the great serpent leaping from

the blood-stained water with dreadful writhings and

contortions. So appalling was the din that rose up

to them that even the heavenly beings by whom the

hunter was surrounded fell into a great trembling;

but gradually the tempest of sound subsided, and the

huge bulk of the mortally wounded serpent sank back

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into the lake, the surface of which became gradually

more still, until finally all was peace once more. The

chief thanked the hunter for the service he had rendered,

and he was conducted back to earth. Thus was man

first brought into contact with the beneficent Hi'nun,

and thus did he learn the existence of a power which

would protect him from forces unfriendly to humanity.

The Thunderers

Once in early Iroquois days three braves set out

upon an expedition. After they had journeyed for

some time a misfortune occurred, one of their number

breaking his leg. The others fashioned a litter with

the object of carrying him back to his home, as Indian

custom exacted. Retracing their steps, they came to a

range of high mountains, the steep slopes of which

taxed their strength to the utmost. To rest

themselves they placed the disabled man on the ground and

withdrew to a little distance.

"Why should we be thus burdened with a wounded

man?" said one to the other.

"You speak truly," was the rejoinder. "Why

should we, indeed, since his hurt has come upon him

by reason of his own carelessness?"

As they spoke their eyes met in a meaning glance,

and one of them pointed to a deep hole or pit opening

in the side of the mountain at a little distance from the

place where they were sitting. Returning to the injured

man, they raised him as if about to proceed on the

journey, and when passing the brink of the pit suddenly

hurled him into it with great force. Then without

loss of time they set their faces homeward. When they

arrived in camp they reported that their comrade had

died of wounds received in fight, but that he had not

fallen into the enemy's hands, having received careful

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attention from them in his dying moments and

honourable burial. The unfortunate man's aged mother was

prostrate with grief at the sad news, but was somewhat

relieved to think that her son had been kindly ministered

to at the end.

[Illustration: "He suddenly assumed the shape of a

gigantic porcupine"]

When the brave who had been thrown into the pit

regained his senses after the severe fall he had sustained

he perceived a man of venerable aspect bending over

him solicitously. When this person saw that the

young man had regained consciousness he asked him

what had been the intention of his comrades in so

cruelly casting him into that abyss. The young man

replied that his fellows had become tired of

carrying him and had thus rid themselves of him. The

old hermit--for so he seemed to be--made a hasty

examination of the Indian's injuries, and announced

that he would speedily cure him, on one condition.

The other pledged his word to accept this, whatever

it might be, whereupon the recluse told him that all he

required was that he should hunt for him and bring

home to him such game as he should slay. To this the

brave gave a ready assent. The old man lost no time

in performing his part of the bargain. He applied

herbs to his injuries and assiduously tended his guest,

who made a speedy and satisfactory recovery. The

grateful warrior, once more enabled to follow the

chase, brought home many trophies of his skill as a

hunter to the cave on the mountain-side, and soon the

pair had formed a strong attachment. One day, when

in the forest, the warrior encountered an enormous

bear, which he succeeded in slaying after a desperate

struggle. As he was pondering how best he could

remove it to the cave he became aware of a murmur of

voices behind him, and glancing round he saw three

men, or beings in the shape of men, clad in strange

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diaphanous garments, standing near. In reply to his

question as to what brought them there, they told him

that they were the Thunderers, or people of Hi'nun,

whose mission it was to keep the earth in good order

for the benefit of humanity, and to slay or destroy

every agency inimical to mankind. They told him that

the old man with whom he had been residing was by no

means the sort of person he seemed to think, and that

they had come to earth with the express intention of

compassing his destruction. In this they requested his

assistance, and promised him that if he would vouchsafe

it he would speedily be transported back to his mother's

lodge. Overjoyed at this proposal, the hunter did not

scruple to return to the cave and tell the hermit that

he had killed the bear, which he wished his help in

bringing home. The old man seemed very uneasy,

and begged him to examine the sky and tell him

whether he perceived the least sign of clouds. The

young brave reassured him and told him that not a

cloud was to be seen, whereupon, emerging from his

shelter, he made for the spot where the bear was

lying. Hastily picking up the carcass, he requested

his companion to place it all on his shoulders, which

the young man did, expressing surprise at his great

strength. He had proceeded with his burden for some

distance when a terrific clap of thunder burst from the

menacing black clouds which had speedily gathered

overhead. In great terror the old man threw down his

load and commenced to run with an agility which belied

his years, but when a second peal broke forth he

suddenly assumed the shape of a gigantic porcupine,

which dashed through the undergrowth, discharging

its quills like arrows as it ran. A veritable hail of

thunderbolts now crashed down upon the creature's

spiny back. As it reached the entrance to the cave

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one larger than the rest struck it with such tremendous

force that it rolled dead into its den.

Then the Thunderers swooped down from the sky

in triumph, mightily pleased at the death of their

victim. The young hunter now requested them to

discharge the promise they had made him to transport

him back to his mother's lodge; so, having fastened

cloud-wings on his shoulders, they speedily brought

him thither, carrying him carefully through the air and

depositing him just outside the hut. The widow was

delighted to see her son, whom she had believed to be

long dead, and the Thunderers were so pleased with

the assistance he had lent them that they asked him to

accompany them in their monster-destroying mission

every spring. He assented, and on one of these

expeditions flew earthward to drink from a certain pool.

When he rejoined his companions they observed that

the water with which his lips were moist had caused

them to shine as if smeared with oil. At their request

he indicated the pool from which he had drunk, and

they informed him that in its depths there dwelt a

monster for which they had searched for years. With

that they hurled a great thunderbolt into the pool,

which immediately dried up, revealing an immense

grub of the species which destroys the standing crops.

The monster was, indeed, the King of Grubs, and his

death set back the conspiracies of his kind for many

generations. The youth subsequently returned to

earth, and having narrated to the members of his tribe

the services which Hi'nun had performed on their

behalf, they considered it fitting to institute a special

worship of the deity, and, in fact, to make him supreme

god of their nation. Even to-day many Iroquois allude

to Hi'nun as their grandfather, and evince extraordinary

veneration at the mention of his name.

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Hiawatha

Much confusion exists with regard to the true status

of the reputed Iroquois hero Hiawatha. We find him

variously represented as a historical personage and a

mythical demi-god, and as belonging to both the

Iroquois and the Algonquins. In solid history and in

the wildest myth he is a figure of equal importance.

This confusion is largely due to the popularity of

Longfellow's poem _Hiawatha_, which by its very excellence

has given the greater prominence to the fallacies

it contains. The fact is that Longfellow, following

in the path of Schoolcraft, has really confused two

personages in the character of Hiawatha, one the

entirely mythical Manabozho, or Michabo--which

name he at first intended to bestow on his poem--and

the other the almost wholly historical Hiawatha.

Manabozho, according to tradition, was a demi-god

of the Ojibways, and to him, and not to Hiawatha,

must be credited the exploits described in the poem.

There is no doubt that myths have grown up round

the name of the Iroquois hero, for myth is the ivy that

binds all historical ruins and makes them picturesque

to the eye; but it has been proved that there is a

solid structure of fact behind the legendary stories of

Hiawatha, and even the period of his activity has been

fixed with tolerable accuracy by modern American

historians.

Hiawatha, or Hai-en-Wat-ha, was a chief of Iroquois

stock, belonging either to the Onondaga or the

Mohawk tribe. His most important feat was the

union of the Five Nations of the Iroquois into a Grand

League, an event which was of more than national

significance, since it so largely affected the fortunes of

European peoples when they afterward fought for

American supremacy. As the Five Nations are known

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to have come together in the sixteenth century, it

follows that Hiawatha must have lived and worked

about that time. In later days the League was called

the Six Nations, and still more recently the Seven

Nations.

When the Iroquois, or 'Long House People,' were

found by the French and Dutch they occupied the

western part of what is now New York State, and were

at a much more advanced stage of culture than most of

the Indian tribes. They tilled the ground, cultivating

maize and tobacco, and were skilled in the arts of war

and diplomacy. They were greatly strengthened by

the Grand League, or 'Kayanerenh Kowa,' which, as

has been said, was founded by the chief Hiawatha, and

were much the most important of the North American

tribes.

If we look to tradition for an account of the origin

of the Grand League, we learn that the union was

effected by Hiawatha in the fourteenth century. The

Hurons and Iroquois, we are told, were at one time one

people, but later they separated, the Hurons going to

the lake which is named after them, and the Iroquois

to New York, where their five tribes were united under

a General Council. But tradition is quite evidently

wrong in assigning so early a date to this important

event, for one of the two branches of the Iroquois

family (that which comprises the Mohawks and the

Oneidas) has left but few traces of an early occupation,

and these, in the shape of some old town-sites, are

judged to belong to the latter part of the sixteenth

century.

The early connexion between the Iroquois and the

Hurons, and their subsequent separation, remains

undisputed. The Iroquois family was divided into

two branches, the Sinnekes (Onondagas, Cayugas, and

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Senecas) and the Caniengas (Mohawks and Oneidas),

of which the subdivisions composed the Five Nations.

The Sinnekes had established themselves in the western

portion of New York, and the Caniengas at Hochelaga

(Montreal) and elsewhere on the St. Lawrence, where

they lived amicably enough with their Algonquin

neighbours. But in 1560 a quarrel arose between the

Caniengas and the Algonquins, in which the latter

called in the aid of the Hurons. This was the

beginning of a long war, in which the Caniengas had the

worst of it. Gradually the Caniengas were driven

along the shores of Lake Champlain and Lake George

till they reached the valley of the Mohawk River, where

they established themselves in a country bordering on

that of the Onondagas.

Now the Onondagas were a formidable tribe, fierce

and warlike, and the Caniengas, being long accustomed

to war, were not the most peaceable of nations, and

ere long there was trouble between them, while both

were at war with the Hurons. At the head of the

Onondagas was the great chief Atotarho, whose

sanguinary exploits and crafty stratagems had become

the dread of the neighbouring peoples, and among his

warriors was the generous Hiawatha. Hiawatha was filled

with horror at the sight of the suffering caused by

Atotarho's expeditions, and already his statesman's

mind was forming projects of peace. He saw that in

confederation lay the means not only of preserving

peace among his people, but of withstanding alien

foes as well. In two consecutive years he called an

assembly to consider his plan, but on each occasion the

grim presence of Atotarho made discussion impossible.

Hiawatha in despair fled from the land of the

Onondagas, journeyed eastward through the country

of the Oneidas, and at last took up his residence

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among the Mohawks, into which tribe he was adopted.

It has been said by some authorities, and the idea does

not lack probability, that Hiawatha was originally

a Mohawk, and that he spent some time among the

Onondagas, afterward returning to his own people.

At all events, the Mohawks proved more amenable to

reason than the Onondagas had done. Among the

chiefs of his adopted tribe Hiawatha found

one--Dekanewidah--who fell in with his confederation

plans, and agreed to work along with him. Messengers

were dispatched to the Oneidas, who bade them

return in a year, at the end of which period negotiations

were renewed. The result was that the Oneida

chiefs signed a treaty inaugurating the Kayanerenh

Kowa. An embassy to the Onondagas was fruitless,

as Atotarho persistently obstructed the new scheme;

but later, when the Kayanerenh Kowa embraced the

Cayugas, messages were once more sent to the powerful

Onondagas, diplomatically suggesting that Atotarho

should take the lead in the Grand Council. The grim

warrior was mollified by this sop to his vanity, and

condescended to accept the proposal. Not only that,

but he soon became an enthusiastic worker in the

cause of confederation, and secured the inclusion of the

Senecas in the League.

The confederacy of the Five Nations was now complete,

and the 'Silver Chain,' as their Grand Council

was called, met together on the shores of the Salt

Lake. The number of chiefs chosen from each tribe

bore some relation to its numerical status, the largest

number, fourteen, being supplied by the Onondagas.

The office of representative in the Council was to be an

hereditary one, descending in the female line, as with

the Picts of Scotland and other primitive peoples, and

never from father to son.

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So powerful did the League become that the name

of 'Long House People' was held in the greatest awe.

They annihilated their ancient enemies, the Hurons,

and they attacked and subdued the Micmacs,

Mohicans, Pawnees, Algonquins, Cherokees, and many

other tribes. The effect of the League on British

history is incalculable. When the Frenchman Champlain

arrived in 1611 he interfered on behalf of the

Hurons, an action whose far-reaching consequences he

could not foresee, but from that period dated the

hatred of the Iroquois for the French which ensured

Britain's success in the long struggle between the

European nations in America. Without the assistance

of the native factor, who shall say how the struggle

might have ended?

But the Iroquois were not altogether a bloodthirsty

people. A strong bond of brotherhood existed between

the Five Nations, among themselves they were kind and

gentle, and in part at least Hiawatha's dream of peace

was realized. It is not, of course, very easy to say how

far Hiawatha intended the scheme of universal brotherhood

with which he is credited. Whether he conceived

a Grand League embracing all the nations of the earth

or whether his full ambition was realized in the union

of the Five Nations is a point which history does not

make clear. But even in the more limited sense his work

was a great one, and the lofty and noble character

which Longfellow has given to his hero seems not

unsuited to the actual Hiawatha, who realizes the ideal

of the 'noble savage' more fully, perhaps, than any

one else in the annals of primitive peoples.

As in the case of King Arthur and Dietrich of

Berne, many myths soon gathered round the popular

and revered name of Hiawatha. Among barbarians

three, or even two, generations usually suffice to render

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a great and outstanding figure mythical. But one

prefers to think of this Iroquois statesman as a real man, a

bright particular star in a dark sky of savagery and

ignorance.

The Stone Giants

The Iroquois believed that in early days there existed

a malignant race of giants whose bodies were fashioned

out of stone. It is difficult to say how the idea of

such beings arose, but it is possible that the generally

distributed conception of a gigantic race springing from

Mother Earth was in this instance fused with another

belief that stones and rocks composed the earth's bony

framework. We find an example of this belief in the

beautiful old Greek myth of Deucalion and Pyrrha,

which much resembles that of Noah. When after the

great flood which submerged Hellas the survivors' ship

grounded upon Mount Parnassus they inquired of the

oracle of Themis in what manner the human race might

be restored. They were bidden by the oracle to veil

themselves and to throw the bones of their mother

behind them. These they interpreted to mean the

stones of the earth. Picking up loose pieces of stone,

they cast them over their shoulders, and from those

thrown by Deucalion there sprang men, while those

cast by Pyrrha became women.

These Stone Giants of the Iroquois, dwelling in the

far west, took counsel with one another and resolved to

invade the Indian territory and exterminate the race of

men. A party of Indians just starting on the war-path

were apprised of the invasion, and were bidden by the

gods to challenge the giants to combat. This they did,

and the opposing bands faced each other at a spot near

a great gulf. But as the monsters advanced upon their

human enemies the god of the west wind, who was

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lying in wait for them, swooped down upon the Titans,

so that they were hurled over the edge of the gulf, far

down into the dark abyss below, where they perished

miserably.

The Pigmies

In contradistinction to their belief in giants, the

Iroquois imagined the existence of a race of pigmies,

who had many of the attributes of the Teutonic

gnomes. They were responsible for the beauty of

terrestrial scenery, which they carved and sculptured in

cliff, scar, and rock, and, like the thunder-gods, they

protected the human race against the many monsters

which infested the world in early times.

Witches and Witchcraft

The Iroquois belief in witchcraft was very strong,

and the following tale is supposed to account for the

origin of witches and sorcery. A boy who was out

hunting found a snake the colours of whose skin were

so intensely beautiful that he resolved to capture it.

He caught it and tended it carefully, feeding it on

birds and small game, and housing it in a little bowl

made of bark, which he filled with water. In the

bottom of the bowl he placed down, small feathers,

and wood fibre, and on going to feed the snake he

discovered that these things had become living beings.

From this he gathered that the reptile was endowed

with supernatural powers, and he found that other

articles placed in the water along with it soon showed

signs of life. He procured more snakes and placed

them in the bowl. Observing some men of the tribe

rubbing ointment on their eyes to enable them to see

more clearly, he used some of the water from the bowl

in which the snakes were immersed upon his own, and

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lo! he found on climbing a tall tree that nothing was

hidden from his sight, which pierced all intervening

obstacles. He could see far into the earth, where lay

hidden precious stones and rich minerals. His sight

pierced the trunks of trees; he could see through

mountains, and could discern objects lying deep down

in the bed of a river.

He concluded that the greater the number of reptiles

the snake-liquid contained the more potent would it

become. Accordingly he captured several snakes, and

suspended them over his bowl in such a manner that

the essential oil they contained dropped into the water,

with the result that the activity of the beings which had

been so strangely bred in it was increased. In course

of time he found that by merely placing one of his

fingers in the liquid and pointing it at any person he

could instantly bewitch him. He added some roots

to the water in the bowl, some of which he then

drank. By blowing this from his mouth a great light

was produced, by rubbing his eyes with it he could see

in the dark, and by other applications of it he could

render himself invisible, or take the shape of a snake.

If he dipped an arrow into the liquid and discharged it

at any living being it would kill it although it might

not strike it. Not content with discovering this magic

fluid, the youth resolved to search for antidotes to it,

and these he collected.

A 'Medicine' Legend

A similar legend is told by the Senecas to account

for the origin of their 'medicine.' Nearly two hundred

years ago--in the savage estimation this is a very great

period of time--an Indian went into the woods on

a hunting expedition. One night while asleep in his

solitary camp he was awakened by a great noise of

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singing and drum-beating, such as is heard at festivals.

Starting up, he made his way to the place whence the

sounds came, and although he could not see any one

there he observed a heap of corn and a large squash

vine with three squashes on it, and three ears of corn

which lay apart from the rest. Feeling very uneasy,

he once more pursued his hunting operations, and when

night came again laid himself down to rest. But his

sleep was destined to be broken yet a second time, and

awaking he perceived a man bending over him, who

said in menacing tones:

"Beware: what you saw was sacred. You deserve to die."

A rustling among the branches denoted the presence

of a number of people, who, after some hesitation,

gathered round the hunter, and informed him that

they would pardon his curiosity and would tell him

their secret. "The great medicine for wounds," said

the man who had first awakened him, "is squash and

corn. Come with me and I will teach you how to

make and apply it."

With these words he led the hunter to the spot at

which he had surprised the 'medicine'-making operations

on the previous night, where he beheld a great fire

and a strange-looking laurel-bush, which seemed as if

made of iron. Chanting a weird song, the people circled

slowly round the bush to the accompaniment of a

rattling of gourd-shells. On the hunter's asking them

to explain this procedure, one of them heated a stick

and thrust it right through his cheek. He immediately

applied some of the 'medicine' to the wound, so that

it healed instantly. Having thus demonstrated the

power of the drug, they sang a tune which they called

the 'medicine-song,' which their pupil learnt by heart.

The hunter then turned to depart, and all at once he

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saw that the beings who surrounded him were not

human, as he had thought, but animals--foxes, bears,

and beavers--who fled as he looked at them. Surprised

and even terrified at the turn matters had taken, he

made his way homeward with all speed, conning over

the prescription which the strange beings had given him

the while. They had told him to take one stalk of

corn, to dry the cob and pound it very fine, then to

take one squash, cut it up and pound it, and to mix the

whole with water from a running stream, near its source.

This prescription he used with very great success among

his people, and it proved the origin of the great

'medicine' of the Senecas. Once a year at the season

when the deer changes his coat they prepare it as the

forest folk did, singing the weird song and dancing

round it to the rhythmic accompaniment of the gourd-shell

rattles, while they burn tobacco to the gods.

Great Head and the Ten Brothers

It was commonly believed among the Iroquois

Indians that there existed a curious and malevolent

being whom they called Great Head. This odd

creature was merely an enormous head poised on

slender legs. He made his dwelling on a rugged rock,

and directly he saw any living person approach he

would growl fiercely in true ogre fashion: "I see thee,

I see thee! Thou shalt die."

[Illustration: "'I see thee, I see thee! Thou shalt die.'"]

Far away in a remote spot an orphaned family of

ten boys lived with their uncle. The older brothers

went out every day to hunt, but the younger ones, not

yet fitted for so rigorous a life, remained at home with

their uncle, or at least did not venture much beyond

the immediate vicinity of their lodge. One day the

hunters did not return at their usual hour. As the

evening passed without bringing any sign of the missing

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youths the little band at home became alarmed. At

length the eldest of the boys left in the lodge

volunteered to go in search of his brothers. His uncle

consented, and he set off, but he did not return.

In the morning another brother said: "I will go to

seek my brothers." Having obtained permission, he

went, but he also did not come back. Another and

another took upon himself the task of finding the lost

hunters, but of the searchers as well as of those sought

for there was no news forthcoming. At length only

the youngest of the lads remained at home, and to his

entreaties to be allowed to seek for his brothers the

uncle turned a deaf ear, for he feared to lose the last of

his young nephews.

One day when uncle and nephew were out in the forest

the latter fancied he heard a deep groan, which seemed to

proceed from the earth exactly under his feet. They

stopped to listen. The sound was repeated--unmistakably

a human groan. Hastily they began digging in the

earth, and in a moment or two came upon a man covered

with mould and apparently unconscious.

The pair carried the unfortunate one to their lodge,

where they rubbed him with bear's oil till he recovered

consciousness. When he was able to speak he could

give no explanation of how he came to be buried

alive. He had been out hunting, he said, when

suddenly his mind became a blank, and he remembered

nothing more till he found himself in the lodge with

the old man and the boy. His hosts begged the

stranger to stay with them, and they soon discovered

that he was no ordinary mortal, but a powerful

magician. At times he behaved very strangely. One

night, while a great storm raged without, he tossed

restlessly on his couch instead of going to sleep. At

last he sought the old uncle.

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"Do you hear that noise?" he said. "That is my

brother, Great Head, who is riding on the wind. Do

you not hear him howling?"

The old man considered this astounding speech for

a moment; then he asked: "Would he come here if

you sent for him?"

"No," said the other, thoughtfully, "but we might

bring him here by magic. Should he come you must

have food ready for him, in the shape of huge blocks

of maple-wood, for that is what he lives on."

The stranger departed in search of his brother Great

Head, taking with him his bow, and on the way he

came across a hickory-tree, whose roots provided him

with arrows. About midday he drew near to the

dwelling of his brother, Great Head. In order to see

without being seen, he changed himself into a mole,

and crept through the grass till he saw Great Head

perched on a rock, frowning fiercely. "I see thee!" he

growled, with his wild eyes fixed on an owl. The

man-mole drew his bow and shot an arrow at Great

Head. The arrow became larger and larger as it flew

toward the monster, but it returned to him who had

fired it, and as it did so it regained its natural size.

The man seized it and rushed back the way he had

come. Very soon he heard Great Head in pursuit,

puffing and snorting along on the wings of a hurricane.

When the creature had almost overtaken him he turned

and discharged another arrow. Again and again he

repulsed his pursuer in this fashion, till he lured him

to the lodge where his benefactors lived. When Great

Head burst into the house the uncle and nephew began

to hammer him vigorously with mallets. To their

surprise the monster broke into laughter, for he had

recognized his brother and was very pleased to see him.

He ate the maple-blocks they brought him with a

{235}

hearty appetite, whereupon they told him the story of

the missing hunters.

"I know what has become of them," said Great

Head. "They have fallen into the hands of a witch.

If this young man," indicating the nephew, "will

accompany me, I will show him her dwelling, and the

bones of his brothers."

The youth, who loved adventure, and was besides

very anxious to learn the fate of his brothers, at once

consented to seek the home of the witch. So he and

Great Head started off, and lost no time in getting to

the place. They found the space in front of the lodge

strewn with dry bones, and the witch sitting in the

doorway singing. When she saw them she muttered

the magic word which turned living people into dry

bones, but on Great Head and his companion it had

no effect whatever. Acting on a prearranged signal,

Great Head and the youth attacked the witch and

killed her. No sooner had she expired than her flesh

turned into birds and beasts and fishes. What was

left of her they burned to ashes.

Their next act was to select the bones of the nine

brothers from among the heap, and this they found no

easy task. But at last it was accomplished, and Great

Head said to his companion: "I am going home to

my rock. When I pass overhead in a great storm I

will bid these bones arise, and they will get up and

return with you."

The youth stood alone for a little while till he heard

the sound of a fierce tempest. Out of the hurricane

Great Head called to the brothers to arise. In a

moment they were all on their feet, receiving the

congratulations of their younger brother and each

other, and filled with joy at their reunion.

{236}

The Seneca's Revenge

A striking story is told of a Seneca youth who for

many years and through a wearisome captivity nourished

the hope of vengeance so dear to the Indian soul. A

certain tribe of the Senecas had settled on the shores

of Lake Erie, when they were surprised by their ancient

enemies the Illinois, and in spite of a stout resistance

many of them were slain, and a woman and a boy

taken prisoner. When the victors halted for the night

they built a great fire, and proceeded to celebrate their

success by singing triumphant songs, in which they

commanded the boy to join them. The lad pretended

that he did not know their language, but said that he

would sing their song in his own tongue, to which

they assented; but instead of a pæan in their praise

he sang a song of vengeance, in which he vowed that

if he were spared all of them would lose their scalps.

A few days afterward the woman became so exhausted

that she could walk no farther, so the Illinois slew her.

But before she died she extracted a promise from the

boy that he would avenge her, and would never cease

to be a Seneca.

In a few days they arrived at the Illinois camp,

where a council was held to consider the fate of the

captive lad. Some were for instantly putting him to

death, but their chief ruled that should he be able to

live through their tortures he would be worthy of

becoming an Illinois. They seized the wretched lad

and held his bare feet to the glowing council-fire, then

after piercing them they told him to run a race. He

bounded forward, and ran so swiftly that he soon

gained the Great House of the tribe, where he seated

himself upon a wild-cat skin.

Another council was held, and the Illinois braves

{237}

agreed that the lad possessed high courage and would

make a great warrior; but others argued that he knew

their war-path and might betray them, and it was finally

decided that he should be burnt at the stake. As he

was about to perish in this manner an aged warrior

suggested that if he were able to withstand their last

torture he should be permitted to live. Accordingly

he held the unfortunate lad under water in a pool until

only a spark of life remained in him, but he survived,

and became an Illinois warrior.

Years passed, and the boy reached manhood and

married a chief's daughter. His strength and endurance

became proverbial, but the warriors of the tribe of his

adoption would never permit him to take part in their

warlike expeditions. At length a raid against the Senecas

was mooted, and he begged so hard to be allowed to

accompany the braves that at last they consented.

Indeed, so great was their admiration of the skill with

which he outlined a plan of campaign that they made

him chief of the expedition. For many days the party

marched toward the Seneca country; but when at last

they neared it their scouts reported that there were no

signs of the tribe, and that the Senecas must have quitted

their territory. Their leader, however, proposed to go in

search of the enemy himself, along with another warrior

of the tribe, and this was agreed to.

When the pair had gone five or six miles the leader

said to his companion that it would be better if they

separated, as they would then be able to cover more

ground. Passing on to where he knew he would find

the Senecas, he warned them of their danger, and

arranged that an ambush of his kinsfolk should lie in

wait for the Illinois.

Returning to the Illinois camp, he reported that he

had seen nothing, but that he well remembered the

{238}

Seneca hiding-place. He asked to be given the bravest

warriors, and assured the council that he would soon

bring them the scalps of their foes. Suspecting nothing,

they assented to his proposal, and he was followed by

the flower of the Illinois tribe, all unaware that five

hundred Senecas awaited them in the valley. The

youth led his men right into the heart of the ambush;

then, pretending to miss his footing, he fell. This

was the signal for the Senecas to rise on every side.

Yelling their war-cry, they rushed from their shelter

and fell on the dismayed Illinois, who gave way on

every side. The slaughter was immense. Vengeance

nerved the arms of the Seneca braves, and of three

hundred Illinois but two escaped. The leader of the

expedition was borne in triumph to the Seneca village,

where to listening hundreds he told the story of his

capture and long-meditated revenge. He became a

great chief among his people, and even to this day his

name is uttered by them with honour and reverence.

The Boy Magician

In the heart of the wilderness there lived an old

woman and her little grandson. The two found no

lack of occupation from day to day, the woman busying

herself with cooking and cleaning and the boy with

shooting and hunting. The grandmother frequently

spoke of the time when the child would grow up and

go out into the world.

"Always go to the east," she would say. "Never

go to the west, for there lies danger."

But what the danger was she would not tell him,

in spite of his importunate questioning. Other boys

went west, he thought to himself, and why should not

he? Nevertheless his grandmother made him promise

that he would not go west.

{239}

Years passed by, and the child grew to be a man,

though he still retained the curiosity and high spirits

of his boyhood. His persistent inquiries drew from

the old grandmother a reluctant explanation of her

warning.

"In the west," said she, "there dwells a being who

is anxious to do us harm. If he sees you it will mean

death for both of us."

This statement, instead of frightening the young

Indian, only strengthened in him a secret resolution he

had formed to go west on the first opportunity. Not

that he wished to bring any misfortune on his poor

old grandmother, any more than on himself, but he

trusted to his strong arm and clear head to deliver

them from their enemy. So with a laugh on his lips

he set off to the west.

Toward evening he came to a lake, where he rested.

He had not been there long when he heard a voice

saying: "Aha, my fine fellow, I see you!"

The youth looked all round him, and up into the

sky above, but he saw no one.

"I am going to send a hurricane," the mysterious

voice continued, "to break your grandmother's hut to

pieces. How will you like that?"

"Oh, very well," answered the young man gaily.

"We are always in need of firewood, and now we shall

have plenty."

"Go home and see," the voice said mockingly.

"I daresay you will not like it so well."

Nothing daunted, the young adventurer retraced

his steps. As he neared home a great wind sprang up,

seeming to tear the very trees out by the roots.

"Make haste!" cried the grandmother from the

doorway. "We shall both be killed!"

When she had drawn him inside and shut the door

{240}

she scolded him heartily for his disobedience, and

bewailed the fate before them. The young man soothed

her fears, saying: "Don't cry, grandmother. We

shall turn the lodge into a rock, and so we shall be

saved."

Having some skill in magic, he did as he had said,

and the hurricane passed harmlessly over their heads.

When it had ceased they emerged from their retreat,

and found an abundance of firewood all round them.

The Hailstorm

Next day the youth was on the point of setting off

toward the west once more, but the urgent entreaties

of his grandmother moved him to proceed eastward--for

a time. Directly he was out of sight of the lodge

he turned his face once more to the west. Arrived at

the lake, he heard the voice once more, though its

owner was still invisible.

"I am going to send a great hailstorm on your

grandmother's hut," it said. "What do you think of

that?"

"Oh," was the response, "I think I should like it.

I have always wanted a bundle of spears."

"Go home and see," said the voice.

Away the youth went through the woods. The sky

became darker and darker as he neared his home, and

just as he was within a bowshot of the little hut a

fierce hailstorm broke, and he thought he would be

killed before he reached shelter.

"Alas!" cried the old woman when he was safely

indoors, "we shall be destroyed this time. How can

we save ourselves?"

Again the young man exercised his magic powers,

and transformed the frail hut into a hollow rock, upon

which the shafts of the hailstorm spent themselves in

{241}

vain. At last the sky cleared, the lodge resumed its

former shape, and the young man saw a multitude of

sharp, beautiful spear-heads on the ground.

"I will get poles," said he, "to fit to them for

fishing."

When he returned in a few minutes with the poles

he found that the spears had vanished.

"Where are my beautiful spears?" he asked his

grandmother.

"They were only ice-spears," she replied. "They

have all melted away."

The young Indian was greatly disappointed, and

wondered how he could avenge himself on the being

who had played him this malicious trick.

"Be warned in time," said the aged grandmother,

shaking her head at him. "Take my advice and leave

him alone."

The Charmed Stone

But the youth's adventurous spirit impelled him to

see the end of the matter, so he took a stone and tied

it round his neck for a charm, and sought the lake

once again. Carefully observing the direction from

which the voice proceeded, he saw in the middle of the

lake a huge head with a face on every side of it.

"Aha! uncle," he exclaimed, "I see you! How

would you like it if the lake dried up?"

"Nonsense!" said the voice angrily, "that will

never happen."

"Go home and see," shouted the youth, mimicking

the mocking tone the other had adopted on the

previous occasions. As he spoke he swung his charmed

stone round his head and threw it into the air. As it

descended it grew larger and larger, and the moment

it entered the lake the water began to boil.

{242}

The lad returned home and told his grandmother

what he had done.

"It is of no use," said she. "Many have tried to

slay him, but all have perished in the attempt."

Next morning our hero went westward again, and

found the lake quite dry, and the animals in it dead,

with the exception of a large green frog, who was in

reality the malicious being who had tormented the

Indian and his grandmother. A quick blow with a

stick put an end to the creature, and the triumphant

youth bore the good news to his old grandmother, who

from that time was left in peace and quietness.

The Friendly Skeleton

A little boy living in the woods with his old uncle was

warned by him not to go eastward, but to play close to

the lodge or walk toward the west. The child felt a

natural curiosity to know what lay in the forbidden

direction, and one day took advantage of his uncle's

absence on a hunting expedition to wander away to the

east. At length he came to a large lake, on the shores of

which he stopped to rest. Here he was accosted by a

man, who asked him his name and where he lived.

"Come," said the stranger, when he had finished

questioning the boy, "let us see who can shoot an

arrow the highest."

This they did, and the boy's arrow went much higher

than that of his companion.

The stranger then suggested a swimming match.

"Let us see," he said, "who can swim farthest under

water without taking a breath."

Again the boy beat his rival, who next proposed

that they should sail out to an island in the middle of

the lake, to see the beautiful birds that were to be

found there. The child consented readily, and they

{243}

embarked in a curious canoe, which was propelled by

three swans harnessed to either side of it. Directly they

had taken their seats the man began to sing, and the

canoe moved off. In a very short time they had reached

the island. Here the little Indian realized that his

confidence in his new-found friend was misplaced. The

stranger took all his clothes from him, put them in the

canoe, and jumped in himself, saying:

"Come, swans, let us go home."

The obedient swans set off at a good pace, and

soon left the island far behind. The boy was very

angry at having been so badly used, but when it

grew dark his resentment changed to fear, and he sat

down and cried with cold and misery. Suddenly he

heard a husky voice close at hand, and, looking round,

he saw a skeleton on the ground.

"I am very sorry for you," said the skeleton in

hoarse tones. "I will do what I can to help you.

But first you must do something for me. Go and

dig by that tree, and you shall find a tobacco-pouch

with some tobacco in it, a pipe, and a flint."

The boy did as he was asked, and when he had

filled the pipe he lit it and placed it in the mouth of

the skeleton. He saw that the latter's body was full

of mice, and that the smoke frightened them away.

[Illustration: "He lit a pipe and placed it in the

mouth of the skeleton"]

"There is a man coming to-night with three dogs,"

said the skeleton. "He is coming to look for you.

You must make tracks all over the island, so that they

may not find you, and then hide in a hollow tree."

Again the boy obeyed his gaunt instructor, and when

he was safely hidden he saw a man come ashore with

three dogs. All night they hunted him, but he had made

so many tracks that the dogs were confused, and at last

the man departed in anger. Next day the trembling

boy emerged and went to the skeleton.

{244}

"To-night," said the latter, "the man who brought

you here is coming to drink your blood. You must

dig a hole in the sand and hide. When he comes out of

the canoe you must enter it. Say, 'Come, swans, let us

go home,' and if the man calls you do not look back."

The Lost Sister

Everything fell out as the skeleton had foretold.

The boy hid in the sand, and directly he saw his

tormentor step ashore he jumped into the canoe,

saying hastily, "Come, swans, let us go home." Then

he began to sing as he had heard the man do when

they first embarked. In vain the man called him back;

he refused to look round. The swans carried the

canoe to a cave in a high rock, where the boy found

his clothes, as well as a fire and food. When he

had donned his garments and satisfied his hunger

he lay down and slept. In the morning he returned

to the island, where he found the tyrant quite dead.

The skeleton now commanded him to sail eastward to

seek for his sister, whom a fierce man had carried

away. He set out eagerly on his new quest, and a

three days' journey brought him to the place where his

sister was. He lost no time in finding her.

"Come, my sister," said he, "let us flee away

together."

"Alas! I cannot," answered the young woman. "A

wicked man keeps me here. It is time for him to

return home, and he would be sure to catch us. But

let me hide you now, and in the morning we shall go

away."

So she dug a pit and hid her brother, though not a

moment too soon, for the footsteps of her husband

were heard approaching the hut. The woman had

cooked a child, and this she placed before the man.

{245}

"You have had visitors," he said, seeing his dogs

snuffing around uneasily.

"No," was the reply, "I have seen no one but you."

"I shall wait till to-morrow," said the man to himself.

"Then I shall kill and eat him." He had already

guessed that his wife had not spoken the truth.

However, he said nothing more, but waited till morning,

when, instead of going to a distant swamp to seek for

food, as he pretended to do, he concealed himself

at a short distance from the hut, and at length saw

the brother and sister making for a canoe. They were

hardly seated when they saw him running toward them.

In his hand he bore a large hook, with which he

caught the frail vessel; but the lad broke the hook

with a stone, and the canoe darted out on to the lake.

The man was at a loss for a moment, and could only

shout incoherent threats after the pair. Then an idea

occurred to him, and, lying down on the shore, he

began to drink the water. This caused the canoe to

rush back again, but once more the boy was equal to

the occasion. Seizing the large stone with which he

had broken the hook, he threw it at the man and slew

him, the water at the same time rushing back into the

lake. Thus the brother and sister escaped, and in

three days they had arrived at the island, where they

heartily thanked their benefactor, the skeleton. He,

however, had still another task for the young Indian

to perform.

"Take your sister home to your uncle's lodge," said

he; "then return here yourself, and say to the many

bones which you will find on the island, 'Arise,' and

they shall come to life again."

When the brother and sister reached their home

they found that their old uncle had been grievously

{246}

lamenting the loss of his nephew, and he was quite

overjoyed at seeing them. On his recommendation

they built a large lodge to accommodate the people they

were to bring back with them. When it was completed,

the youth revisited the island, bade the bones arise,

and was delighted to see them obey his bidding and

become men and women. He led them to the lodge

he had built, where they all dwelt happily for a long

time.

The Pigmies

When the Cherokees were dwelling in the swamps

of Florida the Iroquois made a practice of swooping

down on them and raiding their camps. On one

occasion the raiding party was absent from home for

close on two years. On the eve of their return one

of their number, a chieftain, fell ill, and the rest of

the party were at a loss to know what to do with him.

Obviously, if they carried him home with them he

would considerably impede their progress. Besides,

there was the possibility that he might not recover,

and all their labour would be to no purpose. Thus

they debated far into the night, and finally decided to

abandon him to his fate and return by themselves.

The sick man, unable to stir hand or foot, overheard

their decision, but he bore it stoically, like an Indian

warrior. Nevertheless, when he heard the last swish

of their paddles as they crossed the river he could not

help thinking of the friends and kindred he would

probably never see again.

When the raiders reached home they were closely

questioned as to the whereabouts of the missing chief,

and the inquiries were all the more anxious because

the sick man had been a great favourite among his

people. The guilty warriors answered evasively. They

{247}

did not know what had become of their comrade,

they said. Possibly he had been lost or killed in

Florida.

Meanwhile the sick man lay dying on the banks of

the river. Suddenly he heard, quite close at hand, the

gentle sound of a canoe. The vessel drew in close to

the bank, and, full in view of the warrior, three pigmy

men disembarked. They regarded the stranger with

some surprise. At length one who seemed to be

the leader advanced and spoke to him, bidding him

await their return, and promising to look after him.

They were going, he said, to a certain 'salt-lick,' where

many curious animals watered, in order to kill some

for food.

The Salt-Lick

When the pigmies arrived at the place they found

that no animals were as yet to be seen, but very soon

a large buffalo bull came to drink. Immediately a

buffalo cow arose from the lick, and when they had

satisfied their thirst the two animals lay down on the

bank. The pigmies concluded that the time was ripe

for killing them, and, drawing their bows, they

succeeded in dispatching the buffaloes. Returning to

the sick man, they amply fulfilled their promise to take

care of him, skilfully tending him until he had made a

complete recovery. They then conveyed him to his

friends, who now learnt that the story told them by

the raiders was false. Bitterly indignant at the

deception and heartless cruelty of these men, they fell upon

them and punished them according to their deserts.

Later the chief headed a band of people who were

curious to see the lick, which they found surrounded

by the bones of numberless large animals which had

been killed by the pigmies.

{248}

This story is interesting as a record of what were

perhaps the last vestiges of a pigmy folk who at one

time inhabited the eastern portion of North America,

before the coming of the Red Man. We have already

alluded to this people, in the pages dealing with the

discoveries of the Norsemen in the continent.

The Magical Serpent

In the seventeenth century a strange legend

concerning a huge serpent was found among the Hurons,

who probably got it from the neighbouring Algonquins.

This monster had on its head a horn which would

pierce anything, even the hardest rock. Any one

possessing a piece of it was supposed to have very

good fortune. The Hurons did not know where the

creature was to be found, but said that the Algonquins

were in the habit of selling them small pieces of the

magic horn.

It is possible that the mercenary Shawnees had

borrowed this myth from the Cherokees for their own

purposes. At all events a similar legend existed among

both tribes which told of a monster snake, the King

of Rattlesnakes, who dwelt up among the mountain-passes,

attended by a retinue of his kind. Instead of

a crown, he wore on his head a beautiful jewel which

possessed magic properties. Many a brave tried to

obtain possession of this desirable gem, but all fell

victims to the venomous reptiles. At length a more

ingenious warrior clothed himself entirely in leather,

and so rendered himself impervious to their attack.

Making his way to the haunt of the serpents, he slew

their monster chief. Then, triumphantly taking

possession of the wonderful jewel, he bore it to his tribe,

by whom it was regarded with profound veneration and

jealously preserved.

{249}

The Origin of Medicine

An interesting Cherokee myth is that which recounts

the origin of disease, and the consequent institution of

curative medicine. In the old days, we are told, the

members of the brute creation were gifted with speech

and dwelt in amity with the human race, but mankind

multiplied so quickly that the animals were crowded

into the forests and desert places of the earth, so that

the old friendship between them was soon forgotten.

The breach was farther widened by the invention of

lethal weapons, by the aid of which man commenced

the wholesale slaughter of the beasts for the sake of

their flesh and skins. The animals, at first surprised,

soon grew angry, and resolved upon measures of

retaliation. The bear tribe met in council, presided

over by the Old White Bear, their chief. After several

speakers had denounced mankind for their bloodthirsty

tendencies, war was unanimously decided upon, but

the lack of weapons was regarded as a serious drawback.

However, it was suggested that man's instruments

should be turned against himself, and as the bow and

arrow were considered to be the principal human agency

of destruction, it was resolved to fashion a specimen.

A suitable piece of wood was procured, and one of the

bears sacrificed himself to provide gut for a bowstring.

When the weapon was completed it was discovered

that the claws of the bears spoiled their shooting. One

of the bears, however, cut his claws, and succeeded in

hitting the mark, but the Old White Bear very wisely

remarked that without claws they could not climb trees

or bring down game, and that were they to cut them

off they must all starve.

The deer also met in council, under their chief, the

Little Deer, when it was decided that those hunters who

{250}

slew one of their number without asking pardon in

a suitable manner should be afflicted with rheumatism.

They gave notice of this decision to the nearest

settlement of Indians, and instructed them how to

make propitiation when forced by necessity to kill one

of the deer-folk. So when a deer is slain by the

hunter the Little Deer runs to the spot, and, bending

over the blood-stains, asks the spirit of the deer if it

has heard the prayer of the hunter for pardon. If the

reply be 'Yes,' all is well, and the Little Deer departs;

but if the answer be in the negative, he tracks the

hunter to his cabin, and strikes him with rheumatism,

so that he becomes a helpless cripple. Sometimes

hunters who have not learned the proper formula for

pardon attempt to turn aside the Little Deer from his

pursuit by building a fire behind them in the trail.

The Council of the Fishes

The fishes and reptiles then held a joint council, and

arranged to haunt those human beings who tormented

them with hideous dreams of serpents twining round

them and of eating fish which had become decayed.

These snake and fish dreams seem to be of common

occurrence among the Cherokees, and the services of

the _shamans_ to banish them are in constant demand.

Lastly, the birds and the insects, with the smaller

animals, gathered together for a similar purpose, the

grub-worm presiding over the meeting. Each in turn

expressed an opinion, and the consensus was against

mankind. They devised and named various diseases.

When the plants, which were friendly to man, heard

what had been arranged by the animals, they determined

to frustrate their evil designs. Each tree, shrub, and

herb, down even to the grasses and mosses, agreed to

furnish a remedy for some one of the diseases named.

{251}

Thus did medicine come into being. When the _shaman_

is in doubt as to what treatment to apply for the relief

of a patient the spirit of the plant suggests a fitting

remedy.

The Wonderful Kettle

A story is told among the Iroquois of two brothers

who lived in the wilderness far from all human

habitation. The elder brother went into the forest to hunt

game, while the younger stayed at home and tended

the hut, cooked the food, and gathered firewood.

One evening the tired hunter returned from the

chase, and the younger brother took the game from

him as usual and dressed it for supper. "I will smoke

awhile before I eat," said the hunter, and he smoked

in silence for a time. When he was tired of smoking

he lay down and went to sleep.

"Strange," said the boy; "I should have thought

he would want to eat first."

When the hunter awoke he found that his brother

had prepared the supper and was waiting for him.

"Go to bed," said he; "I wish to be alone."

Wondering much, the boy did as he was bidden,

but he could not help asking himself how his brother

could possibly live if he did not eat. In the

morning he observed that the hunter went away without

tasting any food, and on many succeeding mornings

and evenings the same thing happened.

"I must watch him at night," said the boy to himself,

"for he must eat at night, since he eats at no other

time."

That same evening, when the lad was told as usual

to go to bed, he lay down and pretended to be sound

asleep, but all the time one of his eyes was open. In

this cautious fashion he watched his brother, and saw

{252}

him rise from his couch and pass through a trap-door

in the floor, from which he shortly emerged bearing

a rusty kettle, the bottom of which he scraped

industriously. Filling it with water, he set it on the

blazing fire. As he did so he struck it with a whip,

saying at every blow: "Grow larger, my kettle!"

The obedient kettle became of gigantic proportions,

and after setting it aside to cool the man ate its contents

with evident relish.

His watchful younger brother, well content with

the result of his observation, turned over and went to

sleep.

When the elder had set off next morning, the boy,

filled with curiosity, opened the trap-door and

discovered the kettle. "I wonder what he eats," he said,

and there within the vessel was half a chestnut! He

was rather surprised at this discovery, but he thought

to himself how pleased his brother would be if on his

return he found a meal to his taste awaiting him.

When evening drew near he put the kettle on the

fire, took a whip, and, hitting it repeatedly, exclaimed:

"Grow larger, my kettle!"

[Illustration: "'Grow larger, my kettle!'"]

The kettle grew larger, but to the boy's alarm it

kept on growing until it filled the room, and he was

obliged to get on the roof and stir it through the

chimney.

"What are you doing up there?" shouted the hunter,

when he came within hail.

"I took your kettle to get your supper ready,"

answered the boy.

"Alas!" cried the other, "now I must die!"

He quickly reduced the kettle to its original proportions

and put it in its place. But he still wore such

a sad and serious air that his brother was filled with

dismay, and prayed that he might be permitted to

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undo the mischief he had wrought. When the days

went past and he found that his brother no longer

went out to hunt or displayed any interest in life, but

grew gradually thinner and more melancholy, his distress

knew no bounds.

"Let me fetch you some chestnuts," he begged

earnestly. "Tell me where they may be found."

The White Heron

"You must travel a full day's journey," said the hunter

in response to his entreaties. "You will then reach

a river which is most difficult to ford. On the opposite

bank there stands a lodge, and near by a chestnut-tree.

Even then your difficulties will only be begun.

The tree is guarded by a white heron, which never

loses sight of it for a moment. He is employed for

that purpose by the six women who live in the lodge,

and with their war-clubs they slay any one who has the

temerity to approach. I beg of you, do not think of

going on such a hopeless errand."

But the boy felt that were the chance of success even

more slender he must make the attempt for the sake of

his brother, whom his thoughtlessness had brought low.

He made a little canoe about three inches long, and

set off on his journey, in the direction indicated by his

brother. At the end of a day he came to the river,

whose size had not been underestimated. Taking his

little canoe from his pocket, he drew it out till it was of

a suitable length, and launched it in the great stream.

A few minutes sufficed to carry him to the opposite

bank, and there he beheld the lodge and the chestnut-tree.

On his way he had managed to procure some

seeds of a sort greatly liked by herons, and these he

scattered before the beautiful white bird strutting round

the tree. While the heron was busily engaged in

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picking them up the young man seized his opportunity

and gathered quantities of the chestnuts, which were

lying thickly on the ground. Ere his task was finished,

however, the heron perceived the intruder, and called a

loud warning to the women in the lodge, who were not

slow to respond. They rushed out with their fishing-lines

in their hands, and gave chase to the thief. But

fear, for his brother as well as for himself, lent the

youth wings, and he was well out on the river in his

canoe when the shrieking women reached the bank.

The eldest threw her line and caught him, but with a

sharp pull he broke it. Another line met with the

same fate, and so on, until all the women had thrown

their lines. They could do nothing further, and were

obliged to watch the retreating canoe in impotent rage.

At length the youth, having come safely through

the perils of the journey, arrived home with his

precious burden of chestnuts. He found his brother

still alive, but so weak that he could hardly speak. A

meal of the chestnuts, however, helped to revive him,

and he quickly recovered.

The Stone Giantess

In bygone times it was customary for a hunter's wife

to accompany her husband when he sought the chase.

A dutiful wife on these occasions would carry home

the game killed by the hunter and dress and cook it

for him.

There was once a chief among the Iroquois who was

a very skilful hunter. In all his expeditions his wife

was his companion and helper. On one excursion he

found such large quantities of game that he built a

wigwam at the place, and settled there for a time with

his wife and child. One day he struck out on a new

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track, while his wife followed the path they had taken

on the previous day, in order to gather the game

killed then. As the woman turned her steps

homeward after a hard day's work she heard the sound of

another woman's voice inside the hut. Filled with

surprise, she entered, but found to her consternation

that her visitor was no other than a Stone Giantess. To

add to her alarm, she saw that the creature had in her

arms the chief's baby. While the mother stood in the

doorway, wondering how she could rescue her child

from the clutches of the giantess, the latter said in a

gentle and soothing voice: "Do not be afraid: come

inside."

The hunter's wife hesitated no longer, but boldly

entered the wigwam. Once inside, her fear changed

to pity, for the giantess was evidently much worn with

trouble and fatigue. She told the hunter's wife, who

was kindly and sympathetic, how she had travelled from

the land of the Stone Giants, fleeing from her cruel

husband, who had sought to kill her, and how she had

finally taken shelter in the solitary wigwam. She

besought the young woman to let her remain for a while,

promising to assist her in her daily tasks. She also

said she was very hungry, but warned her hostess that

she must be exceedingly careful about the food she

gave her. It must not be raw or at all underdone, for

if once she tasted blood she might wish to kill the

hunter and his wife and child.

So the wife prepared some food for her, taking care

that it was thoroughly cooked, and the two sat down

to dine together. The Stone Giantess knew that the

woman was in the habit of carrying home the game, and

she now declared that she would do it in her stead.

Moreover, she said she already knew where it was to be

found, and insisted on setting out for it at once. She

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very shortly returned, bearing in one hand a load of

game which four men could scarcely have carried, and

the woman recognized in her a very valuable assistant.

The time of the hunter's return drew near, and the

Stone Giantess bade the wife go out and meet her

husband and tell him of her visitor. The man was

very well pleased to learn how the new-comer had

helped his wife, and he gave her a hearty welcome. In

the morning he went out hunting as usual. When he

had disappeared from sight in the forest the giantess

turned quickly to the woman and said:

"I have a secret to tell you. My cruel husband is

after me, and in three days he will arrive here. On

the third day your husband must remain at home and

help me to slay him."

When the third day came round the hunter remained

at home, obedient to the instructions of his guest.

"Now," said the giantess at last, "I hear him

coming. You must both help me to hold him. Strike

him where I bid you, and we shall certainly kill him."

The hunter and his wife were seized with terror

when a great commotion outside announced the arrival

of the Stone Giant, but the firmness and courage of

the giantess reassured them, and with something like

calmness they awaited the monster's approach. Directly

he came in sight the giantess rushed forward, grappled

with him and threw him to the ground.

"Strike him on the arms!" she cried to the others.

"Now on the nape of the neck!"

The trembling couple obeyed, and very shortly they

had succeeded in killing the huge creature.

"I will go and bury him," said the giantess. And

that was the end of the Stone Giant.

The strange guest stayed on in the wigwam till the

time came for the hunter and his family to go back to

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the settlement, when she announced her intention of

returning to her own people.

"My husband is dead," said she; "I have no

longer anything to fear." Thus, having bade them

farewell, she departed.

The Healing Waters

The Iroquois have a touching story of how a brave

of their race once saved his wife and his people from

extinction.

It was winter, the snow lay thickly on the ground,

and there was sorrow in the encampment, for with the

cold weather a dreadful plague had visited the people.

There was not one but had lost some relative, and

in some cases whole families had been swept away.

Among those who had been most sorely bereaved was

Nekumonta, a handsome young brave, whose parents,

brothers, sisters, and children had died one by one

before his eyes, the while he was powerless to help

them. And now his wife, the beautiful Shanewis, was

weak and ill. The dreaded disease had laid its awful

finger on her brow, and she knew that she must shortly

bid her husband farewell and take her departure for the

place of the dead. Already she saw her dead friends

beckoning to her and inviting her to join them, but it

grieved her terribly to think that she must leave her

young husband in sorrow and loneliness. His despair

was piteous to behold when she broke the sad news

to him, but after the first outburst of grief he bore up

bravely, and determined to fight the plague with all

his strength.

"I must find the healing herbs which the Great

Manitou has planted," said he. "Wherever they may

be, I must find them."

So he made his wife comfortable on her couch,

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covering her with warm furs, and then, embracing her

gently, he set out on his difficult mission.

All day he sought eagerly in the forest for the

healing herbs, but everywhere the snow lay deep,

and not so much as a blade of grass was visible.

When night came he crept along the frozen ground,

thinking that his sense of smell might aid him in his

search. Thus for three days and nights he wandered

through the forest, over hills and across rivers, in a

vain attempt to discover the means of curing the malady

of Shanewis.

When he met a little scurrying rabbit in the path he

cried eagerly: "Tell me, where shall I find the herbs

which Manitou has planted?"

But the rabbit hurried away without reply, for he

knew that the herbs had not yet risen above the ground,

and he was very sorry for the brave.

Nekumonta came by and by to the den of a big

bear, and of this animal also he asked the same

question. But the bear could give him no reply, and he

was obliged to resume his weary journey. He

consulted all the beasts of the forest in turn, but from

none could he get any help. How could they tell him,

indeed, that his search was hopeless?

The Pity of the Trees

On the third night he was very weak and ill, for he

had tasted no food since he had first set out, and he was

numbed with cold and despair. He stumbled over a

withered branch hidden under the snow, and so tired

was he that he lay where he fell, and immediately went

to sleep. All the birds and the beasts, all the multitude

of creatures that inhabit the forest, came to watch over

his slumbers. They remembered his kindness to them

in former days, how he had never slain an animal unless

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he really needed it for food or clothing, how he had

loved and protected the trees and the flowers. Their

hearts were touched by his courageous fight for Shanewis,

and they pitied his misfortunes. All that they could do

to aid him they did. They cried to the Great Manitou

to save his wife from the plague which held her, and

the Great Spirit heard the manifold whispering and

responded to their prayers.

[Illustration: "She sang a strange, sweet song"]

While Nekumonta lay asleep there came to him the

messenger of Manitou, and he dreamed. In his dream

he saw his beautiful Shanewis, pale and thin, but as

lovely as ever, and as he looked she smiled at him,

and sang a strange, sweet song, like the murmuring of

a distant waterfall. Then the scene changed, and it

really was a waterfall he heard. In musical language

it called him by name, saying: "Seek us, O Nekumonta,

and when you find us Shanewis shall live. We

are the Healing Waters of the Great Manitou."

Nekumonta awoke with the words of the song still

ringing in his ears. Starting to his feet, he looked in

every direction; but there was no water to be seen,

though the murmuring sound of a waterfall was

distinctly audible. He fancied he could even distinguish

words in it.

The Finding of the Waters

"Release us!" it seemed to say. "Set us free, and

Shanewis shall be saved!"

Nekumonta searched in vain for the waters. Then

it suddenly occurred to him that they must be

underground, directly under his feet. Seizing branches,

stones, flints, he dug feverishly into the earth. So

arduous was the task that before it was finished he was

completely exhausted. But at last the hidden spring

was disclosed, and the waters were rippling merrily

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down the vale, carrying life and happiness wherever

they went. The young man bathed his aching limbs

in the healing stream, and in a moment he was well

and strong.

Raising his hands, he gave thanks to Manitou. With

eager fingers he made a jar of clay, and baked it in the

fire, so that he might carry life to Shanewis. As he

pursued his way homeward with his treasure his despair

was changed to rejoicing and he sped like the wind.

When he reached his village his companions ran to

greet him. Their faces were sad and hopeless, for the

plague still raged. However, Nekumonta directed

them to the Healing Waters and inspired them with

new hope. Shanewis he found on the verge of the

Shadow-land, and scarcely able to murmur a farewell

to her husband. But Nekumonta did not listen to her

broken adieux. He forced some of the Healing Water

between her parched lips, and bathed her hands and

her brow till she fell into a gentle slumber. When

she awoke the fever had left her, she was serene and

smiling, and Nekumonta's heart was filled with a great

happiness.

The tribe was for ever rid of the dreaded plague,

and the people gave to Nekumonta the title of 'Chief

of the Healing Waters,' so that all might know that it

was he who had brought them the gift of Manitou.

Sayadio in Spirit-land

A legend of the Wyandot tribe of the Iroquois

relates how Sayadio, a young Indian, mourned greatly

for a beautiful sister who had died young. So deeply

did he grieve for her that at length he resolved to seek

her in the Land of Spirits. Long he sought the maiden,

and many adventures did he meet with. Years passed

in the search, which he was about to abandon as wholly

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in vain, when he encountered an old man, who gave

him some good advice. This venerable person also

bestowed upon him a magic calabash in which he

might catch and retain the spirit of his sister should

he succeed in finding her. He afterward discovered

that this old man was the keeper of that part of the

Spirit-land which he sought.

Delighted to have achieved so much, Sayadio

pursued his way, and in due time reached the Land of

Souls. But to his dismay he perceived that the spirits,

instead of advancing to meet him as he had expected,

fled from him in terror. Greatly dejected, he

approached Tarenyawago, the spirit master of ceremonies,

who took compassion upon him and informed him that

the dead had gathered together for a great dance

festival, just such as the Indians themselves celebrate at

certain seasons of the year. Soon the dancing

commenced, and Sayadio saw the spirits floating round in

a mazy measure like wreaths of mist. Among them

he perceived his sister, and sprang forward to embrace

her, but she eluded his grasp and dissolved into air.

[Illustration: "Soon the dancing commenced"]

Much cast down, the youth once more appealed to

the sympathetic master of ceremonies, who gave him a

magic rattle of great power, by the sound of which he

might bring her back. Again the spirit-music sounded

for the dance, and the dead folk thronged into the circle.

Once more Sayadio saw his sister, and observed that she

was so wholly entranced with the music that she took

no heed of his presence. Quick as thought the young

Indian dipped up the ghost with his calabash as one

nets a fish, and secured the cover, in spite of all the

efforts of the captured soul to regain its liberty.

Retracing his steps earthward, he had no difficulty

in making his way back to his native village, where he

summoned his friends to come and behold his sister's

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resuscitation. The girl's corpse was brought from its

resting-place to be reanimated with its spirit, and all

was prepared for the ceremony, when a witless Indian

maiden must needs peep into the calabash in her

curiosity to see how a disembodied spirit looked.

Instantly, as a bird rises when its cage bars are opened

and flies forth to freedom, the spirit of Sayadio's sister

flew from the calabash before the startled youth could

dash forward and shut down the cover. For a while

Sayadio could not realize his loss, but at length his

straining eyes revealed to him that the spirit of his

sister was not within sight. In a flash he saw the ruin

of his hopes, and with a broken heart he sank senseless

to the earth.

The Peace Queen

A brave of the Oneida tribe of the Iroquois hunted

in the forest. The red buck flashed past him, but not

swifter than his arrow, for as the deer leaped he loosed

his shaft and it pierced the dappled hide.

The young man strode toward the carcass, knife in

hand, but as he seized the horns the branches parted,

and the angry face of an Onondaga warrior lowered

between them.

"Leave the buck, Oneida," he commanded fiercely.

"It is the spoil of my bow. I wounded the beast ere

you saw it."

The Oneida laughed. "My brother may have shot

at the buck," he said, "but what avails that if he did

not slay it?"

"The carcass is mine by right of forest law," cried

the other in a rage. "Will you quit it or will you

fight?"

The Oneida drew himself up and regarded the

Onondaga scornfully.

{263}

"As my brother pleases," he replied. Next moment

the two were locked in a life-and-death struggle.

Tall was the Onondaga and strong as a great tree

of the forest. The Oneida, lithe as a panther, fought

with all the courage of youth. To and fro they swayed,

till their breathing came thick and fast and the falling

sweat blinded their eyes. At length they could struggle

no longer, and by a mutual impulse they sprang apart.

The Quarrel

"Ho! Onondaga," cried the younger man, "what

profits it thus to strive for a buck? Is there no meat

in the lodges of your people that they must fight for

it like the mountain lion?"

"Peace, young man!" retorted the grave Onondaga.

"I had not fought for the buck had not your evil

tongue roused me. But I am older than you, and, I

trust, wiser. Let us seek the lodge of the Peace

Queen hard by, and she will award the buck to him

who has the best right to it."

"It is well," said the Oneida, and side by side they

sought the lodge of the Peace Queen.

Now the Five Nations in their wisdom had set apart

a Seneca maiden dwelling alone in the forest as arbiter

of quarrels between braves. This maiden the men of

all tribes regarded as sacred and as apart from other

women. Like the ancient Vestals, she could not become

the bride of any man.

As the Peace Queen heard the wrathful clamour of

the braves outside her lodge she stepped forth, little

pleased that they should thus profane the vicinity of

her dwelling.

"Peace!" she cried. "If you have a grievance

enter and state it. It is not fitting that braves should

quarrel where the Peace Queen dwells."

{264}

At her words the men stood abashed. They entered

the lodge and told the story of their meeting and the

circumstances of their quarrel.

When they had finished the Peace Queen smiled

scornfully. "So two such braves as you can quarrel

about a buck?" she said. "Go, Onondaga, as the

elder, and take one half of the spoil, and bear it back

to your wife and children."

But the Onondaga stood his ground.

The Offers

"O Queen," he said, "my wife is in the Land of

Spirits, snatched from me by the Plague Demon. But

my lodge does not lack food. I would wive again,

and thine eyes have looked into my heart as the sun

pierces the darkness of the forest. Will you come to

my lodge and cook my venison?"

But the Peace Queen shook her head.

"You know that the Five Nations have placed

Genetaska apart to be Peace Queen," she replied

firmly, "and that her vows may not be broken. Go

in peace."

The Onondaga was silent.

Then spoke the Oneida. "O Peace Queen," he

said, gazing steadfastly at Genetaska, whose eyes

dropped before his glance, "I know that you are set

apart by the Five Nations. But it is in my mind to

ask you to go with me to my lodge, for I love you.

What says Genetaska?"

The Peace Queen blushed and answered: "To you

also I say, go in peace," but her voice was a whisper

which ended in a stifled sob.

The two warriors departed, good friends now that

they possessed a common sorrow. But the Peace

Maiden had for ever lost her peace. For she could

{265}

not forget the young Oneida brave, so tall, so strong,

and so gentle.

Summer darkened into autumn, and autumn whitened

into winter. Warriors innumerable came to the Peace

Lodge for the settlement of disputes. Outwardly

Genetaska was calm and untroubled, but though she gave

solace to others her own breast could find none.

One day she sat by the lodge fire, which had burned

down to a heap of cinders. She was thinking, dreaming

of the young Oneida. Her thoughts went out to him

as birds fly southward to seek the sun. Suddenly a

crackling of twigs under a firm step roused her from

her reverie. Quickly she glanced upward. Before

her stood the youth of her dreams, pale and worn.

"Peace Queen," he said sadly, "you have brought

darkness to the soul of the Oneida. No longer may

he follow the hunt. The deer may sport in quiet for

him. No longer may he bend the bow or throw the

tomahawk in contest, or listen to the tale during the

long nights round the camp-fire. You have his heart

in your keeping. Say, will you not give him yours?"

Softly the Peace Queen murmured: "I will."

Hand in hand like two joyous children they sought

his canoe, which bore them swiftly westward. No

longer was Genetaska Peace Queen, for her vows were

broken by the power of love.

The two were happy. But not so the men of the

Five Nations. They were wroth because the Peace

Queen had broken her vows, and knew how foolish

they had been to trust to the word of a young and

beautiful woman. So with one voice they abolished

the office of Peace Queen, and war and tumult returned

once more to their own.

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