perhaps.” He traveled through the woods for a while until he came to a
third opening. Far ahead in the center of it was a great rock, on which
sat a Dagwanoenyent. Near the opposite side of the opening was a lodge.
As Hodadeñon went up to the rock, the Dagwanoenyent called out, “Oh!
you are my nephew. I have been wishing for a long time that you would
come to see me; now we will play hide and seek.” Hodadeñon was to hide
first. Dagwanoenyent faced the other way, and at that moment Hodadeñon,
making himself into a flea (dewaqsentwus), jumped into the long bushy
hair of Dagwanoenyent, where he hid. Then he called out, “You can not
find me, uncle; you can not find me.” Dagwanoenyent looked all
around—up in the air, in the trees, everywhere. At last, noticing a
weed with a knot on its stem, he said, “Nephew, you are in that knot;”
but the nephew was not there. Looking around a second time, he saw a
knot on one of the trees. “You are in the knot on that tree, nephew.”
“I am not,” answered Hodadeñon. When Dagwanoenyent saw that he had not
found the boy he was terribly frightened. “There is danger,” said he,
flying far away from the rock. Rising above the clouds, he sat on them.
Then Hodadeñon called out from the long shaggy hair, “You can not see
me, uncle; you can not see me.” “Oh!” said the uncle to himself, “I
have come just by accident on the place where he is.” Then, flying off
to an island in the sea, the old man stood there. Again Hodadeñon
called out, “You can not see me, uncle; you can not see me.” He could
not indeed see the boy, so he flew back to his place in the opening in
the forest. Once more Hodadeñon cried, “You can not see me, uncle.”
Dagwanoenyent replied: “I have lost the game, but I did not bet my
head. Now, you may have control of these three witches,” pointing to
three women who were pounding corn outside the lodge at the edge of the
clearing. The women, who were man-eaters, were very angry when they
heard the words of Dagwanoenyent, their servant, and ran to strike him
with their clubs. They had the clubs raised to give the blow, when
Hodadeñon willed their death, and they dropped lifeless. The boy and
his uncle cut their heads off and burned their lodge. Now Dagwanoenyent
and Hodadeñon became friends, and the uncle said, “Nephew, if ever you
get into trouble, all you have to do is to think of me, and I will come
and help you.”
The boy thought, “I have had sport enough, and shall now go to my
sister.” After he had come in and sat down he began to laugh. His
sister asked, “Why do you laugh?” “Oh, I laugh about what I have seen,”
he said. “I have put an end to my uncle on the stump and my uncle who
played dice; I have beaten my uncle Dagwanoenyent and frightened him
terribly; and I have killed the three witches and cut off their heads
and burned their lodge. This is why I laugh.” “Now,” said the sister,
“I thank you, my brother, for many people have been deceived and killed
by these persons.”
That night he said to his sister, “Make me parched corn meal and two
dumplings with bear’s fat in them. Tomorrow I am going to get the
chestnuts.” She did all that he wished. Setting out the next morning,
he kept on his way until he came to the river over which the tree was
thrown. When halfway across on the tree, two rattlesnakes began to
rattle. Thereupon, going back, he caught two Tsohoqgwais.[74] Returning
by way of the tree again, when he came to the snakes, he gave a
chipmunk to each, saying, “You are free now. I shall kill you unless
you leave this place.” The snakes ran away.
Hodadeñon went on until he came to the opening in the forest, at the
farther end of which was the mountain wall. When he came to the wall he
found the pass. As he was coming out on the other side he heard all at
once hoⁿ hoⁿ hoⁿ hoⁿ, and saw the two Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, half as tall
as the highest tree. “Keep still! Keep still!” said Hodadeñon: “I have
brought you dumplings. You like dumplings.” So saying, he gave each
one. Then he said: “You are free now. You need not guard this place any
longer.” Thereupon they ran away.
Hodadeñon went on until he saw two Djoasha.[75] Then, going into the
woods, he dug up wild beans, which he brought as near as he could to
the herons, calling out, “Pur! Pur! Stop! Stop! Here are beans for you
to eat.” So saying, he set them free, with the words, “Go from here and
be free,” and they left the place.
Hodadeñon went on until he came to the woman’s skin walking along on a
platform. Turning back, he peeled bark from a slippery-elm tree. Marked
off into small pieces, he made it turn to wampum. Then he called a mole
and, getting into it, said, “Carry me to the platform yonder.” The mole
took him under the ground to the platform, whereupon he put his head
out and gave the woman wampum, saying, “Keep quiet!” Leaving the mole,
he went to a tree where there were great piles of chestnuts. Here he
took up a nut and, splitting it, put one-half into his bag and hurried
back. He had almost reached the woods when the woman on watch cried, “I
have seen some one!” One of the three sisters, running out, looked at
the woman, who changed her words, calling, “I have lied, Ogenowent.”
The three sisters were very angry and had a mind to kill the watch.
When the latter called again, “I have seen some one,” then the mother
said, “Do your best, my daughters; do your best. It must be Hodadeñon;
kill him and finish his family.”
The three sisters saw Hodadeñon far off in the distance. The eldest
sister ran ahead. As she raised her club to strike, Hodadeñon
disappeared into the ground and the woman, striking her kneepan with
the club, fell and could go no farther. The next moment Hodadeñon was
up, walking along again slowly. The second sister came up enraged, but
as she raised her club to strike he disappeared into the ground. She,
too, striking her kneepan, fell. The youngest sister tried, but with
the same result, and then the old woman. All four were disabled, while
Hodadeñon went back to his sister unharmed. He gave Yenyentʻhwus the
half chestnut, saying, “Make plenty of mush for our brother, as much as
he wants, and give it to him often.”
One day when Hodadeñon was playing near the lodge, he cried out
suddenly and fell to the ground screaming. His sister ran to him,
asking, “What is the matter? Where are you hurt?” “Nowhere,” he
answered. “Why do you cry then?” she asked. “I heard my brother
Hotgoendaqsais [76] sing a song and call on my name; he says I am his
brother,” said he. “That is true,” said Yenyentʻhwus; “and he is in the
east, at the place where the sun comes up. He is tied to a stake there
and people burn him with firebrands and torment him to make him cry,
for his tears are wampum, and when they fall the people run to pick
them up.” “Well, where does tobacco grow?” asked Hodadeñon. “On the
other side of the world, where Deagahgweoses77 lives. This man stole
our tobacco from us and carried it off. No one can conquer him, for he
is a great wizard, i.e., Hotgongowa.”
That night Hodadeñon told his sister to pound parched corn and make
meal for him. In the morning he got ready for the road. Yenyentʻhwus
put the food in a bundle on her brother’s back. It was so heavy that at
noon he had only reached the edge of the clearing where their lodge
was. Sitting down there, he ate his lunch. Yenyentʻhwus, who was
watching him all the time, said, “Poor brother, I think he will come
back soon.” She looked again, but he was gone.
In the evening Hodadeñon looked for a hollow tree in which to spend the
night. Having found one, he crawled in, and was lying there at his ease
when in the early part of the night he heard a man coming up. When he
reached the tree, the man called out, “Hodadeñon, are you here?” “I
am,” answered Hodadeñon. “Well,” asked the stranger, “what would you do
if one of the Ganiagwaihe should come to eat you up?” “Oh, I should
have fun with him,” said Hodadeñon.
The other went away and soon a very large Ganiagwaihe came. Pointing
his arrow at it, Hodadeñon shot the bear in the neck. Then away ran the
bear. The boy said, “I will go to sleep now, for there is no use in
being troubled by such creatures.” The next morning when Hodadeñon came
out he found that the trees had been torn up by the roots all along the
track of the bear. At last coming to the place where the bear lay dead
he thought, “I shall have nothing to do with such an ugly creature,”
and drawing out his arrow, he left the bear’s carcass lying there.
The next evening he found another hollow tree, into which he crawled,
prepared to sleep. But early in the night he heard some one come up to
the tree and say: “Hodadeñon, you are now here. What would you do if a
Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa should come to kill you?” “Oh! I should have sport
with him,” replied Hodadeñon. “It is well,” the other returned, going
away.
Very soon a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, a very large one, came up to the tree.
At once Hodadeñon, drawing his bow, shot it with his magic arrow; then,
retiring into the hollow tree again, he went to sleep. In the morning
he saw a trail along which the trees were broken down and torn up by
the roots. Following this trail he soon came to a point where he found
the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa lying dead. This being had a face of most
terrifying aspect. Hodadeñon, remarking to himself, “I will not have
anything to do with a creature of so malign aspect,” drew out his arrow
from the body and went on his way.
During that day Hodadeñon came to a great lake on the farther side of
which was a village. He searched until he found an oak puffball, which
he placed at the water’s edge. Entering this ball, he caused the wind
to blow it across the lake to the village on the opposite shore.
Hodadeñon went through this village without stopping until he came to
the last lodge on the side farthest from the lake shore, in which lived
an old widow and her grandson. Addressing the grandson, Hodadeñon said,
“Well, little boy, may I remain with you to-night?” The boy answered,
“I do not know. I will speak to my grandmother.” Running into the
lodge, the boy told his grandmother what the strange man had asked him.
The grandmother, whose name was Yeqsinye,[78] directed the little boy
to tell the visitor how poor and needy they themselves were. “Tell him
that I have nothing to give him to eat except scraps of food, for we
are, indeed, unfortunate people.” Going to Hodadeñon, the little
grandson repeated to him what his grandmother had said. “Oh!” replied
Hodadeñon, “all I want is a place in which to stay. I do not want
food.” “Well,” said the little boy, “I will tell my grandmother what
you have just told me.” Answering the little boy further, the old woman
said, “Let him do as he pleases; he knows, now, our circumstances and
what he must endure while with us.” Having received this message from
the little boy, Hodadeñon decided to stay there.
The next morning Hodadeñon said to the old woman’s grandson, “Let us go
to hunt game.” Agreeing to the proposition, the little boy made
suitable preparations to accompany Hodadeñon. After going a long
distance into the woods they found a large hollow tree frequented by a
bear. Hodadeñon tapped the tree, saying to the occupant, “Thou who
dwellest in this tree, come forth.” At once the bear came out,
whereupon Hodadeñon shot it with an arrow, and the bear fell to the
ground, dead. Together the two carried home the carcass of the bear.
When they threw it on the ground in front of the door it made a great
noise, causing the old woman to call out in fear, “What is that?” But
when she learned what it was she was overjoyed. Having carefully
dressed the bear, they cooked enough meat to make a good meal for all.
As they gathered around the steaming bark bowl of meat and broth a
young girl came in. The old woman asked her to eat with them, and she
willingly accepted the invitation. The boys ate together and the girl
and the old woman by themselves, as was the custom. When they had eaten
their meal the strange girl asked for a piece of the meat to take home,
and the old woman gave her a generous portion for her mother. On
receiving it, the mother said, “Do you now give them corn bread and get
some of the meat in exchange.” The girl did as her mother requested,
receiving two good-sized pieces of meat for the corn bread. Feeling
that others might like to have meat in exchange for bread, Hodadeñon
said, “Let them have the meat for the corn bread, for corn bread is
what we want now.”
Toward evening a man came to the doorway, and kicking aside the door
flap, said: “I notify you to come to the Long Lodge, where the man
sheds wampum instead of tears from his eyes. If you can pick up wampum
after it has fallen to the ground, it is yours. If you can gather more
than other people, it is your good fortune.” The name of the herald was
Hadyuswus.[79] He then hurried on to the other lodges.
Toward evening of the next day Hodadeñon, with the old woman and her
grandson, went to the Long Lodge, where Hotgoendaqsais, tied to a post,
was being tormented with firebrands. Before going into the assembly
hall the boys gathered a bundle of dry reeds for the purpose of
lighting the pipes of those who desired to smoke. Hodadeñon then said
to his young companion, “You go to one of the fires in the Long Lodge
and I will go to the other.” Passing into the assembly hall they found
that there were already many people inside. When Hotgoendaqsais saw
Hodadeñon he smiled as he seemed to recall him to his mind. One of the
old women saw this and said: “The bound man smiled when these boys came
into the room. It would seem that one of them is Hodadeñon.” After the
old woman spoke Hotgoendaqsais turned his face away. At this time one
of the chief men present said, “It is well that these boys have come in
to bring coals for our pipes.” He said this because all the men who
were smoking continually called the boys to bring them fire, and the
boys carried the torches to all.
In the Long Lodge were two women who had two firebrands, and it was
they who took the lead in torturing the man. First one of these two
women would burn Hotgoendaqsais on one side from one of the fires, and
then the other would burn him on the other side from the other fire;
and each time a brand touched the victim he would cry out, and
thereupon wampum fell in showers from his eyes instead of tears. Then
all the people would rush forward to gather as much of the wampum as
they could; one and all struggled and fought for it. When all had
enough for that day they were dismissed by the chief, and then the
chief herald would say, “Tomorrow you must all come and we shall have a
much better time.”
The boy friends went home together, and on their way Hodadeñon said to
his companion, “The young man whom they are torturing is my brother.
Tomorrow I shall destroy the place and all the people who are in it.”
The next day, as he had done before, the herald Hadyuswus came with the
invitation to the lodgehold (household) to be present in the torture
chamber that evening; then he hurried away. Thereupon Hodadeñon told
his boy friend to caution his grandmother with these words: “Do you go
to the back part of the village to warn all our relations not to go to
the Long Lodge this evening, for my good brother is going to destroy
all the maneaters and their home this very night.” So, going forth, the
old woman informed all her relations to remain at home that night, for
her grandson was going to destroy all the maneaters and their home. In
the evening Hodadeñon said to his little brother, “Do not go into the
Long Lodge. I shall go in alone. You must remain outside.”
When Hodadeñon entered the torture chamber he heard the people saying
that the two torturing brands would not burn, surmising that they were
not dry enough. But the wizards knew well why they would not burn—they
themselves were being overmatched by superior orenda (magic power).
Finally the chief said: “We might as well take a rest, and in the
meantime the firebrands will get dry and burn again. So let us lie
down.” Hodadeñon then brought deep sleep on all who were inside the
chamber of death. When they were all fast asleep, quickly unbinding his
brother from the post where he had been tied, he carried him out to his
new brother—the old widow’s grandson; then, closing the door of the
Long Lodge, he fastened it securely. Thereupon he ran around the lodge,
saying aloud, “I want this Long Lodge to become flint, so strong that
the greatest wizard can not escape from it, and then I want it to
become red-hot at once.”
Instantly the Long Lodge became flint. When it was red-hot the wizards
ran around on the inside in an attempt to escape, but they could not.
One said, “I shall go out of the smoke hole,” while another shouted, “I
shall get out through the ground,” but not one was able to escape from
his doom. After a while the roof fell in upon the devoted wizards,
whose heads burst with the intense heat; from out the chief’s head
there flew a horned owl; from the heads of others, owls of various
kinds; and from those of still others, a red fox, a gray fox, and a
nighthawk.
After the annihilation of the wizards Hodadeñon took his brother,
Hotgoendaqsais, to the old widow’s lodge. The old woman was very glad
and said: “He is my own grandson. I came for him years ago, but I was
myself captured by the wizards and I have had to remain here in
captivity.”
The next morning Hodadeñon said to his grandmother, “Tell all the
prisoners to come here, lest evil befall the innocent.” When they had
all come to the lodge of the old woman, Hodadeñon said, “We will now go
through the village and kill all the children of the wizards and anyone
else who is left of the maneaters, for some of them may not have been
present in the Long Lodge last night.” So, going forth they killed all
the relations of the maneaters and burned their lodges.
After that they went outside of the village, where they found great
piles of bones which once belonged to persons whom the wizards had
killed. These they collected near a great hickory tree. When all had
been gathered together, Hodadeñon pushed against the tree, crying out
to the bones, “Rise, my friends, or this tree will fall on you!”
Instantly from the heap of bones living men sprang up. In the confusion
of the moment sufficient care had not been taken to put together the
bones belonging to the same persons, hence one had an arm too short,
another a leg; but Hodadeñon went around among them stretching and
arranging these defective limbs. Then he said to their possessors: “I
have now brought you to life again. You must remain in one place for
two days while I go to get meat for you.”
So, selecting a comfortable spot, they patiently waited. Hodadeñon went
out to hunt and killed a great quantity of game. He sent men to bring
it into the camp. These were gone all day, but they brought in an
abundance of meat. When all had returned, Hodadeñon said: “Now, my
brother is tired. Stay here and rest. I must go away for a short time,
for I have much work to do.”
Thereupon Hodadeñon started away. As he hurried along he heard the
sound, “Dum, dum, dum!” This, he knew, was caused by the man whose name
was Deagahgweoses, in making tobacco, which he pounded with a mallet.
When he arrived at the lodge he found the old man sitting inside
hammering tobacco and singing, He yondyengonni goyengwayen gens,
signifying “Wherever one makes tobacco, one possesses tobacco
customarily.” And when the tobacco rolls were ready he would tie them
with bark cords. Addressing him, Hodadeñon said several times, “Well,
uncle, I have come to your lodge,” but the old man gave him no
recognition. Then Hodadeñon struck the old man a blow on the head with
a small mallet which was lying near, saying at the same time, “I have
come to visit you, uncle.” But even then Deagahgweoses paid no
attention to the visitor. Again Hodadeñon struck him a blow, saying,
“Uncle, I have come to visit you.” Then the old man exclaimed, “I do
think that the mice have thrown down the stone bowl,” but he kept on at
work pounding his tobacco. So Hodadeñon struck him still another severe
blow, whereupon the old man raised his upper lids, which hung down over
his face to his chin. Carefully tying them back with bark cords, he
scraped out the filth from his eyes with a clamshell, saying, “I think
that some one has come into the lodge.” Then, looking around and seeing
Hodadeñon, he asked him, “For what do you come here? What do you want?”
Hodadeñon replied, “I have come for tobacco.” The old man refused
tobacco to his visitor, saying, “You will get no tobacco here.” Then
starting up, exclaiming, “I will kill you!” he pursued Hodadeñon with a
large club out of doors and around the lodge. Hodadeñon outran him and
was soon far ahead of him. Finally, turning and facing the old man, he
shot two arrows into his body. Thus died Deagahgweoses.
Then Hodadeñon cast into the air toward the west a large quantity of
tobacco, saying as he did so, “Go ye to the lodge of my sister,
Yenyentʻhwus.” Far off in the west Yenyentʻhwus picked up the rolls of
tobacco which fell on her doorstep, with the words, “I thank you,
brother; I am so thankful to you, brother.” When Hodadeñon had sent
home all the tobacco he burned up the lodge of Deagahgweoses. Then he
went back to the place where he had left his newly recovered brother
and the other men whom he had brought to life. Having arrived there, he
told the men to go home if they so wished. Those who remembered whence
they had come started, but those who did not know said, “You must take
us with you.”
The next morning they set out for home. After journeying for some time,
Hodadeñon, halting the company, said to them, “You have with you two of
my uncles, who can show you the rest of the way, for I must go on by
myself.” It was his desire to go on alone and thus to reach home first.
When he arrived at the lodge of his sister, he told her that he had
brought to life all their relatives who had been captives, and that he
had also saved their brother from the tortures of the wizards. He
informed her that these were coming with others who were not relatives.
“Now,” said he, “we must make preparations to receive them and to
welcome them to our place.”
Hodadeñon thought that he would make a number of commodious lodges of
equal size and of like appointments; so he marked out certain spaces
with his feet, walking sidewise, each area being as large as the lodge
he desired to stand therein. Then he wished for the lodge with suitable
provisions and whatever else was needed. As soon as he wished it, the
lodge came into being with everything in it as he desired. In this
peculiar way he made a long row of lodges. He made his own lodge also
in the same way, but he caused it to be larger than any of the others.
When he had prepared everything he went to meet the people who were
coming. Having joined them, he brought them to the place he had made
ready, where he gave each one his own home. Hodadeñon gave each of his
relations a couch in his own lodge; but there were not people enough to
occupy the place, so Hodadeñon said, “All who belong here have not yet
come home.” Here he referred to his father, mother, and sister, who had
been killed at the chestnut trees, and it was his intention to go after
them; but he could not mention this lest he should put those who had
killed them on their guard. They would have heard his words and so
would have learned exactly what were his intentions.
After being home about a year Hodadeñon began to hear again at frequent
intervals the peculiar sound, “Dum, dum, dum!” He thought how strange
it was to hear this sound. Then he remembered about the agreement made
by Yeqsinye Honwande [80] concerning the use of human flesh for food.
He decided to learn this, saying: “I shall go and see whether he keeps
his word; see what he is doing.”
So he started, and as he went on he heard this same sound from time to
time. Directing his course toward the spot whence came the sound, at
last he reached the edge of a village. Entering the first lodge he
encountered, he met nobody there. He then went to a second lodge, and
that, too, was empty. Thus he entered every lodge until he came to the
center of the village; there was no one in any of them. He stood
looking on every hand, quite discouraged. At last, seeing smoke arising
from the opposite side of the village, he directed his way toward it.
On reaching it he entered the lodge, where he saw an old man on a
couch. Raising himself and throwing off the skin mantles which covered
him, the old man said to Hodadeñon: “You must take my life at once, for
you have caused all my pain and misery.” Hodadeñon replied: “It is not
I who have done this. It may be my companion, who looks exactly like
me. I am here to see whether it is he who is making all this trouble.”
The old man said: “It is time for him to come now; and on this account
I made my niece hide in that room yonder. We are now the only persons
left in this place.” Hodadeñon, going to the room indicated, said to
the young woman in there: “I have come to see how that man keeps the
agreement he made with me. If he has taken to eating human flesh, he
must kill me before he eats more, and to aid me you must do just what I
tell you to do. So help me all you can. I shall fight with him for 10
days. We shall begin here, and shall continue fighting westward. At the
end of 10 days we shall return, fighting as we come. At that time there
will be nothing left of us except our heads. You must kill your dog and
try out its fat, and when the tenth day comes you must have it ready in
a vessel, boiling hot. But you must not mistake me for him, for if you
do I shall be lost and you will die.”
At this moment he heard the old man cry out. Running to him at once, he
found that the man whom he called friend, the old widow’s grandson, had
already taken flesh from the legs and thighs of the old man. There he
stood with his flint knife, ready to cut off more flesh, saying, “I do
not know where to take off the next piece of flesh,” when Hodadeñon
came into the room. The latter at once declared, “My friend, you agreed
when we parted last that if you would eat human flesh you would first
kill the person before eating him, and you have not kept your word.”
[81] The other man defiantly replied, “Let us go out and fight to
decide who shall rule.” At once they went out, and they began to fight,
going westward as they struggled, and soon disappeared in the woods.
The young woman heard their cries and groans for several days. Killing
the dog, she tried out its fat, and when the 10 days had passed and she
heard them coming back toward the lodge she heated the fat and had it
ready.
As they came out of the woods into the opening there was nothing left
of them but the skeletons and the skulls—frightful to look at as they
rushed at each other and then fell back exhausted. When they closed
again the skeletons were gone; nothing remained except the skulls,
naked and bloody. After the encounter one of the skulls, rolling up to
the young woman, said, “Now is the time to do what I told you.” Then
the other skull, rolling up immediately, said the same thing; but she
kept her eyes on the second skull, on which she poured hot dog fat.
“Now you have killed me,” said the other skull. She paid no heed to
this charge, but, taking up the skull on which she had poured dog fat,
she carried it into the lodge. In a short time Hodadeñon had regained
his flesh and he was again in good health. To the young woman he said,
“I thank you for what you have done for me, for you have faithfully
performed what I asked and have thus saved my life.”
The old man, recognizing an obligation to him, said to Hodadeñon: “I
have made up my mind to say that since you have delivered us from a
horrible death you should have my niece for a wife if she suits you.
What is your pleasure in the matter?” Without hesitation Hodadeñon
replied: “It is well. I accept your niece as a wife, but I must cure
you first.” So, spitting on his hands to endue them with the healing
power of his orenda (magic power), he rubbed the body of the old man
where the flesh had been cut away, and immediately it was made whole
and well.
“Now,” said Hodadeñon to his two companions, “I want your assistance in
what I am about to do.” Then he led them to the edge of the forest,
where lay a great quantity of human bones scattered around on the
ground. These they proceeded to gather together in some kind of order
near a large hickory tree. When they had collected all the bones,
Hodadeñon pushed against the tree, shouting, “Oh, you dry bones!
Behold, the great hickory is about to fall on those who sleep here.
Arise, friends.” At that moment the bones arose as living men, and
Hodadeñon said to them: “Be ye alive now, and go back to your several
homes. There is now nothing to trouble you.” So each man went his way.
Hodadeñon took the old man’s niece for a wife, and they started for
home. But after going some distance Hodadeñon said, “I have one more
thing to do. I must go after the chestnuts, so you go on and I will
overtake you.”
So starting off, he changed his course and continued his journey until
he came to the ridge of a hill, near which was a woman on watch, whose
task required her to walk back and forth on a kind of raised platform.
Before going up to her and revealing himself Hodadeñon got slippery-elm
bark, which he turned into wampum. Then hailing a mole, he said to it,
“Take me to that woman on the platform, but do not let her see us; so
pass beneath the surface of the ground and emerge under the platform.”
The mole, obeying, took Hodadeñon, who had reduced his size by magic,
into its body and, going underneath the surface, did as it was ordered.
It emerged very near the place where the woman was passing to and fro.
Coming out of the body of the mole, Hodadeñon said to her, “Friend, I
give you this wampum as a reward to you not to give the usual alarm on
my account.” She accepted the wampum.
Then Hodadeñon called on the moles to go into the lodge of the four
women to discover their hearts, and he accompanied them in the search.
It so chanced that he was able to discover the hearts fastened to a
string under a couch on which slept the elder of the four women.
Seizing them at once he fled out of the lodge. At that moment the woman
on watch gave the alarm, shouting, “Hodadeñon has come! Ho, there!” The
mother of the witches screamed to her daughters: “Hurry after him my
children! Kill him! for he is the last of the family.” The eldest
daughter outfooted the others and, as she was overtaking Hodadeñon, he
bruised one of the hearts on the string and she fell dead. When the
second daughter came up, he bruised another heart, and she also fell
dead; and a like fate befell the youngest daughter. Now the old mother
alone was left of the brood of witches. She hurried up to him,
whereupon he bruised the fourth heart, and she, too, fell lifeless.
When the four were dead, Hodadeñon ground their hearts to powder; then
dragging the bodies to the lodge, he burned lodge, bodies, and powdered
hearts.
Now, the woman watch, who was walking to and fro on the platform
continually, was the own sister of Hodadeñon. At this time she was a
mere pouch of human skin for her bones and flesh were wanting. Near
this platform was a large heap of bones of dead persons. Hodadeñon
carried these bones to the foot of a very large hickory tree, and upon
the pile he placed the skin of his sister. He then pushed against the
tree shouting, “Ho! friends and sister, arise, for the tree is about to
fall on you now.” Instantly all leaped up alive, among them his sister.
Then Hodadeñon went to the chestnut trees and taking a nut, he threw it
to his other sister in the west, telling the rest of the nuts to
follow. They did so, and as they entered the end of the lodge his
sister Yenyentʻhwus collected and stored them away.
Hodadeñon now went home with his parents and sister and friends. When
they had all taken their places it was seen that one of their number
was missing, that there was still a vacant place.
The next morning they found that they were living in a chestnut grove,
for the trees were standing all around the lodge.
Later two men came to get some chestnuts for a person who was in danger
of death. Replying to their request Hodadeñon said: “It is well. I will
give you a chestnut, but you must be very careful not to lose it. Give
me your arrow and I will hide the chestnut in the arrow. Be very
careful of a man whom you will meet not far from this place. He will
say to you, ‘Stop, nephew!’ and then he will come toward you. At that
moment you must say, ‘Let us see who can shoot the farther,’ and before
he can come near you, do you shoot away your arrows as far as you can,
and you will thus save the chestnut. If you lose this one I will not
give any more.”
The two men went their way. Soon they saw a man who said to them, “Oh,
nephews! I have waited long to see you.” Thereupon he started toward
them, but they at once said, “Let us see who can shoot the farther.”
Rushing forward the stranger tried to grasp their arrows, and nearly
succeeded in doing so. On failing in this attempt, he was very angry,
and said, “You are not my nephews at all. Go your way at once.”
Willingly they hurried away from him, and after finding their arrows,
made their way home.
The next day Hodadeñon said: “There is still one more labor for me to
perform. There is yet one empty seat in our lodge. I shall go west this
time. Now I go.” He had not gone very far on his journey before he saw
an opening, or clearing, in the forest ahead of him. When he came out
of the forest into this clearing, he saw a large lake before him, the
opposite shore of which he could not see. Between him and this lake was
a lodge from which smoke was issuing. Walking up to this and pushing
aside the doorflap, he entered; within he found an old man mending
moccasins.
Raising his head, the old man said: “Well, nephew, I have been looking
for you a long time. I knew that you would come. I am ready to go home.
I am from the same place from which you come. The first thing for us to
do now will be to eat together.” The old man had a pot of corn and
beans with plenty of bear’s meat for seasoning. After they had eaten,
the old man said, “Now is our time. We will now go hunting on the
little island.”
Going to a canoe, they got aboard of it. The old man, whose name was
Shagowenotha Onononda Sowek,[82] began to paddle the canoe, but he
finally called the Onononda Sowek to come and do so. At once small
white ducks with black heads came and paddled the canoe over to the
island. During all this time the old man sang. When they landed the old
man said, “Let us land.”
Then Shagowenotha said to his companion, “Now you go to the lower end
and I will go to the upper end of this island. Then we shall meet in
the middle of the island, and shall see how much game each of us will
have.” Hodadeñon started for the lower end of the island, but in a
short time he heard the song of the old man. Turning around, he saw him
sailing back to the mainland. Hodadeñon called to him, but received no
reply. The old man, however, called out to the creatures in the lake,
“If the man on the island tries to swim, eat him at once,” and great
hoarse voices out of the water answered, “We will.”
While standing and watching the canoe going over the lake, Hodadeñon
heard a voice near him, saying, “Oh, my nephew! come to me.” Hodadeñon
went toward the spot whence came the sound of the voice; when he drew
near it, he found nothing but a pile of bones covered with moss. The
bones asked, “Do you think, nephew, that you are going to die?” “I do,”
answered Hodadeñon. The bones, answering, said: “There is a maneater, a
cannibal, coming to-night to kill you, but do me a favor, and I will
tell you how to save yourself. Go to that great tree and bring me my
pouch, and let me smoke, and I will explain all to you.” Going after
the pouch, as directed, Hodadeñon brought it to his uncle; then cutting
up tobacco, he filled the pipe and lighted it for his uncle. When the
latter began to use the pipe, smoke issued from all the orifices in his
skull—from the eyeless sockets, the nostrils, the ear openings, and the
sutures. When the uncle had finished he asked Hodadeñon to take the
pouch back to the place whence he had brought it, whereupon Hodadeñon
returned it to the pile of bones. Then the voice from the bones said:
“You must go now to cut red willows for material for making manikins
and bows and arrows. Run from here to various places on the island; put
the manikins in crotches high up in the trees far from one another.
Give each manikin a bow and arrow, and when you place each one, say to
it, ‘Shoot the dog when it comes.’ When you have put up a number of
these come back to me. Then you must go out with manikins a second
time; and when you have set these up you must return to me; and you
must go out a third time with manikins. When putting up these you must
instruct them to shoot the dogs; after doing this, you must return to
me. From here you must go to the end of the island, where you must step
into the water and walk along in it until you come to an overhanging
cliff, which is opposite the landing place. There they can not find
you.”
Hodadeñon did as his uncle, the bones, advised him to do. When the
manikins were all completed and placed in their places he went to the
overhanging bank and there hid himself.
At evening came the Ongwe Ias [83] in a canoe; he landed on the island.
He was accompanied by three dogs, which he urged at once to find the
game, Hodadeñon, who now heard the hue and cry of the pursuit. Starting
from the bones, they went to the tree where the pouch was hidden and
thence returned. Then they went on farther until they came to the tree
on which was placed the first manikin. The Ongwe Ias followed his dogs
closely, singing as he ran, “There are no dogs like mine; there are no
dogs like mine.” Suddenly the dogs stopped, and the Ongwe Ias saw a boy
in the tree pointing an arrow at one of them. At once shooting an arrow
at the supposed boy, he brought him down. As the dogs sprang forward to
seize the falling manikin, the Ongwe Ias shouted at them, “Do not eat
the body! Do not eat the body!” But when he was able to see what he had
killed, he found that the dogs were tearing nothing but red willow
twigs. Then he was very angry and, calling off his dogs, he urged them
to follow the tracks elsewhere.
It was not long before the dogs found another tree on which there was a
manikin with drawn bow and arrow. When Ongwe Ias saw it, he exclaimed,
“Oh! he will kill one of my dogs;” thereupon he shot an arrow, which
brought down the manikin. The dogs, rushing at the falling body, seized
it, but the Ongwe Ias shouted at them, “Do not eat the flesh! Do not
eat the flesh!” as he hurried forward to take it from the dogs. When he
saw that they were throwing only bits of red willow from their mouths
he was indeed very angry; but he set the dogs on the trail again.
They ran on with Ongwe Ias following them closely. After a while he
heard them growling fiercely and found that they had stopped at a pile
of bones. Seizing his club, Ongwe Ias pounded the bones, saying, “I
have eaten your flesh long ago and still you try to deceive me.” Then,
calling his dogs, he set them on the trail made by Hodadeñon when he
went to put up the second lot of manikins. The dogs ran around with
Ongwe Ias closely following them and singing, “There are no dogs like
mine; there are no dogs like mine.” It was not long before they came to
a manikin in the crotch of a tree. Seeing the drawn bow and arrow Ongwe
Ias said, “Oh, he will kill one of my dogs.” At that instant the
manikin shot an arrow and one of the dogs dropped dead. Then Ongwe Ias
shot an arrow into the manikin, which fell to the ground. He shouted at
the dogs, “Do not eat the flesh! Do not eat the flesh!” Thereupon they
let the body go, but he found that it was made merely of bits of red
willow.
Starting again on the trail, the dogs ran around for a long time in
every direction over the island. Finally Ongwe Ias heard the two
surviving dogs barking fiercely; they were at the bones again. Coming
up, he shouted: “Why do you deceive me? Long ago I ate your flesh. Why
do you trouble me now?” and, seizing his club, he pounded the bones
savagely.
A third time he set out with his two dogs on a trail. The dogs followed
this until they came to a tree in which was a manikin. This figure shot
one of the dogs, killing it. Then Ongwe Ias shot the manikin, which
fell to the ground a mass of rotten wood.
At this time day began to dawn. The Ongwe Ias said to himself, “I shall
go home now. When it is night again I shall return and I shall be sure
of the game.” So bringing his dead dogs to life and taking them into
his canoe he sailed away.
Hodadeñon in his hiding place heard the chasing during the entire
night, the barking of the dogs and the shouting of the Ongwe Ias; also
the sounds made by the club striking his uncle, the bones. When
daylight had come and all was quiet Hodadeñon, emerging from his hiding
place, returned to his uncle, who welcomed him with the words: “Well,
my nephew, you are alive yet. So will you now go to bring my pouch to
me, and let me have a smoke, and I will tell you then what to do next.”
Hodadeñon quickly fetched the pouch and filled the pipe with tobacco
and, lighting it, he placed it in the mouth of his uncle, who smoked
with great pleasure, letting the smoke come out of every suture in his
skull and through its eye sockets and nose and ear openings. The uncle
said to his nephew, “I thank you for this smoke. Now take the pouch
back, and when you return we will talk over our troubles.” Hodadeñon
carefully concealed the pouch, and when he returned to his uncle he was
ready to hear what he must do next.
The uncle then said to him, “Now go to the place where the canoe of
Ongwe Ias usually makes a landing; there dig a hole in the shore and
bury yourself in the sand, leaving only the tip of your nose out. When
Shagowenotha lands and hurries away to the opposite side of the island,
you must get up quickly and board the canoe and have the ducks paddle
you back to the mainland. So, nephew, take courage and you will win.”
While Hodadeñon was covering himself he heard Shagowenotha singing to
the ducks as they paddled him over the water. Soon he heard the canoe
ground on the sandy shore and a voice saying, “I shall now go to the
place where my nephew has spilled his blood.” Paying strict attention
to the advice of his uncle, the bones, Hodadeñon knew exactly what to
do next. As soon as Shagowenotha was out of sight Hodadeñon arose
quickly, and, calling the ducks, he pushed the canoe back into the
water; then he began to sing, “Now we paddle, my ducks; now we paddle,
my ducks.” The ducks paddled so swiftly that the canoe fairly flew over
the water. The canoe was far out on the lake when Ongwe Ias saw it. At
once he rushed to the beach and called out, “Let me get aboard! Let me
get aboard!”
Hodadeñon heard but paid no attention to this entreaty; on the
contrary, turning to the monsters dwelling in the depths of the lake,
he said, “If Shagowenotha should try to swim after me, do you devour
him.” Then from the water came a confusion of voices saying hoarsely,
“It shall be done; it shall be done.”
Shagowenotha ran up and down the shore, but he could not make his
escape. When night came he climbed a tall tree. With the coming of
thick darkness the Ongwe Ias came with his three dogs—he had restored
to life the two that had been killed by the manikins—and he began at
once to chase around with them to find traces of Hodadeñon, for he
thought that he was still on the island. At last the dogs led him to
the tree in which Shagowenotha had sought shelter. The dogs barked
furiously at Shagowenotha in the tree. When Ongwe Ias came up
Shagowenotha cried out, “Oh, do not shoot me! I am Shagowenotha.” Ongwe
Ias tauntingly replied, “You may call yourself Shagowenotha, but you
can not fool me,” and let fly an arrow at the Shagowenotha, who tumbled
to the ground dead. Then Ongwe Ias carried off the body and cast it
into the canoe, after which he paddled away.
The next morning Hodadeñon said, “Now I shall go to the lodge of Ongwe
Ias.” Pushing the canoe out from the shore, he began to sing for the
ducks, which came and paddled the canoe until almost evening, when
Hodadeñon saw woods on the shore and a lodge standing near the water.
Bringing the canoe to the beach, he hid it under the water; then he
said to the ducks, “You may go your way until I call for you.” A woman
came out of the lodge carrying two pieces of bark, and called to
Hodadeñon to remain in the water, where he had sunk the canoe. Going to
him, she placed a piece of bark at the water’s edge, telling Hodadeñon
to step on it; then putting down the next piece of bark, she asked him
to step on that. Then she put the first piece before the second, and
then the second before the first, and Hodadeñon kept stepping on bark
until at last he reached the lodge without leaving a single track on
the ground. When they were in the lodge Hodadeñon said to the woman: “I
have come after you. I am your brother. What will you do?” She replied,
“I will go with you, but you must remain here until midday to-morrow.”
Under her couch was a smaller one, in which she put her brother; then
replacing her own over it, she sat on the top.
Soon the yelping of the dogs told of the arrival of Ongwe Ias, and his
footsteps were heard. When the first dog came in, with his mouth open,
the woman threw a bone into it, and afterward hit him on the head. The
Ongwe Ias at once shouted at her, “Oh, you have killed my dog.” In
reply she asked, “Why do they run at me as they do? I have done nothing
to them.” Calling them off, he said, “I have had bad luck to-day. I
have found nothing but a small cub.” Thereupon he prepared his game,
which he cooked with pounded corn. When he had finished eating it he
said, “My food was very tender and good, and now I shall take a smoke.”
Soon he added, “It seems to me, my niece, that you have two breaths.”
She answered sharply: “That is too much to say. You might as well kill
me. You should not talk that way.”
The next morning Ongwe Ias said: “I shall not go hunting on that island
again. I shall go to the other side of the country.” Then he went away,
much to the relief of his prisoners.
After he had been gone some time the woman said, “He must be at his
destination by this time, so you may come out.” Hodadeñon came out from
under the couch and went with the woman to the lake. There he raised
the canoe; getting aboard, the two paddled away as quickly as possible.
When they had reached the middle of the lake they suddenly heard Ongwe
Ias shouting to them, “You can not escape from me! You can not escape
from me!” Running into the lodge, he seized a hook and line, which he
hurled at Hodadeñon, at the same time saying, “Catch the canoe!” At
once the hook did so and Ongwe Ias was pulling the canoe swiftly back
to shore. Suddenly the woman saw that the forest on the shore seemed to
be coming nearer and nearer, and then she saw the hook and line and
Ongwe Ias at the other end of the line. She screamed to Hodadeñon to
break the hook. This he quickly did and they were again free; thereupon
they speedily paddled back to the middle of the lake. Then Ongwe Ias,
in a great rage, screaming, “You shall not escape from me,” started to
run along the bottom of the lake toward his intended victims; but at
the moment he was at the bottom Hodadeñon said, “Let there be ice all
over the lake so thick that nothing can break through it, and let our
canoe be on the top of the ice.”
When Ongwe Ias thought that he was under the canoe he sprang upward
toward the surface with all his might, striking the ice with such force
that it cracked all over the lake. The force of the blow crushed the
head of Ongwe Ias, so that he died.
At once Hodadeñon willed that the ice melt away as rapidly as it had
formed. When the ice was gone he and his sister paddled to the shore.
On landing, they traveled on homeward. When they reached home they
entered the lodge by the western doorway; then going around by the way
of the south to the eastern side, Hodadeñon took his sister to the last
couch, which was at the northwestern corner, where he seated her. The
family was now complete and happy.
42. THE UNCLE AND HIS NEPHEW
An uncle and his nephew lived together in a bark lodge in the woods.
They had no neighbors.
The uncle went every day to hunt and to dig wild potatoes. During the
day and evening the boy sat by the fire and parched corn to eat. Though
the uncle brought home plenty of good potatoes, he gave his nephew only
small, poor ones to eat.
The nephew wondered why they were always alone, so he asked his uncle
whether there were other people living in that region. In reply the
uncle said: “Far off in the west there are people powerful in sorcery,
who took all our tribe captive except us two. This is the reason we are
alone and have no neighbors.”
Then the boy wondered why his uncle gave him such small, poor potatoes
to eat. He saw his uncle put large ones into the pot, but in the
morning only small ones were left. So one night the nephew made a hole
in the skin cover under which he slept, to watch his uncle. Toward
midnight he saw his uncle get up and strike a light, and then going to
an old couch in the corner of the lodge, in which no one seemingly
slept, raise the top and call out a young man, who was beautiful to
look upon, strong, and active. Both the uncle and the strange young man
sat down by the fire. The potatoes, covered with moss, were simmering
over the flames. The uncle uncovered them, picked out the best for his
nephew, and brought him also meat and other food. After they had eaten
heartily, the uncle sang and kept time for the young man with a turtle
rattle while the latter danced. The little boy looked intently all the
time at the young man, saying to himself, “I suppose that is my
brother; now we will have some fun.” After the young man had finished
dancing the uncle put him under the couch again and, banking the fire,
lay down on his own couch.
The next morning, as soon as the uncle had gone to hunt and to dig
potatoes, the little boy went to the couch, and raising the corner of
the cover, said, “Come out! come out here! brother, to me.” “Oh, no!”
said the young man, “I can not go out in the daytime; those women off
there in the west, the Wadiʻoniondies, would hear me.” “Oh, never mind;
they will not hear you,” said the boy. “Oh, yes; they will hear me, and
the moment I come out they will carry me off. They do not know now that
I am here, but the moment I make a noise they will hear it and will
come for me.” The little follow teased and begged so hard, however,
that his brother came out at last. After eating together, one danced
and then the other, until at last the young man heard the women calling
in the distance, “Ween, Ween.” Instantly the elder brother, jumping
under the couch, covered himself.
All this time the little boy kept shaking the rattle and dancing with
all his might. Soon two women appeared from the west, sailing in a
canoe through the air. “Oh! where is he?” cried they. “Your brother!
where is he?” said one of the women. “I have only an uncle, who is old.
He is now off hunting,” said the boy. “There is somebody here with you
in the lodge,” said one of the women. “Oh, no!” said the boy, “I am
alone.” “Oh! you little rogue, you lie,” said the woman. “If I should
lie, that is my business,” answered the child. “Well, we will let you
off this time, but you shall suffer if you lie again to us.”
In the evening when the old uncle came home, he inquired what he had
been doing. “Have you found a brother?” he asked. “I have no brother,
have I?” asked the little boy. “Was not there anyone here to-day?”
queried the uncle. “No,” said the lad. “Well, what did those women come
for? I heard them,” said the uncle. “There was no one here,” said the
child. The uncle said no more.
The next morning, when going off to hunt, the uncle said, “You would
better go out of doors to play, instead of turning everything upside
down in the lodge; go out of doors to play.” His uncle had scarcely
disappeared when the boy ran to his brother, begging him to come out,
until at last he did so. Again they amused themselves; but in the midst
of the dancing the elder brother heard two of the women coming. “Now,”
said he, “I must go; there is no use to hide or to deny that I am here.
I must go.” Presently the two women arrived in their canoe, which,
grazing the top of the lodge, came to the ground. The elder brother got
into the canoe, and away they went to the west.
When the uncle came home at night he was bowed down with grief, for he
knew what had happened. He sat down, crying bitterly. “Oh! do not cry
so, uncle,” said his little nephew; “do not cry; I will go and bring
him back.” Running out quickly, he gathered a lot of red-willow twigs,
from which he scraped the bark. On throwing this into the fire
straightway a thick column of smoke rose and shot off toward the west.
Jumping into the smoke, the boy was borne away after his brother. He
overtook the canoe when it was about halfway to its destination in the
west. The youth in the canoe knew that his little brother was following
to rescue him. One of the women was sitting in the bow of the canoe
paddling, while the other sat in the stern steering. The young man
turned to look at his little brother, whereupon one of the women in the
canoe struck him on the side of the head with the paddle, crying out:
“Sit still! do not look around.” As she struck him he turned his head
slightly, so as to look again; he saw that his brother, on noticing the
blow, sprang forward and jumped into the canoe, shouting: “Do not
strike my brother.” Then he cried: “Let this boat turn around and take
my brother home.” Instantly the canoe, turning around in spite of all
that the women could do, sailed back faster than it had come.
As they were nearing the uncle’s lodge the women begged the little boy
to let his brother go with them, saying: “We will give you whatever you
wish, only let him go.” He thought of what he might ask in payment for
letting his brother go again. Then the young woman inquired: “Is there
anything we might give to induce you to let him go?” He said: “Yes; if
each of you will give me her sexual organ for a moccasin, I will let
him go.” On their consenting, he cut out with his knife what he wanted
and put the moccasins on his feet; they fitted well. Immediately he was
at home.
In answer to his old uncle’s inquiry he said: “I brought my brother
home, but let him go again; the women gave me these beautiful moccasins
to get him back. I can do everything with them.” After a few days the
little boy had such power because of his moccasins that he told his
uncle how the women were tormenting his brother, and that he was
resolved to rescue him. Bringing a lot of red-willow twigs, he scraped
off the bark, which he threw on the fire. Then jumping into the rising
smoke, he shot off toward the west, where he came down at the edge of a
clearing in a great wood. Just opposite, at the other end, was a Long
Lodge, and at the right hand, at the edge of the wood, was a small
lodge, in which a grandmother lived with three grandchildren, a boy and
two girls.
After thinking a while, he said, “I will go over to the little lodge.”
Going there he met a boy of his own age and size, just like himself in
every way; half of his hair (the crown) was black and half (the sides)
red. “Oh! how do you do?” said the strange little boy. “Who are you?
You must be my brother?” The boys looked at each other, and seeing that
they were just about the same size they became brothers. “Now, you will
come and live here with me, little boy,” said the lad; “I have two
sisters and a grandmother; my grandmother has gone out.”
When the old woman came home the little boy said, “I have a brother
here; he is going to live with us.” “How could he live with us, we are
so poor?” said the grandmother. “I think he can; he is poor himself and
will be satisfied with what you have to give him,” replied the lad. At
last she consented to let him stay. The other boy, drawing near the old
woman, asked: “Are you going to the chief’s lodge? Have you heard what
is going on there?” “Oh, yes!” said the old woman; “the chief’s two
daughters brought a man from the east, from that great wampum people;
they hung him up last night and made him cry. His tears are wampum.
Tonight they will do the same thing.” “Can we not go over there?” asked
the boy. “I suppose so,” said his grandmother; “I will get some
wampum.”
When evening came the old woman, her grandchildren, and the little boy
went to the Long Lodge. The people had already assembled, and the man
was hanging from a post. The two sisters were sitting on couches, one
on each side. The boy said to his friend, “Now we will get some dry
rushes to light the pipes of the chiefs and of the people standing
around, if they will let us in.”
When the old woman came to the Long Lodge she asked whether she might
not have a chance to get some wampum. They asked the chief, who said,
“Yes; she is a good woman. Let her have a chance, too.” “My little
grandson and his friend,” said the old woman, “will come in and carry
lights to those who want to smoke.” “Oh, yes,” said the chief, “let the
little boys come.”
As they went into the lodge the young man who was tied to the post
smiled when he saw his brother. All who saw him wondered what the man
was smiling at. Presently the chief gave orders to apply the
firebrands. Thereupon they burned him on one side and then on the
other; he cried bitterly, and as the tears fell they turned into wampum
beads, falling in a shower. All the people ran to collect the wampum,
and the old grandmother got some too. After the man had cried a while
they rested and smoked.[84] When the order was given to begin the
torture a second time, the little brother gave one moccasin to his
friend and kept the other himself. As they were about to begin the
burning he said to the boy, “Now stick your foot into the fire.” When
he did so, one of the sisters screamed, as though in the agony of
death, and never stopped until the boy took out his foot. All the
people wondered what was the matter, but she would not tell.
Again, as they were going to apply the fire to the man, the little
nephew put his foot into the fire and the other sister screamed in
terrible pain. After they had gotten some wampum and rested, the boy
said, “Let them all sleep soundly.” His grandmother and the little boy
went outside with his friend, and the grandmother said, too, “Let them
all sleep soundly.” When all were asleep the lad cut down his brother,
whom he took outside; then, walking around the lodge, he said, “Let
this lodge be turned into flint and let it become red-hot.” At once
this came to pass and all within the lodge were burned up. “Now,” said
the boy, “I think you would better come home with me, grandmother; you
would be a good wife for my uncle.”
All went to the uncle’s lodge, where they found him crying for his lost
nephew. He had been tormented by foxes, who had knocked at the door,
saying, “We have come, uncle.” After the nephews and the rest of the
company had come into the old uncle’s lodge, a fox who did not know of
the new arrivals knocked at the door, saying, “Uncle, I have come.”
“Let him in,” said the boy, while all hid themselves. On coming in the
fox ran toward the fire to get ashes to throw into the old man’s face,
but the boy caught him. Saying, “Oh, you rascal! I will fix you now,”
he tied together the fox’s forelegs with a bark rope and hung him up;
thereupon the tears came out of his eyes, his face and—[Here the story
ends abruptly.]
43. HINON SAVES A WOMAN FROM SUICIDE
In a certain village a young man and a young woman were married. Soon
after their marriage they set out on a hunting expedition. After
traveling some distance they came to a dense wood, where they stopped
and built a brush lodge. Every morning the young man, leaving his wife
at the lodge, always with the warning not to sleep during the day, went
out in pursuit of game.
One afternoon, coming back earlier than usual, the young man found her
asleep. He saw a great rattlesnake among the skins on which she lay.
While trying to pull the snake away, it disappeared into her body
through her pudendum. When she awoke the young man, without saying
anything of what had occurred, proposed that they should go back to the
village, as he was tired of hunting. On reaching home, he told his wife
to go her way and he would go his.
Not long after this she married another man. On the following morning
her new husband was found dead. She soon married still another man, who
was also found dead on the morning after the marriage. Her people then
resolved to find out from the first husband why he had put her away.
After much persuasion he told them why, saying, “While hunting I often
asked her never to sleep in the daytime, but one afternoon on returning
to my camp I found her asleep; there was also a rattlesnake in the bed,
which, when I tried to drive it away, disappeared into her body.”
The mother of the young woman told her what they had heard from the
first husband. She was so ashamed and troubled that she determined to
kill herself by going over Niagara Falls. Getting into her canoe a mile
or so above the Falls, she pushed out into the middle of the river. The
mother followed her, but too late to stop her daughter. As the canoe
neared the Falls the latter, lying down and covering her face with her
mantle, disappeared over the brink. But Hinon, who dwells under the
Falls, taking the young woman from the water, carried her to his home,
where he prepared medicine which he gave to her; then, looking at her,
he raised her by the shoulders and let her down on her feet. The second
time he did this a dead snake dropped out of her person on the ground.
Hinon said, “I am glad to see this snake. Now I shall have something to
eat.” Roasting the snake on the hot coals of his hearth he ate it.
The young woman lived with Hinon for some time. As she could not eat
his food, he often brought ears of corn, saying, “Here is some corn
from your mother’s field.” Then he would bring a roasted squash with
the words, “I brought this from your mother’s coals,” having taken it
from her fireside.
They lived in this way until the woman was far advanced in pregnancy.
Then Hinon said to some of his companions, “It is now time to deliver
this woman to her mother. You must take her only to her mother’s
field.” So, taking her to the field, they left her. Soon she heard some
one crying, and then she saw her mother. The mother was frightened, but
she stopped crying and called out, “Are you in your natural life?” The
young woman assured her that she was, and together they went to the
mother’s lodge. Not long after her arrival there the young woman gave
birth to a boy.
When the boy was large enough to run around they often heard Hinon
coming, and then it would rain very hard. The boy would go out into the
storm and he would be gone some time, but when he came back he would be
perfectly dry. At last he said, “The next time my father comes I shall
go away with him, and not return.” So he went and he was never seen
again; but he is always with his father, and it is he who thunders in
the sharp voice of a young man.
44. THE CRAWFISH AND THE RACCOON
The chief of the Crawfish settlement one day told his people that he
was going about to inspect things and to see if the Ongwe Ias was
around.
Starting out, he went to every lodge; he found that every one was in
and well. On his way home, as he was walking along the edge of the
water he found what he judged to be the body of Ongwe Ias. “Oh! this is
good luck,” said he; “I will go and tell all the people to come to see
Ongwe Ias lying here dead.” So he invited all to turn out and see their
enemy, whom he supposed was dead.
The whole multitude came and saw the Ongwe Ias lying on the ground with
his face black and covered with flies. One of them went up and pinched
his lips hard, but he did not move. Then saying, “We will sing a song
of rejoicing,” they formed in a circle around the Ongwe Ias to dance.
While they were dancing and singing, all at once their enemy, the Ongwe
Ias, springing up, ate the whole tribe except two or three who escaped.
The Ongwe Ias knew the fondness of the Crawfish for dead meat of any
kind, so his ruse was successful in providing him with a meal.
45. THE RACE BETWEEN THE TURTLE AND THE BEAR
There was once an old man going along slowly but surely by himself.
After traveling some distance he met another man, who asked him, “Where
are you going?” “Oh, I am going east to see the people,” the old man
replied. “You will never get there; it is so far away, and you are too
fat for the road,” answered the stranger. Thereupon they parted
company.
Soon the old man met another person, a slender young man, who asked,
“Where are you going?” “I am going to the east to see how people live
in that region,” answered the old man. “You can not get there; you are
too fat, and so you can not travel so far,” said the young man. “How do
you keep so fat?” “Well, when I come to a village and find people lying
around, I bore a hole in each one I like and suck the fat out; that is
the way to get fat,” said the old man. “I must try this plan. I am so
lean that I must try to get fat,” said the other.
Each went his own road. Soon the thin man came to an opening, or
clearing, in the forest, where he found an animal lying asleep at the
edge of the woods. Crawling up to it carefully he tried to make a hole
in its body near the tail, in order to suck out the fat. But the
animal, springing up, hit him a great blow with his heels and ran off.
“I shall pay that old man the next time I meet him,” said the slim man.
Going on farther he met the fat old fellow again. “How do you get so
fat?” asked the slim man. “Oh, I do it by eating fish,” said the old
man; “I put my tail through a hole in the ice, and when a fish bites I
pull him out and eat him. That is how I get fat.” “I will try that
plan,” said the slim young man. He went on until he came to where there
was a good place to fish. Making a hole in the ice, he stuck his tail
through and waited until it was frozen in; then he pulled until his
tail came off.
The young man went on his way and was magically changed into another
kind of person through losing his tail. He traveled around until the
next summer, when again he met the old man. “Where are you going?” he
asked of the latter. “I am going east,” said the old man. “You will
never get there; you are so fat you can not travel fast enough. You
would better run a race with me.” “Very well,” said the fat man; “you
may run on land but I will run on water. We will run to-morrow.”
The fat man collected a great number of his people, whom he posted in
the river all along the course to the starting place, telling each one
to stick up his head when the land runner had come almost up to him. As
was customary in the contests of great sorcerers, the wager in this
race was the head of the loser.
The racers started. The slim young man ran with all his might, but
every little while the fat man, as he thought, stuck his head out of
the water in advance of him. When he returned to the starting place the
fat man was there before him. “You have won the race,” said the young
man. “Of course I have,” said the fat man, and seizing the young fellow
by the neck he led him to a stone where he cut off his head.
Then the fat man’s friends, all coming out of the water, went to the
starting place. When they looked at the dead land runner they said:
“Oh, what a fool! Oh, what a fool!”
Now, the old man, the water runner, was a mud turtle. The land runner
was a bear, but he had been a fox until he lost his tail in the ice.
Bears are all stub-tailed since the fox lost his tail in the ice.
46. THE WOMAN WHO BECAME A MANEATER THROUGH THE ORENDA OF HER
HUSBAND’S DOGS
There was once a man who, in company with his wife and little daughter,
went hunting in a distant region. Having arrived at his destination,
the man built a brush lodge in the woods. Every day he went in pursuit
of game.
The man had three dogs, who were his brothers, and of whom he was fond.
He shared his food with them and felt bad if they were ill-used. When
he left them at home he always told his wife to feed them well and to
take good care of them, but in spite of this she abused the dogs; no
matter how long he was away, she would give them nothing to eat. At
last, the smallest of the three dogs told the man how badly they were
treated, saying, “Our sister-in-law never gives us anything to eat;
whatever she cooks, she herself eats; if you will watch her, you will
see how it is.” When her husband was around the woman was kind to the
dogs in order to deceive him. The little dog, however, told him all
that happened in the lodge while he was away hunting.
Now, the little dog was fond of good things; so one night he said to
his brothers, “I will get some food without asking, if only you will
help me.” He had noticed that the woman kept food for herself, which
she hid under the skins on which she slept, and had seen her hide there
a skin bag of roasted corn. He said further to his brothers, “You are
large and strong and can get it while she is asleep.” “No,” said the
large dog; “we are heavy and awkward, and we would only awaken her; but
you are light and small, and so can lie down by her without being
noticed.” “Very well; I will try,” was the little dog’s answer to this.
So at midnight, when all were sound asleep, the little dog, making his
way to the bag of roasted corn hidden under the woman’s head, pulled it
carefully until he got it out. The large dogs had drawn the door flap
aside for him, and all three, well pleased, ran off toward the spring,
where they could obtain water to wash down the roasted corn. The little
dog said to one of his brothers, “You can carry the bag now.” In taking
it he tore it open, when they found it was merely a pouch of roots,
bark, and leaves instead of a bag of corn; so they had got into trouble
for nothing. Then the large dog said, “The safest way for us is to
carry this bag back, and you who got it must return it.” So, taking it
back, the little dog placed it with the torn side down, near the
woman’s head. The next morning when the woman shook the skins she found
the pouch torn and laid the blame on the mice.
A few days after this the little dog said to the man, “We are going to
punish our sister-in-law for the bad treatment she gives us.” The man
decided that he would say nothing, and that they might punish her if
they wished. The next morning he said to his dogs, “You must stay at
home, for I shall be away all night.” After he had gone the woman began
cooking, and the little dog watched all her movements. When she took
the meat down his mouth watered for a piece of it. The dogs sat around
watching her as she cut it up, but she did not give them even a
mouthful. It so chanced that she cut her finger badly and was not able
to stanch the bleeding. In attempting to do so she even thrust the
finger into her mouth and began sucking it. She found that she liked
the taste of her own blood, and later even the meat she was cooking did
not taste so good. So she sucked all the blood out of that finger; then
she cut another finger and sucked that, for she had forgotten all about
the cooking. Next she cut one arm and sucked it, then the other; then
one leg and then the other. Finally, when she had sucked all the blood
out of her body, she cut off her flesh, piece after piece, and ate it.
The dogs sat around watching her, and her little girl also was looking
on. After she had eaten all her own flesh she seized her daughter and,
though the child cried and begged for mercy, the unnatural mother,
paying no heed to her pleadings, killed her and ate her.
Then the woman ran off in the direction her husband had taken. Suddenly
the hunter heard something behind him. Turning, he saw the little dog,
who said to him: “I have come to tell you that your wife has become a
man-eater; she has eaten the flesh off her own body and has eaten your
child, and is now on your trail. We must run for our lives. We will go
to the settlement and you must tell the people to leave the place and
run, for one is following us who will devour them all. Those who
believe you will escape, but those who do not will die. We must run
with all speed, for she is following us fast.”
Now, it was through the orenda of the dogs and their influence that the
woman had become a man-eater.
When they reached the settlement, the man told the people of their
danger. Some escaped, but the woman quickly ate all who remained. Again
she followed on her husband’s trail. The little dog told the man when
the woman reached the settlement, and soon after said, “Now do your
best, for she is coming with greater speed than before; we are near a
large river.” The fugitives reached the river and the man, making a
small raft, quickly got on it with his dogs. He was in the middle of
the stream when the woman reached the bank and called out, “Your flesh
is mine. I am going to eat it.” Thereupon she made a great leap with
the intention of landing on the raft, but missing it, she was drowned.
After the fugitives had crossed the river and had given thanks for
their escape, the little dog said, “We shall soon come to a village,
and you must do my bidding.”
When they came to an opening or clearing in the forest they saw near by
a wretched-looking lodge, and the little dog said, “We are going there;
a couple of poor old people live in that lodge.” On entering, the
hunter asked the old man of the lodge whether he could stay with him
for a short time. The old man answered: “It is difficult to grant your
request. We have as much as we can do to live ourselves.” “It is true,”
said the man, “you are very poor; so are we. I am not in search of a
good home. I am looking for people in my own circumstances.” “Very
well,” said the old man, “you can stay with us, but the chief of the
place knows already that you have come; he has great magic power and I
am afraid that he will take your life.”
Some time passed. Every night the old man would spend a long time in
relating the history of the chief and the people. As the visiting man
was a good hunter, he brought in much game and soon the old man’s lodge
was full of meat. After a while the old man said, “We have decided to
adopt you, and you shall be one of our children.”
The chief knew that there was a stranger in the place, and the old man
said: “He will be here in two days; he is coming to see who is with us.
He will tell you that he is your uncle, and will challenge you to a
foot race. You must ask for two days’ time for preparation.” “Very
well,” said the man, and as usual he started off to hunt. His dog
seemed to know where all the bears were. When he had killed as many as
he wanted he went home. The old man said, “The chief has been here, and
he challenges you to a foot race.”
When the time came for the race, the old man and his wife and
granddaughter started for the race course. The man had said to him, “I
will come as soon as I can make my preparations.” The second dog
volunteered to take the man’s place in the race, but the little one
said, “You stay at home and I will do the hunting”; and to the man he
said, “Take off your garments and let me have them.” When the dog had
put on the garments, he looked just like the man. The other dog said to
the man, “We will go off hunting while he is doing the running.” The
hunter and the dog were very happy, for they knew that their little
brother would win the race.
When the people had assembled on the race course and the old man saw
his supposed son coming, he said, “See how well our son is prepared for
the race.” They saw no difference whatever between the person before
them and their adopted son. There were many people present, for the
village seemed to be very large. Meanwhile the hunter who had accepted
the challenge was off in the woods. One of the dogs said to him, “They
are now ready to start. They have started.” Though far off in the
woods, the dogs seemed to see everything. All at once they called out:
“Owe! Owe! Our brother has won the race. Did we not tell you that he
would never be outrun? Now we may as well go home.” So they started
homeward. They had been at the lodge but a short time when the runner
came in, and, taking off the garments of the hunter, who then put them
on again, the three dogs laid down by the fire.
It is said that during the race the chief, seeing that he was
outstripped, threw a horn after the dog-man, which stuck into his foot.
While the dog-man was trying to pull out the horn, the chief passed
him, calling, “What are you doing there? Get up!” By the time the
dog-man had drawn the horn out of his foot, his enemy was near the
goal. But, springing up, he threw the horn at his enemy; it stuck into
the chief’s foot, causing him to fall to the ground. Then the dog-man
ran ahead, calling out, “Why do you not get up? You can not sit there
and beat me.” But before the chief could pull out the horn, the dog-man
had passed the goal.
When the old man came home he said to his son, “I thank you for
outrunning your enemy; there has never been anyone to outrun him; all
have been beaten. Since the wager was heads, you can take his life
whenever you wish.” Then he asked the man whether he had done his best.
“No,” said he, “I used about half my strength.” “Very well,” said the
old man; “he has another game to propose; he will never stop proposing
trials of strength, skill, or speed until he has taken your life. To be
beaten this time makes him very angry; in two days he will challenge
you to play ball with him.” “All right,” replied the man, “I am ready
to meet him.”
In two days they saw the chief coming, and as he entered the lodge, he
said: “I am sick for a game of ball, and I challenge you to play a game
against me; you won in one game, so now try another. I will wager all I
have, and if you win, you shall be chief in my place.” The man replied:
“I also am sick from lack of amusement and I accept your challenge. I
have never met the man who could beat me in a game of ball. But give me
time. You have come unexpectedly, and I must make a ball club.” “Very
well,” said the chief, going away.
The bent ball club the hunter hung up to season, and the old man made
strings; the next day they netted the club. They were ready just in
time to go to the ball ground. The time appointed for the game was at
midday, and the old man and woman said, “We shall now start.” “Very
well; I shall come soon,” said the adopted son. Then the little dog
said, “Let it be our eldest brother who shall take part in this game.”
So the man removed his garments, and the dog put them on; there he
stood, looking just like the man. The little dog said, “We shall surely
win the game.” The hunter and the other dogs went to the woods to hunt,
while the dog-man went to the ball ground.
The chief was on the spot watching impatiently for the man. At last he
saw him coming, with his long hair tied back; he carried his club well
and looked splendid. The old man, supposing it was his son, said: “Now,
you must use all your strength and must not be beaten.” The dog-man saw
that his antagonist was walking around in the crowd, with a very proud
and haughty manner. The dog-man seemed very mild and without strength
enough for the game.
Seeing that it was time to begin, the people fell back and gave room to
the players. When the word was given the players came forward, and the
chief said: “I will take my place on this side.” “No; you shall not,”
said the other; “you gave the challenge, and I will choose my place.”
The chief had to yield, the dog-man choosing the side the chief wanted.
They then began to play. “Now,” said the little dog to the hunter in
the woods, “our brother has begun the game, which will be a very close
contest.” Soon he said: “The chief’s ball has missed the goal; they
play well; our brother has caught and sent the ball back. Oh! now he
has won an inning. They will play one more inning.” All at once he
called out: “They have begun again. It is a very close game. Our
brother is having all he can do. We may be beaten, however.” Then he
called out: “Owe! Owe! Our brother has won the game. You are chief, and
all the old chief has is ours.”
As the dog-man had won two straight games, he caught the chief by the
hair and cut his head off. Many of the people thanked him. They said
that the old chief had never spared them; that when he had been the
loser he had always given the people up to slaughter and saved his own
life. The winner seemed to have won many friends among those who
witnessed the game. The little dog said: “Now we shall go home.” They
had been there but a short time when the ball player came in; giving
back the man’s garments, he immediately became a dog again.
When the old people came into the lodge they thanked their son, saying:
“You have done more than anyone else was ever able to do before. You
are the chief now.” As they praised their son they did not know that it
was a dog that had done the work.
The next morning the little dog said: “Let us go to live in the chief’s
lodge.” So the hunter, with the old man and his family, moved into the
new lodge. All the old chief’s things had been left in their places, as
they were part of the wager. Now, as the dogs were so full of orenda,
he became a great chief and had much power and influence among the
people.
[The narrator of the foregoing story said: “It is true that whenever a
person loves a dog he derives great power from it. Dogs still know all
we say, only they are not at liberty to speak. If you do not love a
dog, he has power to injure you by his orenda.”]
47. GANYADJIGOWA [85]
There was a man named Ganyadjigowa who lived in a lodge on a bay
opening into a lake. One morning he went out in a bark canoe to fish,
but catching no fish he came home and put the canoe away. Soon after
this he said, “Well, I must go somewhere,” so he walked along the shore
of the lake until he came to its outlet, where he saw a lodge, which he
entered. Finding no one at home and seeing plenty of meat, he ate what
he wanted, and was starting off with a supply when he saw somebody with
a big load of meat coming up from the lake. This was an old man named
Twentgowa. They met and greeted each other, Ganyadjigowa saying, “I
came to visit you; I have been in your lodge.” “Well, come back with
me,” said Twentgowa.[86] “No, I must go on,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Come
again,” said Twentgowa.
Ganyadjigowa did not go back, because he had stolen some of the meat.
He swam across the outlet of the lake, and, keeping along the bank, he
soon saw another lodge. Peeping into it he saw a large family—two old
people and their children; these were Hongak people. After standing a
while he thought, “I will go in,” and he did so. The inmates greeted
him with, “Where do you come from?” “From the other side of the lake,”
answered Ganyadjigowa. “What do you come for?” they asked him. “Oh! to
look around; it is so pleasant to-day,” Ganyadjigowa replied. “How far
will you go?” he was asked. “Around the lake,” he answered.
The two men became good friends. Then Hongak [87] said, “I must go with
you, my friend.” “Very well,” said Ganyadjigowa, and they started along
the shore. At midday they came to the mouth of a river and Ganyadjigowa
asked, “How can we cross the river?” “Let us swim,” said Hongak; “I
suppose you know how to swim.” “Very well, indeed,” said Ganyadjigowa.
So they swam across the river and then walked on till they saw a rock,
then many rocks. As they went along the path grew narrower and
narrower. Hongak was ahead. Ganyadjigowa picked up a stone, and tying a
bark string around it hung it on Hongak’s back, so that he could not
walk, for he kept slipping back. Ganyadjigowa said to him, “Go on! I am
in a hurry. I want to get home before dark.” “Let me go, then,” said
Hongak; “do not pull me back.” “I am not pulling you back,” replied
Ganyadjigowa; “I will go ahead if you like. Wait and I will pass you.”
When Ganyadjigowa got ahead, he said, “Now, come on!” Hongak could not
go, for he was unable to walk. Ganyadjigowa went on, leaving him
behind. The path grew narrower and narrower until he came to a place
where there was not room to walk, and he thought, “How am I to get by
these rocks?” The name of this place was Heiosdenoon (“the rocks go to
the water”).
Here Ganyadjigowa resolved to go back, but there was not room to turn
around. Then he said, “I must go backward.” After a few steps in this
way, he fell into the water and went under. When he thought he was past
the rocks he came out of the water and walked on again. The sun was
near the horizon and he thought, “When shall I get home?” It was soon
dark. Finding a hollow tree, he crawled into it.
Not long after this Ganyadjigowa heard footsteps in the leaves outside.
The sound stopped at the tree. Ganyadjigowa kept very still. A voice
said, “Well, you are sleeping in here?” “Yes; I am,” replied
Ganyadjigowa. “I want you to come out and talk with me,” was the
challenge. Ganyadjigowa crawled out. There stood Hongak, the man he had
left behind. “Well,” Hongak asked, “do you know who I am?” “Why are you
angry? I thought you wanted to stay. I urged you to come but you would
not,” said Ganyadjigowa. Hongak said: “No. You did something to make me
stop. Look at my back.” The feathers were all off where the stone had
been secured.
Now Hongak began to fight with Ganyadjigowa, who soon ran away, for he
did not want to fight. Speedily overtaking him, Hongak began to fight
again. Ganyadjigowa now grew angry. They fought till dark the next day.
“Let us rest,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Well, you stay here; I will be back
to-morrow,” said Hongak. As soon as Hongak was out of sight
Ganyadjigowa ran away. Coming to a river he decided to try to swim, but
the water ran too swiftly. He was carried downstream into rough water,
where he could not help himself. In the water was a stone against which
he was driven; he thought, “Now I am going to die.” He was on the stone
all night.
Hongak came back in the morning and, not finding his enemy, tracked him
to the water. Then, saying, “I will catch him,” he went into the water
and tried to swim. But the water ran so fast that it carried him down
to the stone where Ganyadjigowa was. Hongak said, “I am going to die
this time.” Ganyadjigowa heard someone talking, and he knew who it was.
Now he tried to get away. After struggling a long time he freed himself
and came to shore. Hongak became filled with water and died. Then his
body floated to shore, whereupon Ganyadjigowa said: “Oh! there is my
friend. Did he think he could kill me? I have more orenda than he had.”
Traveling on, Ganyadjigowa soon got home.
One night he dreamed he was on the way to the west. Coming to a large
opening and looking around, he saw a Ganiagwaihe approaching from the
southeast. He thought, “I am going to die. That bear will eat me.” It
came nearer and nearer. He went back and farther back. Soon from the
northwest came a Djainosgowa.[88] Ganyadjigowa continued going backward
as fast as he could. At last the two animals met and began to fight. He
stood and watched them, wondering which would overcome his antagonist.
As they fought they drew near him. He began to go backward again until
he fell into a hole in the ground, with the two animals on him. Then he
screamed: “Hurry up! Help me! I am going to die under these terrible
creatures.” Awaking, he found himself alone with his skin blankets
wrapped around him; he had rolled off his couch to the floor. He said,
“What a bad dream I have had!”
Falling asleep again, again he dreamed of the same creatures, but
thought they were in the woods and belonged to him. He made them stand
near each other, and, laying a stick across them, he sat on it. Then he
told the animals to go westward; they did so, whereupon he said, “Oh,
this is fun.” They reached the end of the earth very quickly. Then he
jumped off, saying, “Stay here until I come back.” He went south till
he found a lodge; going in, he saw a fine-looking old man. “I have come
to see you; I am traveling around the earth,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Where
do you come from?” asked the old man. “I came from the Great Lake,”
replied Ganyadjigowa. “What do you travel for?” queried the old man.
“Oh, just to see how the earth is and what people are living on it,”
said Ganyadjigowa. “What is your name?” asked the old man. “My name is
Ganyadjigowa,” was the young man’s reply. “What is yours?” “My name is
Djothowandon.[89] My master lives not far away. You must see him before
you visit me,” was the old man’s reply.
Going in the direction pointed out, Ganyadjigowa came to a lodge
standing on a big rock. He stood by the rock, thinking, “How am I going
to get up there?” Then he saw a narrow ledge running around and around;
following this, he came to the lodge. On looking about he saw an old
man sitting by the fire. They greeted each other, the old man saying,
“Why did you come here?” “Just to see all the world,” said
Ganyadjigowa. “Where do you come from?” said the old man. “I came from
the Great Lake,” said Ganyadjigowa. “What is your name?” continued the
occupant of the lodge. “Ganyadjigowa,” the young man declared. “What is
yours?” Ganyadjigowa asked in turn. “I am called Dagwanoenyent,” said
the old man. Then Ganyadjigowa said, “Will you let me visit you?” “Oh,
yes! you can stay with me as long as you like,” said the old man. “I
will stay several days,” said the visitor.
One morning Dagwanoenyent asked, “Would you like to go down to see my
servant?” “Yes; I should like to go,” said Ganyadjigowa. They soon came
to Djothowandon’s lodge, when Dagwanoenyent said, “This is my servant’s
lodge. Let us go in.” On going in Dagwanoenyent said, “My servant is
not at home. I believe he has gone to the southern end of the world.”
Dagwanoenyent said, “A very cross people live there. My servant is
trying to make them peaceful.” “Now you would better go home. Something
will come and chase you if you are down here at midday,” said the old
man. “Very well,” said Ganyadjigowa, starting after his animals.
Soon, on seeing Dahdahwat [90] approaching, Ganyadjigowa tried to hide,
but he could find no place of concealment. Dahdahwat chased him, and,
seizing him, threw him down and began to bite him. Ganyadjigowa could
not get away. He tried so hard that the sweat came out like rain. Then
he awoke. He was all wet and the sun was pouring in on him. He felt sad
and worried about his dreams. About noon, becoming hungry, he said, “I
must take my canoe and try to catch some fish.” He went far out into
the lake, keeping a sharp lookout for fish. Seeing one, he jumped
overboard after it, but could not find it. On seeing another he dived
again—once more, no fish. He looked down again. Yes; there it was. He
looked and looked. Then he found that there was a fish on the right
side of his canoe, the shadow of which was visible down in the water.
He caught the fish, and after eating it started to go home, but he was
far out in the lake and did not know which way he had come. He made way
very fast, however, in the right direction, as he thought, and reached
the shore, but saw no lodge.
Leaving his canoe, he walked toward home, as he supposed. He walked all
day until night. Then he saw a hut in the woods. Going near it, he
stood and listened. There was a man talking in the hut, who said: “This
is the way to get great magic power. I know all about what to do to get
great magic power, and I can show anyone who comes here. I know the
whole world and I can give magic power to whomsoever wants it. I wish
Ganyadjigowa would come. I could show him how strong magically I am. He
thinks he is the strongest man under the Blue Sky.” Ganyadjigowa
thought, “Why does he say this? Does he know that I am the strongest? I
have been all over the world” (he had only dreamed that he had been).
He still listened. Gaasyendietʻha [91] (for this was the name of the
old man) continued: “I am the greatest runner and the greatest flyer in
the world. I can make light go through the world. I have greater
strength magically than anyone else. For several years the Duck people
tried to chase me. I killed them all. I am the man appointed many, many
years ago to be chief of all the people under the Blue Sky.”
Ganyadjigowa said: “I would kill that man if he followed me. He must be
crazy. He talks to himself all the time.”
Then Ganyadjigowa, entering the lodge, said, “You are talking about me,
are you not?” “Oh, no,” replied the strange man. “Well, I will go. I
thought you were talking about me,” repeated Ganyadjigowa.
Going outside the hut, Ganyadjigowa picked up two stones and striking
them together, said, “I would do that way with that man if he came
after me.” Gaasyendietʻha, coming out of the hut, asked, “What are you
saying?” “Oh, I was saying this is the best friend I have,” declared
Ganyadjigowa. “What did you say about the stone?” asked Gaasyendietʻha.
“I said when my friend traveled he had to carry these stones, and if he
went into the water he had to throw them away,” declared Ganyadjigowa.
Half believing what was told him, Gaasyendietʻha went back into the
lodge. Ganyadjigowa laughed and laughed, thinking, “Oh, what a fool he
is! He believes what I say.” Then he went into the hut again.
Gaasyendietʻha said, “Why do you come here? Why do you not go home?”
“Oh, I want to visit you until to-morrow morning,” said Ganyadjigowa.
“No, I do not want such a man as you are around,” declared
Gaasyendietʻha. “I will not trouble you. I will not chase you,” said
Ganyadjigowa. “Go on home! I do not like you. You are too mean,”
Gaasyendietʻha declared. Ganyadjigowa answered, “Oh, no! I am not.”
Gaasyendietʻha said, “Well, stay then; but you must not talk to me.”
“Very well,” said Ganyadjigowa.
Night came. Sitting down by the fire with his pipe, Gaasyendietʻha put
coals into it and began to puff clouds of smoke. Ganyadjigowa said,
“How do you get tobacco?” Turning around, Gaasyendietʻha looked at him.
“Do not speak to me,” commanded Gaasyendietʻha. Soon Ganyadjigowa
asked, “Does it taste good?” Gaasyendietʻha did not answer, but kept on
smoking. Soon afterward Ganyadjigowa spoke again, saying, “How
strangely the smoke is rolling around the room.” Gaasyendietʻha said,
angrily, “Go out of this hut! I tell you I do not want you here.” “But
you said I might stay until morning,” pleaded Ganyadjigowa. “I will be
quiet now; do not put me out.” “Very well,” said Gaasyendietʻha, and
smoked on.
Ganyadjigowa laughed. After a while he said: “I want to ask you a
question. What is the world made of?” Gaasyendietʻha turned around,
feeling cross, but he did not answer. Then Ganyadjigowa continued, “Do
you believe people who say a man lives up in the Blue Sky?”
Gaasyendietʻha looked at him but did not answer and kept on smoking.
Then Ganyadjigowa said, “Do you believe this world stands on the
Turtle’s back?” Gaasyendietʻha, now angry, said, “Did I not tell you
not to talk to me?” Ganyadjigowa said, “Yes; I am going to be quiet
now.” Gaasyendietʻha kept on smoking. Then Ganyadjigowa said, “Do you
believe Hawenniyo [92] made the things of the world?” There was no
answer. Ganyadjigowa spoke again, saying, “Well, do you believe the old
folks who say that Dagwanoenyent is still alive?” Gaasyendietʻha said
nothing; he merely turned and looked at him, then he turned back, still
smoking. Ganyadjigowa said once more, “Do you believe the old folks who
say that wind goes everywhere?” Gaasyendietʻha sprang up, saying, “I
will throw you out. I told you not to talk to me.” Ganyadjigowa said,
“I am going to be quiet now; do not throw me out.” Believing him,
Gaasyendietʻha sat down. But after a while Ganyadjigowa began once
more, “Well, do you believe the old people who say that Hinon makes
rain?” He received no answer. Soon again he asked, “Do you believe the
old folks who say that trouble comes to those who do not answer? Do you
believe the old people who say that Hanisheonon93 is alive?” Picking up
a club, Gaasyendietʻha began to strike Ganyadjigowa, who begged off
with promises to be quiet. “No! get out! I do not want you here,” said
Gaasyendietʻha. Ganyadjigowa begged hard. Gaasyendietʻha became cool
and quiet again. Ganyadjigowa, laughing, said, “Whenever I say anything
people get cool.” In the middle of the night Ganyadjigowa spoke again.
While Gaasyendietʻha was still sitting by the fire smoking, he asked,
“Do you believe old folks who say that water runs day and night?”
Gaasyendietʻha did not answer. After a while Ganyadjigowa said, “Do you
believe that trees grow?” Gaasyendietʻha stood up; he was very mad.
Ganyadjigowa said, “Oh, do not be mad. I merely want to know things.”
Gaasyendietʻha asked, “Do you believe Hawenniyo is alive?” “No,”
replied Ganyadjigowa. “I do,” said Gaasyendietʻha. “Do you not believe
he made the woods?” Gaasyendietʻha asked. “No; Hawenniyo does not make
anything because he is not alive,” declared Ganyadjigowa. “Do you not
believe the wind goes everywhere?” asked Gaasyendietʻha. “He goes only
just outside of my person,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Oh! what a fool you
are; the wind blows all over the world,” said Gaasyendietʻha.
Ganyadjigowa said, “Oh, no; it goes merely around this lake.”
Gaasyendietʻha said, “You can go way off there to that high mountain
(pointing toward the east). You can not stand there.” “Oh, yes, I can,”
said Ganyadjigowa. “Do you not believe water runs all the time?”
Gaasyendietʻha persisted in questioning. “Oh, no,” said Ganyadjigowa;
“when it is night, water stops.” Gaasyendietʻha said, “Well, what do
you believe?”
Now, Ganyadjigowa began seemingly to believe just as Gaasyendietʻha
did. Then Ganyadjigowa inquired, “Do you believe trouble will come if I
tell you something, and you do not mind me?” “How can you make trouble
for me? You have to die before I do,” declared Gaasyendietʻha. “I do
not want to make trouble for you. Other things will do that,” said
Ganyadjigowa. Gaasyendietʻha replied, “Go to sleep. I do not want to
talk all night.” Gaasyendietʻha still sat by the fire smoking. Soon
Ganyadjigowa said, “Do you know anything when you are asleep?” No
answer. Again he asked, “What would you do if Wind should come here?”
Flashing up, Gaasyendietʻha said, “Now go! I do not like you.”
Ganyadjigowa began to beg, but Gaasyendietʻha, seizing him by the hair,
pushed him outside. “Oh! let me go in. I will stop talking now,”
pleaded Ganyadjigowa. Gaasyendietʻha would not listen. “Go away! or I
will kill you,” he said. Ganyadjigowa started off. Then he thought:
“That man did me ill. I wish I had magic power to blow down his lodge”;
but he kept on. Gaasyendietʻha began to follow. Ganyadjigowa heard
somebody coming. Looking back and seeing Gaasyendietʻha, he went into a
hollow tree. Gaasyendietʻha knew where Ganyadjigowa was, but to fool
him he went back a short distance and hid himself. Thereupon
Ganyadjigowa said: “That is the kind of man I am. He did not see me.”
So he started on. Gaasyendietʻha followed again, and seeing
Ganyadjigowa, said, “Now I have you, and I am going to kill you.” “Oh,
no! I do not want to make trouble for you,” replied Ganyadjigowa. “Yes,
you do!”—and they began to dispute. Gaasyendietʻha said: “I will ask
you a question. How can you make Wind blow down my lodge?” Ganyadjigowa
answered, “Oh! I do not know how.” “Well, why did you ask the question,
‘What will you do if a heavy wind blows away your lodge?’” inquired
Gaasyendietʻha. “I did not say that,” declared Ganyadjigowa. “What did
you say?” demanded Gaasyendietʻha. “I said there was a wind around the
lake,” was Ganyadjigowa’s reply.
“Do you believe that the earth can go down into the water?” asked
Gaasyendietʻha. “No; the earth is always on top of the water,” said
Ganyadjigowa. “Do you believe the earth is on the Turtle’s back?”
inquired Gaasyendietʻha. “No; the Turtle is not strong enough to keep
it up,” declared Ganyadjigowa. “How is it kept up?” came the question.
“Oh! the earth is very thick; nobody knows how thick,” asserted
Ganyadjigowa. “I believe the Turtle is strong enough to keep the earth
up, and when he gets tired the earth will sink down,” Gaasyendietʻha
said. “Why, that is just what I believe,” Ganyadjigowa said. “No; it is
different. You do not believe as I do,” declared Gaasyendietʻha. “Well,
do you know what I believe?” asked Gaasyendietʻha. “The old folks used
to say that you believed the earth never goes into the water,” was
Ganyadjigowa’s rejoinder. Gaasyendietʻha asked, “Well, do you believe
that I can kill you?” “Yes, yes!” said Ganyadjigowa, while he kept
backing away. Gaasyendietʻha threatened, “I will kill you now.” “What
have I done that you should kill me?” demanded Ganyadjigowa. “You told
me that I believe the earth is very thick,” said Gaasyendietʻha,
turning to go home. Ganyadjigowa kept on laughing, and said, “That is
the kind of a man I am.” Now, Gaasyendietʻha, on hearing this, came
back quickly, and shaking him, threw him on the ground, whereupon he
cried out: “Oh, my friend! do not kill me. I am always on your side.”
“No; I will not stop until I kill you,” said Gaasyendietʻha. Then he
thought: “Why do I kill this man? Soon Hanisheonon will come around and
punish me for it,” so he let Ganyadjigowa go. Ganyadjigowa, laughing,
said, “That is the kind of a man I am.”
Now Gaasyendietʻha grew very angry, and caught him by the neck, saying,
“Go far away west.” Going through the air, Ganyadjigowa fell just where
the sun sets. As he fell he said: “Oh! what fun to be in the air. Now,
where is that man? He does not believe anything.” Gaasyendietʻha heard
him, and, flying through the air, came to the spot where he was and
asked, “What were you saying?” “Oh! I was saying what a nice place this
is,” replied Ganyadjigowa.
Gaasyendietʻha now caused Ganyadjigowa to become Sʻhodieonskon. Then
Ganyadjigowa traveled north, saying, “I must go and see where my friend
lives.” Seeing a great rock on which stood a lodge, he thought, “This
must be the place I dreamed of.” He went to a hut near by. A man sat
there, who greeted him with, “Where do you come from?” “I come from the
Great Lake,” said Ganyadjigowa. Then the man asked, “Why did you come
here?” “Oh! I was lonely at home,” answered Ganyadjigowa. “Very well;
what is your name?” he was asked. “Ganyadjigowa,” he replied. “What is
your name?” demanded Ganyadjigowa. “Djothowandon,” was the answer. “Can
I visit you?” he was asked. “No; you must go to my master first,” said
Djothowandon. “Where does he live?” inquired Ganyadjigowa. “You will
see his lodge on a great rock not far from here,” was the old man’s
answer.
On reaching the rock Ganyadjigowa saw the lodge that stood on it.
Looking in he saw an old man sitting by the fire; he thought to
himself, “This is the same man who threw me off west.” The man turned,
and, looking at Ganyadjigowa, said, “Well, who are you?” “I am
Ganyadjigowa,” replied the visitor. “What is your name?” asked
Ganyadjigowa. “I am Dagwanoenyent,” replied the man. “Will you let me
stay with you a few days?” asked Ganyadjigowa. “Oh, yes! you may stay
as long as you like. I am always glad to have somebody with me. I am
lonely sometimes,” said the old man.
One morning Dagwanoenyent said, “Do you not want to go to see my
servant?” “Oh, yes!” said Ganyadjigowa. They went to Djothowandon’s.
Dagwanoenyent, looking around, said: “My servant is not at home. I
think he has gone to the southern end of the earth. A very churlish
people live there. He is going to try to make them good and quiet. If
they do not obey him, I must go to eat them all.” “How far is it from
here?” asked Ganyadjigowa. “Oh! you would not get there in fifty
winters,” declared Dagwanoenyent. “If that is true,” retorted
Ganyadjigowa, “it will be a hundred winters before your servant will
come back.” “Oh, no!” said Dagwanoenyent; “my servant travels very
fast. He will be in a place as soon as he thinks of it.” “I do not
believe that,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Get out of here!” said
Dagwanoenyent; “some people are coming this morning who will bewitch
you if you are around here.”
Ganyadjigowa started off. Soon he saw Dahdahwat coming. When Dahdahwat
came near he was going to strike Ganyadjigowa, but the latter said, “Do
not kill me. I am not strong enough in orenda to fight you.” Dahdahwat
chased him and kept biting him until he was dead. Then said Dahdahwat,
“I have killed Sʻhodieonskon,[94] who has great power magically. I will
go home now.” While on the way he saw a man coming toward him. When
they met Dahdahwat greeted him with, “Where are you going?” “Oh! I am
going to see the man who was killed this morning,” said the stranger.
“Well, what is your name?” said Dahdahwat. “My name is Djoñiaik,”
replied the stranger. “What are you going to do when you get there?”
asked Dahdahwat. “Oh, nothing!” and they passed on. When Djoñiaik came
to the spot where Ganyadjigowa lay and saw how Dahdahwat had bitten
him, he dug many kinds of roots, and, making a powder of them, began to
doctor Ganyadjigowa; he rubbed the powder over his body, and soon
Ganyadjigowa was alive again. Ganyadjigowa said: “That is the kind of
man I am. Where is the Dahdahwat?” Djoñiaik answered: “Do not say that.
He must be near by.” Ganyadjigowa would not stop, but kept scolding and
scolding, getting more angry all the time. Djoñiaik went off.
“Now, I must go to my friend, Dagwanoenyent,” said Ganyadjigowa. When
he got to his friend’s lodge Dagwanoenyent laughed, saying, “A man came
here to notify me that I should go to see the spot where you lay dead.”
“Oh, pshaw!” said Ganyadjigowa; “I shall never die. Have you never
heard the old folks say that if Sʻhodieonskon died he would soon come
to life again?” “Yes,” said Dagwanoenyent, “I have heard so. Is that
why you came to life?” “Yes,” declared Ganyadjigowa. “Well,” said the
old man, “I want you to go where the churlish people live. My servant
has come, and he says they will never be quiet. I have heard old men
say that Sʻhodieonskon can make churlish people quiet.” “All right, I
will go,” answered the young man. When he came down from the rock on
which Dagwanoenyent’s lodge was built, Sʻhodieonskon, taking hold of
the rock, tried to turn it over. Dagwanoenyent, feeling his lodge move,
declared, “This must be my friend who disturbs me.” Ganyadjigowa kept
at work, and at last over went the rock, breaking the lodge to pieces.
The old man, who was wounded on the head, cried, “Oh! my dear friend; I
must kill him now”; and, getting up, he tried to run after him, but his
head was so dizzy that he soon fell. Ganyadjigowa came around the rock,
and seeing the old man with blood flowing from his head, began to
laugh, saying: “What does he think? Does he not know that I am stronger
magically than he is?” Having rolled the rock over on Dagwanoenyent, he
went on.
When he came to the place where the churlish people lived, he stood
near the earth lodge in which they all dwelt, thinking, “I will roll
this lodge over.” Taking hold of the end, he lifted it up. The people
ran out, and, seeing a man standing there holding up the end of their
lodge, they began to bite him. Then Ganyadjigowa ran with all his speed
to get outside of the crowd. The people pursued him, but he escaped.
“That is the kind of a man I am,” Sʻhodieonskon exclaimed.
He walked westward until night, when he came to a cliff. Descending a
short distance on one side, he saw a hole in the cliff wall. “Somebody
seems to be living here,” thought he; “I will go in and see.” Inside he
found a large room in which sat an old man; then another room, and
another, until he saw seven. “Well,” asked Ganyadjigowa, “what are you
folk doing in the cliff?” “Why do you want to know?” they demanded.
“Oh! I go around the world to make all quiet and happy,” said the young
man. “We do not believe you, and we do not want you here,” they
continued. These were all brothers—seven Sigweont. “Do you believe that
Hanisheonon is alive?” asked Ganyadjigowa. “Oh, no!” they said. “What
do you believe?” the young man inquired. “We believe that Hanisheonon
is Hayadagwennio.” [95] Then Ganyadjigowa said, “Well, do you believe
that the earth is thin and stands on a Turtle?” “No; the earth is
thick,” they declared. “Do you believe that Hanisheonon made the
earth?” asked Ganyadjigowa. “No; we believe that Hayadagwennio made the
world,” they replied. “Did you ever hear of anyone living covered up in
the earth?” the young man asked. “No,” was the response. “Now we will
tell you that we are the fathers of Hanisheonon,” said Sigweont.96
These old men would not believe Ganyadjigowa, who, becoming
discouraged, said, “I am going away.”
While turning around Ganyadjigowa saw a lodge in the woods. Disdis [97]
lived here. Hearing a thumping noise from within, Ganyadjigowa, looking
through a crack, saw an old man who had a thin piece of wood into which
he was pounding something. Then he would put the wooden object into his
face. “Well, I have never seen such a man as that. He is making a
mask,” thought Ganyadjigowa. “I will take the roof off his lodge and
afterward make it rain.” Getting into the lodge he threw off the roof.
The old man did not know the roof was off. Then going into the spring
near by, Ganyadjigowa shook his wings so that the water flew high and
came back just to the spot where the old man’s lodge was. “My lodge is
getting old,” said the old man; “the rain comes into it. I must go to
sit where it is dry;” but he could find no dry place. “Well, what is
the reason of this?” thought he. Then he left his work, saying, “I will
go to find somebody to make a new cover for my lodge.” He heard a noise
at the spring and saw somebody standing in the water. Going to the
spring, he asked, “Well, what are you doing?” “Oh! I am trying to
fish,” replied Ganyadjigowa; “when I get the water away it will be
easy.” “Get out!” said the old man; “that is my spring. If you do not
go I will kill you.” “Oh! I am not afraid of you. You are too old. You
are not strong magically now,” was the young man’s answer. “Well, I can
kill you quickly,” retorted the old man. “No; you are too old,”
Ganyadjigowa declared. “Say, old man, I want to ask you a question. Do
you believe Hanisheonon is alive?” “Oh, no! I am Hanisheonon myself,”
said the old man. “Oh, no! you are not. Do you believe the earth is
resting on the back of a Turtle?” inquired Ganyadjigowa. “No; I am
holding up this earth myself,” said Disdis. “Do you believe water
always runs?” demanded the young man. “That is not true; when it gets
to the lake it stops,” said the old man. “If that is what water does,
the lake would be more than full,” asserted the young man. “Oh! the
water goes into the ground again and comes out in the springs,” replied
the old man. “Oh!” said Ganyadjigowa, “I told you the water was always
going.” The old man held his head down. Ganyadjigowa asked again, “If
mud goes into swamps will it stay there?” “No; I do not think so,” said
the old man. Then Ganyadjigowa said: “I will give you another question:
Do you believe what the old folk say—that they went all over the
world?” “Oh, no!” answered the old man; “I do not think so.” “Well, I
must go away,” said Ganyadjigowa; “I do not think I can do anything
with you.”