Blaiwas Eagle
Dásläts California Lion
Gowwá Swallow
Kāhkaas Stork
Kânoa A Small Bird
Káwhas Blackbird
Kéis Rattlesnake
Kékina Lizard
Kówe Frog
Kûlta Otter
Lok Bear
Moi Squirrel
Múkus Owl
Nébăks Sickness
Sältgăls The Red of Morning
Súbbas Sun
Tcanpsaudewas The People to Come
Tcwais Turkey Buzzard
Tsĭhläs Red Squirrel
Tusasás Skunk
Tskel Mink
Wámanik Bull Snake
Wûlkûtska Black Marten
Wus Black Fox
The ten Nébăks brothers, who lived in the east at the edge of the
world, and the ten Súbbas brothers, who lived in the west, where the
sky touches the earth, were the owners of fire.
Other people had no fire, they ate their meat raw, but they knew about
fire, and were thinking how to get it; they knew that those men owned
it.
At last Wus called a council of all the people in the world. When they
had assembled, he said: “I feel sorry for the people who are to come.”
(He had heard that people would come soon, and that he and his people
would no longer be persons. He called the people who were to come
Tcanpsaudewas.) “It will be hard for them in the world if they have no
way of keeping warm. I know where fire is, and if you will help me I
will get it.”
All promised to help, then Wus said: “You must stand in a line, one
person a long running distance from another, and the line must reach
from here to within one running distance of the place where the Nébăks
have their house. I will go to the house and steal fire, but you must
bring it home.”
Wus sent the best runner to the farthest station, the second fastest
runner to the second station and so on, till near home he placed men
who could run only a little, men who soon tired out. The Kéis family he
sent underground. People who traveled in the air formed a line above
the earth.
“We will tell you how the Nébăks brothers live,” said the people of the
air, “for we see them often. Every morning they build fires on the
mountains to drive deer to their snares. When you see a big smoke, you
will know that you are near their house. Two Moi brothers are the
servants of the Nébăks. The Mois never hunt; they stay in the house and
watch that no one steals fire.”
Wus traveled toward the east for a good many days. At last he reached
the Nébăks’ house without being seen by the brothers, or by their
servants. When he went through the smoke hole into the house, the Moi
brothers were terribly scared; one ran out to call the Nébăks, but Wus
drove him back.
“Why are you frightened?” asked he. “I have come to talk to you. Sit
down. Why don’t you have your faces painted? you would look nice. I
know how to paint; I will paint them for you.”
He took dead coals, drew long lines across their faces and said: “Go to
the spring and look at yourselves.” (From that time those people have
stripes on their faces.)
As soon as they were out of the house, Wus took the largest piece of
fire, put it behind his ear and ran off as fast as he could. When he
picked up the coal, the fires on the mountains died down.
“Somebody is in our house,” said the Nébăks brothers. “Somebody has
stolen fire!” And they hurried home.
When Wus had fire behind his ear, he ran a long distance, ran till he
met Tskel. Tskel took fire and ran till he came to Kaiutois; the next
man to carry fire was Dásläts. Dásläts carried it till he came to
Wámanik, who was stationed under the ground.
The Nébăks brothers were fast runners and they nearly caught Wámanik.
He was so scared that he was just going to drop fire and run off when
he met Tsĭhläs and gave it to him. The next to carry fire was Lok. Lok
was a slow runner and the Nébăks nearly came up to him before he met
Moi, a fast runner. When Moi was getting tired, and was running slower,
he came to Kékina. Kékina sprang away and was soon far ahead. When he
reached Wûlkûtska the Nébăks brothers were a long way off, but
Wûlkûtska was not a good runner, and the Nébăks gained on him fast.
They got so near that he hid in the bushes and gave out a frightened
call. Kûlta was waiting right there; he snatched fire and ran as fast
as he could till he was tired and was thinking: “Where is the man who
is going to take fire? I can’t hold out much longer.”
Then he met Tusasás. Blaiwas took fire from Tusasás; he went up in the
air and carried fire a long distance, until Gowwá took it. When
darkness came, Múkus was there to carry fire, and he and his people
carried it till daylight. Then Sältgăls took it, and afterward Káwhas.
Káwhas was about to drop it, when he saw Tcwais and called: “Take it
quick! I am tired! I can’t hold it; I shall let it drop.”
Tcwais looked back as he started. The Nébăks were so near that his head
turned yellow from fright, but he reached the next man—and so they
carried fire day after day, till the ocean was not far off. Only a few
runners were left, and some of them couldn’t run ten steps.
At last wood dove took fire, but the Nébăks brothers were so near that
he hid in the bushes. He thought: “Now they will kill me, and then
people will never have fire.” It made him feel lonesome; and he cried,
not loud, but down in his throat.
The Nébăks heard his cry, and said: “We can never overtake these
people; that cry is far off. We can’t get fire back, but the people who
have stolen it will have us with them always. We will stay in their
country; we won’t go back to our old place; we will scatter and live
everywhere in the world.”
Till that time the Nébăks brothers had lived by themselves, and had
never troubled people. After fire was stolen, they were everywhere in
the world. People had fire, but they had sickness too.
Wus-Kumush saw this race, but he didn’t help, for at the council, when
he told the people what would happen, they wouldn’t listen to his
words. They liked the words of Wus better.
Now Wus called a second council of all the people in the world, and
when they came he said: “What else shall we do for the people who are
coming? I think we should steal fire from the brothers who live in the
west, at the edge of the world. I can go there and get it.”
“Kāhkaas, Súbbas’ servant, will see you,” said the people; “you will
never get there.”
“Oh, I can get there,” said Wus. “I will kill the ten brothers and come
back. It will not be hard.”
“What will you do when you get to the house? No person has ever been
there.”
“Don’t kill all the brothers,” said Wus-Kumush. “If you do it will be
dark here. There will never be any light again. It will always be
night.”
“You will freeze to death,” said some of the people. “There is deep
snow along that trail.”
“I will build ten houses, where I can rest and get warm.”
“Before you get to Súbbas’ house there is a long, broad flat,” said
Blaiwas. “The brothers dig roots there. I often see them when I am up
in the air. Near the house there is a high mountain. You must go to the
top of it and watch the brothers from there. When they start for home,
there is always a terrible snowstorm. The eldest brother goes first,
and one follows another. In the morning, when they start to hunt for
roots, the youngest goes first.”
When Wus came to the mountain he talked to it and asked it for help;
then he watched for the brothers. Soon he saw the youngest brother come
out of the house and start toward the flat. One brother followed
another till all ten had gone to dig roots; then Wus went toward the
house. The house was made of dirt and covered with turf. Kāhkaas didn’t
see Wus coming; when he sprang in at the smoke hole Kāhkaas screamed
out. Wus jumped on him, choked him and scolded him; then he threw him
into a corner, and said: “When I come to see you, what makes you
scream? I want to talk nice to you; I want you to go home with me. This
is a bad place. I will give you shells and nice beads.”
“I will go out and make just a little noise,” said Kāhkaas, “and then
the brothers won’t come home; that is the way I do.”
Wus let him go out, but he followed him so he wouldn’t scream loud.
The brothers heard Kāhkaas and one said: “What’s the matter? I heard
something.” When they heard him the second time they said: “Oh, that is
Kāhkaas at play.”
“How do these men live?” asked Wus.
“Every morning they go early to dig roots; they dig all day, then one
brother comes home. When he gets to the house, he puts down his basket
of roots, comes to the smoke hole and looks all around to see if any
one is here; then he comes in. Each brother comes in the same way; each
one brings a basketful of roots, and each looks around the house before
he comes in. The five oldest brothers come first, then the five
youngest follow. As each one starts for home, there is a terrible
snowstorm. I build a big fire from that pile of sticks outside the
house. The snow and cold almost put the fire out, but I keep putting on
sticks.”
“Where can I hide, so that they won’t see me when they look around?”
asked Wus.
“They don’t look toward the east,” said Kāhkaas; “you must hide in the
east part of the house, in the hole where we keep roots.”
“Hide me there,” said Wus. “I am going to take you home with me. You
must tie up a bundle of roots for us to eat on the road. You will have
to eat a good deal or you will give out. It is a long road.”
The eldest brother was coming, so Kāhkaas built a great fire. When the
man got to the house he put down his basket of roots and looked in at
the smoke hole; he looked all around, then asked: “Why did you scream?”
“It was getting late; I wanted you to come home,” said Kāhkaas.
Just then Wus sprang at Súbbas and cut off his head. He and Kāhkaas
pulled the body in and hid it; then they put the head in the hole where
the roots were.
Again it began to snow; the second brother was coming. Soon he looked
in at the smoke hole, and asked: “Why did you scream?”
“I missed the step and fell into the house,” said Kāhkaas.
“We have always told you to be careful,” said Súbbas.
That moment Wus sprang up. Súbbas screamed, but Wus cut his head off
and dragged the head and the body to the hole where the roots were.
When the third brother came he asked: “What noise was that? I thought I
heard my brother scream.”
“I was screaming,” said Kāhkaas. “I wanted to hurry you home.”
Wus killed the third brother, as he had the other two.
Again it began snowing; the fourth brother was coming. Wus told Kāhkaas
that he must work around as he always did. “You must not talk,” said
Kāhkaas; “he will hear you. He is stronger than the other brothers.”
Súbbas looked in at the smoke hole, and asked: “Why don’t you brush up
the snow? What makes it so yellow?”
“I’ve been walking in the ashes,” said Kāhkaas.
Súbbas was just going to draw his head up out of the smoke hole and
come down into the house, when Wus sprang at him and cut his head off.
That time a good deal of blood was left. Kāhkaas couldn’t clean it up;
it made the snow yellow.
Wus was afraid the fifth brother would see the blood. “I will go
outside and kill him,” said he.
“You mustn’t do that,” said Kāhkaas. “If you do the other brothers will
see you.”
Súbbas was at the house now; he left his basket outside and looked in.
“Why does it look so around here?” asked he. “It looks queer.”
“Oh, I’ve worked around a good deal,” said Kāhkaas, “that is why it
looks queer.”
Súbbas stretched half his length in to see that no one was there and
Wus sprang at him and cut his head off.
“Now the other five brothers will come,” said Kāhkaas. “They come
quicker, for it is getting late.” The fifth brother had screamed louder
when Wus killed him. His brothers had heard his scream and they were
running.
Wus jumped out of the house and started for home. Kāhkaas picked up the
bundle, put it on his back and followed. Both ran as fast as they
could; sometimes Kāhkaas got ahead of Wus, then Wus was ahead. The wind
blew terribly. Wus’ ears were filled with snow, and he was almost
frozen. They were giving out when they reached the last house that Wus
had built; the fire was still burning. They had just got warm when they
heard the brothers coming, and started off again. They ran till Kāhkaas
said: “I’m so tired I can’t run any farther!”
“Hurry,” said Wus. “They won’t overtake us. We are near the next
house.” They reached the ninth house, and the fire was burning.
“Look and see if they are coming,” said Wus.
“Not yet.”
After a while Kāhkaas looked again. “They are coming!” called he. And
off the two ran as fast as they could. When they got near the eighth
house, the brothers were close behind.
“I am afraid!” said Kāhkaas.
“I am not,” said Wus, but he kept on running, though snow was in his
ears and in his hair; he was almost frozen. They stopped at the seventh
house, but Kāhkaas looked back and said: “They are coming; they are not
far away!”
The brothers were tired. They began to think that they couldn’t
overtake Wus and Kāhkaas. They still carried their baskets. Wus didn’t
stop at the sixth or fifth house.
“Don’t open your mouth so wide,” said Kāhkaas; “if you do, it will fill
with snow.”
“No matter,” said Wus, “that will help me to run.”
When the brothers reached the fifth house and found it empty, the elder
said: “Let us be only five. We can never catch up with the man who
killed our brothers, and stole our servant. Let us go back, but we will
always watch this country. We won’t let any one come here again. I
thought we were the strongest people in the world. I wonder who this
man is.”
They didn’t know the people of this world; they had always lived by
themselves. The only man they knew about was Kāhkaas.
When the people saw Wus coming, they went to one place to wait for him.
They talked about him, and said: “Wus is a smart man; we couldn’t have
done what he has done.” When Wus came up to them, they saw that he had
Kāhkaas with him. Kāhkaas still had his bundle of roots, for he hadn’t
had time to eat many. Everybody was glad now, for there was summer and
winter. Up to that time people had had only clouds and storms.
After a while Wus said: “We must do another thing for the
Tcanpsaudewas. We have done a good deal,—they will have two kinds of
fire,—but there is too much cold. We must hold a council and decide how
much cold they can have,—how long winter will be.”
Wus sent for all the people in the world. Every one came; every one
thought: “What will Wus say?” But nobody talked; they all sat still
waiting. At last Wus said: “There should be ten months of cold.” Then
everybody began to talk. Nobody wanted ten months. Some said: “If there
are ten months of cold, people will starve to death; they can’t lay up
roots and seeds enough. Let us have five months.” Others said: “Two
months are enough.” Wus kept saying: “There should be ten.” When they
couldn’t agree, some one said: “Let the oldest man here decide.” There
was one very old man there,—the oldest of all, but he only listened, he
didn’t say a word. Again Wus said: “There should be ten months.”
The council lasted all night; then people asked: “Where is Kânoa? Why
doesn’t he talk?” It was getting daylight, and Wus still insisted on
ten months. “The months can be short,” said he, “not many days long.”
Now the people said to Kânoa: “Speak, old man; maybe you have something
in your mind to say.” He started to go, and just then he called out:
“Danwacuk” (three months).
Wus was mad, but the other people were glad, and said: “The old man is
right. There will be three months of winter.”
“I am afraid people will not be thankful for what we have done,” said
Hedgehog, “and will eat us.” Porcupine was afraid, too, but others
said: “We have got fire for them; we have killed five of the Súbbas
brothers; we have made winter short; they will be thankful.”
The council broke up, and soon after all those people turned to common
animals, for real people were coming.
The five Súbbas brothers lived in their house in the west, but they
watched the world. And since then things have been as they are now.