After traveling a long while, one morning Ganyadjigowa came to a lodge.

Looking in, he saw an old man, Ganenaitha,[98] sitting by the fire.

Soon the old man said: “It seems to me that my nephew is around here.

Yes, I think my nephew is around here somewhere. Well, my nephew, come

in. Why do you stay outside? I suppose you have come to visit me. Come

in.” “Well,” answered Ganyadjigowa, “this is the first time I have

found my uncle. I will go in, for my uncle wants me to do so.” Entering

the lodge, he asked. “Well, uncle, what do you want?” “Oh! I just want

to see you to have a very amusing game which I always play when anyone

comes to visit me. We wager our necks. I have splendid canoes made of

white flint with which to race on the waters.” “Very well,” said

Ganyadjigowa, “that is what I used to play with.” The old man started

to get the canoes, and bringing them all out, said, “Now, take your

choice.” Looking carefully and seeing a poor old canoe, Ganyadjigowa

said, “This will do for me.” “Oh, pshaw!” answered the old man; “that

is the worst one I have; you ought to take something better. That canoe

can not help you. It will tip over when you sail it.” This was,

however, the boat possessed of the greatest power, which the old man

wanted to use himself. “Well,” said the old man, “let us go there.” Now

the lake was a little way inland. When at the edge of the lake, they

put the boats on the water, the old man saying, Hau onen. The two

canoes started. Ganyadjigowa’s canoe having the greater magic power,

the old man was left behind. When Ganyadjigowa got to the other end of

the lake he said, “Where is my uncle,” and sat waiting. After a great

while he saw the old man coming, away behind. When the latter came up,

he said, “Let us rest until to-morrow.” After a while Ganyadjigowa

pretended to go to sleep. The old man looking at him, said, “He is

asleep now;” so getting into Ganyadjigowa’s boat, he said to it, “I

want you to go where the sun goes down.” Ganyadjigowa heard all. The

boat rushed off through the air. Ganyadjigowa, getting up, looked at

his uncle’s boat. “What a mean boat my uncle has,” he said, then

exclaiming, “I want you to go where my uncle has gone.” Thereupon with

a white flint stone he struck the bow of the boat. The canoe, becoming

alive, went very fast, faster than his uncle in the old boat. While

flying Ganyadjigowa commenced his song, “Now we are in the race of my

uncle—Onen daon­diyentadon nhaknosen.”

In a little while he saw a small speck ahead. As he drew nearer, the

speck became larger and larger. At last they arrived at the place where

the sun goes down, and the old man reaching there first, Ganyadjigowa

said: “You cheated me. I am going to cut your head off.” The old man

answered: “Oh! I have not cheated you. I tried to wake you, but I could

not, so I let it go.” “Why did you come so far? You live way back at

the other end of the earth,” declared the young man. “Oh, that is

nothing; I came to see how the sun goes down,” was the reply. “No; I

think you tried to get away from me,” said Ganyadjigowa. “No; I was

going back soon,” retorted the old man. “Well, let us go,” said

Ganyadjigowa. “Very well,” said the old man. Soon they went back,

whereupon Ganenaitha said: “Now go to sleep. I want you to stay until

morning.” But Ganyadjigowa did not sleep, but watched the old man until

morning. Then he said, “Now, let us start. Wait until I say ‘Go.’”

Having gotten into their canoes, the old man said “Go!” They both went

very fast—the new boat faster than the other. Getting back to the

starting place first, Ganyadjigowa looked back—away off was a speck;

this was the old man returning. When he came in the latter asked, “Do

you know what this lake is called?” “No,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Its name

is Ganyodaigowane, ‘Great Lake.’” Taking out a basswood knife,

Ganyadjigowa thereupon cut off the old man’s head.

Then Ganyadjigowa went northwestward in his own boat until he came to

the edge of some rocks, where he saw a lodge. Soon a man came out and

greeted him. “Well, what are you living around here for?” asked

Ganyadjigowa. “Oh! so I can see down the valley where people live. When

they kill game I go and steal some of it,” came the reply. “I will give

you a name,” said Ganyadjigowa; “I will call you Gaga.” [99] “Very

well. I like that. I can steal better now,” replied the man.

As Ganyadjigowa walked along the edge of the rock he saw a great

hemlock forest. While standing among the trees he heard some one saying

Hihi. “Well, who is Hihi?” [100] he wondered. Soon he saw someone in a

tree. “Oh! what an evil-looking man you are,” said Ganyadjigowa; “shall

I give you a good name?” “What can you call me? My name is good

enough,” said the man. “I will call you Hihi.” Hihi laughed, for he was

glad he had a name. Ganyadjigowa came to a brook with rocky banks, and,

going down to the water, he saw an ugly-looking old man, who said: “I

am glad you are here. I am very hungry, so I will eat you.” “Oh! I am

not good eating. I taste very insipid. Do not kill me,” replied

Ganyadjigowa. “Why do you come here, then?” he demanded. Ganyadjigowa

answered, “What would you do if the rocks should fall upon you?” “Oh! I

should be glad. I have wanted for a long time to be covered up,” was

the rejoinder. “Do you believe that Hanisheonon is alive?” asked

Ganyadjigowa. “Yes,” he responded. Ganyadjigowa’s next question was,

“Do you believe the earth rests on the Turtle’s back?” “Yes; I am

standing on the Turtle,” the man answered. “I did not ask you where you

were standing,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Well, then, what did you ask me?”

said the man. “Nothing. I tell you that Hanisheonon was killed last

night,” said Ganyadjigowa. The man began to cry. He cried louder and

louder until many of his people, hearing him, came and asked, “Did that

man make you cry?” “Oh! I heard that Hanisheonon was dead,” he replied.

Now all began to cry. Ganyadjigowa said: “Why do you cry? You are free

now. I should be glad.” “Well, I am not glad,” said the man. “I will

give you a name,” said Ganyadjigowa; “I will call you Genonsgwa (“Stone

Giant”).”

Ganyadjigowa started off, after saying to Genonsgwa and to his people,

“I should be glad if you caught me.” The Genonsgwa, who were angry,

followed him. They ran hard but they could not catch him. Ganyadjigowa

began to fly, going up, up, up, until he reached the clouds. There he

saw people. “Well, who are living here? I never before heard that

people were living here,” he mused. Soon a man came near him who wore

beautiful, downy clothes. He greeted Ganyadjigowa with, “Where are you

from?” “From below,” was the answer. “How did you come?” was the next

question. “Through the air,” was the response. “I suppose you bring

news?” “No; I came for amusement,” said Ganyadjigowa. “What is your

name?” he was asked. “Ganyadjigowa,” he replied. “I will give you a

name.” “Very well,” said the man. “I will call you Sʻhadahgeah. This

place where you live is strange,” declared Ganyadjigowa. “Yes; I can

see all over the world,” came the answer. “Well, how can I see?” said

Ganyadjigowa. “Look right straight down,” the man said. Ganyadjigowa,

looking straight down, saw all over the world. It did not seem far

down. Ganyadjigowa asked, “Do you know the man who lives by the side of

the lake down there? He is a very mean man.” “You must not do anything

to that man,” responded Sʻhadahgeah;[101] “he has great orenda (magic

power). He is chief of all gods. We are afraid of him. You must go now.

The Wind is coming. It will kill you if you stay here.”

Thereupon Ganyadjigowa went straight down. Then looking around, he saw

somebody coming out of the ground. Going to the spot, he said: “What

are you doing? Why do you live in the ground?” “Oh! I have always lived

there. You need not bother me,” came the reply. “I will not bother

you,” said Ganyadjigowa; “I came merely to ask you a question: Is

Hanisheonon alive?” “No; Hanisheonon is, I think, not alive. I believe

Hanisheonon is magically a great power,” said the man. “Well, do you

know where Hanisheonon lives?” inquired Ganyadjigowa. “Yes,” was the

reply. “Where is the place?” continued Ganyadjigowa. “Right in the

ground. That is why I live in the ground,” said the man. “Well, do you

think you have the same power as Hanisheonon?” he was asked. “Oh, no!”

he replied. “Can you kill the people?” again queried Ganyadjigowa. He

answered, “Yes.” “Have you a name?” asked Ganyadjigowa. “I do not want

a name,” he said. “Well, I will give you a name anyhow. I will call you

Onoqgontgowa,” [102] said the young man. The man hung down his head;

then, raising it again, he said, “Can you call me another name?” “No;

that is the name that suits you best. You are bad-looking,” said

Ganyadjigowa. The man cried (i.e., buzzed)—he was a winged

Djihonsdonqgwen.103 “Well,” said Onoqgontgowa, “when they talk about

me, they shall say Onoqgontgowa.”

Traveling on, Ganyadjigowa came to the lodge of Gaasyendietʻha, in

which he saw an old man asleep. Ganyadjigowa went in. The old man,

waking up, began to sing, “Now he has come.” Ganyadjigowa thought, “Why

does he sing about me?” Gaasyendietʻha said to himself: “Oh! I have the

backache. Why have I got it? Where is my friend, Ganyadjigowa? I would

like to see him—he is such a strange fellow.” Ganyadjigowa looked

around the room, and seeing a mallet, began to hit the old man on the

head with it. The latter said, “I believe mosquitoes are biting my

head,” whereupon Ganyadjigowa hit him again. “Well, it seems to me I

hear Ganyadjigowa talking,” said the man. He turned over—sure enough

there was Ganyadjigowa. The old man said: “What are you doing to my

head? Why did you hit me? Do you suppose I will let you pound me?” “Oh,

no! I did not strike you. I will call you my grandfather, and we will

be good friends,” said Ganyadjigowa. “Very well; sit at the other end

of the fire and be quiet,” replied Gaasyendietʻha. Ganyadjigowa sat

down. After a while he asked, “Do you know who planted the trees?”

“Yes; the man in the blue sky,” was the reply. “Oh, no! I planted them

all,” said Ganyadjigowa. The men talked along as they had done the

first time at Gaasyendietʻha’s house. At length Ganyadjigowa asked,

“What can kill you?” “Oh! a flag stalk that grows in swamps. If you

strike me with that it will kill me,” answered the old man.

Ganyadjigowa went out to hunt for the flag and found a stalk. When he

came back, the old man was eating wild cranberries. Ganyadjigowa hit

him with the flag, which he thought went into his body, for the old

man’s face was all red from the cranberries. Turning, Gaasyendietʻha

asked: “Why do you strike me? You hurt me.” Ganyadjigowa, laughing,

said, “The old man’s mouth is all bloody.” Thereupon he ran away

because he thought the old man was going to die.

Soon Ganyadjigowa saw a lodge in the side of a high rock. He stood

before it, thinking, “How can I throw that lodge down?” Soon the man

living there came down and they greeted each other. Ganyadjigowa asked,

“Why do you live in the rock? Will it not fall?” “No,” the man replied.

“What would you do if a hard rain should come? Can you live on the

level land?” was Ganyadjigowa’s next query. “No; I always live on the

rocks. When I talk everybody hears me,” said the old man. “Go up and

let me hear you talk,” commanded Ganyadjigowa. Going up, the man said,

Wiahah. Ganyadjigowa replied: “That will do. Come down. I am traveling

and giving names. I will give you one, so whosoever speaks of you

hereafter will call you Gwiyee.[104] Now I want you to be quiet and not

chase the people.” This is why Gwiyee never chases others.

Ganyadjigowa now went home. He was proud and said: “I killed the old

man who was called so powerful magically. I must go to-morrow to see

him.” The next morning he went to Gaasyendietʻha’s lodge, where he

heard singing. “What kind of man is he? I thought I killed him,” mused

Ganyadjigowa. The song ran, “I shall kill Ganyadjigowa as soon as I see

him.” In a little while the old man, ceasing his song, began to talk.

“Now I will go to see Ganyadjigowa and kill him.” Thereupon

Ganyadjigowa said, “My grandfather means to kill me, but I will burn

his lodge,” and piling up a great quantity of brush, he set the lodge

on fire. The blaze mounted very high. Gaasyendietʻha said: “I believe

the lodge is burning. I think Ganyadjigowa is doing this.” He was very

angry, and sprang through the fire. The first thing Ganyadjigowa knew

there was the old man, who asked, “Why did you make this fire?” “Oh! I

did not make it. I came to blow it out,” he answered. Gaasyendietʻha

continued, “Who made it?” “I do not know. I have just come,” said

Ganyadjigowa. They kept on talking, but the old man did not believe

Ganyadjigowa and pounded him to death. Thereupon Gaasyendietʻha

whooped: “That is the kind of a man I am. I am the most powerful man

under the blue sky because I have the most powerful orenda.” The people

all over the world, hearing his outcry, exclaimed, “Ganyadjigowa is

dead!”

48. HADENTʻHENI AND HANIGONGENDATʻHA [105]

In old times two young men living in a village were great friends, and

on this account everybody disliked and shunned them. They could find no

lodge in which to live, hence they said to each other: “Since everyone

dislikes us, the sooner we get out of this place the better.” So at

last they went toward the south.

On the way, whenever night overtook them they looked around for some

place where dry leaves had fallen, so that there they might rest

comfortably. All they had to eat at first was evergreens and lichens.

Having made bows and arrows, they killed small birds. The young men

were at this time about 20 years old. After they got out of the thick

woods they came to marshy ground, but they still kept on. Occasionally

one would say to the other, “I am afraid we shall never get through

this rough place,” but his companion would encourage him, and on they

would go.

One day about noon they came to a large hemlock tree. “Climb up and

look around,” said one; “see if there are any people in sight.” The

limbs of the tree came almost to the ground, hence he climbed it

easily. From the top he saw a beautiful trail leading from the tree

through the air. He called to his companion, “Throw down your bow and

arrows and come up to see what a splendid trail I have found.” The

latter went up, and looking at the trail, said, “Let us try it and see

where it leads.” They looked in every direction but saw no woods in any

direction. It had been necessary that in whatever they undertook to do

they should be of one mind. As they were now of one mind, they started

off. The trail proceeding from the tree seemed as solid as if on the

earth, and it extended as far away as they could see.

The young men traveled on without knowing that they were going up until

they had reached another world, which seemed very pleasant. The leader

said, however: “Do not stop. Let us go on and see where the trail will

take us.” On the road there was plenty of game, but they gave no heed

to it. After a while they came to a bark lodge out of which smoke was

rising. One of the young men said, “It is customary for travelers to

call at a lodge on the road and find who is living there; let us look

in here.” The elder went in first. The lodge was of bark with a piece

of bark suspended for a door. Pulling this aside, they saw an old man

sitting within, who saluted them with: “I know the trouble you have had

to undergo and how people disliked you; it is I who have called you.

You shall stay with me a short time. You have come from the lower

world. When there, you often spoke of the higher world, and I

influenced you to follow the trail that leads up here. Now, come into

my lodge and make a short stay, for I have promised to go elsewhere. As

soon as you are gone, I shall go.” The young men went into the lodge.

The speaker, who seemed about middle-aged, continued: “You people down

there often speak of an Elder Brother in the sky. I am he who makes

light for you. I am Kaahkwa, the Sun. Hawenniyo commands me, saying

that I must give you light. This is my resting place, but I can stay

here only a short time. Whenever you come this way, you must stop. I am

always here at midday.” Thereupon he started toward the west, saying,

“I go under the earth and come out in the east, and when you reach the

next lodge you must stop.”

They parted, and the two men soon came to the second lodge. One said to

the other, “We must call at this lodge, as the Sun told us to do.” The

lodge looked exactly like the other. Entering, the young men saw an old

woman, to whom they said, “How do you do, grandmother?” “I am thankful

that you have come,” said she; “it was your brother who sent you here.

It is now time for you to eat. You have been long without food.” In one

part of the room they saw a bark bowl containing boiled squash, which

was evidently just out of the pot. They sat down, and the old woman

gave each of them half a squash and a quarter of a loaf of corn bread,

saying, “This will be enough for both.” “No,” answered one of the young

men; “there is not more here than I can eat.” The old woman replied:

“It is enough; when you return, stop and I will give you more. It is I

whom people down below call the Moon.” When they entered her lodge, she

was sewing skins. She continued: “It is the order of Hawenniyo that I

make light for people on the earth, so that they can see at night. It

is only at certain times that you see me completely. I tell you now

that you must be on your guard, for the path before you is full of

danger and difficulties. You must be brave and must never look at

anything not in your path, for your enemy is outside of it; never heed

anything you see or hear, for if you do, you are lost. You will soon

pass this dangerous path, but remember my advice.”

As the young men traveled on they saw all kinds of fruit and game. The

first would call out,[106] “Stop! come and eat; this is very good.” But

keeping in mind the old woman’s words, they paid no heed. Each fruit

had a phrase of its own, with which it begged the young men to come and

eat it. After they had passed this place, they said, “Perhaps we are

out of trouble now; we shall soon come to the lodge where the old woman

told us to stop.”

After passing the first place they came to another. The first fruit was

full of witchcraft or enchantment; if they had eaten of it, they would

have become bewitched. At the second place, however, after eating plums

and huckleberries they felt refreshed. The old woman had told them that

animals were numerous along their path, but they passed these without

harm.

After a while they saw another lodge in the distance, whereupon one of

the young men said: “We are now in the place where we shall meet the

greatest difficulty. We have no idea of our own except to follow the

advice given; since we have set out to come and are here, we must

endure what we meet.” They talked in this way until they came to the

lodge. Finding a man who called himself their uncle, they saluted him.

He said: “I am glad that your brother has sent you. You are going to a

large assembly, but you can not join it unless I transform you.” [107]

One of the young men responded: “How so? We are men. Why should we be

transformed? We have come here in our proper forms. Why should we

change?” “You have come here as you are, but it is my duty to prepare

you to enter the assembly of this upper world,” replied the man.

The other young man, looking steadfastly at his uncle, was not

frightened nor discouraged. The old man, going to another part of the

lodge, brought a long strip of bark, which he laid out lengthwise,

saying, “The first that came shall be transformed first.” Thereupon he

called him to come and lie on the bark. When the latter had done so,

the man asked, “Are you ready?” “Yes,” was the young man’s reply. At

that moment the uncle blew through his hand on the young man’s head,

separating the bones and flesh, which fell in two heaps. The other

nephew, who stood looking on, saw that the uncle separated the parts of

every bone, and after wiping them, put them aside, cleaned; and he

thought, “My luck is hard. I am alone here; my friend is gone. That

must have been very painful.” After every bone had been wiped and put

in place, the old man said to the one yet unchanged, “Now, be ready.”

Then he blew through his hands on the head of the skeleton with force

sufficient to send the skeleton a long distance. Thereupon the skeleton

again became a man, ready for the assembly. This was the way in which

each man had to be purified.

The second nephew, not wishing to be treated in that manner, did not go

forward willingly. But when the uncle was ready he gave the word, when

it seemed that the nephew could not hold back. Lying on the bark, he

was treated as his friend had been, while the latter in turn looked on.

Because he was not so willing to submit, the body of the second youth

was more difficult to clean. The old man washed and wiped each bone.

The flesh remained in a heap by itself. The uncle took more uncleanness

from this nephew than from the first. After he had finished the

cleaning, he put the bones in place again, and saying, “Take care,”

blew on the skull with such force that the skeleton was shot off a long

distance, becoming a beautiful young man. The uncle said: “Sit down.

You are now transformed. Now let us go outdoors and I will try you.”

Going outside the lodge, the three stood in the clearing. At that time

a deer was feeding on the grass, and the uncle told one of the young

men to catch it, while to the deer he called out, “Be on your guard; my

nephew is going to kill you.” The deer sprang off, but had made only a

few bounds when the young man seized it. Seeing how he caught the deer,

and knowing that if he could catch a deer he was fit for any race, the

uncle said, “You are now ready to join the people of this world.” Then

he told the second nephew to catch the deer, at the same time calling

to the deer, “Look out! if you are caught, you will lose your life.”

The deer sprang off, but the young man, soon overtaking it, brought the

animal to the old man, who said: “You also are ready. You can now go to

this great assembly and see what you can do.”

They started but had not gone far when they saw a man approaching. They

saw him go down into a little hollow ahead and come up, walking very

fast. As they met he said to them: “You have come, brothers, and the

object of your mission shall be accomplished. Your Elder Brother wished

you to come, so now you shall go with me to this great assembly. He who

has charge of it is the same person who made the lower world, from

which you have come. As you can not well go alone, I have been sent to

conduct you.” They went at what seemed to the young men incredible

speed. Soon they could hear a noise as of a great many voices, which

increased continually. The man said: “It is the sound of mirth from the

assembly.” When they drew near there seemed to be a large settlement.

The man said: “Your sister has her lodge off at one end of the

settlement, and your brothers are there, too; but you can not go into

their lodge. You have not died [108] yet, so you must pass through the

same change as they have done in order to enter their dwellings.” As

they went along they felt a great desire to go in but knew they would

not be admitted. They inhaled the odor of every flower on their path.

After a while their guide pointed to a Long Lodge, saying: “That is the

lodge of Hawenniyo,109 who made the world below and who allowed you to

come here. We will sit on the threshold, and afterward we will go in.”

The Long Lodge, which was built with very low walls, was hung inside

with boughs, which gave out a delightful odor. As the air moved a

perfume came from the flowers and herbs within. On entering they saw a

great many people who had come to praise Hawenniyo and to have part in

the Green Corn dance. These people never noticed that two beings of

human flesh and form were present, because the young men had been

purified. A man came out of the assembly and proclaimed from a high

place what things were to be done. The guide said: “This is the one

whom you call Hawenniyo.” The young men looked on with great wonder to

see so many dancing together. During an interval in the dance the guide

said: “You understand, probably, why you have been allowed to visit

this place. It is here that those who are good in the other world come

when they die. Now, I will go back with you. When you reach home you

shall tell your people what you have seen since I first met you.”110

The guide then turned back, and the young men went on alone.

The youths traveled very swiftly, calling at each place at which they

had stopped when coming, but only to return thanks, as they were now on

the way home. On reaching the Sun’s lodge, the Sun said: “You are going

home now. It is I who caused you to come hither. You have been

traveling 10 days. What we call one day here is a year in the other

world. Ten years ago you started from your home below.” When they got

back to the lower world they were 30 years old. The 10 years seemed no

longer than the interval between going in the morning and coming in the

evening. The Sun took them as far as the hemlock tree from which the

trail began, where they found their bows and arrows sticking in the

ground, covered with moss. As the Sun took them in his hand he wiped

off the moss, and immediately they were as new as if just made. He said

that the people of the place where these travelers lived had moved

away, adding: “I will direct you to them.” In those times a mile was as

far as a man could see, and it was 12 “looks” from the hemlock tree to

the site of the settlement. When they came to the end of 12 “looks” the

Sun said, “This is where you started.” Here clearings and little

hillocks where corn had grown were still to be seen where formerly

grass was growing everywhere. The Sun said: “You will find your people

12 ‘looks’ farther on; when you come to the first lodge you must ask

the old man whether he had heard years ago of two boys who were lost,

and learn the number of years from that time until the settlement

moved. If he gives you no information, go to the next lodge, where you

will find an old woman; ask her the same questions. Now we must part.”

The Sun turned back and the boys went forward. After a time they came

to a clearing, in which they saw a village. As the Sun had commanded,

they entered the first lodge. They called the old man sitting there

grandfather and talked with him about many things. At last one asked,

“Do you remember that in times past two young men went from your

village and were lost?” The old man held his head down for a long time

as if thinking; finally, raising it, he said: “For what reason you ask

me this question I do not know, but two young men did disappear. It was

said that they were lost, but it was never known in what way.” “How

long ago did this happen?” the young men asked. “At the time they were

lost the settlement was forsaken; it is 10 years ago,” said the old

man. The old chief told the young men that they must not stay any

longer in that place because their grandchildren might suffer the same

kind of loss. The old man continued, “There is a woman in the next

lodge who can tell you more than I can.” The young men went there. “How

do you do, grandmother? We have come on a visit,” said one of them.

Their first question was, “Why did the people leave the old village?”

“Two young men did not die, but they disappeared,” replied the old

woman; “the country was blamed for it; the people thought it must be

inhabited by some evil thing, which took off their children.” The young

men listened, thinking they could perform what had been given them to

do. Then they said, “We are the two whom you lost then, and now we have

returned.” “How far did you go, and where?” asked the old woman. “It is

against our orders to tell you alone, but let an assembly be called,

and we will tell there all that we have seen. Let the people know this,

and that there will be dancing; then they will be sure to come. There

was nothing but mirth where we went.” The old woman said: “It is the

duty of the man who lives in that lodge yonder to notify the people of

such gatherings. I will go and tell him.” “Very well,” replied the

young men; “the account of our journey is very important, for none of

our people will ever see what we have seen and return to tell the

tale.” [111] Thereupon the woman told the old man that two men had

entered their village with important news, and that a meeting of the

people must be called. The old man started out, and on coming to a

certain spot he called, Goʹwe! Goʹwe! and continued to call thus until

he reached the end of the village.

Soon all the people assembled, whereupon the chief went to the two

strangers. Entering the old woman’s lodge, he said, “Let the work be

done.” As they came to the place of the gathering, the people looked

upon the young men, who seemed to them a different kind of people. They

did not recognize them. The chief said: “These men are here with

messages. Whence they have come no one knows, for we are not aware of

any people living in the world but ourselves” (this was true, for they

did not know that other people existed, and therefore were surprised).

The chief having sat down, one of the men rising, said, “Listen all.”

(He was the one first transformed, had been first in all things,

afterward, and so was now first to speak.) After thanking the people

for assembling, he said: “I wish to ask you a question. Did you, while

living in the old village, lose two young men?” Then he sat down. An

old woman, rising, replied: “I will answer that question. Two young

men, despised and shunned by all, disappeared and have not been seen

since,” and she took her seat. Then the old man whom they had visited

rose, but he could not say much. The young man last transformed,

standing up, said: “We are the two who disappeared. No one cared for

us; we felt grieved and we departed. We have been to the other world,

and also in the southern world, and we have now returned. A guide came

with us to our starting place. It was through your wickedness that you

left your old homes. You are like animals of the forest; when their

young are old enough they are left to themselves. As soon as we were

large enough, we were left alone and desolate. The birds build homes

for their children but soon leave them; you will see that whenever the

young bird meets the mother it will flutter its wings, but the mother

passes it by. We, like the young bird, were happy to meet you, but you

did not want to see us. At the time we went away we were young, but we

are now men. What is your opinion of what has happened? Will it be

customary hereafter to desert homeless children?” (It appeared that the

two wanted to be received into the gens.) His companion, having

listened to his speech, said: “Let this be the starting point. Whenever

a poor family are rearing children and the parents die, never forsake

them.” The men then told all their adventures to the great assembly;

that they had visited the Long Lodge and had seen Hawenniyo; that they

had been directed to describe to their friends in the lower world all

that they had seen. Then they told the people that they must learn the

dances which Hawenniyo wishes his children to know, namely, the Green

Corn dances. One young man was to sing the songs he had heard in the

upper world, while the other was to teach the people how to dance to

the songs. The second one to be transformed became Hadentʻheni, the

Speaker, and the first, Hanigongendatʻha,[112] he who was to explain

the meaning of everything touching Hawenniyo. The transformed said

further, “Let it be that whatever was done in the upper world shall be

done down here.” So they danced, and the people adopted the rules laid

down for them at this time. Thus their religion was formed and the

people grew prosperous.

After a time the two young men said, “Let us continue our journey.”

Going on, they found many villages, and spoke to their people. This is

why the people are religious today. These men were good, doing right in

all things that the people might follow their example. At length they

said: “We have finished our work, for we have been over the entire

land. We have spoken righteousness and justice to all the tribes.”

After returning to their birthplace they said: “Let us go

southward—south of the hemlock tree. All the people north of it have

been visited.” On the journey they said, “Our food must be game.” They

built a fire after deciding to camp and to go out to hunt. Then they

hunted in many places. On one of these expeditions the speaker saw

among the trees a strange being dodging around somewhat like a man. As

he approached, the stranger stopped, saying, “I am glad to see you,

grandson; let us sit down. (The stranger was very youthful in looks,

though he thus indicated himself as grandfather.) I have been sent to

tell you that you and the other people are in great danger. This is all

I am permitted to tell you; but come!—we will visit an old man, who

will answer all questions.” The speaker, arising, followed the

stranger, for he was curious to know whether there were really people

so near. On coming to a cliff, the stranger said, “We live down there.”

Looking closely, the man saw an almost invisible trail, which they

followed to the bottom of the ravine, where they came to an opening in

the rocks. When about to enter, the stranger said, “Leave your bows and

arrows as you do when you go into other lodges.” They went through the

first opening, then through a second. In the second room they found

sitting an old man and woman, to whom the stranger said, “I have

brought your grandson.” The old man answered: “We have met several

times, but you have never been able to know it. I wish now to caution

you, for you and your people are in great danger. The danger comes from

your companion, who has gone far into the forest. The Ganiagwaihegowa

is on his trail, and is coming to devour you. You are in my lodge now,

so I may tell you to defend yourselves. Tomorrow at noon the enemy will

be at your camp. He is filled with powerful orenda (magic power), and

we shall have to suffer on your account. If you do not act as I tell

you, we shall all die. We have tried many times to destroy this

Ganiagwaihegowa, but he is so filled with magic power that we can not

kill him. My advice is this: ‘Go home and make some basswood manikins;

your friend has returned to camp and will help you. When the manikins

are finished, put them at the door in front of your brush lodge, each

holding a bow and arrows. When Ganiagwaihegowa approaches you will know

the creature by his roar. Be ready with your bows and arrows; you must

have trees felled in the path in front of the manikins.

Ganiagwaihegowa’s life is assailable only in the soles of his feet.

When he comes near, he will be raving with anger. As he raises his foot

in crossing the log piles, you will see a white spot in the sole; there

is his heart. Strike it, if you can, for there only will a shot take

effect.’”

Going back to camp, the man cut down a basswood tree, from which, with

the aid of his friend, he made two manikins, obeying the old man in

everything. They sat in their brush lodge until noon the next day. Then

they heard Ganiagwaihegowa roaring far off in the ravine, whereupon

they grew weak. Gadjiqsa [113] had told them to keep on the leeward of

Ganiagwaihegowa so that he might not scent them. They were frightened

but said: “We can not run away; we can not escape, as the only chance

we have for our lives is to kill the bear. If he overcomes us, he will

scent the way to our village and kill everybody.” As the bear came in

sight, he looked frightful. Whenever he came to a tree, he would jump

at it, tearing it to pieces. The smaller trees fell merely at his

touch. Every time Ganiagwaihegowa roared the men, losing their

strength, were ready to drop to the ground. When, however, he passed

their hiding place on his way toward the manikins, in a terrible rage,

and raised his feet in crossing the logs, one of the men shot at the

white spot, and as he was going over the second log, the other man shot

him through the other foot. The pain made Ganiagwaihegowa rage

fearfully. He bit the manikins through the body; then, turning, he went

through the lodge, tearing it to fragments, but a little farther on he

fell dead. Coming out from their hiding place, the men cut off his hind

legs. Gadjiqsa had said that if they failed to do this, Ganiagwaihegowa

would come to life again. As they cut off the feet, they saw that the

whole body was quivering. The ribs were not like those in other animals

but formed one solid bone. After skinning the bear, the men cut his

hind quarters into pieces, which they burned to ashes together with all

the bones, for the old man Gadjiqsa had said, “If even one particle of

bone is left, Ganiagwaihegowa will come to life again.” He had said

also, “The hide must be smoked thoroughly over a fire, otherwise it

will retain life and become Ganiagwaihegowa himself again.” The youths

did exactly as they had been told.

After this adventure the young men continued to hunt. While one of them

was out he met a man, who said to him, “Come with me.” Going with him,

he found that the stranger was one of the Gadjiqsa people. The old man

who had told him how to kill the great bear had said: “You have saved

all the people; after killing you the bear would have killed us and

would have gone to your village and destroyed everybody. Hawenniyo has

given us power to aid men; it is my wish that you and your people

should prosper. If this bear had destroyed you, he would have destroyed

all the people in the world. If I had not told you, we should all be

dead now. It is for you to thank us, as well as for us to thank you.”

He added: “But there is another enemy to conquer. When you leave your

present camp you will go on until you come to a river. There you will

camp again, but be on your guard as you travel.”

The young men soon set out again. When they reached the river they put

up a little lodge. As one was building a fire the other went to look

for game. The man making the fire could hear someone talking very loud,

as though making a speech. Going in the direction of the sound, when he

came near he saw the speaker in a valley below the hill. He looked

cautiously, so as not to be seen by those below. There were many

people. In the center on an elevated place stood the speaker, who said:

“Tomorrow we start on the trail leading to the place from which the two

men have come. At the journey’s end we shall have a great feast.” The

man on the hill listening understood that these people were Stone Coats

[114] and that they were going to his village to eat all the

inhabitants; he drew back, frightened at the great number of them.

Scattering the brands of the fire, he put it out. When his friend, on

coming back, asked why he had no fire he said: “Do not talk so loud.

There are many people down under the hill; they are Stone Coats, who

intend to destroy us. We must get out of their way.” Peeping over the

hills, the hunter was so frightened that he said, “We must hurry home,”

whereupon, making a start, they went as far as they could that night.

Soon they heard the sound of the approach of the Stone Coats—the noise

was like thunder. It was evident that they traveled faster than the two

men, for when they camped that night the men were but a short distance

ahead of them. The chief of the Stone Coats said, “Tomorrow we must be

at the village.” One of the men said, “Run with all speed and tell the

people what is coming.” The other, hastening to the village, said, “The

Stone Coats are coming and you shall surely die, but do not die without

a struggle.” Returning, he reached his comrade that day, so fast could

he run. The comrade said, “I shall stay near the Stone Coats, stopping

when they stop. They have but one more halting place, and at each place

they hunt.” That night the Stone Coats’ chief said, “No one must go

far; if he does and is away, he will lose his share of the feast.” The

two men were listening and heard what the chief said. They could devise

no way of saving themselves or their people. The people in the

settlement, bewildered with fright, ran from place to place, not

knowing what to do. The Stone Coats were near the village, when the

chief said, “Let us halt and rest a little.”

The two friends sat on the bank of the river, on the leeward side so

that they could not be scented. All at once they saw a man with a

smiling face. When he came up, he said: “I will help you; I will save

your people. I will conquer the Stone Coats, for Hawenniyo has sent me

to aid you. I will go alone and fight for your people.” Telling the

people who were running for their lives not to be afraid if they heard

a frightful noise, with a smiling face he went down the bank into the

valley where the Stone Coat army had halted to rest. Soon a terrible

noise was heard, as of a desperate battle, and the two men, who had

been commanded not to move, but to sit and listen, could see steam

rising above the hill from the sweat of the Stone Coats.[115] Then the

sounds came only at intervals and were not so loud, and finally they

ceased altogether. The watchers saw the stranger with the smiling face

coming up the hill. He said: “I am thankful that I have destroyed them.

The Stone Coats are all dead, and the people now alive will live in

peace. I am appointed by Hawenniyo to open the way and the paths to his

people on earth. Wherever there is sorcery among your people, I am

always sent against it. We are sure to kill all we pursue. If a witch

crawls into a tree, we shoot the tree until it opens and the witchcraft

comes out. It is I whom you always hear called Lightning or Hinon,”

i.e., Thunder.

He left them, whereupon the two men went to the place where the Stone

Coat army had been. Only piles of stone remained. The stones found all

over the earth are remains of this battle and the killing of the Stone

Coats. Thus, it was through the two transformed young men that our

forefathers were saved from death and enabled to live to a great age.

They foretold what was to be as it is today, and at the present time we

hold to the teaching of these men, who had their religion from the

upper world.

49. DAGWANOENYENT

Once some men in a village were preparing to go on a hunting

expedition. Now, in the old times, as far as can be traced back to the

forefathers, some men had luck and others had not.

Now, in the village in which these men lived was a young man who was

somewhat foolish—not strong in mind—as people thought. Knowing that the

men were getting ready, he went to one and another asking leave to go

with them, but no one would let him go, for they considered him

foolish, and hence unlucky.

After all had left, a young woman, who took pity on him, went to him

and said, “Let us be married and go hunting.” They got married and went

to hunt, camping in the woods. The man could not kill any big game;

only squirrels and such creatures. He made traps to catch deer, which

he placed around so that the deer might get their feet into them. One

morning when he went to look at his traps he heard some one crying like

a woman. The sound came nearer and nearer. At last he saw a woman

coming with two little boys. She was crying, and as they came up she

said: “Help me! for we are going to die. One of my little boys stole a

feather, which he pulled to pieces. Now we are going to die for that

feather. I want you to kill that hawk on the tree over there, and when

the person whose feather my little boy took comes, throw the hawk at

him, saying, ‘This is your feather.’”

The man killed the hawk, and had no sooner done so than he heard a

terrible roar and noise, and the trees fell, and a man came and stood

on one of them. This man had terrible eyes and long hair; that was all

there was to him—just a great head without a body.[116] The young man

flung the hawk at him with the enjoined remark. Catching it, the latter

said, “Thank you,” and was satisfied. This woman was a panther and the

children were her cubs, but she seemed to the man to be of the human

kind. She said that she lived among the rocks and that Dagwanoenyent

lived near her, being her neighbor. Once while he was away from home

her little boy went into his place, and getting his feathers, spoiled

them. When Dagwanoenyent came home he was very angry and chased them.

Then the panther told the man that she knew he was poor and that no man

would hunt with him, adding, “Now, I will help you, and you will get

more game than any of them. I do this because you helped me.” After

that he killed more game than any other hunter in the woods.

50. THE SHAMAN AND HIS NEPHEW

In times past a noted shaman and his nephew dwelt together in a lodge

in the forest.

One day, when the nephew had grown to manhood, the uncle said to him:

“Now, my nephew, you must go to the lodge of the chief, who has two

daughters whom you shall marry. When you go you must wear those things

endowed with orenda (magic power) which I wore when I was a young man.”

The shaman here referred to a panther-skin robe, a pouch of spotted

fawn skin, and a pipe decorated with a manikin. Among other things the

uncle brought out these, bidding his nephew: “Now, test your ability to

use them. See what you can do with them.” First the nephew placed in

the bowl of the pipe red-willow bark which had been dried for the

purpose. Then he took out the manikin, which at once ran to the fire

and, bringing an ember, put it into the pipe. Now the nephew began to

smoke, and as he smoked he expectorated wampum, first on one side and

then on the other. The uncle said to him: “That will do very well. Now

you must don the feather headdress that I wore when I was a young man.”

On the top of this headdress was a duck which, when the headdress was

not worn, drooped its head, seeming not to be alive, but which, as soon

as the headdress was put on, held up its head and became alive. After

the nephew had put on the headdress the uncle said to him, “Now you

must tell the duck to speak.” Addressing it, the nephew said, “Oh, my

duck, speak!” and at once the duck called out in a loud voice.

Thereupon the uncle said: “Nephew, the two young women are thinking of

you at all times, for they feel that they will prosper if you marry and

live with them. When you are at their father’s lodge you must go on a

hunting trip and must take one of the young women with you. When you

are out in the woods the woman must lie down and must not see anything.

She must lie with her head carefully covered. Then you shall sing, and

all the wild animals will come around to listen to your singing. You

may kill only such as you desire.” “But,” he added, “the young woman

must not look at them; if she does, something evil will happen.” [117]

The nephew, wearing his uncle’s garments and feather headdress, started

for the chief’s lodge. It was night when he drew near the village in

which lived the chief, and thinking it would not look well for him to

arrive at the lodge after dark, he decided to camp for the night in the

forest. For this purpose he chose a fallen tree, near which he kindled

a fire. Early in the night a man came to the fire, saying: “My nephew,

I am traveling. I am going to the village near here, but it being now

late, I think I will stop with you at your fire. In the morning we can

go on together. So I will remain on this side of the fire, opposite

you, and I will relate stories of what has happened to me during my

life to pass the time away.” The young man unwarily agreed to this

proposition of the stranger. Then the man who called himself uncle

began to tell stories, and the young man would respond at times. But at

last, growing sleepy, the latter stopped making responses, whereupon

the self-styled uncle remarked, “Nephew, I think that you are asleep.”

The young man did not make reply. Then the stranger stirred the fire,

and blowing sparks from it on the young man, called out, “Nephew, I

think that sparks of fire are falling on you.” But as the young man did

not move, the uncle saw that he was fast asleep. Going over to the side

of the young man the stranger shook him, saying, “You are asleep and

sparks of fire are falling on your clothes; so you would better remove

them so that they will be safe.” This awakened the young man, who arose

and undressed himself, and laying his garments in a safe place,

carefully covered them with hemlock boughs. The stranger had an old

skin robe with the fur all worn off, which he told the young man to use

as a covering for the night; this he did. Returning to his side of the

fire, the self-styled uncle began again to tell stories, to which the

young man responded for a while, after which he again became silent.

Knowing that the young man was asleep, the stranger went to the place

where he had concealed his garments and, after removing his own, put

them on, leaving his own soiled things in their stead. The stranger

knew where the young man was going, and knew also the orenda (magic

power) of the garments and pouch belonging to the latter, so he had

determined to secure them for his own use. In the morning when the

young man awoke he discovered that he was alone, that his garments and

pouch were gone, and that in their stead remained the well-worn and

soiled things of the wily old stranger who had visited him the night

before. Naturally, he was sad and deeply humiliated, but he determined

to don the shabby garments of the stranger and to finish his journey to

the lodge of the chief.

When the old man was dressed in the garments and headdress of the young

man, he looked well, so when the sisters saw him coming, they said, “At

last, our man is coming to us.” But on looking more closely at him, the

younger sister, becoming suspicious, decided that he was not the man

they had expected. Hence, when he entered the lodge, leaving the side

of her sister, she went over to the other side of the fire. The man

took his seat beside her elder sister, who said to her: “Why do you

leave me now? You have been wishing that he would come, and now that he

has come, you leave and go to the other side of the fire.” The younger

sister, however, remained firm in her conviction that he was not the

right man. The chief notified the people to go to the lodge of public

assembly to meet his new son-in-law and to see him smoke. In response

to this invitation all the people assembled. The man arrayed himself in

the stolen garments for the purpose of convincing the people and the

chief that he was possessed of great orenda; but for him the times were

out of joint and ill-omened. A beautiful piece of buckskin was spread

on each side of him to receive the expected wampum. But the duck that

surmounted the stolen headdress appeared to be lifeless, for its head

hung limp. Drawing the pipe out of the pouch and filling it with dried

red-willow bark, the man told the manikin to bring an ember to light

the pipe. The manikin, however, did not move. He spoke to it a second

time, but it did not move. Then he said to the people, “My manikin is

shy because of the great concourse of people.” Reaching out, the man

took an ember which he placed in the hand of the manikin, but without

result; finally he himself put it into the pipe. Then he began to

smoke, but he spat no wampum, and merely soiled the piece of buckskin.

After the people had left the assembly lodge and returned to their

homes, the chief’s younger daughter went out to gather wood. While

walking leisurely along looking for fuel, she saw smoke arising in the

distance. When she reached the spot, she found there what was

apparently an old man, who was fast asleep with his head drooping

against a log. Spittle was flowing from his mouth, which, when it fell

on the ground, became wampum. Astonished, the younger daughter ran home

to tell her father what she had seen. He at once sent her back to bring

the strange man to the lodge. Carefully gathering the wampum, she

informed the man that her father had sent for him, and that he must

therefore accompany her to the lodge.

Soon after the elder sister and her husband reached home from the

assembly lodge, they seated themselves on one side of the fire. In a

few moments the younger daughter and the man, old in appearance,

entered the lodge and took seats on the opposite side of the fire. Then

the husband of the elder daughter said to his wife, “Your sister should

be ashamed of herself for having that old man.” Thus all spent the

night together. The next morning the husband of the elder daughter went

to hunt. In the evening he returned with a dead bloodsucker rolled up

in leaves, which he told his wife to cook. Slicing it into small bits,

she did so, and prepared some burnt cornmeal to go with it. Her husband

told her to take the fat from the top of the kettle and pour it on the

meal. This she did, and then passed some of the meal to her sister; but

as the latter was taking it, the elder sister drew it back, with the

remark, “I would willingly give it to you, but I do not like the looks

of your man.”

In the morning of the next day the husband of the younger daughter said

to the other man: “I should like to change garments with you. I shall

wear them only part of the time, and you part of the time. Hereafter

you shall be called by my name.” The other person agreed to the

proposition. As soon as the change was made, the husband of the younger

daughter became a fine-looking man. He told his wife to have her father

assemble the people in the lodge of assembly, for he was going to

smoke. All the people gathered at their accustomed place of meeting.

The floor was swept clean, for there was no buckskin to put down, as

the other husband had soiled such pieces as were available, which were

still hanging up to dry. The husband of the younger daughter sat down,

with his wife on his left side and with his pouch leaning against the

seat. As he threw back his head, his pouch came to life and held up its

head, and he said, “Speak, my duck!” At once the duck came to life,

and, holding up its head, began to sound its usual note. Then, taking

his pipe from his pouch and filling it with dried red-willow bark, he

sent the manikin to bring him an ember for a light. The manikin brought

the ember, and after the pipe was lighted, the young man smoked. While

doing so, he spat first on one side and then on the other; the spittle

at once turned into beautiful dark wampum, which rolled all over the

floor. The people scrambled after it, picking up as much as they could.

When the husband of the elder daughter, who had gone on a hunt,

returned, the young man said to him, “I shall keep the garments, for

tomorrow I shall take my wife and go to hunt.” So in the morning he

went into the woods. After reaching his destination in the forest, he

said to his wife, “I will show you something.” Having found her a fine

place for a shelter, he bade her lie down and cover her head, and

refrain from looking out at what was going on; for if she did so,

something evil would certainly befall him. Obeying her husband, she

covered her head. Then he sang, “Now, all you wild beasts, come here to

this place.” In obedience to his song they all came—bear, elk, and

deer—jumping, hurrying, and rushing on. All the young man had to do in

order to kill them was to point his magical finger at any one he

desired to secure, whereupon it fell dead. Then he sang another song,

“Now, all you wild beasts, go to your homes”—all vanished as quickly as

they had come. When they had gone, he said to his wife, “Now you may

arise and uncover your head.” On getting up and looking around she saw

on every side all kinds of game lying dead. Her husband said to her,

“Now, let us go home. You may tell the people that they may have as

much meat as they desire.”

On their return home the younger daughter informed the people of her

husband’s invitation to take all the meat they required. So many people

went to the place of the hunt, where after skinning and cutting up the

game which the young man had killed, they carried it home. Seeing every

man in the village carrying meat and venison, the elder daughter asked

her sister, “How does your husband kill so much game?” Her sister

answered, “Your husband stole his garments, but now he has recovered

them, and you see what he can do with their aid.” The elder sister

replied, “I will turn my husband away and marry yours.” So when her

husband returned she charged him, saying: “You stole this young man’s

garments. Are you not ashamed of your conduct?” Then, taking a pestle

used for pounding corn, she drove him out of the lodge.

When the people had eaten the meat the young man again went to hunt.

The elder sister said, “I must go with him,” but the younger sister

answered: “You are too careless; you would not obey him. You are too

foolish. You took the other man when I knew that he was not the right

one. So you should not go.” But when the young man was ready to start

she cried like a child to be permitted to go; and finally her younger

sister said, “Go, if you will obey him in everything.” Although he did

not accept her as his wife, she followed him into the forest. He chose

the place of their lodge. When it was ready he told her to lie down and

cover her head, and not to look out until he should call her. Then he

began to sing, “Now, all you wild beasts, come here to this place.”

With a terrifying sound they came from all directions, leaping and

gamboling as they rushed onward. The young man sang all the time. But

the woman, becoming afraid of being trampled to death, peeped out to

see what was going on. As she did so one of the larger animals, running

up to the young man, said Ho, ho, ho! and then carried him off on its

back. Frightened, the sister-in-law leaped up and ran home. When she

arrived there her younger sister said, “Where is my husband?” “The

animals carried him off,” came the answer. Thereupon the younger sister

replied: “I told you that you are too foolish to go to such a place,

and I did not want you to accompany him. Now see what you have done.”

Distracted with grief, the young wife hastened to the place where her

husband was wont to hunt. There she could see the tracks around and

could also hear her husband’s voice far in the distance singing, “I am

deceived by my sister-in-law.” Knowing just what she must do, she

called the white deer to come to her aid. Obeying her pleading, the

white deer [118] in a moment was at her side. Addressing it, she said,

“I wish to borrow your coat at once.” The white deer answered, “If you

will place my body in a safe place and take good care of me, I will

gladly lend it to you.” The young wife consenting willingly to the

conditions, the white deer lent her its coat. Thereupon she placed the

deer’s body in a safe place, covering it carefully so that it could not

be found. Quickly putting on the coat, she became at once a beautiful

white deer; then she ran swiftly after the animals, passing first the

hedgehog, a slow runner; then one after another. As she passed each

would call out, Hai, hai, hai! It would seem that they were becoming

tired. They thought that she was a deer, and that she would help them.

Her husband was carried first by one, then by another animal. It was

while he was on the bear’s back that she overtook him. Leaving the

bear, the young husband leaped on the back of the white deer, whereupon

off she ran ahead of all the other animals. Making a large circuit, she

returned to the place where she had left the body of the white deer.

There she became herself again, and giving back the deer its coat, all

returned home in good condition and lived happily.

51. THE HORNED SNAKE AND THE YOUNG WOMAN

A woman living near Cayuga Lake had been asked many times by young men

to marry her, but she would never consent. The knowledge that she was

good-looking made her very proud and haughty.

During the warm weather the family slept out of doors. One night,

however, the young woman remained inside the lodge. As was customary in

those days, a skin mantle was hung up for a door. In the night the

young woman, awaking, saw some one looking through the doorway, whose

face glistened and whose eyes shone. The face disappeared and a man

walked into the lodge; coming to the bed, he sat down at the side of

the young woman and began to talk. His conversation was very enticing,

and she could not help listening to him, but she did not answer.

Thinking she was asleep, the strange man, shaking her, asked, “Are you

asleep?” She did not answer. After putting sticks on the fire to make a

light, he again asked, “Are you asleep?” She could not longer resist,

and drawing the mantle down from her face, said, “No.” She saw that he

was very handsome and that even his raiment glistened. He spoke of

taking her for his wife, promising to give her all he had, and saying,

“You will find plenty of fine things in my lodge and you shall have

them all.” While he talked she was fast becoming of his mind, and at

last she consented to be his wife. One man after another had failed to

win her, but this stranger was so engaging that she was willing to go

to him. When he left her, he said, “I will come for you in two days.”

The next morning the young woman’s family wondered why they did not see

her, for she was usually the first to be up. Her mother said, “I wonder

what the matter is.” Going to the lodge, she found her asleep. She

shook her but could not arouse her. Her people came to see her from

time to time, but still she slept. At last, on looking in, they saw her

sitting with her head down, as though in deep thought. They wondered

what her trouble was—had she had evil dreams? Finally she got up, but

seemed sad, not as cheerful as usual. They saw that something serious

was on her mind.

As the time approached for the husband to come, the young woman

thought, “I will put on my best clothes that I may look as nearly as

possible like him.” When the time came he appeared before her, saying,

“I have come for you.” Arising, she followed him without hesitation.

Pointing to a hill, he said, “I live on the other side of that hill.”

On the way the young woman thought that she might be possessed of

something evil and almost resolved to go back. The man seemed to know

her thoughts, for looking at her he said, “You are mine, and we are on

our way home.” So she continued to put her feet in his footprints. At

last he said, as if in answer to her thoughts: “You have become my

wife; you can not help yourself. My home is near.” They descended the

wall of a precipice until they reached a large opening in the rocks.

She was glad at any rate to be so near the lodge. Stopping again, she

took council with herself and almost resolved to go back, but an inward

feeling that she must keep on prevailed.

As they entered the hole in the rocks, which led into what seemed to

her to be a lodge, she saw many fine things which she thought would be

a comfort to her. In one corner was a beautiful skin couch; her husband

said to her, “This is your couch.” She was well pleased with her new

home.

Some time passed. She did not discover that the man was different from

other men. As soon as the sun rose every day, he went away.

One day he told her that he was going a long distance, whereupon she

thought: “Now he will be gone a good while. I will look around and see

where I am.” On going out she found that she did not know where the

place was, nor in what direction they had come. She went on and on,

more for amusement than anything else, thinking perhaps that she should

find the way out, and that then she could reach home. At last she

decided to go back into the lodge. She had not gone far when she heard

some noise behind her, at which she was greatly frightened. “You need

not be frightened,” said a man; “I was looking for you. Stand still, my

grandchild, and do not be afraid of me; I am sent to tell you of your

danger; you must do my bidding, for I pity you. Your husband is a great

horned snake. I am going to kill him and destroy his lodge. You must go

up in that high place yonder; sit down and watch. Nothing will happen

to you. When you see your husband, keep your eyes on him and learn to

know what he is.” On going up into the place indicated and looking

around, she could see no clouds in the sky—all was bright and clear.

Suddenly, however, she saw beyond the place a large body of water

rising, and soon it was as high as the hole in the rocks which led to

her home. Then she saw approaching the rocks a great horned snake with

glistening face. She was frightened when she looked on this creature

and knew it was her husband. Just as its head was inside the rocks, she

heard a terrible thunder clap; lightning struck the rocks and they were

all blown to bits. Then the water subsided. After a while the old man

came, saying: “Your husband is killed. There are three of us. We know

that you are under evil influences now, but we will try to save you.

You can go home, but you must be purified first.” While he was talking

the other two came. The old man told her to take off her clothes. She

knew that she had to do as he had requested. Taking up a small vessel,

he gave her to drink a portion of what it contained, and then rubbed

the rest of the contents on her back about the loins. In a short time

three large snakes passed from her reproductive organs, whereupon the

old man remarked, “You are now saved from the evil orenda with which

you have been afflicted.” To purify her further he gave her a beverage

which caused vomiting. The matter which she threw up consisted of

worms, ants, maggots, and all kinds of foul creeping things. While

living with her husband her mind had been so much under his spell that

she had believed that the food which he gave her was good and

wholesome. The three men, now satisfied, said to her: “You are at last

thoroughly purified and freed from the evil power of your husband and

his people; so you can return to your home, which is seven days’

journey from here” (when she made the journey with her husband it

seemed to her but a short distance). Then the old man said to her: “I

am he whom your people call Hinon. You must marry one of your own

people, one who is older than you are, for the younger ones are filled

with witchcraft; and you must tell your friends all that has happened

to you, for if you do not do so, you will undergo the same misfortunes

again.” Thereupon they took her home; while on the way it seemed to her

that they were flying through the air.

The morning after returning home her people found her lying in the

lodge. Her family were all delighted that she had returned to them

safe. When they had found she was missing they had searched for her

everywhere, but had never been able to find even a trace of her. She

related to them her adventures, telling them how she had become the

wife of a great horned snake, and how she had been rescued from it by

Hinon, their grandfather.

When her grandfather, Hinon, had left her at the lodge doorway he had

given her a basket, telling her to fill it with native Indian tobacco,

saying, “For with this plant we cleanse ourselves.” He told her further

that from time to time she should leave a small quantity of the tobacco

in the woods, which he would get as a grateful offering to him.

52. THE MAN PURSUED BY HIS SISTER-IN-LAW

Two brothers lived together in the forest. Every day the elder went out

to hunt, but he never brought home game or flesh of any description.

The younger brother noticed, however, that his brother’s back bore

bloody stains just as if he had been carrying freshly killed game; so

he decided to watch him, that he might see what he did with the game he

killed.

One day while the younger brother was watching he found that, when

returning with game, a woman approached from a side path and took from

the elder brother the game, which she carried away. So the next day the

younger brother started off in the direction the strange woman had

taken. He soon came to a lodge, and on entering he found a young woman,

who smiled and began talking to him.

In the afternoon he started for home; but after he had gone some

distance he saw that he was returning to the lodge which he had just

left, and was greatly disturbed about himself. Thereupon he went in an

opposite direction. While he was walking along, his elder brother,

coming up behind him, said, “My brother, it is strange that you do not

know that there is a fishhook caught in your neck.” Having removed the

fishhook and fastened it to a near-by bush, the elder brother said to

his younger brother: “Your only safe course now is to escape from this

place as quickly as possible. I will aid you to escape.” Then the elder

brother, causing the younger to become small, after opening one of his

arrows introduced him into it, and after securing him there, told him,

“When the arrow strikes the ground, quickly get out of this arrow and

then run for your life.” Then he shot the arrow off into the air.

When the young woman drew on the fishhook she found that she could not

pull it to her; following along the line, she found that the hook was

fastened to a bush. This caused her to get very angry, and she said,

“Young man, you can not escape from me; this world is too small for

that.” Thence she quickly went to the young man’s lodge but he was not

there, so she tracked him to her own lodge and back again to the bush.

There she found the trail of the arrow, which she followed to the spot

where it fell. On finding there the tracks of the young man, she

pursued his trail with great speed. As she approached the young man he

heard her footsteps and, pulling off his moccasins, he told them to run

ahead to the end of the country;[119] further, he transformed himself

into a stump right where he stood. The pursuing woman soon came up to

the stump. Halting there, she looked up and said, “Why, this looks like

a man”; but, as the tracks of the young man apparently passed on,

exclaiming “Why do I waste time here?” she ran on. When she reached the

end of the country, behold! there stood the young man’s moccasins. Then

she hurried back to the place where she had seen the stump, but it was

no longer there. Finding, however, fresh tracks made by the young man,

she followed them. Soon the young man heard her approaching again,

whereupon he cast a stone behind him, with the remark, “Let a high rock

extend from one end of the country to the other.” As soon as he had

spoken the words the great ridge of rock was there.

When the young woman came to the rock she could go neither through it

nor over it. Finally she said, “I have never heard of this high rock;

surely it can not extend across the country. I will go around it.” So

she ran to the end of the country without success; then she ran to the

other end of the country, but with no greater success in getting around

the ridge of rocks. Coming back to the spot whence she had started, she

stepped back a short distance and then, rushing forward, she butted her

head against the solid rock to break it down; but she fell back

seemingly dead. After a long time she recovered consciousness and,

looking around her, Lo!—the rock ridge had disappeared; only a small

stone lay there. “Oh! he is exerting his magic power,” she exclaimed,

and again she hurried on after him.

When the youth once more heard her footsteps and knew that she was fast

gaining on him he took a pigeon’s feather out of his pouch, and casting

it down back of him commanded, “Let there be a pigeon roost across the

country and let there be so many pigeons in it that their droppings

shall be so deep and high that nothing can get through them.” Soon the

young woman came to the roost and started to go through it, but could

not do so; then she drew back, saying, “I never heard that a pigeon

roost could extend across the world. I shall go around it.” Thereupon

she followed the roost, first to one end of the world, then to the

other, but was not able to go around it. Returning to the spot whence

she had started she attempted to break through the mass of droppings by

butting her head against it, but she fell back seemingly dead. After a

long time she regained consciousness, and on opening her eyes found a

small feather lying on the ground. The roost had disappeared. She was

now very angry and took up the pursuit with great speed.

In his flight the young man came to a lake where he saw people bathing

and playing in the water. Stopping there he said, “Let one of those men

become just like me and let me become an old stump.” Presently the

young woman came up to the stump, but hearing the laughter of the

bathers she saw on looking at them that the man farthest out in the

lake was the one she was following. Seeing her standing there the

people called to her, “Come! help us catch this man who outswims us.”

Quickly springing into the water, after a long chase she caught him,

but the moment she had done so he took his own form, whereupon she knew

that she had been deceived again. Going back to the shore she found

that the stump had gone.

Again she followed the tracks of the young man. Just as he heard her

approaching, a man stood before him who asked, “What is the trouble?”

The young man replied, “A woman is pursuing me.” The stranger answered,

“I will try to aid you.” Stooping down, he added: “Get on my back. I

will throw you on a hillside. You must run along the hill until you are

forced to descend.” The young man stepped on the back of the man

Nosgwais,[120] who stretched his legs to an enormous length, throwing

the young man off to a great distance on a side hill. The young woman

came to the trail, where she found the ground soft and resilient. As

she tried to advance it would fly up, throwing her backward. On looking

around she found that she was standing on a toad’s back. She made great

circles in search of the tracks of the young man. At last she reached

the hill. When the young man reached the hill he ran along its top for

a considerable time until he slipped and fell. Being unable to help

himself, he slid down the hill with great rapidity, so fast that he did

not realize anything until he struck a lodge, a voice within which

said, “I think there must be something in our trap.”

A young woman came out and, seeing the young man, lifted him up and

took him into the lodge. “What is the trouble?” asked an old woman. He

replied: “A woman is following me. I have long been trying to escape

from her.” “Keep out of sight and I will help you,” said the old woman.

Then the old woman, filling a kettle with bear’s oil, set it over the

fire. Soon it began to boil, whereupon she said, “Let this young man’s

face be looking up from the bottom of this kettle.” At that moment they

heard a noise outside of the lodge door, which opened. In came the

young woman, who asked, “Where is the man I am following?” The old

woman said, “He ran into the kettle.” Looking into the kettle and

seeing the face of the man, she exclaimed, “I knew I should conquer you

at last;” and plunged into the boiling oil in order to seize him. But

the boiling oil killed her. Then the old woman called the young man,

saying, “The woman who was pursuing you is dead.” The daughter said to

her mother, “I will have this man for my husband.”

In the course of time twin boys were born to the young people. When

they were large enough to run around, their father said to them, “You

must now go after your uncle.” After traveling a very long distance

they reached a lodge, in which they found a man. One of the boys said,

“Uncle, we have come for you.” The old man, after making ready,

accompanied them. When they arrived at the home of the boys, the

younger brother greeted his elder brother with, “I am glad we are able

to see each other again.” Then one of the boys said, “Grandmother, we

want you to marry this man, our uncle.” She replied, “So it shall be.”

So they were married and all lived happily together.

53. THE STORY OF BLOODY HAND

According to tradition several tribes of the Iroquois claim the honor

of having produced a great man, whose name was Bloody Hand, and whose

fame as a hunter was not less than his reputation as a bold and

resolute war captain.

Now, Bloody Hand had great love for the birds of the air and the

animals on the earth that eat flesh. He greatly respected them and paid

them marked attention. When he had killed a deer while out hunting he

would skin it and cut the meat into small pieces; then he would call

Gaqga [121] to come to eat the flesh. When he killed another animal, he

would dress it in like manner and call Nonhgwatgwa122 and his people to

come to eat the flesh which he had given them. Sometimes he would carry

home a portion of the game he had killed, but generally he gave it all

to the various birds and animals whose chief food is flesh.

According to a Seneca legend a number of Seneca warriors went on a

warlike expedition against a tribe which was hostile to them, and it so

happened that Bloody Hand was one of this warlike band. In an encounter

with the enemy he and a number of others were killed and their remains

were left on the ground. The body of Bloody Hand lay in the forest

stark naked; the enemy, having scalped him, had borne away the scalp as

a great trophy.

The birds of the air, having seen Bloody Hand killed and mutilated,

held a council at which they bemoaned the death of their human friend.

Finally one of the assembly said: “Let us try to bring him back to

life. But before we can begin to resuscitate his body we must recover

his scalp, which hangs before the door of the chief of the enemy who

killed him. Let us send for it.” The assembly after agreeing to what

had been proposed with regard to the preparations necessary to bring

their friend back to life, first sent the Black Hawk to secure the

scalp. Having arrived at the place where hung the scalp, Black Hawk was

able by means of his sharp and powerful bill to break easily the cords

that held the scalp; thus securing it, he bore it in triumph to the

council of the birds. Then one among them said, “Let us first try our

medicine to see whether it has retained its virtue or not. We must try

first to bring to life that dead tree which lies there on the ground.”

Thereupon they proceeded to prepare their medicine. To make it, each

representative placed in the pot a piece of his own flesh. (These

representatives were, of course, birds of the elder time, not such as

live now.[123]) In experimenting with their medicine they caused a

stalk of corn to grow out of the ground without sowing seed. In this

stalk there was blood. After noting the efficacy of the medicine they

broke the stalk, and after obtaining blood from it, caused it to

disappear. With this medicine is compounded the seed of the squash.

When the medicine was made they held a sanctifying council, in which

part of the assembly sat on one side of the tree, and the other part on

the opposite side. The wolves and the snakes attended, also other

animals and birds of great orenda (magic power). The birds sang and the

rattlesnakes rattled; all present made music, every one in his own way.

Above the clouds and mists of the sky dwells a bird who is the chief of

all the birds. His name is Sʻhadahgeah. This assembly of bird and

animal sorcerers chose the chief of the crows to notify him of all that

was taking place. This is the reason, according to the tradition, the

crow today sings the note “caw, caw.” The eagle is another chief who is

under this great bird that dwells above the clouds and mists of the

firmament.

When the leaders of this assembly saw that the trees and plants were

coming to life and putting forth green leaves and waxen buds,[124] the

presiding chief said to his associates: “This is enough. We have sung

enough. Out medicine will now act, and we must select someone to put it

into the man’s body.” For this purpose they chose the chickadee. This

canny bird first drank the medicine; then going by way of the man’s

mouth into his stomach, it emitted the medicine. While this was taking

place the others were engaged in rubbing the body of the dead man with

the medicine. When his body was well anointed they all sat down and

began to sing. For two days and two nights they did not cease from

singing, until they perceived that the body was becoming warm again.

After his resuscitation125 the man reported that he felt suddenly as

though he had just been aroused from a sound sleep; he heard the

singing of the birds and the various sounds made by the beasts around

him, and finally came to life again. Remaining silent, he merely

listened to the singing of the songs of orenda that arose on all sides.

He listened because he could understand the words that were used in

these chants of the sorcerers. As soon as his body began to show signs

of motion the birds and the beasts drew back a little, but continued to

sing and chant.

When the chief of the assembly saw that the man had fully recovered his

life, he said to him: “We bestow this medicine on you and your people.

Your people shall have it for their healing. If it so happens that one

of them is injured by a fall, by a blow, or by an arrow shot, he must

have recourse to this medicine. You must make use of it at once. You

must also from time to time strengthen and renew this medicine by

giving a feast in its honor.[126] When you make use of it you must burn

tobacco in our behalf and turn your thoughts toward us. As long as you

shall have this medicine, you shall assemble at intervals at appointed

feasts to strengthen it, and for this purpose you shall burn tobacco of

the old kind. While doing this you shall say, among the other things:

‘Let all the birds and the beasts on the earth and above the earth

share this fragrant smell of the tobacco.’ As long as people live and

are born this ceremony must be maintained to fix the use of this

medicine.” Thus, after the birds and beasts had brought the man to

life, they taught him how to make use of the medicine and how to sing

the songs that put it in action. Then they dismissed him, telling him

to go to his home, where he must inform his people, through their

appointed authorities, what he had learned for their benefit and

welfare. Thereupon the man went to his home.

The men who had seen him scalped and killed had related the story to

their people, who believed him dead. So, when they saw him return

alive, they quickly gathered around him, asking, “How has it come to

pass that you have returned alive?” Then the man gave them, in detail,

an account of how he had been killed, and how the birds and the

animals, in return for the kindness which he had shown them at all

times, had concocted the medicine which had brought him back to life.

Then, selecting a small number of wise men of great experience, he

taught them how to use this medicine and confided its preservation to

their custody. He strictly enjoined them not to make light of the songs

which belonged to it; should they so far forget themselves as to do so,

they would suffer great misfortune, for the songs possessed great

orenda, which would become active against them. He told them, further,

that no one should sing the songs unless he had some of this powerful

medicine (which is called nigahnegahah, “small dose”). This medicine is

still held in great repute among the Iroquois. (See Medical Note, p.

491.)

54. THE SEVEN STARS OF THE DIPPER

Long ago six men went out hunting many days’ journey from home. For a

long time they found no game. One of their number said that he was sick

(in fact he was very lazy), so they had to make a litter of two poles

and a skin, by means of which four men carried him. Each man had his

own load to bear besides. The sixth member of the party came behind,

carrying the kettle.

At last, when they were getting very hungry, they came on the track of

a bear, whereupon they dropped their sick companion and their burdens,

each running on as fast as he could after the bear. At first the track

was so old that they thought merely, “We shall overtake the bear at

some future time anyway.” Later they said, “The track can not be more

than three days old,” and as it grew fresher and fresher each day, they

finally said, “Tomorrow, it seems, we shall overtake the bear.” Now,

the man whom they had carried so long was not tired, and when they

dropped him, knowing that he was to be left behind, he ran on after

them. As he was fresher than they were, he soon passed them, and

overtaking the bear, he killed it.

His companions never noticed in their hurry that they were going upward

all the time. Many persons saw them in the air, always rising as they

ran. When they overtook the bear they had reached the heavens, where

they have remained to this day, and where they can be seen any starlit

night near the Polar Star.

The man who carried the kettle is seen in the bend of the Great Dipper,

the middle star of the handle, while the only small star near any other

of the Dipper stars is the kettle. The bear may be seen as a star at

the lower outside corner.

Every autumn when the first frost comes there may be seen on the leaves

of the oak tree blood and drops of oil—not water, but oil—the oil and

blood of the bear. On seeing this the Indians say, “The lazy man has

killed the bear.”

55. THE STORY OF THE TWO BROTHERS

Two brothers living by themselves in the forest believed that they were

the only persons in the world. They were greatly devoted to each other.

The younger did the thinking and the planning for both, for whatever he

said the elder brother did.

One day the younger brother exclaimed, “Go yonder and kill that turkey,

for I want its feathers.” “I will,” answered the elder. So going to the

point indicated, the elder killed the turkey and brought its carcass to

his brother, asking, “What do you want to do with its feathers?” “I

want to wear them, because it will be a pleasure to know that I have

them on my head,” declared the younger brother, plucking two feathers

from the body of the turkey, for he required no more for his purpose.

Then he ordered his brother to fasten these in a socket attached to a

chin band, so that they would turn with the wind when worn on the head.

Having done this, the elder brother placed the socket so fastened on

his brother’s head. This gave the younger brother a distinguished

aspect.

Every night before retiring the younger brother would remove the chin

band with the socket containing the two plumes and hang it on the side

of the lodge. When daylight came the first thing he did was to fasten

on his head the chin band with the socket with its latchet of buckskin

thongs, exclaiming, “I take pleasure in these feathers, for I am going

to have a festival in their honor.”

One day the younger brother went into the forest adjoining the lodge.

His brother, watching from a distance, saw him go back to a fallen

tree. In a short time the elder brother heard singing and the sound of

dancing, whereupon he said, “I verily believe that my younger brother

is crazy,” for he had never seen such things done before. When the

younger brother returned to the lodge his brother asked him bluntly:

“What were you doing? Were you not dancing behind the tree? Why do you

go so far away from the lodge? You should have your dance right here in

this lodge. Why should you go off alone?” “You do not know the tune I

sing, and so I must sing alone,” was the answer. The elder brother

replied, “I should learn the tune, too, so that I could take part in

the singing of the song.” “No,” declared the younger brother, “I know

the tune, and if you want to take part with me, you may dance.” The

elder brother rejoined: “No; it is not right that I should dance while

I have no feathers in my headgear.” Answering, the brother said: “You

may change places with me if you wish. Then you shall hunt the smaller

game. I kill birds, and it is from them that I learn the songs. The

animals which you hunt and kill do not sing; but, perhaps, I could not

kill the large game because I am so small, and it may be that you could

not kill the birds because you are so large.” “Well,” replied the

elder, “you may have it all to yourself, and I will merely watch you

sing and dance.”

So the elder brother continued to hunt large game, and at times he

would hear the singing and the dancing as he came near their home. When

the younger brother would hear him approaching he would pretend to be

doing something quite different from dancing and singing. This conduct

caused the elder brother to wonder and to fear that something peculiar

was about to happen to both of them. Often he would say to his brother:

“Why did you stop hunting? You do not go to hunt any more.” The younger

brother answered: “I listen to the singing of the birds and so learn

their songs; this is why I do not shoot them.” “It is well,” rejoined

the elder brother, who continued to hunt such game as he required. But

one day his younger brother said to him, “My feathers are nearly worn

out, and I want you to kill another turkey for me.” So the elder

brother killed the largest turkey he could find, and then said to his

brother, “Skin this turkey instead of plucking its feathers.” He did as

requested, and the elder brother having made a pouch of the skin, asked

his brother, “Do you like this robe?” “I like it very much, and I am

thankful to you, brother,” was the answer. As the skin of the turkey

began to dry, the younger brother, getting into the pouch, would walk

around looking just like a turkey, and he seemed to enjoy greatly this

new form of dress. When he walked into the lodge, he would come out of

the skin, which he would hang up among his belongings. The elder one

said to him: “Brother, you must not go far from the lodge; it will not

be safe for you to do so.” “No,” said the younger brother, “I will stay

at home and take care of our things.” Matters continued thus for some

time.

One day the younger brother said: “You must stay at home, not going to

hunt today. Instead, you must learn to sing my songs. What I do now

shall be the practice of our people hereafter, if we ever have any

people or kindred; hence you must learn these songs.” So he made a rule

that people of his tribe should wear feathers as insignia. The elder

meditated on this matter, wondering how the younger brother could have

such prophetic thoughts. “Now,” said the youth to his brother, “I am

going to sing, and you must listen and must learn what I sing.” So he

sang a war song. His elder brother asked him, “What kind of a song is

that?” The youth replied: “It is a war song.”

From the time that the youth had commenced to study the singing of the

birds he had begun to grow wise and had become experienced in the ways

of the world (i.e., of the world of daimons). He kept saying, “These

are songs which the people shall sing, and they, too, shall wear

feathers on their heads.” The people had never heard anyone else sing,

but the youth had studied out the matter from hearing the birds sing.

He declared to his brother the dangers connected with singing the

songs, saying, “You must be very careful about singing this song; if

you are not, it will bring you senseless to the ground.” Then he added:

“I am singing praises, for I have learned to sing from the birds. I

give thanks as I have heard them given in my hunting expeditions. I

dance to my own songs because I hear the birds sing, and I see them

dance. You and I must do the same, for it will rouse a feeling of joy

in our hearts.” Thus, the youth was the wiser of the two brothers.

Once when they were out hunting the younger brother saw a large bird

sitting over them on a large tree. When the bird began to sing the

elder brother knew that his brother must have learned a song from this

bird, for he recognized a song which had been taught to him. “You are

wise,” said he to the youth, “and now I shall believe that a higher

magic power directs the birds to teach us songs which possess powerful

orenda (magic power).” Thereupon he began to sing a song of his own,

which was different from that of his brother. “Do you think that I can

dance to your song?” asked the youth. “I shall try, at any rate.”

Instead of singing it, the elder said, “I will tell you the words of

the song, namely: ‘I am glad to see the day dawn. I am thankful for the

beautiful sunbeams.’” “I know what that song is,” said the youth; “it

is different from mine, and it has not so much joy in it; whenever we

are sad we will draw our words from it; we will sing it and gain

courage and strength thereby.”

Then the youth said, “You would better go to your hunting, and I will

go to mine.” As the elder brother was starting off, the youth leaped

into his turkey-skin pouch, saying, “Brother, let me go with you.” “I

go so far away,” he replied, “that it would tire you out, so I do not

think you should go.” But as the youth insisted on going, finally the

elder said, “I will let you go part of the way, but I can not let you

go all the way, for that would be too much for you to undertake.” So

they started, the youth dressed in the turkey-skin garb following his

brother far into the forest, whereupon the elder said, “I think this is

as far from home as you should go; now you would better return

thither.” So the youth, prancing around like a turkey, went home. The

elder brother had noticed that lately the youth never removed his

turkey-skin robe, wearing it even at night. Not liking to have the

little fellow wear this robe all the time, he asked him to take it off

when retiring for the night. But the youth replied, “You made it for

me, and I like to wear it constantly.” He always gave this same answer.

As he dearly loved his younger brother, the elder did not order him to

take it off.

The youth played just as turkeys play, and when he saw wild turkeys he

would imitate the noises made by them; he was learning all the habits

of the turkey, and no longer wore feathers on his head; his voice began

to change and it did not sound to his brother as it formerly had. The

elder brother wondered about and worried over this conduct of the

youth. At last he commanded the younger one to remove his turkey-skin

robe. He replied, “I can not take it off, so you will have to take it

off of me.” On trying to do this, the elder brother found he could not

remove the robe, which had grown to the little fellow’s body, so he let

it alone.

The brothers always ate together when encamped in the same lodge. One

day the brother with the turkey-skin robe declared, “I will now go with

you, but you must be strictly on your guard, for something strange is

about to happen.” The youth was very wise; his counsel and advice

seemed superior to the opinions of any other man and beyond the

comprehension of his elder brother. Once when the elder brother,

returning, failed to find his brother at home he went to bed. But in

the morning he heard his brother on the roof of the lodge making the

noises which turkeys make at the break of day, whereupon he was

convinced that the youth had really turned into a turkey. This

conviction made him feel very strange. Soon he heard his brother jump

to the ground and come into the lodge. On entering he exclaimed:

“Brother! brother! a woman is coming. I think she desires to see you,

but you must be exceedingly cautious, for something may happen to us.

By all means you must not accompany her if she asks you to do so; but

if you do go I shall follow you.” That day when the woman came she saw

in front of the lodge what she took to be a turkey, and eyed it

carefully. Thereupon the youth acted as much as possible like a turkey

in order to deceive her the more completely. On entering the lodge the

woman found the elder brother, whom she had come to take away, and said

to him, “I have come purposely to have you accompany me home.” In

replying, he said, “I shall ask my brother, to learn what he will think

about this matter.” Going out, he consulted with his younger brother,

who had in appearance become a turkey, saying, “That woman has come.

What is to be done?” The answer came: “Have I not told you that she

would come? She is a great sorceress whose purpose is to destroy us.

You must tell her that you are not ready to go today, but that you and

your brother will go tomorrow. I foresee that if we go something evil

will happen to us if we are not very cautious.” Going into the lodge,

the elder brother said to the woman, “We will start as soon as we can

get ready.” She did not once suspect that what she had taken for a

turkey was the other brother. The brother with the turkey-skin robe

decided to remain in the lodge that night, lest something evil might

befall his elder brother; so he placed himself on a convenient perch,

the woman thinking he was a tame turkey. The next morning neither of

the brothers thought of eating anything. The elder said, “I think that

I shall have to accompany this woman,” to which the Turkey Brother

replied: “It is very wrong of you to go. She is a great sorceress, and

we can not overcome her orenda.”

The woman had come from the west, where the two brothers had never

been. When the Turkey Brother saw the woman and his brother leave the

lodge together, he followed them for some time, noting that they went

westward. He said to himself, “I do not see why you agreed to go.” The

Turkey Brother was now alone. Toward evening he felt very lonely, and

he spent an anxious night. In the morning he mused with a heavy heart,

saying, “My poor brother! The woman has taken him away; and if anything

happens to him, I shall dream of it.” After the lapse of some time he

said, “Well, I must go after my brother.” Traveling westward, the

Turkey Brother came to an opening in the forest in which stood a lodge,

whereupon he said, “This must be the place.” The old woman of the lodge

said: “There is a turkey outside. Perhaps it has come to stay with us;

it is very tame.” The elder brother now knew that his Turkey Brother

had come after him, and going out of the lodge, he met him. The

sorceress took a fancy to the Turkey Brother and did not think of

killing him. Toward night one of the women sought to place the Turkey

Brother by himself for the night, but he perched on an open gable end

of a lodge in order to be able to see and hear what was taking place on

the inside. After the two women had gone a short distance from the

lodge, the Turkey Brother said: “Brother, how can you endure the abuse

which these women heap upon you? They never give you a mouthful to eat,

for they intend to kill you. I have come to tell you this, for I have

discovered what they are going to do. I am going home now, but I will

take you away from them.” So saying, he started eastward. As his

captive brother watched him, he remarked, “It is fortunate that he can

go where he likes.”

On the way homeward the Turkey Brother became so anxious about his

brother that be grew enraged at the woman. When he reached home he

thought of some scheme by which he might be able to cast off his

turkey-skin robe, for he had definitely decided in his own mind that he

had worn the disguise long enough. But how to get rid of it was the

question, for it had grown to him. At last, however, he was able to

free himself from the garment. Hanging it up, he put his plumed

chin-band on his head. While eating his meal he kept thinking of his

brother. Finally, he exclaimed, “Now is the time!” and being in his

human form, he called on his tutelary, the Moose, for aid. The words of

appeal had scarcely left his mouth before the Moose stood before him,

awaiting his pleasure. He said to the Moose: “You must go westward to

the place where live the old woman and her daughters, who hold my

brother captive. This is the time of day that he goes out of the lodge.

I want you to save him—you can do so by carrying him in this way

(jumping on the Moose’s back)—and when you have him on your back, you

must run with all your speed, being careful not to let my brother fall

off. You must also take off your plumes (meaning his horns), put mine

in their place; yours are too heavy for running swiftly.” Thereupon the

Moose said, “Let us try it,” and after running with the little fellow

on his back and completing a large circle, the Moose returned to the

starting point. Then the Moose held down its head and the little

fellow, taking off the horns, placed in their stead his own plumed

chin-band, saying: “When you return I will put back your plumes. Now,

my brother has come out of the lodge and is looking for a place in

which to die, for he has determined not to die in the lodge of the old

woman. So go!” With a bound the Moose was off in the direction of the

lodge, and the little fellow remarked to himself, “The Moose will soon

be back with my brother.” Before very long he heard a noise outside his

lodge, and looking out, saw his brother hanging on the neck of the

Moose, so weak that he could scarcely get him off. The little fellow

pulled him by the feet until he dropped to the ground. Although he

landed on his feet, he could not stand, but the younger brother managed

to get him into the lodge. Coming out, he gave back to the Moose his

horns, receiving in return his own plumes; thereupon he dismissed the

Moose. Then he chided his brother, saying: “I told you not to go with

that woman, but you would not listen to me. Now you have suffered a

great punishment, but I am glad that you are back home. Your journey

has caused me great trouble. We are now free from the woman and can now

live happily together.”

56. SʻHODIEONSKON [127] (THE TRICKSTER)

Sʻhodieonskon went on a journey to distant places in visits of

adventure. In the first place he came to he found a large number of

lodges. Here he told the people that in his village everyone was ill of

a certain disease; that the same disease would come to them, too; and

that his people had discovered but one cure for it—all persons who were

married slept with other men’s wives and other women’s husbands, and

this saved them. Believing this, the people did as he had told them.

Then Sʻhodieonskon started off in another direction. When he came in

sight of the second village he began to call out according to the

custom of runners, Goʹweh! goʹweh! so the people knew that news of some

kind was coming. As they gathered around him after his arrival, he told

them that a plague was upon the place from which he had come, and that

if they wished to prevent or cure this plague they must cut holes in

the bark walls of their lodges and close these by putting their

buttocks into them, and that all the families must do this. Going home,

the people defecated into their lodges through these holes in the

walls, whereupon Sʻhodieonskon mocked them for being fools, and thrust

his walking-stick through the holes as he went, jeering at them, from

lodge to lodge, before his departure.

In the next adventure he met a crowd of men; this time he wore long

hair reaching to the ground. All looked at his hair, wondering how he

got it. When they asked him, he said that he had climbed a tree and,

after tying his hair to a limb, jumped off. In this way the hair became

stretched as much as he wanted. Further, they could do likewise if they

wished. After Sʻhodieonskon had gone his way one of the men, saying, “I

am going to make my hair long,” climbed a tree and, having tied his

hair to a limb, jumped down. His scalp was torn off, and, falling to

the ground, he was killed. The other people, enraged, said, “That man

is Sʻhodieonskon; we must overtake and kill him.” Running after him,

they soon came in sight of a creek, in which they saw a man spearing

fish. Every little while, raising his foot, he would pull off a fish,

for he had sharpened his leg and was using it for a spear. They watched

him take several fish from his leg. When they reached the bank he came

up out of the water. They were astonished at the number of fish he had

caught and asked him how he had taken so many. “You can all see,” he

replied, “I have sharpened my leg and use it for a spear; when I get

all the fish I want I spit on my leg, and it becomes as well as

before.” Then he showed them how he did it. He put the fish he had

speared on a string. Then the men wanted to spear fish, so they asked

him, “Can not you sharpen our legs, so that we may spear fish?” After

he had sharpened their legs, entering the water, they went to work,

while he disappeared. Presently they began to feel sore and had caught

nothing. So they all came up, and sitting on the bank, they spat on

their legs and rubbed them, but this treatment was of no efficacy in

healing their wounds. Meanwhile Sʻhodieonskon was far out of sight on

his way to a new village.

When Sʻhodieonskon drew near to the third village he called out,

Goʹweh! goʹweh! The people gathered around him, asking what had

happened. He told them that in the place whence he had come the young

men were killing all the old ones, who could be saved only if the women

would give themselves to the young men; so the women did so, and

nothing happened to the old men.

Sʻhodieonskon then hurried to another place. When he arrived there, all

asked what the matter was in his place. “Another sickness,” he said,

but he had the medicine to cure it. This medicine was bear’s oil, which

he carried in a bark bowl (it was his urine). He sold it to the

villagers to be drunk with their food. When warm it crackled like salt.

Although they knew it was not oil, they drank it. As he left the

village he said that he had never seen such stuff eaten before, and

ridiculed them.

Continuing his journey, Sʻhodieonskon met a man, and they sat down by

the trail. He offered the man a cake which corresponded to the oil he

had just sold, but the man refused to eat it and went his way.

Sʻhodieonskon, not to be baffled, called up a couple of bears. When

they came to him he said: “I want you to carry me. I will rest one foot

on one of you and the other foot on the other. We will go in this

direction, running around until we meet a man. I will tell this man

that I will give you to him to mount, and when he places one foot on

each of you his feet will become fastened to your backs, whereupon you

must go in opposite directions, tearing him apart.” Having agreed to do

this, they soon ran around ahead of the man, to whom Sʻhodieonskon

said, “I have ridden these bears so long that I am tired of them; if

you would like, I will give them to you.” They seemed so tame and were

so fine-looking that the man gladly took them and jumped on their

backs, whereupon his feet grew fast to them in a moment. After running

together a little way the bears ran in different directions. The man,

badly injured and half dead, finally became free from the bears. He

said to himself, “Well, I have found Sʻhodieonskon.”

Sʻhodieonskon, having journeyed farther, met a party of young women.

Stopping them, he said: “It is not best for you to continue on that

road—it is dangerous, for when you meet a man dressed in hemlock boughs

you must not be afraid, but must do everything he wants you to do, so

as to keep on friendly terms with him.” Going on through the woods, the

women soon saw something moving in front of them, which they noticed

was covered with hemlock boughs. They were frightened, but after a

while one of them, saying “I will not be afraid,” went straight up to

him and talked with him some time behind a tree. Then she came back,

telling the others to go, that there was nothing to be afraid of. So

they went, one by one, and after all had been there he went away. One

of the women whistled out his name and called him, but he had gone

after fooling them all. Sʻhodieonskon and the man in the hemlock boughs

were one.

Sʻhodieonskon went on again, soon coming to an opening where there was

a number of bark lodges. Going into the lodges he said, “There is a man

coming to destroy all the people, and to escape him they must cover all

the smoke-holes, for he has a long spear which he thrusts into them to

spear the people.” Then he invented a name for the man. All went to

work covering the smoke-holes of their lodges. The chief of the village

had two beautiful wives. Sʻhodieonskon coveted them and did not tell

the chief the story of the man with the spear. When all the other

lodges were covered and full of smoke, Sʻhodieonskon ran over the

roofs, frightening everybody almost to death; not daring to go out, all

remained half stifled in the smoke. At last Sʻhodieonskon, climbing the

roof of the chief’s lodge, speared him to death and took his wives and

all he had.

In due time the funeral of the chief was held, and all came to bury

him. Sʻhodieonskon, appearing among the mourners, cried, saying: “I am

sorry for the chief; he was a friend of mine, and now he is dead and

gone. I am so sad. I do not wish to live. You must bury me with him.”

So they put Sʻhodieonskon in the ground beside the chief. The next day

some boys who were out at play heard a man calling for help, his voice

seeming to come from the graveyard, whereupon they went to the spot.

The voice seeming to come out of the grave, they ran and told the

people. The people agreed to dig him up. When they had done so

Sʻhodieonskon, standing on the ground, said: “There is a very important

thing to be done. I came back because the chief had two wives; they

mourn for their husband, and I feel sorry for them. I am sent back to

marry the two widows.” After talking over the affair the people said it

was a great thing that a man should be sent back from the other world

to marry the widows of their chief, so they consented to the

arrangement, and Sʻhodieonskon, having married them, settled down.

57. THE CANNIBAL UNCLE, HIS NEPHEW, AND THE NEPHEW’S INVISIBLE BROTHER

An uncle and his nephew dwelt together in a forest, subsisting by

hunting. They lived in a lodge which had a partition through the middle

and a door at each end. Neither one ever entered the part occupied by

the other, all communication between them being held by means of

conversation carried on through the partition. Each went in and out of

his own part of the lodge whenever he liked, but never dared to cross

the threshold of the other’s room.

After a time the nephew, a handsome young man, discovered his uncle’s

true nature—he was a man-eater, an Ongwe Ias.

One day a woman came to the nephew’s room. The next morning at dawn the

uncle exclaimed, “My nephew has two ways of breathing.” The young man,

speaking to himself, said: “My uncle is mistaken. I am only talking to

myself.” “Oh!” said the old man, “My nephew can not deceive me. There

are two in his room, and I am glad that some wild game has come to

visit him.”

The old man then said that he was going out to hunt. When the uncle had

gone the young man said to his wife: “My uncle knows that you are here,

and now you must heed my words, or he will kill and eat you. Three

other women have been here before you. He killed and devoured them all,

for they disregarded my warnings. Now, before I go, I will bring water

and wood and everything else you want, so you will not need to go out.

I will also get a vessel for your use. If you go out you are lost; my

uncle will surely kill you. As soon as I leave the lodge, he will come

back, for he knows you are here.” After he left the door, the young man

turned back and again warned his wife not to disobey him.

The moment the husband was out of sight in the woods the uncle came to

the door. Having the power of commanding things to be done which he did

not see, the uncle said, “Let it be necessary for the woman to go out.”

When he saw that she did not come out he said, “Let the water with

which she is cooking boil away.” The water boiled away, but as she had

plenty more she did not go out. Seeing this, the uncle became terribly

angry, and said, “I will get her out in one way or another.” Now the

old uncle was a man-eater, and the nephew had discovered that instead

of hunting beasts and birds he hunted human beings, and that every man

or woman he met, he killed, and having brought home the body on his

shoulders, he cooked and ate the flesh. The nephew hunted game, for the

uncle had always made him find his own food.

This day, as the young man was returning, he saw smoke rising from his

end of the lodge, whereupon he thought, “All is well; my uncle has not

been able to kill my wife.” When he entered he thanked her for her

obedience. In the evening about dusk they heard the old man come in and

knew that he had brought nothing. He called out: “What luck has my

nephew had to-day?” “I have had good luck,” replied the nephew. The

uncle said, “I found nothing.” Now he muttered to himself about his

nephew, blaming him for hiding his uncle’s game in his part of the

lodge, and saying that he would have his own. He heard the two

breathing and could not be deceived. Determined to have something to

eat, the old man pounded bones into small pieces and putting them into

a large kettle which he filled with water, he made soup. The husband

and wife on the other side of the partition did not talk.

The nephew decided to leave the place. As he had been thinking of doing

so for some time, he had his plans well laid. Unobserved by his uncle

he had walked in circles around the lodge, going farther and farther

each day. When he had made paths three days’ journey in circuit he told

his wife what he intended to do. That night the uncle said: “I am going

to be absent two or three days. I can find no game in all this country

about here.” “Well,” said the nephew, “hunters go where they can find

something to kill and are often gone many days. I, too, am going

farther. Game is getting scarce in our neighborhood.”

The young man, being possessed of orenda (magic power), had caused a

lodge to be built in a place distant six days’ journey. He told his

wife that he had an invisible brother in that lodge, to whom he would

send her; that this brother was then under the lodge, and that no

stranger had ever seen him. Hitherto this invisible brother had always

accompanied him, but in the future would assist her. Taking an arrow

from his quiver he removed the head. Then, after shaking his wife until

she was only a couple of inches long, he put her into the arrow and

replaced the point, saying, “In three days I will follow you.” Then

sending the arrow toward the east, at the same instant he heard the

calling of the Gwenhgwenhonh [128] (the feathers on the arrow were

taken from this bird), and all the way the arrow sang with the voice of

the Gwenhgwenhonh. He could see the trail of the arrow as it went

through the air.

The nephew remained in his part of the lodge, waiting, and in three

days the old man appeared without game. When he came in, talking with

himself, he said: “What luck has my nephew had?” “Very good. I have

plenty to eat,” answered the nephew. The old man continued: “I found

nothing; this hunting ground is barren, and my eyes see no more game.

But though I have no fresh food, I have plenty of bones here in this

pile, which I shall break up and have a soup.” Then the young man heard

his uncle breaking up the bones; there was a terrible racket and

crushing. At last the young man said, “My uncle makes too much noise.”

“My nephew would not find fault if he were in my place. I am trying to

get something to eat,” came the retort, and the old man, paying no heed

to what his nephew said, kept hard at work. The next morning at

daybreak he said, “I am going to hunt, and I shall be away for three

days.” “I am glad,” thought the nephew; he was very angry with his

uncle and ready to fight.