After each name is given that of the creature or thing into which the
personage was changed subsequently.
=Ahalamila=, gray wolf; =Demauna=, pine marten; =Gowila=, lizard;
=Ilhataina=, lightning; =Jul Kurula=, woodgrub; =Jupka=, butterfly of
the wild silkworm; =Tsoré Jowá=, a kind of eagle.
* * * * *
Near Jigulmatu lived Tsore Jowa, a very old woman. Once in the spring
she went west to dig roots, and found a great clump of them. "I'll
come to-morrow and dig these," thought she, and went home.
Next morning she went to get the roots. She dug around the whole
clump, but could not pull it up. She dug deeper, pulled and tugged; at
last the roots came, and on them a little boy with eyes staring out of
his head. She pushed the eyes back, cured him, put him in a
rabbit-skin blanket which she wore, and went home. She washed the boy
all day, and did not sleep at night. She washed him all the time. When
five days old, he had grown a good deal. On the sixth day he crept; on
the ninth he walked. When fifteen days old, he was a strong but very
small boy.
"I want a bow and arrows," said he.
"You must not go out," said the old woman, "you must not leave my
sight."
He teased till at last she gave him a bow and said, "You must stay on
the housetop, and not go away."
While he was on the house a bird flew up, perched on a tree-top, and
asked, "Why doesn't your mother nurse you?"
The bird repeated this and flew away. The boy cried; came down and
told his grandmother.
"Where are our people? Tell me," said he.
"Our people were many," said she, "but Gowila killed them all. We have
no people now."
"Who is Gowila?"
"Oh, he is strong and terrible; you must not see Gowila."
The boy walked around the house then, looked at the walls, and asked,
"May I have that bow hanging there?"
"You may if you like," said she, "but you are too weak to use it. You
are very small, a little fellow."
He started at the east side of the sweat-house and went northward,
tried the first bow, broke it; went on, took another, broke that. Then
he went around the whole house, breaking every bow that he came to,
till on the south side he reached the last bow. It was made of deer
sinew. He bent that, tried his best, tried again and again, could not
break it. "What kind of a bow is this?" thought he. "It is the
ugliest, the oldest, but I cannot break it." He took the bow and a big
stone to crush it. The bow flew out of his hand, and the stone fell.
"How did the man die who used this bow?" asked the boy.
"Gowila killed him, and those who had the other bows," answered the
old woman.
"I will go for wood now and sweat."
"Do not go far," said Tsore Jowa.
The boy ran off to the east, seized a big pine-tree, tore it up with
one pull, and took it home in one hand. He made a big fire and put
stones on it.
"Bring water, my grandmother," said he; "then I will tell you what to
do." The old woman filled a great basket with water. The stones were
dropped in when red-hot, and the water boiled quickly.
"Grandmother, put me into the boiling water."
The old woman was frightened, but did what he told her.
"Cover me closely," said the boy.
She covered him with another tight basket. He lay in the water till
the cover flew from the basket, and he was thrown through the opening
in the top of the sweat-house and dropped on the roof outside. He ran
down, swam in the river close by, and then went back and talked with
the old woman.
"You will be very strong," said she. "You will be called Ilhataina."
He ran east a second time; brought sugar-pines. He did not sleep, he
sang without stopping. Rocks were made hot as before, and dropped into
a bigger basket. The old woman put in Ilhataina, and covered him with
four closely woven baskets. He was in the boiling water till the four
covers burst off, and he flew up through the opening in the top of
the sweat-house. He ran down again to the river, and while swimming
talked to himself, saying,--
"I will meet Gowila to-day, I will meet Gowila to-day."
At sunrise he went home. "Grandmother, I am going out a short way,"
said he, taking down his old bow and one arrow.
"Oh, grandson, you must not go far; you must not leave my sight," said
the old woman.
He counted twenty otter-skin quivers filled with arrows, and said, "I
will take these."
She cooked roots for his breakfast, and brought a small basket full
for him to take with him. He went west to a grove of trees, made a
fire there, and caused salmon to hang all around on the tree branches.
Crowds of men and women were heard talking and laughing near by. He
made it so. There were no people in the place. He made the noise to
entice Gowila.
He began to dig roots then. He dug without raising his head, dug and
worked on, singing songs as he worked. Soon a big ugly old man from
the north came. This was Gowila. He had a great dog, and a deer head
was hanging at his back, with long horns on each side of it.
"You sing a nice song," said he.
Ilhataina never looked up.
"Come to the fire," said Gowila.
The boy said nothing; dug all the time.
"Come to the fire; I am hungry," said Gowila.
After a time Ilhataina went to the fire.
"You sing well," said Gowila. "Where did you come from?"
"From Jigulmatu. People sing well at Jigulmatu, and they dance well."
Gowila sat down near the fire. "Put roots in my mouth. Put in more,"
said he, when the boy gave him some.
The boy fed Gowila until he had eaten all the roots in the basket.
"How many people are digging roots around here?" asked he.
"I do not know; a great many," said Ilhataina.
A loud noise of people was heard a short distance away,--a noise of
men and women laughing and talking. Gowila saw blankets and baskets
near the fire. Ilhataina made the appearance of them. There was
nothing there but the twenty otter-skin quivers and the ugly old bow
and one arrow in his hand.
"Give me your bow," said Gowila; "let me look at it."
He asked again and again till the boy gave the bow. Gowila threw it
into the fire.
"Why do that?" asked Ilhataina, snatching his bow from the fire. "Let
me see your bow."
Gowila handed the bow to him. Ilhataina broke it with his left hand,
and then sprang toward the east. Gowila was very angry, and said
"Teh!" to his dog. The dog rushed at the boy. Ilhataina shot and hit
the dog. He shot all the arrows but one from ten quivers. Every arrow
hit but did no harm to the dog. Just then one of the seven stars (the
Pleiades) called to Ilhataina,--
"Shoot him in the little toe and he will die."
The boy hit the dog's little toe. He fell dead.
Ilhataina ran to the fire where Gowila was standing. "You cannot kill
me," said he to Gowila; "you are big and strong, but you cannot hurt
me."
"I will kill you," said Gowila; and he sent an arrow at him. It
missed.
Ilhataina shot his arrow and it struck. Every arrow that he sent went
into Gowila, but no arrow struck Ilhataina. All the arrows but one
were gone from the second ten quivers. That moment one of the seven
stars called to Ilhataina,--
"Shoot at his little toe. If you hit him there, he will die."
Ilhataina struck Gowila's little toe, and he dropped dead.
Ilhataina skinned Gowila, stripped him from head to foot, put the skin
on himself, and became just like his enemy. Next he struck the dog
with a red rose switch, and the dog jumped up alive and glad to see
his master. Ilhataina hung the deer head behind his shoulders, took
his quivers, and went home. Gowila's dog followed him. When near the
house, he made heavy steps, and the old woman looked out.
"Oh, Gowila is coming! Gowila is coming!" cried she, terribly
frightened.
"Grandmother, don't be afraid; it is I. Gowila is dead. I have killed
him. I am wearing his skin. I am as big and as ugly as he was. I will
go to his house to-night, I think. I have brought his liver and
lights with me."
"Go, grandson, go. I fear nobody now."