MYTHS OF THE CHEROKEE
MYTHS OF THE CHEROKEE
"I know not how the truth may be,
I tell the tale as 'twas told me."
The myths related here are from the great story tellers like Ayunini,
or "Swimmer," who was the greatest of all, but while he ranked
first and lived during the time that tried men's hearts, having been
born about 1835, and died in March, 1899, his stories can only be
perpetuated by putting them in print, and we are indebted to him for
many of these beautiful stories, which should be perpetuated at least
so long as one of the Cherokee tribe shall live.
Next in rank of importance comes Itagunahi, better known among the
English-speaking people as John Axe, who was born in the year 1800,
saw the battle of Horseshoe Bend, witnessed the removal of the Cherokee
tribe in 1838. He knew its history and almost all of the myths, legends
and stories, transmitted many of them to the white man for record, and
while he never spoke English, he was a very versatile and interesting
man of the old type of Indians, and strong to the last days; he lived
to near 100 years, then passed to the Happy Hunting Grounds.
To John D. Wofford, of the Western Reservation or tribe, we are
indebted for much information, which would have been lost except for
his wonderful knowledge.
All the story-tellers prefaced their remarks by saying, "This is what
the old folks used to tell us when we were boys."
Cherokee myths may be classified as sacred myths, animal stories,
local legends, and historical traditions. The sacred myths were not
for every one, but only those might hear who observed the proper form
and ceremony.
In the old times the myth-keepers and priests were accustomed to
meet together at night in the asi, or low-built log sleeping house,
to recite the traditions and discuss their secret knowledge. At
times those who desired instruction from an adept in the sacred
lore of the tribe would meet the priest by appointment in the asi,
where they sat up all night talking, with only the light of a small
fire burning in the middle of the floor. At daybreak the whole party
went down to the running stream, where the pupils or hearers of the
myths stripped themselves and were scratched upon the naked skin with
a bone tooth comb in the hands of the priest, after which they waded
out, facing the rising sun, and dipped seven times under the water,
while the priest recited prayers upon the bank. The purificatory rite,
which was observed more than a century ago by Adair, is also a part of
the ceremonial of the ball play, the green-corn dance, and, in fact,
every important ritual performance. Before beginning one of the stories
of the sacred class the informant would sometimes suggest jokingly
that the author first submit to being scratched and, "Go to water."
MYTH ONE.
HOW THE WORLD WAS MADE.
The earth is a great island floating in a sea of water, and suspended
at each of the four cardinal points by a cord hanging down from the
sky vault, which is of solid rock. When the world grows old and worn
out, the people will die and the cords will break, and let the earth
sink down into the ocean, and all will be water again. The Indians
are afraid of this.
When all was water, the animals were above the Galunlati, beyond
the arch; but it was very much crowded, and they were wanting more
room. They wondered what was below the water, and at last Dayunisi,
"Beaver's Grandchild," the little Water-beetle, offered to go and see
if it could learn. It darted in every direction over the surface of
the water, but could find no firm place to rest.
Then it dived to the bottom and came up with some soft mud, which began
to grow and spread in every direction until it became an island which
we call the earth. It was afterwards fastened to the sky, but no one
remembers who did it.
At first the earth was flat, and very soft and wet. The animals
were anxious to get down, and sent out different birds to see if it
was yet dry, but they found no place to alight and came back again
to Galunlati. At last it seemed to be time, and they sent out the
Buzzard and told him to go and make ready for them.
This was the Great Buzzard, the father of all the buzzards we see
now. He flew all over the earth, low down, near the ground, and it was
still soft. When he reached the Cherokee country, he was very tired,
and his wings began to flap and strike the ground, and wherever they
struck the earth there was a valley, and where they turned up again,
there was a mountain. When the animals above saw this, they were
afraid the whole earth would be mountains, so they called him back,
but the Cherokee country remains full of mountains to this day.
When the earth was dry and the animals came down, it was still dark,
so they got the sun and set it in a track to go every day across the
island from east to west, just overhead. It was too hot this way, and
Tsiskagili, the Red Crawfish, had his shell scorched red, so that his
meat was spoiled; and the Cherokee do not eat it. The conjurers put the
sun another hand-breadth higher in the air, but it was still too hot.
They raised it another time, and another, until it was seven
hand-breadths high, and just under the sky arch. Then it was right,
and they left it so. This is why the conjurers call the highest place
"Gulkwagine Digalunlatiyun," "the seven height," because it is seven
hand-breadths above the earth. Every day the sun goes along under this
arch, and returns at night on the upper side to the starting place.
There is another world under this, and it is like ours in
everything--animals, plants, and people--save that the seasons are
different. The streams that come down from the mountains are the
trails by which the people reach the underworld, and the springs
at their heads are the doorways by which they enter it, but to do
this one must fast and go to water and have one of the underground
people for a guide. We know that the seasons in the underground are
different from ours, because the water in the springs is warmer in
the winter and cooler in the summer than the outer air.
When the animals and the plants were first made--we do not know
by whom--they were told to watch and keep awake for seven nights,
just as young men now fast and keep awake when they pray to their
medicine. They tried to do this, and nearly all were awake through
the first night, but the next night several dropped off to sleep,
and the third night others were asleep, and then others, until, on
the seventh night, of all the animals, only the owl, the panther and
one or two more were still awake.
To these were given the power to see and to go about in the dark, and
to make prey of the birds and animals which must sleep at night. Of the
trees, only the cedar, the pine, the spruce, the holly and the laurel
were awake to the end, and to them it was given to be always green and
to be greatest for medicine, but to the others it was said: "Because
you have not endured to the end you shall lose your hair every winter."
Men came after the animals and plants. At first there were only a
brother and sister until he struck her with a fish and told her to
multiply, and so it was. In seven days a child was born to her, and
thereafter every seven days another, and they increased very fast
until there was danger that the world could not keep them. Then it
was made that a woman should have only one child in a year, and it
has been so ever since.
MYTH TWO.
THE FIRST FIRE.
In the beginning there was no fire, and the world was cold, until the
Thunders (Ani-Hyuntikwalaski) who lived up in Galunlati, sent their
lightning and put fire into the bottom of a hollow sycamore tree,
which grew on an island. The animals knew it was there, because they
could see the smoke coming out at the top, but they could not get to
it on account of the water, so they held a council to decide what to
do. This was a long time ago.
Every animal that could fly or swim was anxious to go after the
fire. The Raven offered, and because he was so large and strong they
thought he could surely do the work, so he was sent first. He flew
high and far across the water and alighted on the sycamore tree, but
while he was wondering what to do next, the heat had scorched all his
feathers black, and he was frightened and came back without the fire.
The little Screech-owl (Wahuhu) volunteered to go, and reached the
place safely, but while he was looking down in the hollow tree a
blast of hot air came up and nearly burned out his eyes. He managed
to fly home as best he could, but it was a long time before he could
see well, and his eyes are red to this day.
Then the Hooting Owl (Uguku) and the Horned Owl (Tskili) went, but by
the time they got to the hollow tree the fire was burning so fiercely
that the smoke nearly blinded them, and the ashes carried up by the
wind made white rings about their eyes. They had to come home again
without the fire, but with all of their rubbing they were never able
to get rid of the white rings.
Now, no more of the birds would venture, and so the little Uksuhi
snake, the Black Racer, said he would go through the water and bring
back some fire. He swam across to the island and crawled through the
grass to the tree, and went in by a small hole at the bottom. The
heat and smoke were too much for him, too, and after dodging about
blindly over the hot ashes until he was almost on fire himself he
managed by good luck to get out again at the same hole, but his body
had scorched black, and he has ever since had the habit of darting
and doubling on his track as if trying to escape from close quarters.
He came back, and the great Blacksnake, Gulegi, "The Climber,"
offered to go for the fire. He swam over to the island and climbed
up the tree on the outside, as the blacksnake always does, but when
he put his head down into the hole the smoke choked him so that he
fell into the burning stump, and before he could climb out again he
was as black as the Uksuhi.
Now, they held another council, for still there was no fire, and
the world was cold, but the birds, snakes and four-footed animals
all had some excuse for not going, because they were all afraid to
venture near the burning sycamore, until at last Kananeski Amaiyehi
(the Water Spider) said she would go. This is not the water spider
that looks like a mosquito, but the other one, with black downy hair
and red stripes on her body. She can run on the water or dive to
the bottom, so there would be no trouble to get over to the island,
but the question was, how could she bring back the fire?
"I'll manage that," said the spider, so she spun a thread from her body
and wove it into a tusti bowl, which she fastened on her back. Then
she crossed over to the island and through the grass to where the
fire was still burning. She put one little coal of fire into her bowl,
and came back with it, and ever since we have had fire, and the spider
still keeps her tusti bowl.
MYTH THREE.
ORIGIN OF THE PLEIADES AND THE PINE.
Long ago, when the world was new, there were seven boys who used to
spend all their time down by the town-house, playing the gatayusti
game, rolling a stone wheel along the ground and sliding a curved
stick after it to strike it. Their mothers scolded but it did no good,
so one day they collected some gatayusti stones and boiled them in
the pot with the corn for dinner.
When the boys came home hungry their mothers dipped out the stones
and said, "Since you like the gatayusti better than the cornfield,
take the stones now for your dinner."
The boys were very angry, and went down to the town-house, saying,
"As our mothers treat us this way, let us go where we shall never
trouble them any more." They began a dance--some say it was the
feather dance--and went round and round the town-house, praying to
the spirits to help them. At last their mothers were afraid something
was wrong and went out to look for them.
They saw the boys still dancing around the town-house, and as they
watched they noticed that their feet were off the earth, and that
with every round they rose higher and higher in the air.
They ran to get their children, but it was too late, for they were
already above the roof of the town-house--all but one, whose mother
managed to pull him down with the gatayusti pole, but he struck the
ground with such force that he sank into it and the earth closed
over him. The other six children circled higher and higher until they
went up to the sky, where we see them now as the pleiades, which the
Cherokee still calls "Anitsutsa" (the Boys).
The people grieved long after them, but the mother whose boy had gone
into the ground came every morning and evening to cry over the spot,
until the earth was damp with her tears.
At last a little green shoot sprouted up and grew day by day until
it became the tall tree that we now call the pine, and the pine is
still of the same nature as the stars and holds in itself the same
bright light.
MYTH FOUR.
THE MILKY WAY.
Some people in the South had a corn mill, in which they pounded the
corn into meal, and several mornings when they came to fill it they
noticed that some of the meal had been stolen during the night.
They examined the ground, and found the tracks of a dog; so the next
night they watched, and when the dog came from the North, and began to
eat the meal out of the bowl, they sprang out and whipped him. He ran
off howling to his home in the North, with the meal dropping from his
mouth as he ran, and leaving behind a white trail where now we see the
Milky Way, which the Cherokee calls to this day Gili-utsunstanunyi,
"Where the dog ran."
MYTH FIVE.
THE DELUGE.
A long time ago a man had a dog, which began to go down to the
river every day and look at the water and howl. At last the man was
very angry and scolded the dog, which then spoke to him and said:
"Very soon there is going to be a great freshet and the water will
come so high that everybody will be drowned; but if you will make
a raft to get upon when the rain comes, you can be saved, but you
must first throw me into the water." The man did not believe it,
and the dog said, "If you want a sign that I speak the truth, look
at the back of my neck." He looked and saw that the dog's neck had
the skin worked off so that the bones stuck out.
Then he believed the dog, and began to build a raft. Soon the rain
came and he took his family, with plenty of provisions, and they
all got upon it. It rained for a long time, and the water rose
until the mountains were covered and all the people in the world
were drowned. Then the rain stopped and the water went down again,
until at last it was safe to come off the raft.
Now, there was no one alive but the man and his family, but one day
they heard a sound of dancing and shouting on the other side of the
ridge. The man climbed to the top and looked over; everything was
still, but all along the valley he saw great piles of bones of the
people who had been drowned, and then he knew that the Ghosts had
been dancing.
MYTH SIX.
HOW THE TERRAPIN BEAT THE RABBIT.
The Rabbit was a great runner and a great boaster of what she could
do. No one thought that a Terrapin was anything but a slow traveler,
but he was a great warrior and very boastful, and the two were always
disputing about their speed. At last they agreed to decide the matter
by a race.
They fixed the day and the starting place, and arranged to run across
four mountain ridges, and the one who came in first at the end of
the race was to be the winner.
The Rabbit felt so sure of it that he said to the Terrapin, "You know
you can't run. You know you can never win the race, so I'll give you
the first ridge and then you'll have three to cross while I go over
four." The Terrapin said that would be all right, but that night when
he went home to his family he sent for his Terrapin friends and told
them he wanted their help. He said he knew he could not outrun the
Rabbit, but he wanted to stop the Rabbit's boasting. He explained his
plan to his friends and they agreed to help him. When the day came all
the animals were there to see the race. The Rabbit was there with them,
but the Terrapin was gone ahead toward the first ridge, as they had
arranged, and they could hardly see him on account of the tall grass.
The word was given and the Rabbit ran off with long jumps up the
mountain, expecting to win the race before the Terrapin could get
down on the other side. But before he got up the mountain he saw
the Terrapin go over the ridge ahead of him. He ran on, and when he
reached the top he looked all around, but could not see the Terrapin
on account of the long grass. He kept on down the mountain and began
to climb the second ridge, but when he looked up again there was the
Terrapin just going over the top.
Now he was very much surprised, and made his longest jumps to catch
up, but when he got to the top there was the Terrapin away in front
going over the third ridge. The Rabbit was getting tired now and
nearly out of breath, but he kept on down the mountain and up the
other ridge until he got to the top just in time to see the Terrapin
cross the fourth ridge and thus win the race. The Rabbit could not make
another jump, but fell over on the ground, crying, "mi, mi, mi, mi,"
as the Rabbit does ever since when he is too tired to run any more.
The race was given to the Terrapin, and all the animals wondered how
he could win against the Rabbit, but he kept still and never told. It
was easy enough, however, because all the Terrapin's friends look
just alike, and he had simply posted one near the top of each ridge
to wait until the Rabbit came in sight and then climb over and hide
in the long grass.
When the Rabbit came on he could not find the Terrapin and so thought
the Terrapin was ahead, and if he had met one of the other Terrapins
he would have thought it the same one, because they look so much
alike. The real Terrapin had posted himself on the fourth ridge, so
as to come in at the end of the race and be ready to answer questions
if the animals suspected anything.
Because the Rabbit had to lie down and lose the race the conjurer
now, when preparing his young men for the ball play, boils a lot of
rabbit hamstrings into soup, and sends some one to pour it across
the path along which the other players have to come in the morning,
so that they may become tired in the same way and lose the game. It
is not always easy to do this, because the other party is expecting
it and has watchers ahead to prevent it.
MYTH SEVEN.
THE RABBIT AND THE TAR WOLF.
Once there was such a long spell of dry weather that there was no more
water in the creeks and springs, and the animals held a council to
see what to do about it. They decided to dig a well, and all agreed to
help except the Rabbit, who was a lazy fellow, and said, "I don't need
to dig for water. The dew on the grass is enough for me." The others
did not like this, but they went to work together and dug the well.
They noticed by and by that the Rabbit kept sleek and lively,
although it was still dry weather and the water was getting low in
the well. They said, "That tricky Rabbit steals our water at night,"
so they made a wolf of pine gum and tar and set it up by the well to
scare the thief. That night the Rabbit came, as he had been coming
every night, to drink enough to last him all next day. He saw the
queer black thing by the well and said, "Who's there?" but the tar
wolf said nothing.
He came nearer, but the wolf never moved, so he grew braver and said,
"Get out of my way or I will kick you." Still the wolf never moved
and the Rabbit came up and struck it with its front foot, but the
tar held it fast. Now he was angry and said: "Turn my foot loose,
or I will strike you with my other front foot"; still the wolf said
nothing. Then the Rabbit struck the wolf with his other foot, and it
stuck, and the Rabbit said, "Turn my foot loose or I will kick you,"
and still the wolf was silent, and then the rabbit kicked with his
right hind foot so hard that it stuck, and still the wolf said nothing;
and the Rabbit said, "If you don't turn my foot loose, I will kick
you with my left hind foot, which never fails to accomplish what I
want it to do"; yet the wolf was silent, and the Rabbit made his last
kick and the foot stuck, just as the others had done.
The Rabbit plead with the wolf to let him go, and yet no response came,
and, at last, when he found he was stuck fast with his feet, he said:
"If you don't turn me loose I will butt you with all my might," and
in his desperation, he struck with all his force, and his head stuck
fast to the wolf.
In the morning all the animals came down to the well to drink
as usual, and found the Rabbit stuck fast to the wolf of tar,
and they began to discuss what disposition to make of him, so one
suggested that they cut his head off, to which the Rabbit replied,
"Please do cut my head off, for it is such an easy death to die,"
but this aroused the suspicion of the animals, so that the fox said,
"No, we will not do this for he deserves a harsher death than this,"
whereupon they all agreed. Then the Wolf suggested that they burn him
alive, to which the Rabbit said, "Please Mr. Wolf, have me burned,
for that will be so easy," but this did not please the audience, and
another suggested that they take him to the briar patch, and throw him
into the thickest part of the sharp briars to scratch him to pieces,
to which the Rabbit said, "Oh, Mr. Fox, please do not allow me to be
thrown into the briars for they stick and scratch me so much that I
could never stand the pain"; and they all with one accord exclaimed,
"Throw him in," and they threw him into the briars, and the Rabbit
sped away as fast as he could, saying, "This is where I was reared,
this is my home, and this is all that I could desire."
MYTH EIGHT.
THE RABBIT AND THE POSSUM AFTER A WIFE.
The Rabbit and the Possum each wanted a wife, but no one would marry
either of them. They talked the matter over and the Rabbit said,
"We can't get wives here; let's go to the next settlement. I'm the
messenger for the council, and I'll tell the people that I bring an
order that everybody must take a mate at once, and then we'll be sure
to get wives."
The Possum thought this a fine plan, so they started off together
to the next town. As the Rabbit traveled faster he got there first
and waited outside until the people noticed him and took him into the
town-house. When the chief came to ask him his business the Rabbit said
he brought an important message from the council that everybody must
get married without delay. So the chief called the people together
and told them the message from the council, whereupon every animal
took a mate at once, and the Rabbit got a wife.
The Possum traveled so slowly that he got there after all the animals
had mated, leaving him still without a wife.
The Rabbit pretended to feel sorry for him and said, "Never mind, I'll
carry the message to the people in the next settlement, and you hurry
on as fast as you can, and this time you will get your wife." So he
went on to the next town, and the Possum followed close after him. But
when the Rabbit got to the town-house, he sent out the word that, as
there had been peace so long there that everybody was getting lazy,
the council had ordered that there must be war at once, and they must
begin right in the town-house. So they all began fighting, but the
Rabbit made four great leaps and got away just as the Possum came
in. Everybody jumped on the Possum, who had not thought of bringing
his weapons on a wedding trip, and so could not defend himself. They
had nearly beaten the life out of him when he fell over and pretended
to be dead until he saw a good chance to jump up and get away. The
Possum never got a wife, but he remembers the lesson, and ever since
he shuts his eyes and pretends to be dead when the hunter has him in
a close place.
MYTH NINE.
HOW THE TURKEY GOT HIS BEARD.
When the Terrapin won the race from the Rabbit (see Myth Six) all
the animals wondered and talked about it a great deal, because they
had always thought the Terrapin slow, although they knew that he was
a warrior and had many conjuring secrets besides.
But the Turkey was not satisfied, and told the others that there must
be some trick about it. Said he, "I know the Terrapin can't run--he
can hardly crawl--and I'm going to try him."
So one day the Turkey met the Terrapin coming home from war with
a fresh scalp hanging from his neck and dragging on the ground as
he traveled. The Turkey laughed at the sight and said: "That scalp
don't look right on you. Your neck is too short and low down to wear
it that way. Let me show you."
The Terrapin agreed and gave the scalp to the Turkey, who fastened
it around his neck. "Now," said the Turkey, "I'll walk a little way
and you can see how it looks." So he walked ahead a short distance and
then turned and asked the Terrapin how he liked it. Said the Terrapin,
"It looks very nice; it becomes you."
"Now, I'll fix it in a different way and let you see how it looks,"
said the Turkey. So he gave the string another pull and walked ahead
again. "Oh, that looks very nice," said the Terrapin. But the Turkey
kept on walking, and the Terrapin called to him to bring back the
scalp, but he only walked the faster and broke into a run.
Then the Terrapin got out his bow and by his conjuring art shot a
number of cane splits into the Turkey's legs, to cripple him so he
could not run, which accounts for all the many bones in the Turkey's
legs, that are of no use whatever; but the Terrapin never caught the
Turkey, who still wears the scalp from his neck.
MYTH TEN.
WHY THE TURKEY GOBBLES.
A long time ago the Grouse had a fine voice and a good halloo in
the ball play. All the animals and birds used to play ball in those
days and were just as proud of a loud halloo as the ball players of
today. The Turkey had a poor voice, so he asked the Grouse to give
him lessons. The Grouse agreed to teach him, but wanted pay for
his trouble, and the Turkey promised to give him some feathers to
make him a collar. This is how the Grouse got his collar of turkey
feathers. They began the lessons, and the Turkey learned very fast
until the Grouse thought it was time for the Turkey to try his
voice. "Now," said the Grouse, "I'll stand on this hollow log, and
when I give the signal by tapping on it, you must halloo as loudly as
you can." So he got upon the log ready to tap on it, as a Grouse does,
but when he gave the signal the Turkey was so eager and excited that
he could not raise his voice for a shout, but only gobbled, and ever
since then he gobbles whenever he hears a noise.
MYTH ELEVEN.
HOW THE KINGFISHER GOT HIS BILL.
Some old men tell us that the Kingfisher was meant in the beginning
to be a water bird, but as he had not been given either web feet or
a good bill he could not make a living.
The animals held a council over it and decided to make him a bill
like a long sharp awl for a fish-gig or spear.
They made him a fish-gig and fastened it on in front of his mouth. Me
flew to the top of a tree, sailed out and darted down into the water,
and came up with a fish on his gig; and he has been the best gigger
ever since.
Others say it was this way: A Blacksnake found a yellow-hammer's nest
in a hollow tree, and after swallowing the young birds, coiled up in
the nest to sleep, and when the mother bird found him there, she went
for help to the Little People, who sent her to the Kingfisher. He
came, and after flying back and forth past the hole a few times,
made one dart at the snake and pulled him out dead.
When they looked they found a hole in the snake's head where the
Kingfisher had pierced it with a slender tugaluna fish, which he
carried in his bill like a lance. From this the Little People concluded
that he would make a first-class gigger if he only had the right spear,
so they gave him his long bill as a reward, and he has ever since been
known among all the fowls and animals as the best fisherman among them.
MYTH TWELVE.
HOW THE PARTRIDGE GOT HIS WHISTLE.
In the old days, when the world was new, the Terrapin had a fine
whistle, but the Partridge had none. The Terrapin was constantly
going about whistling and showing his whistle to the other animals,
until the Partridge became jealous, so one day when they met, the
Partridge asked leave of the Terrapin to try the whistle.
The Terrapin was afraid to risk it at first, suspecting some trick,
but the Partridge said, "I'll give it back right away, and if you are
afraid you can stay with me while I practice." So the Terrapin let
him have the whistle and the Partridge walked around blowing on it in
fine fashion. "How does it sound with me?" asked the Partridge. "O,
you do very well," said the Terrapin, walking alongside. "Now, how do
you like it," said the Partridge, running ahead and whistling a little
faster. "That's fine," answered the Terrapin, hurrying to keep up,
"but don't run so fast." "And now how do you like this?" called the
Partridge, and with that he spread his wings, gave one long whistle,
and flew to the top of a tree, leaving the poor Terrapin to look
after him from the ground.
The Terrapin never recovered his whistle, and from that and the loss
of his scalp, which was stolen from him by the Turkey, he grew ashamed
to be seen, and ever since then he shuts himself up in his box when
anyone comes near him.
MYTH THIRTEEN.
HOW THE RED BIRD GOT HIS COLOR.
A Raccoon passing a Wolf one day made several insulting remarks,
until at last the Wolf became angry and turned and chased him. The
Raccoon ran his best, and managed to reach a tree by the river side
before the Wolf came up. He climbed the tree and stretched out on
a limb overhanging the water. When the Wolf arrived, he saw the
reflection in the water, and, thinking it was the Raccoon, jumped
at it and was nearly drowned before he could scramble out again,
all wet and dripping. He lay down on the bank to dry and fell asleep,
and while he was sleeping the Raccoon came down the tree and got some
blue-pipe clay and plastered his eyes so that he could not open them
and he began to howl and make a whining noise.
A little brown bird came along and hearing the Wolf crying, asked
what was the matter. The Wolf told his story and said: "If you will
get my eyes open, I will show you where to get some nice red paint
to paint yourself." "All right," said the brown bird; so he began to
peck at the mud and soon got his eyes open. Then the Wolf took him
to a rock that had streaks of bright red paint running through it,
and the little bird painted himself with it, and has ever since been
known as the Red-bird.
MYTH FOURTEEN.
THE PHEASANT BEATING CORN, THE ORIGIN OF THE PHEASANT DANCE.
The Pheasant once saw a woman beating corn in a wooden mortar in front
of the house. "I can do that, too," said he, but the woman would not
believe it, so the Pheasant went into the woods and got upon a hollow
log and "drummed" with his wings, as a Pheasant does, until the people
in the house heard him and thought he was really beating corn.
In the Pheasant dance, a part of the Green-Corn dance, the instrument
used is a drum, and the dancers beat the ground with their feet in
imitation of the drumming sound made by the Pheasant.
They form two concentric circles, the men beginning on the inside,
facing the women in the outer circle; each in turn advancing and
retreating at the signal of the drummer, who sits at one side and
sings the Pheasant songs. According to the story, there was once a
winter famine among the birds and animals. No mast could be found in
the woods, and they were near starvation when a Pheasant discovered a
holly tree, loaded with red berries, which the Pheasant is very fond
of. He called his companions, and they formed a circle about the tree,
singing, dancing and drumming with their wings in token of their joy,
and thus originated the Pheasant dance.
MYTH FIFTEEN.
THE RACE BETWEEN THE CRANE AND THE HUMMING-BIRD.
The Humming-Bird and the Crane were both in love with a pretty
woman. She preferred the Humming-bird, who was as handsome as the
Crane was awkward, but the Crane was so persistent that in order
to get rid of him she finally told him he must challenge the other
to a race and she would marry the winner. The Humming-bird was so
swift--almost like a flash of lightning--and the Crane so slow and
heavy, that she felt sure that the Humming-bird would win. She did
not know that the Crane could fly all night.
They agreed to start from her house and fly around the circle of the
world to the beginning, and the one who came in first would marry
the woman. At the word the Humming-bird darted off like an arrow and
was out of sight in a moment, leaving his rival to follow heavily
behind. He flew all day, and when evening came and he stopped to
roost for the night he was far ahead. But the Crane flew steadily
all night, passing the humming-bird soon after midnight, and going
on until he came to a creek and stopped to rest about daybreak. The
Humming-bird woke up in the morning and flew on again, thinking how
easily he would win the race, until he reached the creek, and there
found the Crane spearing tadpoles, with his long bill, for breakfast.
He was very much surprised and wondered how this could have happened,
but he flew swiftly by and soon left the Crane out of sight again. The
Crane finished his breakfast and started on, and when evening came
he kept on as before.
This time it was hardly midnight when he passed the Humming-bird
asleep on a limb, and in the morning he had finished his breakfast
before the other came up. The next day he gained a little more,
and on the fourth day he was spearing tadpoles for dinner when the
Humming-bird passed him. On the fifth and sixth days it was late in
the afternoon before the Humming-bird came up, and, on the morning
of the seventh day the Crane was a whole night's travel ahead.
He took his time at breakfast and then fixed himself up as nicely
as he could at the creek and came in at the starting place where the
woman lived, early in the morning.
When the Humming-bird arrived in the afternoon he found that he had
lost the race, but the woman declared she would never have such an
ugly fellow for a husband as the Crane.
Moral. Beware of fine feathers.
SNAKE, FISH AND INSECT MYTHS.
MYTH SIXTEEN.
THE SNAKE TRIBE.
The generic name for snake is inadu. They are all regarded as
inaduwehi, "supernaturals," having an intimate connection with the
rain and the thunder gods, and possessing a certain influence over the
other animals and plant tribes. It is said that the snakes, the deer,
and the ginseng act as allies, so that an injury to one is avenged
by the others. The feeling toward snakes is one mingled with fear
and reverence, and every precaution is taken to avoid the killing
or offending one, especially the rattlesnake. He who kills a snake
will soon see others; and should he kill a second one, so many will
come around him, whichever way he may turn, that he will become dazed
at the sight of their glistening eyes and darting tongues, and will
go wandering about like a crazy man, unable to find his way out of
the woods.
To guard against this misfortune there are certain prayers which the
initiated say in order that a snake may not cross their path, and on
meeting the first one of the season the hunter humbly begs of him,
"Let us not see each other this summer." Certain smells, as that
of the wild parsnip, and certain songs, as those of the Unikawi or
town-house dance, are offensive to the snakes and make them angry. For
this reason the Unikawi dance is held only late in the fall, after
they have retired to their dens for the winter.
When one dreams of being bitten by a snake he must be treated the
same as for the actual bite, because it is the snake ghost that has
bitten him; otherwise the place will swell and ulcerate in the same
way, even though it be years afterwards. For fear of offending them,
even in speaking, it is never said that a man has been bitten by a
snake, but only that he has been "scratched by a briar." Most of the
beliefs and customs in this connection have more special reference
to the rattlesnake.
The rattlesnake is called utsanati, which may be rendered, "he
has a bell," alluding to the rattles. According to their myths the
rattlesnake was once a man, and was transformed to his present shape
that he might save the human race from extermination by the Sun,
a mission which he accomplished successfully after others had failed.
By the old men he is also spoken of as "The Thunder's Necklace,"
and to kill one is to destroy one of the most prized ornaments of
the Thunder-god. In one of the formulas addressed to the Little Men,
the sons of the Thunder, they are implored to take the disease snake
to themselves, because, "It is just what you adorn yourselves with."
For obvious reasons the rattlesnake is regarded as the chief of the
tribe and is feared and respected accordingly. Few Cherokee will
venture to kill one except under absolute necessity, and even then
the crime must be atoned for by asking pardon of the snake ghost,
either through the mediation of a priest or in person according to
a set formula.
Otherwise, the relatives of the dead snake will send one of their
number to track up the offender and bite him, so that he will die. The
only thing of which it is said that the rattlesnake is afraid is the
plant known as campion, or "rattlesnake's master" (Silene Stella),
which is used by doctors to counteract the effect of the bite, and
it is believed that a snake will flee in terror from the hunter who
carries a small piece of the root about his person.
Notwithstanding the fear of the rattlesnake, his rattles, teeth,
flesh and oil are greatly prized for occult or medical uses, the
snake being killed for this purpose by certain priests who know the
necessary rites and formulas for obtaining pardon.
MYTH SEVENTEEN.
THE UKTENA AND THE ULUNSUTI.
Long ago--hilahiyu--when the Sun became angry at the people on earth,
and sent a sickness to destroy them, the Little Men changed a man
into a monster snake, as large as the trunk of a tree, with horns,
which they called the Uktena, "The Keen-eyed," and sent him to kill
her. He failed to do the work, and the Rattlesnake had to be sent
instead, which made the Uktena so jealous and angry that the people
were afraid of him and had him taken to Galunlati, to stay with the
other dangerous things. He left others behind him, though, nearly
as large and dangerous as himself, and they hide now in the deep
pools in the river and about lonely passes in the high mountains,
the places which the Cherokee call, "Where the Uktena stays."
Those who know say that the Uktena with its horns on its head has
a bright blazing crest like a diamond upon its forehead, and scales
glittering like sparks of fire upon its body. It has rings or spots
along its whole length, and cannot be wounded except by shooting in
the seventh spot from the head because under this spot are its heart
and its life.
The blazing spot is called Ulunsuti, "Transparent," and he who can
win it may become the greatest wonder-worker of the tribe, but it is
worth a man's life to attempt it, for whoever is seen by the Uktena
is so dazed by the bright light that he runs toward the snake instead
of trying to escape. Even to see the Uktena asleep is death, not to
the hunter himself, but to his family. Of all the daring warriors
who have started out in search of Ulunsu'ti only Agan-uni-tsi ever
came back successful.
The East Cherokee still keeps the one that he bought. It is like a
transparent crystal, nearly the shape of a cartridge bullet, with
blood-red streaks running thru the center from top to bottom. The
owner keeps it wrapped in a whole deerskin, inside an earthen vessel,
hidden away in a secret cave in the mountains.
Every seven days he feeds it with the blood of small game, rubbing
the blood all over the crystal as soon as the animal has been
killed. Twice a year it must have the blood of a deer or some other
large animal. Should he forget to feed it at the proper time it would
come out of the cave at night in a shape of fire and fly thru the
air to slake its thirst with the life blood of the conjurer or some
of his people.
He may save himself from this danger by telling it, when he puts it
away, that he will not need it again for a long time. It will then go
quietly to sleep and feel no hunger until it is again brought out to
be consulted. Then it must be fed again on blood before it is used. No
white man must ever see it, and no person but the owner will venture
near it for fear of sudden death.
Even the conjurer who keeps it is afraid of it, and changes its hiding
place every once in a while so that it cannot learn the way out. When
he dies it will be buried with him. Otherwise, it will come out of
its cave, like a blazing star, to search for his grave, night after
night for seven years, when, if still not able to find him, it will
go back to sleep forever where he has placed it.
Whoever owns the Ulunsuti is sure of success in hunting, love,
rain-making and every other business, but its great use is in life
prophecy. When it is consulted for this purpose the future is seen
mirrored in the clear crystal as a tree is reflected in the quiet
stream below, and the conjurer knows whether the sick man will recover,
whether the warrior will return from the battle, or whether the youth
will live to be old.
MYTH EIGHTEEN.
AGAN-UNI-TSI'S SEARCH FOR THE UKTENA.
In one of their battles with the Showano, who are all magicians, the
Cherokee captured a great medicine-man, whose name was Agan-uni-tsi,
"The Ground-Hog's Mother." They had tied him ready for the torture
when he begged for his life, and engaged, if they spared him, to find
for them the great wonder-worker, the Ulunsuti. Now, the Ulunsuti is
like a blazing star set in the forehead of the great Uktena serpent,
and the medicine-man who could possess it might do marvelous things,
but everyone knew that this could not be, because it was certain
death to meet the Uktena. They warned him of all this, but he only
answered that his medicine was strong and that he was not afraid. So
they gave him his life on that condition and he began the search.
The Uktena used to lie in wait in lonely places to surprise its
victims, and especially haunted the dark passes of the Great Smoky
Mountains. Knowing this, the magician went first to a gap in the
range on the far northern border of the Cherokee country. He searched
there and found a monster blacksnake, larger than had ever been known
before, but it was not what he was looking for, and he laughed at it
as something too small for notice.
Coming southward to the next gap he found there a moccasin snake,
the largest ever seen, but when the people wondered he said it was
nothing. In the next gap he found a green snake and called the people
to see it, (the pretty salikwaya), but when they found an immense
greensnake coiled up in the path they ran away in fear.
Coming on to Utawa-gun-ti, the Bald mountain, he found there a great
diyahali (lizard) basking, but, although it was large and terrible to
look at, it was not what he was looking for and he paid no attention to
it. Going still further south to Walasi-yi, the Frog place, he found
a great frog squatting in the gap but when the people who came to see
it were frightened like the others and ran away from the monster he
mocked at them for being afraid of a frog and went on to the next gap.
He went on to Duni-skwa-lgun-yi, the Gap of the Forked Antler, and to
the enchanted lake of Atagahi, and at each he found monstrous reptiles,
but he said they were nothing.
He thought that the Uktena might be hiding in the deep water at
Tlanusiyi, the Leech place, on Hiwassee, where other strange things
had been seen before, and going there he dived far down under the
surface. He saw turtles and water snakes, and two immense sun-perches
rushed at him and retreated again, but that was all.
Other places he tried, going always southward, and at last on Gahuti
mountain he found the Uktena asleep.
Turning without noise, he ran swiftly down the mountainside as far
as he could go with one long breath, nearly to the bottom of the
slope. Then he stopped and piled up a lot of pine-cones, and inside
of it he dug a deep trench. Then he set fire to the cones and came
back again up the mountain.
The Uktena was still asleep, and, putting an arrow to his bow,
Agan-uni-tsi shot and sent the arrow through its heart, which was
under the seventh spot from the serpent's head.
The great snake raised his head, with the diamond in front flashing
fire, and came straight at his enemy, but the magician, turning
quickly, ran at full speed down the mountain, cleared the circle
of fire and the trench at one bound, and lay down on the ground
inside. The Uktena tried to follow, but the arrow was thru his heart,
and in another moment he rolled over in his death struggle, spitting
poison over all the mountainside. The poison drops could not pass the
circle of fire, but only hissed and sputtered in the blaze, and the
magician on the inside was untouched except by one small drop which
struck upon his head as he lay close to the ground; but he did not
know it. The blood, too, as poisonous as the froth, poured from the
Uktena's wound and down the slope in a stream, but it ran into the
trench and left him unharmed.
The dying monster rolled over and over down the mountain, breaking down
large trees in its path until it reached the bottom. Then Agan-uni-tsi
called every bird in all the woods to come to the feast, and so many
came that when they were done not even the bones were left. After
seven days he went by night to the spot.
The body and the bones of the snake were gone, all eaten by the birds,
but he saw a bright light shining in the darkness, and going over
to it he found, resting on a low-hanging branch, where a raven had
dropped it, the diamond from the head of Uktena. He wrapped it up
carefully and took it with him, and from that time he became the
greatest medicine-man in the whole tribe.
When he came down again to the settlement the people noticed a small
snake hanging from his head where the single drop of poison from the
Uktena had struck him; but so long as he lived he himself never knew
that it was there.
Where the blood of the Uktena had filled the trench a lake formed
afterwards, and the water was black and in this water the women used
to dye the cane splits for their baskets.
MYTH NINETEEN.
THE RED MAN AND THE UKTENA.
Two brothers went hunting together, and when they came to a good
camping place in the mountains they made a fire, and while one gathered
bark to put up a shelter, the other started up the creek to look for a
deer. Soon he heard a noise on the top of the ridge as if two animals
were fighting. He hurried thru the brush to see what it might be,
and when he came to the spot he found a great Uktena coiled around
a man and choking him to death. The man was fighting for his life,
and called out to the hunter, "Help me, nephew; he is your enemy as
well as mine." The hunter took good aim, and, drawing the arrow to
the head, sent it thru the body of the Uktena, so that the blood
spouted from the hole. The snake loosed its coils with a snapping
noise, and went tumbling down the ridge into the valley, tearing up
the earth like a water-spout as it rolled.
The stranger stood up, and it was the Asgaya Gigagei, the Red Man of
the Lightning. He said to the hunter: "You have helped me, and now I
will reward you, and give you a medicine so that you can always find
game." They waited until it was dark, and then went down the ridge
to where the dead Uktena had rolled, but by this time the birds and
the insects had eaten the body and only the bones were left.
In one place were flashes of light coming up from the ground, and on
digging here, just under the surface, the Red Man found a scale of
the Uktena. Next he went over to the tree that had been struck by
lightning, and gathering a handful of splinters he made a fire and
burned the scale of the Uktena to a coal. He wrapped this in a piece
of deerskin and gave it to the hunter, saying: "As long as you keep
this you can always kill game."
Then he told the hunter that when he went back to camp he must hang
up the medicine on a tree outside, because it was very strong and
dangerous. He told him also that when he went into the cabin he would
find his brother lying inside nearly dead on account of the presence
of the Uktena scale, but he must take a small piece of cane, which
the Red Man gave him, and scrape a little of it into water and give
it to his brother to drink, and he would be well again.
Then the Red Man was gone, and the hunter could not see where he
went. He returned to camp alone, and found his brother very sick,
but soon cured him with the medicine from the cane, and that day and
the next, and every day after, he found game whenever he went for it.
MYTH TWENTY.
THE HUNTER AND THE UKSUHI.
A man living down in Georgia came to visit some relatives at
Hickory-log. He was a great hunter, and after resting for some days,
got ready to go into the mountains. His friends warned him not to go
toward the north, as in that direction, near a certain large uprooted
tree, there lived a dangerous monster Uksuhi snake.
It kept constant watch, and whenever it could spring upon an unwary
hunter it would coil about him and crush out his life in its folds,
and then drag the dead body down the mountainside into a deep hole in
Hiwassee river. He listened quietly to the warning, but all they said
only made him the more anxious to see such a monster, so, without
saying anything of his intentions, he left the settlement and took
his way directly up the mountain toward the north.
Soon he came to the fallen tree and climbed upon the trunk, and there,
sure enough, on the other side was the great Uksuhi stretched out in
the grass, with its head raised, but looking the other way.
It was as large as a common trunk of a tree, and at the sight of this
terrible monster the hunter became so much frightened that he made
haste to get down from the log and started to run; but the great snake
had heard him approach, and the noise as he started to make his escape,
whereupon it turned quickly and pursued him.
Up the ridge the hunter ran, the snake close behind him, then down
the other side toward the river, but with all his running the Uksuhi
gained rapidly, and just as he reached the low ground it caught up
with him and wrapped around him, pinning one arm down by his side,
but leaving the other free. Now, it gave him a terrible squeeze that
almost broke his ribs, and then began to drag him along toward the
water. With his free hand the hunter began to clutch at the bushes
as they passed, but the snake turned his head and blew its sickening
breath into his face, until he had to let go his hold.
Again and again this happened, and all the time they were getting
nearer and nearer to a deep hole in the river, when, almost at the last
moment, a lucky thought came into the hunter's mind. He was sweating
all over from his run across the mountain, and suddenly remembered to
have heard that snakes cannot bear the smell of perspiration. Putting
his free hand into his bosom he worked it around under his armpit
until it was covered with perspiration. Then withdrawing it, he
grasped at a bush until the snake turned its head, when he quickly
slapped his sweaty hand on its nose. The Uksuhi gave one gasp almost
as if it had been wounded, loosened its coil, and glided swiftly
away thru the bushes, leaving the hunter, bruised but not disabled,
to make his way home to the Hickory-log.
MYTH TWENTY-ONE.
THE USTUTLI.
There was once a great serpent, called the Ustutli, that made its
haunt upon Cohutta mountain. It was called the Ustutli or "foot" snake,
because it did not glide like other snakes, but had feet at each end of
its body, and moved by strides or jerks, like a great measuring worm.
These feet were three-cornered and flat and could hold to the ground
like suckers. It had no legs, but would raise itself up on its hind
feet, with its snaky head high in the air until it found a good place
to take a fresh hold; then it would bend down and grip its front feet
to the ground while it drew its body up from behind.
It could cross rivers and deep ravines by throwing its head across,
and getting a grip with its front feet, and then swing its body
over. Wherever its footprints were found there was danger.
It used to bleat like a young fawn, and when the hunter heard a fawn
bleat in the woods he never looked for it, but hurried away in the
other direction. Up the mountain or down, nothing could escape the
Ustutli's pursuit, but along the side of the ridge it could not go,
because the great weight of its swinging head broke its hold on the
ground when it moved sideways.
It came to pass after awhile that not a hunter about Cohutta would
venture near the mountain for dread of the Ustutli.
At last a man from one of the northern settlements came down to visit
some relatives in that neighborhood. When he arrived they made a feast
for him, but only had corn and beans, and excused themselves for having
no meat because the hunters were afraid to go into the mountains. He
asked the reason, and when they told him he said he would go himself
tomorrow and either bring in a deer or find the Ustutli. They tried
to dissuade him from it, but as he insisted upon going they warned
him that if a fawn bleated in the thicket he must run at once and if
the snake came after him he must not try to run down the mountain,
but along the side of the ridge.
In the morning he started out, and went directly to the
mountain. Working his way thru the bushes at the base, he suddenly
heard a fawn bleat in front. He guessed at once that it was the
Ustutli, but he had made up his mind to see it, so he did not
turn back, but went straight forward, and there, sure enough, was
the monster, with its great head in the air, as high as the pine
branches, looking in every direction to discover a deer, or maybe
a man, for breakfast. It saw him and came at him at once, moving
in jerky strides, every one the length of a tree trunk, holding its
scaly head high above the bushes and bleating as it came. The hunter
was so badly frightened that he lost his wits entirely and started
to run directly up the mountain.
The great snake came after him, gaining half its length on him
every time it took a fresh grip with its fore feet, and would have
caught the hunter before he reached the top of the ridge, but that he
suddenly remembered the warning and changed his course to run along
the side of the mountain. At once the snake began to lose ground,
for every time it raised itself up the weight of its body threw it
out of a straight line and made it fall a little lower down the side
of the ridge. It tried to recover itself, but now the hunter gained
and kept on until he turned the end of the ridge and left the snake
out of sight. Then he cautiously climbed to the top and looked over
and saw the Ustutli still slowly working its way toward the summit.
He went down to the base of the mountain, opened his fire pouch,
and set fire to the grass and leaves. Soon the fire ran all around
the mountain and began to climb upward.
When the great serpent smelled the smoke and saw the flames coming,
it forgot all about the hunter and turned to make all speed for a
high cliff near the summit. It reached the rock and got upon it,
but the fire followed and caught the dead pines about the base of
the cliff until the heat made the Ustutli's scales crack.
Taking a close grip of the rock with its hind feet, it raised its
body and put forth all its strength in an effort to spring across
the wall of fire that surrounded it, but the smoke choked it and its
hold loosened and it fell among the blazing pine trunks and lay there
until it was burned to ashes.
MYTH TWENTY-TWO.
THE UWTSUNTA.
At Nundayeli, the wildest spot in Nantahala river, (in what is now
Macon County, North Carolina), where the overhanging cliff is highest
and the river far below, there lived in the old time a great snake
called the Uwtsunta (or bouncer), because it moved by jerks like a
measuring worm, with only one part of its body on the ground at a
time. It stayed generally on the east side, where the sun came first
in the morning, and used to cross by reaching over from the highest
point of the cliff until it could get a grip on the other side,
when it would pull over the rest of its body.
It was so immense that when it was thus stretched across, its shadow
darkened the whole valley below.
For a long time the people did not know it was there, but when at
last they found out that such a monster inhabited the country, they
were afraid to live in the valley, so that it was deserted long before
the Indians were removed from the country.
MYTH TWENTY-THREE.
THE SNAKE BOY.
There was a boy who used to go bird hunting every day, and all the
birds he brought home to give to his grandmother, who was very fond
of him. This made the rest of the family jealous, and they treated
him in such fashion that at last one day he told his grandmother he
would leave them all, but that she must not grieve for him.
Next morning he refused to eat any breakfast, but went off hungry to
the woods and was gone all day. In the evening he returned, bringing
with him a pair of deer horns, and went directly to the hothouse
(Asi), where his grandmother was waiting for him. He told the old
woman that he must be alone that night, so she got up and went into
the house where the others were.
At early daybreak she came again to the hothouse and looked in, and
there she saw an immense Uktena that filled the Asi, with horns on
its head, but still with two human legs instead of a snake's tail.
It was all that was left of her boy. He spoke to her and told her to
leave him, and she went away again from the door. When the sun was
well up, the Uktena began slowly to crawl out, but it was full noon
before it was all out of the Asi. It made a terrible hissing noise
as it came out, and all the people ran from it.
It crawled on thru the settlement, leaving a broad trail in the ground
behind it, until it came to a deep bend in the river, where it plunged
in and went under the water.
The grandmother grieved much for the boy, until the others of the
family got angry and told her that she thought so much of him that
she ought to go and stay with him. So she left them and went along
the trail made by the Uktena to the river and walked directly into
the water and disappeared. Once after that a man fishing near the
place saw her sitting on a large rock in the river, looking just as
she had always looked, but as soon as she caught sight of him she
jumped into the water and was gone.
MYTH TWENTY-FOUR.
THE SNAKE MAN.
Two hunters, both for some reason under a tabu against the meat of
a squirrel or turkey, had gone into the woods together. When evening
came, they found a good camping place and lighted a fire to prepare
their supper. One of them had killed several squirrels during the day,
and now got ready to broil them over the fire.
His companion warned him that if he broke the tabu and ate squirrel
meat he would become a snake, but the other laughed and said that was
only a conjurer's story. He went on with the preparation, and when
the squirrels were roasted made his supper of them and then lay down
by the fire to sleep.
Late that night his companion was aroused by groaning, and on looking
around he found the other lying on the ground rolling and twisting in
agony, and with the lower part of his body already changed to the body
and tail of a large watersnake. The man was still able to speak and
call loudly for help, but his companion could do nothing, but only sit
by and try to comfort him while he watched the arms sink into his body
and the skin take on a scaly change that mounted gradually toward the
neck, until at last even the head was a serpent's head and the great
snake crawled away from the fire and down the bank into the river,
and was never seen again.
MYTH TWENTY-FIVE.
THE RATTLESNAKE'S REVENGE.
One day in the olden times, when we could still talk with other
creatures, while some children were playing about the house, their
mother inside heard them scream. Running outside she found that a
rattlesnake had crawled from the grass, and taking up a stick she
killed it. The father was out hunting in the mountains, and that
evening when coming home after dark thru the gap, he heard a strange
wailing sound. Looking about he found that he had come into the midst
of a whole company of rattlesnakes, all of which had their mouths open
and seemed to be crying. He asked them the reason of their trouble,
and they told him that his own wife had that day killed their chief,
the Yellow Rattlesnake, and they were just now about to send the
Black Rattlesnake to take revenge.
The hunter said he was very sorry, but they told him that if he spoke
the truth that he must be ready to make satisfaction and give his
wife as a sacrifice for the life of their chief. Not knowing what
might happen otherwise, he consented. They then told him that the
Black Rattlesnake would go home with him and coil up just outside
the door in the dark. He must go inside, where he would find his wife
awaiting him, and ask her to get him a fresh drink of water from the
spring. That was all. He went home and knew that the Black Rattlesnake
was following. It was night when he arrived and very dark, but he found
his wife waiting with his supper ready. He sat down and asked for a
drink of water. She handed him a gourd full from the jar, but he said
he wanted it fresh from the spring, so she took a bowl and went out of
the door. The next moment he heard a cry, and going out he found that
the Black Rattlesnake had bitten her and that she was already dying.
He stayed with her until she was dead, when the Black Rattlesnake
came out from the grass again and said his tribe was now satisfied.
He then taught the hunter a prayer song, and said, "When you meet
any of us hereafter sing this song and we will not hurt you; but if
by accident one of us should bite one of your tribe, then sing this
song over him and he will recover." And the Cherokee have kept this
song and sing it until this day.
MYTH TWENTY-SIX.
THE NEST OF THE TLANUWAS.
On the north bank of Little Tennessee river, in a bend below the
mouth of Citico creek, in Blount County, Tennessee, is a high cliff
hanging over the water, and about half way up the face of the rock is
a cave with two openings. The rock projects outward above the cave,
so that the mouth cannot be seen from above, and it seems impossible
to reach the cave either from above or below.
There are white streaks in the rock from the cave down to the
water. The Cherokee call it Tlanuwai (the place of the Great Mythic
Hawk).
In the old time, away back soon after the creation, a pair of Tlanuwas
had their nest in this cave. They were immense birds, larger than
any that live now, and very strong and savage.
They were forever flying up and down the river, and used to come into
the settlements and carry off dogs and even young children playing
near the houses. No one could reach the nest to kill them, and when
the people tried to shoot them the arrows only glanced off and were
seized and carried away in the talons of the Tlanuwas.
At last the people went to a great medicine man, who promised to
help them. Some were afraid that if he failed to kill the Tlanuwas
they would take revenge on the people, but the medicine man said he
could fix that. He made a long rope of linn bark, just as the Cherokee
still do, with loops in it for his feet, and had the people let him
down from the top of the cliff at a time when he knew that the old
birds were away.
When he came opposite the mouth of the cave he still could not reach
it, because the rocks above hung over, so he swung himself backward
and forward several times until the rope swung near enough for him
to pull himself into the cave with a hooked stick that he carried,
which he managed to fasten in some bushes growing at the entrance.
In the nest he found four young ones, and on the floor of the cave
were the bones of all sorts of animals and children that had been
carried there by the hawks. He pulled the young ones out of the nest
and threw them over the cliff into the deep water below, where a
great Uktena serpent that lived there finished them.
Just then he saw the two old ones coming, and had hardly time to
climb up again to the top of the rock before they reached the nest.
When they found the nest empty they were furious, and circled round
and round in the air until they saw the snake put its head from the
water. Then they darted straight downward, and while one seized the
snake in his talons and flew far up in the sky with it, his mate struck
at it and bit off piece after piece until nothing was left. They were
so high up that when the pieces fell they made holes in the rocks,
which are still to be seen there, at the place which we call, "Where
the Tlanuwa cut it up," opposite the mouth of Citico. Then the two
hawks circled up and up until they went out of sight, and they have
never been seen any more.
MYTH TWENTY-SEVEN.
THE HUNTER AND THE TLANUWA.
A hunter out in the woods one day saw a Tlanuwa overhead and tried to
hide from it, but the great bird had already seen him, and, sweeping
down, struck its claws into his hunting pack, and carried him far
up into the air. As it flew, the Tlanuwa, which was a mother-bird,
spoke and told the hunter that he need not be afraid, as she would
not hurt him, but only wanted him to stay awhile with her young ones
to guard them until they were old enough to leave the nest.
At last they alighted at the mouth of a cave in the face of a steep
cliff. Inside, the water was dripping from the roof, and at the
farther end was a nest of sticks in which were two young birds.
The old Tlanuwa set the hunter down and then flew away, returning
soon with a fresh-killed deer, which it tore to pieces, giving the
first piece to the hunter and then feeding the two young hawks.
The hunter stayed in the cave for many days until the young birds
were nearly grown, and every day the old mother bird would fly away
from the nest and return in the evening with a deer or a bear, of
which she always gave the first piece to the hunter. He grew very
anxious to see his home again, but the Tlanuwa kept telling him not
to be uneasy, but to wait a little while longer. At last he made up
his mind to escape from the cave and finally studied out the plan.
The next morning, after the great hawk had gone, he dragged one of
the young birds to the mouth of the cave and tied himself to one of
its legs with a strap from his hunting pack. Then with the flat side
of the tomahawk he struck it several times on the head until it was
dazed and helpless, then pushed the bird and himself together off
the shelf of rock into the air. They fell far, far down toward the
earth, but the air from below held up the bird's wings, so that it
was almost as if they were flying. As the Tlanuwa revived it tried
to fly upward toward the nest, but the hunter struck it again with
his hatchet until it was dazed and dropped again.
At last they came down in the top of a poplar tree, when the hunter
cut the strap from the leg of the bird and let it fly away, first
pulling out a feather from its wing. He climbed down from the tree
and went home to the settlement, but when he looked in his pack for
the feather, he found that he only had a stone, for the Great Mythic
Hawk had power to turn many objects into whatever it pleased.
MYTH TWENTY-EIGHT.
UTLUNTA, THE SPEAR FINGER.
Long, long ago, there lived in the mountains a terrible ogress,
a woman monster, whose food was human livers. She could take on any
shape that she pleased, or that suited her purpose, but in her right
form she looked very much like an old woman, excepting that her whole
body was covered with a skin as hard as a rock, that no weapon could
wound or penetrate, and that on her right hand she had a long, stony
finger of bone, like an awl or spear-head, with which she stabbed
everyone to whom she could get near enough. On account of this fact
she was called Utlunta, "Spear Finger," and on account of her stony
skin she was sometimes called Nunyunuwi, "Stone-dress."
There was another stone-clothed monster that killed people, but that
is a different story.
Spear-finger had such power over stone that she could easily lift and
carry immense rocks, and could cement them together by merely striking
one against another. To get over the rough country more easily she
undertook to build a great bridge through the air from Nunyutlugunyi,
the "Tree Rock," on Hiwassee, over to Sanigilagi (Whiteside Mountain,
in Jackson County, North Carolina,) on the Blue Ridge, and had it well
started from the top of "Tree rock" when the lightning struck it and
scattered the fragments along the whole ridge, where the pieces can
still be seen by those who go there.
She used to range all over the mountains about the heads of the streams
and in the dark passes of Nantahala, always hungry and looking for
victims. Her favorite haunt on the Tennessee side of the Great Smoky
Mountains was about the gap on the trail where Chilhowee Mountains
come down to the river.
Sometimes the old woman would approach along the trail where the
children were picking strawberries or playing near the village, and
would say to them coaxingly, "Come, my grand children, come to your
granny and let granny dress your hair." When some little girl ran up
and laid her head in the old woman's lap to be petted and combed,
the old witch would gently run her fingers thru the child's hair
until it went to sleep, when she would stab the little one thru
the heart or back of the neck with the long awl finger, which she
had kept hidden under her robe. Then she would take out the liver
and eat it. She would enter the house by taking the appearance of
one of the family who happened to have gone out for a short time,
and would watch her chance to stab some one with her long finger
and take out his liver. She could stab him without being noticed,
and often the victim did not even know it himself at the time--for it
left no wound and caused no pain--but went on about his own affairs,
until all at once he felt weak and began to pine away, and was always
sure to die, because Spear-finger had taken his liver.
When the Cherokee went out in the fall, according to their custom,
to burn leaves off from the mountains in order to get the chestnuts
on the ground, they were never safe, for the old witch was always on
the lookout, and as soon as she saw the smoke rise she knew there
were Indians there and she would sneak up and try to surprise one
alone. So as well as they could they would try to keep together, and
were very cautious of allowing any stranger to approach the camp. But
if one went to the spring for a drink, they never knew but it might
be the liver-eater that came back and sat with them. At last a great
council was held to devise some means to get rid of the old witch
before she should destroy everybody. The people came from all around
to Nikwasi, (mound now near Franklin, N. C.) and after much talking it
was decided that the best way to secure her demise would be to trap her
in a pitfall where all the warriors could attack her at once. So they
dug a deep pitfall across the path and covered it over with earth and
grass as if the ground had never been disturbed. Then they kindled a
large fire of brush near the trail and hid themselves in the laurels,
because they knew that she would come as soon as she saw the smoke.
Sure enough they soon saw an old woman coming along the trail. She
looked very much like an old woman that they knew in the village,
and although several of the wiser men wanted to shoot at her, the
others interfered, because they did not want to hurt one of their
own people. The old woman came slowly along the trail, with one hand
under her blanket, until she stepped upon the pitfall and tumbled
through the brush top into the deep hole below. Then, at once, she
showed her true nature, and instead of the old feeble woman there was
the terrible Utlunta with her stony skin, and her sharp awl finger
reaching out in every direction for some one to stab.
The hunters rushed out from the thicket and surrounded the pit, but
shoot as true and as often as they could, the arrows struck the stony
mail of the witch only to be broken and fall useless at her feet,
while she taunted them and tried to climb out of the pit to get at
them. They kept out of her way, but were only wasting their arrows
when a small bird, Utsugi, the titmous, perched on a tree overhead and
began to sing, "un, un, un." They thought it was saying unqhu, heart,
meaning that they should aim at the heart of the stone witch. They
directed their arrows where the heart should be, but the arrows only
glanced off with the flint heads broken.
Then they caught the Utsugi and cut off its tongue, so that ever
since its tongue is short and everybody knows that it is a liar.
When the hunters let it go, it flew straight up into the sky until it
was out of sight, and it never came back any more, and the titmouse
that we know now is only an image of the other.
They kept up the fight without result until another bird, little
Tsikilili, the chickadee, flew down from a tree and alighted upon the
witch's right hand. The warriors took this as a sign that they must
aim there, and they were right, for her heart was on the inside of
her hand, which she kept doubled up into a fist, this same awl-hand
with which she had stabbed so many people. Now she was frightened
in earnest, and began to rush furiously at them with her long awl
finger, and to jump about in the pit to dodge the arrows, until at
last an arrow struck her just where the awl finger joined her wrist
and she fell down dead. Ever since then the Tsikilili is known as a
truth-teller, and when a man is away on a journey, if this bird comes
and perches near the house and chirps its song, his friends know that
he will soon reach his home in safety, and his friends will greet
him upon his arrival.
MYTH TWENTY-NINE.
NUNYUNUWI, THE STONE MAN.
This is what the old men used to tell us when we were boys. Once when
all the people of the settlement were out in the mountains on a great
hunt, one man who had gone ahead climbed to the top of a high ridge
and found a large river on the other side.
While he was looking across he saw an old man walking about on the
opposite ridge, with a cane that seemed to be made of some bright,
shining rock. The hunter watched and saw that every little while the
old man would point his cane in a certain direction, then draw it
back and smell the end of it. At last he pointed it in the direction
of the hunter's camp on the other side of the mountain, and this
time when he drew back the staff he sniffed it several times as if
it smelled very good, and then started along the ridge straight for
the camp. He moved very slowly, with the help of the cane, until he
reached the end of the ridge, when he threw the cane out into the
air and it became a bridge of shining rock stretching across the river.
After he had crossed over upon the bridge it became a cane again
and the old man picked it up and started over the mountain toward
the camp. The hunter was frightened, and felt sure that it meant
mischief, so he hurried on down the mountain and took the shortest
trail back to the camp to get there before the old man. When he got
there and told his story the medicine-man said the old man was a
wicked cannibal monster called Nunyunuwi, "Dressed in Stone," who
lived in the Nantahala mountains, and was always going about thru
the forest looking for some hunter that he might kill and eat him.
It was very hard to escape from him, because his cane guided him as a
dog, and it was nearly as hard to kill him, for his body was entirely
covered with a skin of solid rock. If he came he would kill and eat
them all, and there was only one way to save their lives.
He could not bear to look upon a woman, and if they could bring to
the path seven married women, that the sight of them would kill him,
and they would rid themselves of him. So they ran swiftly and brought
quickly as many women as they could find, and placed them along the
trail, and when the old man came, he saw one woman standing near the
trail and the very sight of her made him sick and he cried out, "Yu,
my grandchild, I hate the sight of woman!" He hurried past her and in
a moment he saw the second woman standing as he had seen the other,
and he cried out again, "Yu! my child; I hate the tribe of women, and
he hurried past her, and he continued along the trail until he came
to the seventh, and by this time he had become so much enraged that
he fell down almost dead. Then the medicine-man drove seven sourwood
switches through his body and pinned him to the ground, and when night
came they piled great logs over him and set fire to them, and all the
people gathered around to see. Nunyunuwi was a great adawehi and knew
many secrets, and now as the fire came close to him he began to talk,
and told them the medicine for all kinds of sickness. At midnight
he began to sing, and sang the hunting songs for calling up the bear
and deer and all the animals of the woods and mountains.
As the blaze grew hotter his voice sank lower and lower, until at
last when the daylight came, the logs were a heap of white ashes and
the voice was still. Then the medicine-man told them to rake off the
ashes, and where the body had lain they found only a large lump of
wadi paint and a magic Ulunsuti stone. He kept the stone for himself,
and calling the people around him he painted them on the face and
breast with the red wadi, and whatever each person prayed for while
the painting was being done, whether for hunting success, for working
skill, or for long life--that gift was his.
MYTH THIRTY.
THE HUNTER AND DAKWA.
In the old days there was a great fish called the Dakwa, which lived
in the Tennessee river where Toco creek comes in at Dakwai, the "Dakwa
place," above the mouth of Tellico, and which was so large that it
could easily swallow a man. Once a canoe filled with warriors was
crossing over from the town on the other side of the river, when the
Dakwa suddenly rose up under the boat and threw them all into the
air. As they came down it swallowed one with a single snap of its
jaws and dived with him to the bottom of the river.
As soon as the hunter came to his senses he found that he had not been
hurt, but it was so hot and close inside the Dakwa that he was nearly
smothered. As he groped around in the dark his hand struck a lot of
mussel shells which the fish had swallowed, and taking one of these for
a knife he began to cut his way out, until soon the fish grew uneasy
at the scraping inside his stomach and came up to the top of the water
for air. He kept on cutting until the fish was in such pain that it
swam this way and that across the stream and thrashed the water into
foam with its tail. Finally the hole was so large that he could look
out, and found that the fish was resting in shallow water near the
shore. The Dakwa soon became so sick from the wound that it vomited
the hunter out of its mouth, and he with the others made their escape
to Tellico, but the juices in the stomach of the fish made the hair
fall from the head of the hunter so that he was bald ever after that.
MYTH THIRTY-ONE.
ATAGAHI, THE ENCHANTED LAKE.
(This is the scene of the myth upon which the story of Occoneechee
is founded.)
Westward from the headwaters of Oconaluftee river, in the wildest
depths of the Great Smoky Mountains, which form the line between North
Carolina and Tennessee, is the enchanted lake of Atagahi, "Gall place."
Although all of the Cherokee know that it is there, no one has ever
seen it, for the way is so difficult that only the animals know how to
reach it. Should a stray hunter come near the place he would know of
it by the whirring sound of the wings of thousands of wild ducks and
pigeons flying about the lake, but on reaching the spot he would find
only a dry flat, without bird or animal or blade of grass, unless he
had first sharpened his spiritual vision by prayer and fasting and
an all-night vigil.
Because the lake is not seen, some people think that the lake is dried
up long ago, but this is not true. To one that had kept watch and
fasted all the night it would appear at daybreak as a wide-extending,
but shallow sheet of pure water, fed by springs spouting from the
high cliffs around. In the water are all kinds of fish and reptiles,
and swimming upon the surface or flying overhead are great flocks of
ducks and pigeons, while all about the shore are bear tracks crossing
in every direction. It is the medicine lake of the birds and animals,
and whenever a bear is wounded by the hunter he makes his way thru
the woods to this lake and plunges into the water, and when he comes
out upon the other side his wounds are healed, and for this reason
the animals keep the lake invisible to the hunter.
MYTH THIRTY-TWO.
THE BRIDE FROM THE SOUTH.
The North went traveling, and after going far and meeting many
different tribes he finally fell in love with the daughter of the
South and wanted to marry her. The girl was willing, but her parents
objected and said, "Ever since you came the weather has been cold,
and if you stay here we will all freeze to death." The North pleaded
hard, and said if they would let him have their daughter, he would
take her back to his own country, so at last they consented.
They were married and he took his bride back to his own country,
and when they arrived there she found the people all living in ice
houses. The next day, when the sun rose, the houses began to leak,
and as it climbed higher the houses began to melt, and it grew warmer
and warmer, until finally the people came to the young husband and told
him he must send his wife home again, or the weather would get so warm
that the whole settlement would be melted. He loved his wife and so
held out as long as he could, but as the sun grew hotter the people
were more urgent, and at last he had to send her home to her parents,
but they agreed that she might return once a year for a short season,
but that she should never come to live in the North again, for as she
was reared in the South, that her whole nature was warm and that she
was unfit to dwell in the North.
MYTH THIRTY-THREE.
THE ICE MAN.
Once when the people were burning the woods in the fall, and the blaze
set fire to a poplar tree, which continued to burn until the fire
went down into the roots and burned a great hole in the ground. It
burned, and burned, and the hole grew constantly larger, until the
people became frightened and were afraid that it would burn the whole
world. They tried to put out the fire, but it had gone too deep,
and they did not know what to do. At last some one said there was a
man living in a house of ice far in the north who could put out the
fire, so messengers were sent, and after traveling a long distance
they came to the ice house and found the Ice Man at home. He was
a little fellow with long hair hanging down to the ground in two
plaits. The messengers told him their errand and he at once said,
"O yes, I can help you," and began to unplait his hair.
When it was once all unbraided he took it up in one hand and struck
it once across the other hand, and the messengers felt the wind blow
against their cheeks. A second time he struck his hair across his
hand, and a light rain began to fall. The third time he struck his
hair across his open hand there was sleet mixed with the rain drops,
and when he struck the fourth time great hailstones fell upon the
ground, as if they had come out from the ends of the hair. "Go back
now," said the Ice Man, "and I shall be there tomorrow."
So the messengers returned to their people, whom they found still
gathered helplessly about the great burning pit. The next day while
they were all gathered about the fire, there came a wind from the
north, and they were afraid, for they knew that it came from the
Ice Man. But the wind only made the fire blaze higher. The light
rain began to fall, but the drops seemed only to make the fire
hotter. Then the shower turned to a heavy rain, with sleet and hail
that killed the blaze and made clouds of smoke and steam rise from the
red coals. The people fled to their homes for shelter, and the storm
rose to a whirlwind that drove the rain into every burning crevice
and piled great hailstones over the embers, until the fire was dead
and even the smoke ceased. When at last it was all over, and the
people returned, they found a lake where the burning pit had been,
and from below the water came a sound as of embers still crackling.
MYTH THIRTY-FOUR.
THE HUNTER AND SELU.
A hunter had been tramping over the mountains all day long without
finding any game, and when the sun went down, he built a fire in a
hollow stump, swallowed a few mouthfuls of corn gruel and lay down
to sleep, tired out and completely discouraged.
About the middle of the night he dreamed and seemed to hear the sound
of beautiful singing, which continued until near daybreak, and then
appeared to die away in the upper air.
All the next day he hunted, with the same poor success, and at night
made his lonely camp in the woods. He slept, and the same strange
dream came again, but so vividly that it seemed to him like an actual
happening. Rousing himself before daylight, he still heard the same
song, and feeling sure now that it was real, he went in the direction
of the sound and found that it came from a single green stalk of corn
(selu).
The plant spoke to him, and told him to cut off some of its roots
and take them to his home in the settlement, and the next morning
to chew them and "go to water" before anyone else was awake, and
then to go out again into the woods, and he would kill many deer,
and from that time on would always be successful in the hunt.
The corn plant continued to talk, teaching him hunting secrets and
telling him to be always generous with the game he took, until it was
noon and the sun was high, when it suddenly took the form of a woman
and rose gracefully into the air and was gone from sight, leaving
the hunter alone in the woods. He returned home and told his story,
and all the people knew that he had seen Selu, the wife of Kanati. He
did as the spirit had directed, and from that time was noted as the
most successful of all the hunters in the settlement.
MYTH THIRTY-FIVE.
THE NUNNEHI AND OTHER SPIRIT FOLKS.
The Nunnehi or Immortals, the "People who live everywhere," were a
race of spirit people who lived in the highlands of the old Cherokee
country and had a great many town-houses, and especially on the tops
of the bald mountains, the high peaks where no timber grows.
They had large town-houses on Pilot Knob, and in Nik-Wasi mound,
in what is now Macon County, North Carolina, and another in Blood
Mountain, and at the head of Nottely river in Georgia. They were
invisible excepting when they wanted to be seen, and they looked
and spoke just like other Indians. They were very fond of music and
dancing, and hunters in the mountains would often hear the dance songs
and the drum-beating in some invisible town-house, but when they went
toward the sound it would shift about and they would hear it behind
them or away in some other direction, so that they could never find
the place where the dance was.
They were a friendly people, too, and often brought lost wanderers to
their town-houses under the mountains, and cared for them there until
they were rested, and guided them back to their homes. There was a
man who lived in Nottely town who had been with the Nunnehi, when he
was a boy about twelve years old, and this is the story he tells.
One day, when he was playing near the river, shooting at a mark with
his bow and arrows, until he became tired, and started to build a
fish-trap in the water. While he was piling up the rocks in two long
walls, a man came and stood on the bank and asked him what he was
doing. The man said, "Well, that is pretty hard work, and you ought
to come and rest awhile; come and take a walk up the river."
The boy said, "No"; that he was going home to dinner soon. "Come right
up to my house," said the stranger, "and I'll give you a good dinner
there, and will bring you home again in the morning."
So the boy went with him up the river until they came to a house, when
they went in, and the man's wife and the other people there were very
glad to see him, and gave him a fine dinner, and were very kind to him.
While they were eating, another boy that the boy knew very well came
in and spoke to him, so that he felt very much at home.
After dinner he played with the other children, and slept there that
night, and in the morning, after breakfast, the man got ready to take
him home. They went down a path that had a cornfield on one side and
a peach orchard on the other, until they came to another trail, and
the man said, "Go along this trail across that ridge and you will
come to the river road that will bring you straight to your home,
and now I'll go back to the house."
So the man went back to the house, and the boy went on along the trail,
but when he had gone a little distance he looked back, and there was
no cornfield or orchard or fence or house; nothing but trees on the
mountainside. He thought it rather queer, but somehow he was not
frightened, and went on until he came to the river trail in sight
of his house. There were a great many people standing about talking,
and when they saw him they ran toward him shouting, "Here he is! He
is not drowned or killed in the mountains!" They told him that they
had been hunting him ever since yesterday noon, and asked him where he
had been. He told them the story of what had happened, and they said
there is no house there, and it was the Nunnehi that had you with them.
Once four Nunnehi women came to dance at Nottely town, and danced half
of the night with the young men there, and nobody knew that they were
Nunnehi, but thought them visitors from another settlement. About
midnight they left to go home, and some men who had come out from
the town-house to cool off watched to see which way they went. They
saw the women go down the trail to the river ford, but just as they
came to the water they disappeared, although it was a plain trail,
with no place where they could hide. Then the watchers knew that they
were Nunnehi. At another time a man was crossing over from Nottely
to Hemptown, in Georgia, and heard a drum and the songs of dancers
in the hills on one side of the trail. He rode to see who could be
dancing in such a place, but when he reached the spot the drum and the
songs were behind him, and he was so frightened that he hurried back
to the trail and rode all the way to Hemptown as hard as he could to
tell the story. He was a truthful man and they believed him.
A long time ago a man got lost in the mountains near the head of
Oconaluftee river, and it was very cold and his friends thought that
he must be frozen to death, but he was taken to a cave by the Nunnehi
and given something to eat, and when the weather was more pleasant
they conducted him to the main trail and sent him on home to the
neighbors in the valley below.
MYTH THIRTY-FIVE.
THE REMOVED TOWN-HOUSE.
Long ago, before the Cherokee were driven from their homes in 1838, the
people on Valley river and Hiwassee heard voices of invisible spirits
calling them from the skies, and warning them of wars and misfortunes
which the future held in store, and inviting them to come and live with
the Nunnehi, the Immortals, in their homes under the mountains and
under the waters. For days the voice hung in the air, and the people
listened until they heard the voice say, "If you would live with us,
gather every one in your town-house and fast there seven days, and no
one must raise a shout or a warwhoop in all that time. Do this and we
will come and you shall see us and we shall take you to live with us."
The people were afraid of the evils that were to come, and they
knew that the Immortals of the mountains and of the waters were
happy forever, so they counciled in their town-house and decided to
go with them. Those of Anisgayayitown came all together into their
town-house and prayed and fasted for six days. On the seventh day
there was a sound from the distant mountains, and it came nearer and
grew louder until a roar of thunder was all about the town-house and
they felt the ground shake all around them. Now they were frightened,
and despite the warning some of them screamed out.
The Nunnehi, who had already lifted up the town-house with its mound
to carry it away, were startled by the sound and let a part of it
fall to the ground, where we now see the mound Setsi.
They steadied themselves again and bore the rest of the town-house,
with all the people in it, to the top of Tsudayelunyi, near the head
of Cheowa, where we can still see it, changed long ago to solid rock,
but the people are invisible and immortal.
MYTH THIRTY-SIX.
THE SPIRIT DEFENDERS OF NIKWASI.
Long ago a powerful unknown tribe invaded the country from the
southeast, killing people and destroying settlements wherever they
went. No leader could stand against them, and in a little while
they had wasted all the lower settlements and advanced into the
mountains. The warriors of the old town of Nikwasi, on the head of
Little Tennessee, gathered their wives and their children into the
town-house and kept scouts constantly on the lookout for the presence
of danger.
One morning, just before the break of day, the spies saw the enemy
approaching and at once gave the alarm. The Nikwasi men seized
their arms and rushed out to meet the attack, but after a long,
hard fight they found themselves overpowered and began to retreat,
when suddenly a stranger stood among them and shouted to the chief to
call off his men and he himself would drive the enemy back. From the
dress and the language of the stranger the Nikwasi people thought him
a chief who had come with reinforcements from Overhill settlements
in Tennessee. They fell back along the trail, and as they came near
the town-house they saw a great company of warriors coming out from
the side of the mound as from an open doorway.
Then they knew that their friends were the Nunnehi, the Immortals,
although no one had ever heard that they lived under Nikwasi mound. The
Nunnehi poured out by hundreds, armed and painted for the fight,
and the most curious part of it all was that they became invisible as
soon as they were fairly outside of the settlement, so that although
the enemy saw the glancing arrow or the rushing tomahawk, and felt
the stroke, he could not see who sent it.
Before such an invisible foe the invaders had to retreat, going
first south along the ridge to where joins the main ridge, which
separates Tah-kee-os-tee (French Broad) from the Tuckaseigee, and
then turning with it to the northeast. As they retreated they tried
to shield themselves behind rocks and trees, but the Nunnehi arrows
went around them and killed them from the other side, and they could
find no hiding place.
All along the ridge they fell, until when they reached the head of
Tuckaseigee not more than half a dozen were left alive, and in their
despair they sat down and cried out for mercy. The Nunnehi chief told
them that they deserved their punishment for attacking a peaceful
tribe, and he spared their lives and told them to go home and tell
their people. It was the custom of the Indians to spare some to carry
the news of battle and defeat. Then the Nunnehi went back to the mound,
and have been there ever since.
They are there now, for when a strong army of Federal troops came
to surprise a handful of Confederates in the last war, they saw so
many soldiers guarding the town that they were afraid and went away
without making an attack.
MYTH THIRTY-SEVEN.
KANASTA, THE LOST SETTLEMENT.
Long ago, while the people still lived in the old town of Kanasta,
on Tah-kee-os-tee, (French Broad) two strangers, who looked in no
way different from the other Cherokee, came into the settlement one
day and made their way into the chief's house.
After the first greetings were over, the chief asked them from what
town they came, thinking they were from one of the western settlements,
but they said, "We are of your people and our town is close at hand,
but you have never seen it. Here you have wars and sickness, with
enemies on every side, and after awhile a stronger enemy will come and
take your country from you. We are always happy, and we have come to
invite you to live with us in our town over there," and they pointed
toward Tsuwatelda (Pilot Knob). "We do not live forever, and do not
always find game when we go for it, for game belongs to Tsulkalu,
who lives in Tsunegunyi, but we have peace always and do not think
of danger. We go now, but if your people will live with us, let them
fast seven days and we will come then and take them."
Then they went away toward the west. The chief called the people
together into the town-house, and they held a council over the matter
and decided at last to go with the strangers. They got all of their
property ready for moving, and then went again into the town-house
and began their fast. They fasted six days and on the morning of the
seventh, before yet the sun was high, they saw a great company coming
along the trail from the west, led by the two men who had stopped with
the chief. They seemed just like Cherokee from another settlement,
and after a friendly meeting they took up a part of the goods to be
carried, and the two parties started back together for Tsuwatelda.
There was one man visiting at Kanasta, and he went along with
them. When they came to the mountain the two guides led the way
into a cave, which opened out like a great door in the side of the
rock. Inside they found an open country and a town, with houses
ranged in two long rows from east to west. The mountain people lived
in the houses on the south side, and they had made ready the other
houses for the newcomers, but even after the people of Kanasta,
with their children and their belongings, had moved in, there were
still a large number of houses waiting ready for the next who might
come. The mountain people told them that there was another town of a
different people, above them in another mountain, and still farther
above, at the very top, lived the Ani-Hyuntikwalaski (the Thunders).
Now all the people of Kanasta were settled in their new homes, but the
man who had only been visiting with them wanted to go back to his own
friends. Some of the mountain people wanted to prevent this, but the
chief said, "No, let him go if he will, and when he tells his friends
they may want to come, too. There is plenty of room for all." Then he
said to the man, "Go back and tell your friends that if they want to
come and live with us and always be happy, there is a place here ready
and waiting for them. Others of us live in Datsunalasgunyi and in the
high mountains all around, and if they would rather go to any of them,
it will be all the same. We see you wherever you go, and are with you
in all of your dances, but you cannot see us unless you fast. If you
want to see us, fast four days, and we will come and talk with you;
and then if you want to live with us, fast again seven days, and we
will come and take you." Then the chief led the man through the cave
to the outside of the mountain and left him there, but when the man
looked back he saw no cave, but only the solid rock. The people of
the Lost Settlement were never seen again and they are still living
in Tauwatelda. Strange things happen there, so that the Cherokee know
that the mountain is haunted and do not like to go near it. Only a
few years ago a party of hunters camped there, and as they sat around
their fire at supper time they talked of the story and made rough
jokes of the people of old Kanasta. That night they were aroused from
sleep by a noise as of stones thrown at them from among the trees,
but when they searched they could find nobody, and were so frightened
that they gathered up their guns and pouches and left the place.
MYTH THIRTY-EIGHT.
HEMP-CARRIER.
On the southern slope of the ridge, along the trail from Robbinsville
to Valley river, in Cherokee County, North Carolina, are the remains of
a number of stone cairns. The piles are level now, but fifty years ago
the stones were still heaped up in pyramids, to which every Cherokee
who passed added a stone. According to the tradition these piles
marked the graves of a number of women and children of the tribe who
were surprised and killed on the spot by a raiding party of Iroquois
shortly before the final peace between the two nations. As soon
as the news was brought to the settlement on Hiwassee and Cheowa,
a party was made under Taletanigiski, "Hemp-Carrier," to follow and
take vengeance on the enemy.
Among others of the party was the father of the noted chief,
Tsunulahunski, or Junaluska, who (Junaluska) died in about the year
1855, who was also the chief and hero of the battle of Horseshoe
Bend. For days they followed the trail of the Iroquois across the
Great Smoky Mountains, thru forests and over rivers, until finally
they tracked them to their very town in the far Seneca country.
On the way they met another war party headed for the south, and the
Cherokee killed them all and took their scalps.
When they came near the Seneca town it was almost night, and they
heard shouts in the town-house, where the women were dancing over the
fresh scalps of the Cherokee. The avengers hid themselves near the
spring, and as the dancers came down to drink, the Cherokee silently
killed one and another until they had counted as many scalps as had
been taken on Cheowa, and still the dancers in the town-house never
thought that enemies were near. Then said the Cherokee leader, "We
have covered the scalps of our women and children. Shall we go home
now like cowards, or shall we raise the warwhoop and let the Seneca
know that we are men?" "Let them come if they will," said the men,
and they raised the scalp yell of the Cherokees.
At once there was an answering shout from the town-house, and the
dance came to a sudden close. The Seneca swarmed out with ready gun
and hatchet, but the nimble Cherokee were off and away. There was a
hot pursuit in the darkness, but the Cherokee knew the trails and were
light and active runners, and managed to get away with the loss of only
one man. The rest got home safely, and the people were so well pleased
with Hemp-Carrier's bravery and success that they gave him seven wives.