He went north to Gowila's sweat-house, went a long way, went quickly,
walked up to the house, was just like Gowila. A great many people lived
in that house. All kinds of snake people were there,--rattlesnakes,
bull-snakes, water-snakes, striped snakes, all kinds of snakes.
He hung Gowila's liver and lights outside, went in, and sat down
between Gowila's two wives. The dog lay down in his own place. The
wives were Pupila women, two sisters.
"Bring in the meat which I hung up outside and cook it," said
Ilhataina to the elder wife.
He cut the liver and lights into small bits, and the two women boiled
them. There was a great steam and a strong smell from these pieces.
All in the house were blind except the two wives, and only one of the
blind people spoke, Gowila's younger brother. "I smell Gowila's
flesh," said he.
"How could you smell Gowila's flesh when I am Gowila?"
Ilhataina was very angry, and dashed live coals through the house. All
were terrified. All ate of the meat except Gowila's younger brother.
He was very wise and wouldn't touch it.
Ilhataina went out and found a great many legs around the house.
Gowila had eaten the bodies of thousands of people and thrown the legs
away. Ilhataina gathered these into one place and went back to the
house.
"Blind people," said he, "I wish you would sing, and you, my wives,
dance for me. I'll go to sleep then."
"We will sing," said they, "and dance."
The blind people sang, and the two women danced. Soon the men and the
two women stopped. Ilhataina made them all drowsy, and they fell
asleep. Then he went out, fastened the door, and said,--
"I want the walls of this house to be covered with pitch."
The whole house was covered with pitch, and then he set fire to it.
Soon he heard terrible screaming inside and crowds running around in
the sweat-house. None could get out, and all were burned to death
quickly.
Ilhataina tied the legs together with a long grapevine and carried
them home. He was there about daylight. He placed them all in the
river and went to the sweat-house.
"Hide me, and then lie on your face with your arms under your head,"
said he to his grandmother.
The old woman put him in one basket and covered him with another, then
lay herself as he had directed.
In the middle of the forenoon there was a great noise of people rising
out of the river. They came in through the top of the sweat-house.
When all were inside, the old woman stood up. All her people were
alive there before her,--Demauna, Jupka, and others; all had come
back.
"Who brought us to life again?" asked Demauna. "Show me the person."
The old woman took Ilhataina out of the basket and carried him to
them. Demauna caught him in his arms. "Well done, my brother!" said
he. All the rest called him brother.
"Let me have him," said Ahalamila.
"No," answered Demauna; "I will keep him myself."
They asked the old woman where she had found Ilhataina. She would not
tell.
"Will you sweat?" asked Ilhataina.
"Yes," said all the people.
"I will bring wood," said he.
When he ran out, the sweat-house danced in its place. All thought he
was too small to carry wood, but when he snatched a tall fir the earth
trembled. When he touched a big sugar-pine, he crushed it. He brought
great trees in a moment, and when he put them down the place shivered.
All were in terror.
When Ilhataina talked the whole world was afraid, and when he moved
the ground which he walked on was quivering.
All sweated, swam in the river, and went back to the old woman's.
Ilhataina walked across the house, and his heart shook as if it would
jump from his body.
"I am not going to stay here," said he.
When Demauna heard this, he cried, and the old woman cried.
"My brother," said Demauna, "I should like to know where you are
going. I wish you would stay with us."
Ilhataina made no answer.
"My brother," said Jupka, "if you will not stay here, I wish you
would go to the sky. Now," said Jupka, "will you take beads as a gift
from me?"
"No."
"Shells?"
"No."
"Wolf robes?"
"No."
"Wildcat robes?"
"No."
"Foxskin robes?"
"No."
Jupka wore an old ragged rabbit-skin robe. He had worn it a long time.
"I think you like this," said he.
"Yes," answered Ilhataina, "that's what I want." He took the old robe
and tied it with weeds around his waist. "Now I am ready to leave you.
Come out and see me go."
There was a black cloud in the sky. Ilhataina had brought it there. "I
will go up to that place," said he. "Whenever rain comes in future, it
will be water falling from my rabbit robe."
All hurried out. Jupka's son, Jul Kurula, who was wrapped in a black
bearskin, came down into the sweat-house and cried; he didn't wish to
lose Ilhataina.
"Now, my friends," said Ilhataina, "I leave you; hereafter when you
see me travel I shall go like this;" and he went with a flash to the
black cloud.
He was taken into it, and now he stays there.