"My grandson, come right up to me; there is no other road where people
travel. When you are here, you will pass down on the other side
easily."
"I will go to you," said Tulchuherris.
When he had said "I will go to you," Winishuyat, the little man under
his hair, said,--
"My brother, be careful, he is going to kill you."
Tulchuherris stopped.
"Here," said Winishuyat, "is the place where our people came in time
past. Many were killed here. They went to the old man; he threw them
down and killed them. If you go to that old man, my brother, he will
sway this big rock. In one flash he will throw you into a dark place
at the side where you cannot see bottom. Run to the rock quickly, kick
it. If not, he will kill us. This old man was sent here by Sas, he was
sent here to kill us."
Tulchuherris did not climb the rock, did not go to the old man; but he
rushed forward and gave the rock one great kick with his shoe of green
water-stone. The rock fell, and the old man fell with it,--fell into
the dark place. The rock never sprang back. It left a smooth road with
a ridge on each side of the place where it had been. Then the two dogs
ran forward, and Tulchuherris said to the old man,--
"Hereafter you will not be what you have been; hereafter you will be
nothing but a ground squirrel. You will live under rocks in the earth,
and the people to come will call you tichelis. You are not like me; I
am strong. You will be nothing hereafter but a poor little ground
squirrel."
Tulchuherris followed the dogs then. He looked back and listened; he
could hear at a great distance, he could hear all over the world. But
he heard no sound from his grandmother; so he went on till he came to
a large and broad river. There he saw a man standing. Tulchuherris
went nearer, looked up and down, but could see no place to cross the
river. The man saw him and said,--
"Grandson, you cannot pass this big river; you must get some one to
help you. I am the only one who ever crosses at this point. I can wade
right through the water. I carry over all who come here. If you wish,
I will take you to the other side; but you could never go alone; you
could never cross yourself."
Tulchuherris didn't know what to do, and stood thinking.
"Go on, my brother," said Winishuyat. "Let him carry you, though this
is one of the places where they killed many of our people who escaped
the old man on the rock. But this man cannot kill us. Let him carry
us."
"Very well!" said Tulchuherris to the old man. "Carry me over, take me
across this river."
The old man came up and took him on his back. Tulchuherris had a
pointed bone in his bosom where he could get at it quickly. He had
brought this bone from Eli Tsarauton. The old man started into the
river. At first it was not deep, but in the middle of the stream the
water was up to his breast, and was growing deeper. Then it reached
his neck, and was rising. The dogs made a leap from one side of the
river to the other. The water was at the man's eyes now.
"Be careful, my brother," said Winishuyat, "be careful. This man
kills people in this way,--he drowns them, he will drown you right
away if you let him."
Tulchuherris took out his sharp bone, stabbed the man's breast two or
three times with it, wounded him, stopped him. Then he leaped from the
man's head to the other bank, where his dogs were. Tulchuherris stood
a moment looking at the wounded man. Then he said,--
"Hereafter you will not be what you have been. You will be nothing but
an eel. You will be a person no longer. You will be only an eel, the
people to come will call you hawt and will eat you."
Tulchuherris walked forward quickly after this. Sas's two daughters
heard every step he took, as though he had been near, though he was
far, very far away from them. They always heard men coming from the
west,--always knew when they were coming.
Tulchuherris walked quickly till almost evening, when he came to a
high ridge near Sas's house. Just as he reached the ridge he heard a
sort of clinking noise on the other side. He stopped and looked, but
saw no one. He was right at the spot where the noise was, but there
was no one in sight. The ridge was like a straight wall reaching north
and south farther than he could see, and high up out of sight, and
down into the ground. No one could go through, or go around, or dig
under that wall or climb over it. In the middle of the ridge was an
opening in which stood a great sugar pine, and in the pine was a
cleft large enough to let a person pass easily. When any one was
passing, and half-way through the cleft, the pine closed and crushed
him. The noise was made by a person hammering just beyond the wall.
Tulchuherris looked through and saw an arm, and while he was looking
his dogs sprang through the opening to the other side.
"What's this?" called the man, and he walked to the opening. "Ah, are
you there? Is that you, my son-in-law?"
Tulchuherris said nothing, but looked and saw piles of bones inside.
"Come right in this way, come in, my son-in-law," said the old man.
"Come in; you cannot pass at another place."
When the old man called out, "Come in, you cannot pass at another
place," Tulchuherris said, "I must pass here, but I am afraid."
"This is the road that all people take, my son-in-law. Come straight
through; have no fear, there is no danger."
The two dogs went up to the old man and smelled him. They growled, did
not like him, nor did the old man like the dogs. This old man was Sas
himself, he who lived in Saskewil.
"Now, my brother," said Winishuyat, "go ahead, go through as quickly
as you can. If you are slow, he will catch us. This is a place where
Sas has killed many of our people."
Tulchuherris took his bow and quiver in one hand, stood on one foot,
braced himself sidewise, made a spring, and went through in a flash.
That instant the tree closed with a great noise, became solid.
When Tulchuherris shot through, he went far off into the field, and
Sas didn't see him, he went past so swiftly. Sas heard the tree close,
and thought that Tulchuherris was caught in it. He looked at the tree
and began to talk.
"Well, my son-in-law, you are caught, now you are nobody. I am Sas.
You were weak, I am strong. You wore your grandmother's apron. You
knew nothing; I know everything."
Tulchuherris had come up, and was standing behind while old Sas was
talking. He listened, heard every word. After Sas had stopped talking,
Tulchuherris asked,--
"My father-in-law, to whom are you talking? What are you saying?"
"Ha!" cried Sas, turning quickly. "Son-in-law, I was talking to
myself. I was saying that I had done wrong to my son-in-law. I am old,
my heart is weak, my head is half crazy. I am blind, I did not know
what I was doing. I was saying that I had done wrong. You are my
son-in-law. I am old, I am weak, I am blind. My head is gray. I cannot
do much now. You see my house over there; it is a poor house; it is
poor because I am old. Go ahead; go in. I will follow as soon as I
can."
Tulchuherris went ahead, and Sas followed slowly at a distance. The
dogs had run on, and were at the house already. On one side of the
door outside were ten grizzly bears, and ten on the other side. There
were rattlesnakes in the door and around it. Before Tulchuherris came
the panther dog had killed all the bears, and the fox dog all the
snakes and things poisonous. When he came near the house, he stood a
little way off and looked at his dogs. All around Sas's house he saw
great piles of bones lying about everywhere, the bones of his kindred.
He began to cry and lament for them.
When the dogs had cleared the way outside, they went into the house
and killed all the grizzlies and rattlesnakes there; the house was
full of them. Tulchuherris stood outside, crying over the bones of his
people. When he had cried enough, he went in. Old Sas's wife was
sitting on the east side of the door and his daughters on the west.
When they saw Tulchuherris, the girls spread a mat, sat on it, and
told him to sit down between them.
"Now, my brother," said Winishuyat, "be careful of that old woman;
many of our people have been killed by her. If they were not killed
outside, she turned and looked at them, and they fell dead when they
saw her eyes."
While Tulchuherris was sitting with Sas's daughters, a large,
long-legged, red-backed, very venomous spider came on him; then
another and another. Many of these spiders crawled over him. He was
wearing his thorn shirt, and they could not poison him; they got
impaled on the thorns and died, every one.
Old Sas came at last, and when he walked into the house he took his
pipe, filled it with tobacco, and drew a few whiffs of smoke. Then he
said,--
"Take a smoke, my son-in-law; we cannot do without a pipe. It is best
to smoke first and talk of affairs after that."
Tulchuherris took the pipe and pretended to smoke. He was not smoking;
still smoke came, and the tobacco burned out. He gave the pipe back to
Sas. Sas's tobacco was made of people's flesh and of their bones
pounded fine.
After Tulchuherris had given back the pipe, he took his beautiful
quiver, put in his hand, and took out his own pipe of green
water-stone, a solid piece, not very big, but tremendously heavy. He
took his own tobacco and put it into the pipe. His tobacco was the
same kind of marrow that he had rubbed on his face, and something
mixed with it (it is not known what that was). Tulchuherris lighted
the pipe, smoked a little, and said,--
"Here, my father-in-law, take a smoke. I am only a young man. You are
old, you are wise, you know everything. You say it is best for us to
take a smoke. I am young, do not know much, but I think this pipe and
tobacco are for talk. Smoke with me."
Sas took the pipe, but when Tulchuherris let go the old man could not
hold it. It was slipping and falling. When he tried to catch it, it
fell on his arm, threw him, and held him down.
Sas struggled to push the pipe off his arm, but had not strength
enough. Tulchuherris looked for a moment, then reached out his hand,
picked up the pipe, and asked,--
"Father-in-law, what is the matter? Take a good smoke. This is
Tulchuherris's pipe."
Sas could not lift the pipe. Tulchuherris held it while the old man
was smoking. When Sas drew in the smoke and swallowed it, it hurt him
inside. The old man was choking. He fell on the ground, fell almost
into the fire. His breath was taken from him. Tulchuherris put the
pipe aside.
"Oh, help me up, help me, my son-in-law," called Sas.
Tulchuherris helped him to rise, and then sat with the girls again.
"My old father, Sas," said his elder daughter, "what is the matter?
You have wanted this long time to see a man with strong arms. Why not
talk now with this one? You have been waiting a long time for such a
man."
While they were sitting there, Winishuyat said: "My brother, look out
for the old woman. She is going to turn--be on your guard!"
Tulchuherris was ready. The old woman had not looked around since he
came. She had been sitting motionless. Now she began to turn slowly,
and Tulchuherris watched her. He sat with his right hand doubled up,
and before she could look into his eyes he snapped two flint
finger-nails at her, sent one nail into each of her eyes and put it
out. She fell dead and rolled into the fire.
Night came now, and Tulchuherris lay down on the bed prepared by Sas's
two daughters. They took their places, one on each side of him.
He never took out Winishuyat, he never let any one know of him. As
Tulchuherris lay on his back, he saw something over his head, hanging
from the roof of the house. Two obsidian knives were hanging together
by a very slender string of the inner bark of maple. Tulchuherris fell
asleep and slept until midnight. He was roused then by Winishuyat, who
said to him,--
"Oh, my brother, wake up. The string holding the knives is ready to
break. Wake up, my brother, wake up!"
Tulchuherris woke up.
"Turn over! turn over!" said Winishuyat.
Tulchuherris turned in a flash. That instant the knives fell, struck
the ground just at his back, and were broken to pieces, both knives at
once.
This was another way of killing people. Strangers always slept soundly
on that bed with Sas's daughters, were struck while asleep by two
knives in the heart, and died the same moment.