Kókolaileyas The Necklace (Kŏko means bone)
Leméis or Limālimáas Thunder
Nul-we
Old Limālimáas was a man-eater. He lived among big rocks at one end of
a long, swampy flat. At the other end of the swamp lived an old woman
and her little grandson. Limālimáas had killed all the old woman’s kin,
except the boy. He had strung their elbow and ankle bones on a grass
rope and he wore them for a necklace. People called him Kókolaileyas,
(Bone Necklace).
The grandmother was too old to dig roots, so the little boy dug them
for her. One day Limālimáas saw the boy digging; he crept up and lay
down near him, and when the boy’s basket was full of nice, white roots,
he ate them all at a mouthful. After that, he came every day. No matter
where the boy went to dig, Limālimáas followed him. If the boy ate a
root while he was digging, Limālimáas struck him on the forehead with
his hammer. He listened and knew when he took a root. The little boy
felt badly; he wanted to carry roots to his grandmother, for he knew
she was hungry. He cried all the time he was digging, cried “Nul-we!
Nul-we!” (that was his name). He always went home at sundown.
One day he cried on the way home. His grandmother heard him, and said:
“My grandson, you mustn’t cry so loud. A bad man lives among the big
rocks. He will hear you and come where you are digging. Maybe he will
kill you; he has killed your father and your mother and all your kin.”
The next morning, when Nul-we went to dig roots, Limālimáas came, and
said: “Little Nul-we, I am waiting for you; I am hungry. I want you to
grow fast and get big, then I will kill you and eat you. I will put
your bones in my necklace, between the bones of your father and the
bones of your mother, and they will make my necklace nice and long.”
That evening, when Nul-we went home without any roots, his grandmother
said: “When you were a little fellow, you brought your basket full of
roots. Now it is always empty. I am hungry. I have only dry, old roots
to eat.”
“I eat all the roots I dig,” said Nul-we; then he cried, he was so
sorry for his grandmother. He didn’t want to tell her about Limālimáas.
The next morning, as soon as Nul-we began digging, Limālimáas came,
rattling his bone necklace as he traveled. He lay down right by Nul-we,
and said: “Little boy, I am tired; peel me some nice, white roots.”
When he had eaten the roots, he took hold of his necklace, rattled it,
and said, as he divided the bones: “These are your father’s bones;
these are your mother’s bones; these are your sister’s bones; these are
your brother’s bones; these are your grandfather’s bones. Now dig away,
little boy; when you are big enough, your bones will be in my
necklace.”
That day Nul-we dug four basketfuls, and Limālimáas ate them all. Then
he said: “Little boy, you should kill me, for I have eaten your father
and your mother and all your kin.” Then Nul-we thought: “Maybe I could
kill this bad old man; I will get a bow and arrow and try.”
The next day, when Limālimáas had eaten all the roots, he said: “Little
boy, you should kill me; I have killed all your kin. You must shoot me
in the body; that is where I keep my heart.”
That night the grandmother asked: “Why don’t you bring me roots? I am
hungry; you shouldn’t eat them all.”
“I dig roots early in the morning,” said Nul-we, “then I eat them and
lie down and sleep all day.”
“That isn’t true,” said his grandmother, “you don’t deceive me;
somebody takes your roots away from you.”
“I want you to make me a bow and arrow,” said Nul-we, “and put poison
in the end of the arrow. I miss all the birds I shoot at with sticks.”
In the morning Limālimáas said to him: “I think you are about big
enough to eat.”
That night Nul-we said to his grandmother: “I dig a great many roots,
but a bad man comes and eats them all. He wears a necklace made of
bones. He says they are the bones of my father and of my mother and of
all my kin; and that my bones will make the necklace nice and long.”
The grandmother was frightened, for she knew it was old Limālimáas, the
man who lived among the rocks. She gave Nul-we his father’s strong bow
and put fresh points on the arrows; then she made the bow and arrows
look like a little boy’s first bow and arrows, and said: “That man’s
heart isn’t in his body; it’s in the end of his first finger; you must
shoot him there.”
When Limālimáas came, the boy fed him lots of roots. He dug fast and
gave the old man all he could eat. Then Limālimáas lay down to sleep.
Usually he lay with his head on his hands, but that time he lay with
his face up and his hands spread out. Nul-we got his arrow ready, and
made up his mind which way to run; then, when he saw something moving
in Limālimáas’ finger, he shot. The heart came out on the end of the
arrow.
Limālimáas sprang up and ran after the boy. Ever so many times he
almost caught him, but each time Nul-we dodged and got away. At last
they came to a dried up river-bed where there were big rocks and deep
holes. Limālimáas was getting weak; he stumbled and fell into a hole.
Nul-we ran across the river-bed; then he turned and called to
Limālimáas: “You shall not live in this world and kill people.
Hereafter you will make a great noise, but you will not have the power
to harm anybody. When another strikes, you will shout for him; that is
all you will be able to do.”
Nul-we took the heart off the end of his arrow, blew it up into the
sky, and said: “You can go up there and live; you can’t live down here
any longer.”
Now Nul-we could dig roots and carry them to his grandmother; he was
glad, and he didn’t cry any more.
The old man-eater became Thunder.