"How could Hawt play?" asked others. "Whose flute has Hawt? He has
none of his own. Each of us brought a flute, but Hawt brought none.
Whose flute has he now?"
Every one heard the wonderful music, and every one said, "We should
like to see the man who plays in this way."
It was night, and dark in the sweat-house. All began to say how much
they wanted light to see who was playing. Waida Werris was lying back
in the east half of the sweat-house, and heard every word. He, too,
wanted to look at the player. He sat up, pulled one hair out of his
beard, gave it to Tsudi, and said,--
"Go down near that man who is playing, and hold up this hair so that
people may see him."
Tsudi took the hair and went along quietly. No one heard him. He held
the hair over Hawt's head, and there was a light from it that filled
the whole house. It was as bright as day there. All the people were
seen sitting up, each hugging his flute. No man would lend his flute
to any one else in the world for any price. All were looking toward
the spot whence the music came. In the light they saw a man lying on
his back with his arms across his breast, but they could not see that
he was doing anything. He had no flute, he made no motion with his
mouth, for he fingered his sides as he would a flute, and made the
music by drawing in air through his nostrils, and sending it out
through the holes in his sides.
Tsudi held up Waida Werris's single hair, and people watched Hawt to
see how he made the beautiful music. He was lying on his back making
wonderful sounds. He played the music of Tsaik's song, of Waida
Werris's song, of Tsaroki's song. They could hear the music, but there
was no motion of Hawt's mouth and they could not see his fingers play.
He gave the music of Patkilis's song and of Sedit's. He gave the music
of the songs of all people in the sweat-house.
"Hawt has beaten the world!" cried the assembly. "He can do more than
we can; we yield, we are silent. Hawt is the best player in the world!
No one can play as he plays!"
Hawt gave his own music next. No one knew that music but him, no one
could play it but him. There was no other music so loud and strong, no
other music so soft and low.
When the people had watched Hawt a long time and listened a long time,
he stopped. All cried out then,--
"Hawt is the one great musician, the only great player on earth!"
Tsudi put down the hair and all were in the dark. He carried the hair
back and gave it to Waida Werris.
People began to talk and ask one another: "Where did that light come
from; whose is it?" One said Tsudi had it; another said, "No, he never
had a light like that." "Who gave it to him?" asked a third. "Some one
must have given it to Tsudi. Let us ask him about this."
Here and there people said: "Only Waida Werris could make such a
light. What kind of person is Waida Werris? We should like to see
Waida Werris."
"I have never seen Waida Werris, but I have heard people tell how nice
looking he is, and that he can be seen from afar," said Patkilis. "If
he were here he might make such a light, but he is not here, or we
should all see him right away."
Waida Werris was lying near them, and heard all they said.
"Let us ask Waida Dikit," said Karkit Kiemila, a big man, lying on the
west side, facing Waida Werris; and he began to talk to Waida Dikit.
"The people wish to see Waida Werris," said he. "You have invited all
people in the world, and you have invited him. What will you do? Is he
here? Will you let every one see him?"
"Oh, no," said one old man. "Waida Werris is bad. I don't want to see
him." "We have heard that he is good," said others. "We want to see
him." So they were divided.
Waida Werris smoked a while in silence. At last Waida Dikit bent
toward Patkilis and Sedit and asked,--
"What do you think, shall I let people see Waida Werris or not?"
"They want to see him," answered the two. "You have invited them and
invited him. If people wish to see Waida Werris, let them see him."
"Where shall I let them see him?"
"Let all the people go outside the sweat-house," said Patkilis, "and
stand in two long rows, one on each side of the door, and let Waida
Werris go out between them. If he goes out, every one can look at him;
only a few would see him inside the house."
"Very well," answered Waida Dikit. "Now all you people go outside the
house."
Tsaroki opened the door, and went out first. All followed, each
saying as he went, "It is dark: we shall not see Waida Werris."
"You can see him in the dark," said Waida Dikit. "Join hands, all of
you, and go around to the north side of the sweat-house."
"Go you," said Waida Dikit to Tsudi, "and search inside. Tell me when
all the people are out."
Tsudi searched everywhere. "All have gone out," said he.
Waida Dikit closed the door and said: "Some of you people are sleepy,
but wake up, open your eyes, be ready to see--look north."
"What can we do here? Why did we come out in the dark?" asked a
certain Chirchihas. "We can see nothing at this time of night;" and,
turning to Lutchi, he asked: "Have you seen him, or his brother? What
sort of a place do they live in?"
"I cannot tell you now; you will see him soon."
"Be ready, all of you," said Waida Dikit. "Look north."
All looked. There was a pointed mountain not far away, and straight
out before them. They saw a small light rising till it reached the top
of that mountain; there it settled, and soon it seemed near them, just
a few steps from the faces of the people. That was Waida Werris. The
place around was as if in daylight. All could see him; all looked at
him.
"Now, you people, there is Waida Werris before you; do you see him?"
"We see him."
"Hereafter all people will see him there in the north, as you see him
now," said Waida Dikit. "Come back to the sweat-house, all of you."
Tsaroki opened the door, and all went in. "We will talk," said the old
man, "then eat, and after that separate."
Day had come--there was light in the sweat-house. They heard some one
coming, and soon they saw an old woman in the door. This was Tunhlucha
Pokaila. She would not go in, but stood a while holding in both hands
two beautiful baskets of water. These she put down at the door, looked
in, and went away. Waida Dikit took the baskets, put them on the
ground north of the fire, and said,--
"Here is a little water, but come all and use it,--wash."
The old woman was Waida Dikit's sister; she lived north of her
brother's, not far away. There was a rock at that place, with a spring
in it. The rock was her house. Water rose in that rock to the surface
and went into the earth again in another part of the same house. The
old woman had two baskets; the smaller one held water for drinking,
the larger one water for washing. Great crowds of people drank from
the smaller basket and washed from the other; each used what he
needed, the water never grew less; it remained the same always in
quantity.
"Have all washed and drunk?" asked Waida Dikit.
"We have all washed and drunk."
The old man removed the baskets, and set out two others which the old
woman had just brought,--one of cooked venison, and another a very
small basket of acorn porridge. He put the baskets in the middle of
the sweat-house and said,--
"Now, all people, I ask you to eat."
"I will try that food," said Karkit. He went and ate. Next Hus ate,
then Yipokos. Now these three men ate deer meat since that time, and
will always find meat by the smell,--this was the first time they ate
venison. Tsihl and Wima, called also Bohemba, ate all they could from
the little basket, yet the food was not less by one bit. Patit ate
plenty. Hus ate, and so did Sedit. All ate as much as they could;
still each basket was full. The food grew no less. Waida Dikit kept
saying,--
"You people, here is food. I do not need it. Come and eat what there
is."
He sent Tsudi around to ask each man if he had eaten. All said they
had eaten till Tsudi went half around, when he found one man,
Memtulit, who said that he had not eaten, but was willing to eat.
"I will eat if I see anything good," said he.
"Well, go and eat," said Tsudi.
"What kind of food have you?"
"Venison and acorn porridge."
"I do not eat that kind of food."
"Here is a man who has not eaten," said Tsudi; "he cannot eat that
food."
Farther on was found Kiriu, who had not eaten, and a third, a very
young man, Tsararok. "I should like to eat," said he, "but I am timid.
There are so many people here eating."
"What kind of food do you eat, Kiriu?" asked Tsudi.
"I cannot eat venison. I eat what lives in the water." The other two
men said the same.
Waida Dikit went to his old house, where he had dried fish. He caught
besides a net full of little fish. He cooked both kinds and carried
them to the sweat-house, set them down in the middle, and said, "Now
come and eat."
Memtulit ate, so did Kiriu. Tsararok came after a while. He began to
eat the little fish, didn't see the other kind; this is why Tsararok
likes small fish to this day.