After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the
personage was changed subsequently.
=Hinwu=, big owl; =Kele=, mountain wolf; =Kleréu Lulimet=, wild lily;
=Pili Lúlimet=, reed grass blossom; =Pokok=, ground owl; =Pom Piweki=,
crooked land; =Satok Pokaila=, ----; =Sas=, the sun; =Tsurat=,
red-headed woodpecker; =Tunhlucha=, frog.
* * * * *
In Puidal Winnem lived Kele. Olelbis built a great sweat-house there,
and told him to stay in it. Kele was old and lived all alone in that
place; lived there a long time, thinking, making up his mind what to
do,--he was lonely and thirsty. "Why did Olelbis put me here?" thought
he.
Once he rose about daybreak, hurried out, went westward, went to a
creek. A great clump of mountain maples stood near the bank. Kele saw
a straight stick among all the others. He cut the stick, drew it out,
and took off a short piece. On the way home he split the stick,
smoothed it, and fixed it as he walked. He put the two sticks overhead
in the sweat-house, went out a second time, found a white oak sapling,
firm and strong, cut a piece two feet long from it, put it at the
hearth. The next day he lay with his back to the fire, lay there all
night without sleeping. Just before daybreak he heard steps, and was
struck on the back. A minute later he was struck again in the same
place. The old man rose then and made a good fire of manzanita wood.
It was daylight, and Kele said: "My children, come to the fire, warm
yourselves, sweat, and then swim in the creek."
Two girls came to the fire, warmed themselves standing, and soon they
were sweating from heat.
"My daughters," said Kele, "there is a creek near here. Go and swim in
it."
These girls were from the stick that Kele had split in two parts and
put in the house wall. The girls bathed in the creek, came back, and
were good-looking. When they came in, Kele brought venison for his two
daughters to eat.
"My daughters," said the old man, "I will tell you something. You must
go to work, do good things. There are roots in the woods all around
us, roots fit for food. You need to walk. Go out and get roots." They
went out to dig wild lily roots. After that they went every morning.
Soon they began to say: "We should like to have other food; we should
like to have game to eat. We saw mountain quail to-day; we saw deer."
At last they talked this way every night. Kele listened, thinking what
to do. These girls had a nice bed made of skins, and they talked every
night to each other; but one night they went to bed early and fell
asleep right away. Kele had wished them to sleep; that is why they
fell asleep quickly. He hurried down to some mountain-ash trees, went
to the middle of them, and cut off five sticks. He whittled these,
made them smooth, cut each in two. He had ten smooth sticks then. Next
he cut five other sticks. These he left rough; cut them also in two;
had ten of them. Kele placed the twenty sticks overhead in the house
on the north side, and lay with his back to the fire. The fire was a
good one, a hot manzanita fire. His club of green oak was there at the
fireplace.
Kele lay without sleeping and waited. He was awake and was thinking.
The two girls were sound asleep all the time. Just before daybreak he
heard a sound as if some barefooted person had sprung from above to
the floor. Next moment some one took the club and struck him. Another
came down in the same way and struck him. Ten times he was struck with
the club.
The ten smooth sticks had turned into people. Each man gave him a
blow, went to the wall of the house, and sat there. Kele did not rise
yet. He heard some one barefoot jump down and seize the club. This one
hit Kele once. A second one sprang down and hit him twice, a third
three times, a fourth four times, and so on to the tenth, who struck
him ten times. There were twenty in all; ten from the smooth and ten
from the rough sticks.
The first ten sticks he had whittled smooth, and they made ten good
sons, but from the ten untrimmed sticks came ten rough, uproarious
sons. Kele hadn't smoothed them, and they struck him many times. When
the tenth rough son struck him the last blow, Kele stood up and made a
big fire; he could barely move, he had been so beaten with the club.
He lay down then and said,--
"Now, my boys, come here; warm yourselves, dance and sweat, then go to
the creek to swim, and come here again." He sang then, and made his
sons dance. The boys danced, and hurried to the creek to swim,
shouting as they went. They came back to the sweat-house good-looking
persons.
The two girls rose now. They knew already what their father had done.
"Go, my daughters, and cook for your brothers," said Kele.
The two sisters made the food ready and placed it before their
brothers.
"Now, my sons, eat what we have," said Kele. "You will go out after
that, you will hunt, and bring game."
The first ten, the smooth men, had good sense; the second ten were
inferior; the ninth and tenth of the second ten were very bad. The
first ten took each only one mouthful; of the second ten, the first
took one mouthful, the second two, the third three, and so on to the
tenth, who took ten mouthfuls. After that they sat back and made ready
to go out.
"What are we to do?" asked the first ten. "We have nothing to hunt
with."
Kele brought out bows and quivers with arrows, and gave them to each;
gave five ropes to them also, ropes of grass fibre. "You are armed
now," said Kele; and he showed them where to set snares for deer.
They went far down to the foot of the mountain and set snares. The
ten smooth brothers stood on the mountain top; the second ten, who
were rough, drove the deer. "You must shout so that we can hear you
all the time," said the smooth brothers. Toward evening the smooth
brothers saw deer in the snares. The smooth ten took the bodies, the
best of the game; the rough ten the legs, ears, horns, all the poor
parts. The smooth ten took the best meat to the house; the rough ten
made a great uproar--they had little sense. The two sisters cooked
roots and venison for all.
Next morning Kele made a big fire of manzanita wood. "Be up, my boys,"
called he. "Go and swim." That day the twenty stayed at home, and the
sisters went for roots.
They lived this way a long time, the brothers hunting, the sisters
digging roots and cooking, till at last the sisters wished to see
other persons besides their brothers. One day when they went for roots
they sat down on the mountain slope. "What are we to do?" said one
sister; "we wish to see people, we see no one now but our brothers and
father."
That evening, when all had lain down, the elder sister went to Kele
and sat near him. "My father," said she, "I wish to know my name."
"Your name is Klereu Lulimet," said Kele; "your sister's name is Pili
Lulimet."
She told her sister what their names were. Both liked the names, and
were glad to have them. Every day the men sweated and swam, killed
deer and snared them. The sisters dug lily roots and cooked them.
One time instead of digging roots they went high on the mountain side
and sat there, sat looking westward. They could see very far, and
things seemed right there before them, though away off near the edge
of the great western water.
This was the first time that the sisters had a chance to see far. Till
that day they had only a mountain slope or a forest opening in front
of them; now they had the whole country to look at. Just after midday
they saw a man going northward, going slowly.
"What a nice man that is! Look at him," said one sister to the other.
He stopped all at once, seemed to sit down and disappear through the
earth. That day they saw him no more.
"Oh, we should like to see that man," said the sisters, "and talk to
him." They watched, talked, and forgot to dig roots. At last, a short
time before sunset, they said, "Let us go for roots!" They ran down
the mountain, dug a basketful quickly, and hurried home.
"Oh, father, will you teach us how to sing?" said the younger sister
to Kele that evening. "We tried all day to sing. I tried to teach my
sister, she tried to teach me. We could do nothing."
"You can sing this way," said Kele, and he began,--
"O wi, no á, O wi, no í,
O wi, no á, O wi, no í."
"That is good," said she, going away. She said nothing to her sister
and lay down.
Soon after the twenty brothers came. Ten of them made a great noise.
The house just trembled and shook from the uproar. The second ten had
smeared themselves with deer blood, hung deer entrails around their
necks. They looked wild and ferocious. When inside, they were quiet;
in going out and coming in they always rushed and shouted.
Next morning Kele kept the twenty brothers in the sweat-house. "Rest a
day," said he.
The sisters went to the mountain top and looked westward. Soon they
saw some one go toward the north, as on the first day.
"Did our father tell you how to sing?" asked the elder sister.
"He did, but I have forgotten."