before he made a straight line for his new lodge. Glancing up, he saw
the arrow’s trail,[129] which looked like a rainbow in the sky. He took
a long leap, and as he leaped he ran up in the air, far over the woods
and on a level which still kept him in the air. As he was going along,
he looked back to see whether he could discover his own trail. The
trail of the arrow, which was in the form of a rainbow, seemed to roll
up and dissolve in a mist as he passed along, ending in the dooryard,
where he had told his wife the arrow would strike. Entering the lodge,
there he found his wife.
One day the invisible brother saw an arrow come into the dooryard;
striking the ground, it burst asunder and a woman came out. She went
into the lodge, where she saw her bother-in-law, who said: “I knew you
were coming. I am glad you obeyed your husband, for your obedience has
enabled you to accomplish this great journey.” He continued: “You have
never seen me before; no one but my brother has ever seen me, and he
only two or three times. I know what will come to us from the wrath of
our uncle; he will pursue us and if possible will destroy you.” The
husband was six days making the journey to the lodge where his brother
was, which was situated near a lake.
When uncle got home and was talking to his nephew in the other room he
received no answer; at this he grew very angry. Making up his mind that
his nephew was not at home, he went out to look for his trail in order
to learn which way he had gone. Finally, on striking the trail, he
found it was some time since he had left; the footprints looked about
as old as his own made three days before. Going back to the lodge he
muttered: “I will follow him tomorrow; the world is so small that he
can not escape me. I will follow him everywhere.” Now, the invisible
brother, though a great way off, heard the uncle talking to himself,
heard his threats: “My daughter-in-law will never get out of my reach.
I will go to the outskirts of the world very quickly. I do not see why
he takes her away, thinking she can escape; he will never succeed, for
I will have her flesh.” The invisible brother told his brother what the
uncle said.
The next morning the uncle set out. After following the trail until
night he determined to go home, trying again the next day. Looking up,
he saw his lodge was near. He had been going round and round. At this
he was angry, and said, “Tomorrow I will get on the trail again.” As
soon as it was daylight he started. As he went on he found the trail
was almost extinct, but he continued to follow it. He kept on until
midday, when he found that he had not made much progress. He was near
his lodge again. “Be it so,” he said; “let my nephew be possessed of
the sorcery of all the animals, I will have his wife’s flesh for all
that.” The uncle followed the trail three days more until at last he
reached the end, whereupon he cried out exultingly, “My
daughter-in-law’s flesh is mine.” Looking up in the air, he discovered
his nephew’s trail. While the trail of the arrow was lost, the
footprints of the nephew remained on the clouds.[130]
After the old man had traveled one day, the nephew said to his wife:
“Now, we must go; our uncle is on our trail, and he is determined to
have your life. Therefore be cautious. Do exactly as I bid you.” As the
uncle followed on the ground the trail that he saw in the air, he
muttered to himself. The invisible brother heard him. All started for
the beach, the woman taking the lead, and the husband stepping in her
footprints. As they looked across the lake they could see smoke. The
husband said, “We will go yonder to that lodge and stop there for the
night.” As they were going along the beach he halted, and, taking a
clamshell from his bosom, threw it toward the other side of the lake.
At once the banks came so close together that the woman could step
over. After they had crossed, on looking back they could scarcely see
the other shore. The nephew had crossed to a new lodge in order to
delay his uncle, thinking that when the old man came to the water he
would be long in crossing and would lose the trail. Telling his wife to
say nothing, the young man left her, to hunt.
Soon the uncle appeared on the opposite bank, running back and forth
searching everywhere. Feeling sure that they had crossed, he called
out, “Daughter-in-law! daughter-in-law! how did you cross the lake?” As
he labored up and down the woman stood watching him from the other
bank. Taking pity on the weary old man, though knowing he wished to
devour her, she said in her mind (she did not speak), “Why does he not
throw the shell?” [131] As she thought this, he heard distinctly what
she said in her mind. So he stooped, and picking up a shell, threw it.
The banks came together, and when she looked to see where he was, she
was terrified to find him at her heels. Catching her by the hair, he
said: “I knew that I should eat you.132 My nephew had no right to keep
the game from me. He took my game and held it as his wife.” With one
blow the old man cut her head off. She had been left alone, as her
husband was hunting, and the invisible brother was not near to warn
her, so she was lost.
The lake had now expanded to its proper width. Taking off her raiment,
the old man threw it into his nephew’s lodge, saying, “Be you a
helpmate to my nephew.” He then cut the body open, finding that it
contained twins. He hid the children with the head and breast of the
mother in a hollow tree, and gave thanks that his nephew had preserved
the game so long, for he would have a second meal at another time.
After washing the bloodstains from the body in the lake he put the body
on his back and then threw the shell. When the banks closed together,
he stepped over, and as he looked back, he saw the lake spread out
again.
On coming home soon after, the nephew expected to see smoke rising from
his lodge, but saw none. “There! my word has come true; she has
forgotten my warning.” Looking around, he saw his uncle’s tracks,
whereupon he said, “Such is my luck. I can not help it.” Then he began
to cook his meal. Shortly he discovered his wife’s clothing. Having
become accustomed to his uncle’s behavior, he was not much astonished,
nor did he feel very badly because his uncle had now killed his fourth
wife. While cooking supper he had to go for water. As he stooped down
to get it, he heard a voice say, “Your uncle has killed me. Your uncle
has killed me, has killed me.” On looking toward the willows out of
which the voice came, he saw them bespattered with his wife’s blood,
whereupon he knew that she had been murdered. He had two proofs now—his
uncle’s tracks and the speaking blood. Becoming disheartened, he
decided never to go back to his uncle’s lodge. He continued hunting
with two dogs, and being successful, took pleasure in doing this. On
returning to camp one day he discovered tracks around his fire—two
little trails. For some time he paid no attention to these, though he
found them whenever he came home. They looked like children’s tracks,
but he could not believe they were such, thinking that perhaps some
little animal had gotten into the lodge. At last, looking at his store
of meat, he saw that one of the pieces was gone from the row; he
thought some animal must have taken it. Things continued in this way
until finally the meat was carried away at such a rate that he resolved
to find out what was going on at home. The next day still more meat was
taken. He found that the stolen piece had struck the ground, and having
been dragged out of doors, had been drawn along. He followed the trail
until he came to a big hollow log, at the opening in which the trail
disappeared. While sure that some animal lived in the tree, he made no
further discovery.
The next day the nephew started off to hunt, but after going a short
distance into the woods, he stopped to watch his lodge. Looking down
from a hill near by, he saw two little children run into the lodge.
Thereupon, hurrying back, he continued his watch. He soon saw them come
out, dragging a piece of meat. (They used to go to where the meat was
hanging, and climbing up as best they could, throw it to the ground.)
They had all they could drag, for two pieces were tied together. Going
straight to the farther end of the log, they disappeared, dragging the
meat after them. He thought, “Tomorrow I will catch them.” He had
learned that they could talk, for as they pulled the meat along, he
heard one say, “Hurry up; father will soon come.”
The next morning, after going a short distance, he hid himself and
waited. The time seemed long. At last the children came from the log,
and entering the lodge, closed the door. Then the father ran up and
went in himself, fastening the door after him. The moment the children
saw him, they began to cry. “Why do you cry,” he asked, “I am your
father. Do not cry.” At this they stopped crying. Then he said, “You
will stay here with me.” As he had overheard them calling him father,
he asked, “How do you know that I am your father?” As he questioned
them, sitting by the fire, he on one side and the two children together
on the other, one of them, who was slightly larger than the other,
said: “Your uncle came over here and killed our mother, cutting off her
head and her breasts. Then he threw her intestines into a hollow log.
We were among the intestines, and as the breasts were there, we drew
milk from them and so were able to live. Her head is there with us now.
As the boy answered readily, the father asked him what they did with
the meat they took from the lodge. “We come,” said the boy, “to get the
meat to feed our mother.” The father said, “You must now live with me.”
He then made little ball clubs and a ball for them to play with in the
dooryard; he was so kind that they were willing to stay.
Whenever their father went hunting they would go and feed their mother.
Once when the father came home, one of the boys said to him, “Our
mother is very hungry, for we have not fed her today.” The father
replied: “Feed her; give her all she will take. I have no objection. As
you know, we always have plenty of meat, so you may take as much as you
please to feed your mother.” He was very kind to the children, because
he loved them, and to keep them from running away, he let them do as
they liked with what was in the lodge. He soon discovered, however,
that his stock of meat was disappearing very fast, faster than he could
bring in more. This continued until he began to feel discouraged and
frightened. The boy said to his father when the latter returned one
day, “My mother eats all the time,” telling how much she ate, and asked
his father to go and see her. The father went to the tree with the
boys, and on looking in, saw two great eyes in a skull from which the
teeth were projecting and the flesh had disappeared, and the bones of
which were somewhat bruised.
The boys asked, “Now, father, what do you think?” “I am afraid,” he
answered, “that after she has eaten all our meat she will eat us.”
“Let us go to some other part of the world, so she will have to travel
far to overtake us,” said one of the boys; “we can not feed her any
longer, for she never gets enough now, and we are tired.” The man saw
that, do what they might, she would not be satisfied. The boys said,
“We will go away first if you like.” The father answered: “You may go.
Your mother has become a man-eater. You may escape.” The next morning
the boys started westward with the dogs. The father said he would not
go just then, but that he would follow. He had to go in another
direction and therefore would go southward first. When the children
were a short distance from the lodge the dogs looked at them, and
thinking how hard it was for them to trudge along, the larger dog said
to the larger boy, “Come! get on my back;” and the smaller dog said to
the smaller boy, “Come! get on my back.” Both mounting the dogs, away
they went. The dogs ran so swiftly that the hair of the boys’ heads
streamed backward, and they enjoyed the ride so much that the woods
were full of their laughter. After they had gone a long distance, for
the dogs went like the wind, they saw traces of human beings. There
were places where the trees had been cut down. The dogs said, “Now you
would better slip off and go on foot to the settlement.” The boys were
unwilling to go, but the dogs were determined, and shaking themselves,
as if they had just been in water, the children tumbled off. Telling
the children again to go on to the settlement, the dogs went back to
their master. He had told them that he would leave in two days, for
then the Head would come out of the tree and go into the lodge; then
climbing up to the place where the meat was kept, the Head would eat it
all.
The boys had told their father that by going southward he would find
uncles who might help him escape, for they were just such powerful men
as his old uncle was. When the dogs got back to their master they said
that he must make every effort he could to escape; that they would
remain until the last piece of meat was gone, but that he must go at
once. The lives of all were in danger, for when the meat was all eaten
the Head would fly in the direction of her people, although they (the
dogs) would stay and detain the Head as long as possible. “In three
days all the meat will be devoured: flee for your life; go south toward
your other uncles, for she will follow you,” the dogs said.
The man did as the dogs advised, starting off southward and going with
great speed, for he was a good runner. Two days after he had left home
one of the dogs overtook him and said: “The meat is all gone and she is
now trying to find the trail of her children. She can follow it as far
as they walked, but no farther, for we took them on our backs at a
certain distance from the lodge and carried them far away. They are now
in the west. Be on your guard. She will soon strike your trail and
pursue you. Follow me! The Head is very angry.” As the dog looked back
he said: “The Head has started and is coming. We have never seen so
great witchcraft as she has, although we have seen much, but this we
are not able to comprehend. As you have always said, there is no one
living who can outrun you; now use all your strength.”
When the Head started, the dogs left behind did all they could to delay
her, biting her whenever she turned to pursue them, and dodging into
the ground. As the Head went on again they would spring at her; and
when she turned on them they would again escape into the ground. Her
track could be seen plainly, for the bark was all bitten from the
trees, where the dogs kept her back and prevented her from flying
ahead.
All at once, one of the little boys, far off in the west, said to his
brother, “Our father is to be pitied; our mother has turned into some
strange being and is pursuing him.” Soon a second dog came up to the
man, saying, “Your wife has changed into a Flying Head and is possessed
of such power that we do not know how to detain her any longer. My
brother dog and I are doing all we can, but you must hurry; you must
keep straight ahead. Go always toward the south.” The man ran with all
his might. Seeing a lodge at a distance he ran up to it, and entering,
said to an old man sitting there: “Uncle, help me! Something is after
me that is going to take my life. Help me!” “All right. Although I do
not know what it is, I will help you all I can; but hurry on to the
next lodge; there you will find your aunts,” replied the old man. The
man had got about halfway between the two lodges when he heard a
terrible noise. Looking back, he saw that the Flying Head had reached
his uncle’s lodge, and that they were fighting with all their strength.
There was a terrible struggle about the lodge. Soon he saw that his
uncle was killed, and that a great black cloud rose up into the sky
from the spot.[133] The uncle had told his nephew that after the Head
had killed him a dark cloud would go up to the very heavens. At that
moment the dog came up again, saying, “Your uncle is killed; he was
never beaten before in his life.” When she had killed his uncle the
Head rushed after the husband, for she had eaten every bit of the
uncle’s flesh in a moment. “Hurry!” said the dog; “we are sure to die;
we have but two places of refuge left, it is through your uncle who
killed her that she has become a witch.”
As the man ran on, nearly exhausted, he saw a lodge, and running into
it, he called to his aunts, “Help me! Help me! Something is after me to
take my life.” “Poor man,” said his aunts, “hurry on; we will do what
we can to delay the Head. Go to the next lodge, where your mothers
live; if we can not detain her, perhaps they will be able to help you.”
He was not out of sight when he heard his aunts call to their children
to have courage, and then he heard a great tumult. When the Head flew
into the lodge, it bit at everything with which it came in contact,
tearing it to pieces. The women attacked the Head with clubs, and there
came to his ears the sound of the blows of the clubs on the skull. When
halfway to the other place, all was still at his aunts’ lodge.
Suddenly he heard his brother calling out, “Run! or we are lost.” The
invisible brother who urged him forward pushed him by the neck whenever
he was near, and then they seemed to run faster. They were in a great
hurry to reach the lodge, and he pushed him on until they were there.
Thereupon the man called on his mothers, saying, “Mothers, help me!
help me!” “Oh, poor son! you are in trouble; go on—we will do what we
can.” He hurried through the lodge. The Head came in as he went out,
and the dog, running around the lodge, urged him on. The brother was
invisible when they passed through the lodge. The mothers called out to
all their children, “Kill the Head if you can!” All got their most
deadly and potent weapons, and the two brothers heard the old mothers
urge their children to fight with all their strength. The dogs remained
outside the door, ready to fly at the Head when she came out. One of
the women stumbled and fell, whereupon the Head, after catching and
hurling her out, devoured her in an instant.
The old mothers now cautioned their children again to take great care
and make no missteps. Now the youngest one thought of some bear’s fat
they had in the lodge, and the idea came to her that the only way they
could kill the Head was by use of this. After the Head had eaten the
first girl and was chasing the others through the lodge the bear’s oil
began to boil.[134] As they threw the boiling oil, it singed and burned
the Head, killing it (the animated Head was merely the skull with long
projecting teeth).
All wishing to give thanks, the mothers said: “We ought to have a game
of ball. Your brother is free. It is our duty to give thanks. The ball
shall be this Head.” Picking up the Head, she carried it out, calling
in a loud voice, “Here, warriors! is a ball you can have to play with.”
Soon a great crowd of people came together with their netted clubs and
began to play. All the players were wild beasts of the woods. The man
stood near and saw the wild beasts playing ball with his wife’s head.
All tried to get the ball, and in this way they wore it out.
The dog now came up to his master and told him that his wife was dead;
and when it said “Your wife is dead,” his strength seemed to leave him;
his arms dropped down, and he was sad. The invisible brother said: “You
feel grieved; for my part I am glad. I do not see why you should be
sad; she would have devoured you if they had not killed her. Now there
is nothing to harm us. Your old uncle has gone back to his own home and
will not trouble us now that he has eaten your wife’s flesh.” He added:
“Your children are living in this direction (pointing westward); be of
good courage, and go after them. I shall return. You will continue in
one direction with your dogs until you reach the boys. You need never
fear to suffer such hardships again.” So saying, he went home, and when
the brother looked after him he had disappeared.
The man and his dogs went toward the west. The dogs had left the
children in a place near a village where an old woman lived with her
granddaughter. While the young girl was in the woods gathering fuel she
heard the sound of voices. On listening, as the wind came directly to
her, she discovered that they were human voices, and thought, “I will
ask grandmother what to do.” When she reached home with her wood she
told the old woman that she had heard children crying and asked her to
go to the woods to hear for herself. The old woman asked: “In what
direction were the voices? It is a pleasure to know that there are
children yet alive; they must be for us.” They went to the place. “Now
listen!” said the girl. “True,” said the grandmother. “Look everywhere
and find these children; they may be sent to us, as we are alone.” The
girl followed the sound, which she could hear distinctly as coming from
the ground. She kept on until she found the two children, seemingly a
year old, one slightly larger than the other. Going up to them she told
them to stop crying; that she would be their mother. As she stood there
talking her grandmother came, who pitied the children; she found that
they were clothed with skins. The grandmother said: “Now stop crying.
You shall be our children. I will be your grandmother and my
granddaughter will be your mother.” The girl added: “All we have shall
be yours. I will love you as a mother.” The boys stopped crying. Each
had his little bow and arrows and ball club. The children went home
with the women. The old woman said: “We will take care of these
children. There are many people in the village, but not a child among
them all. I lived here a long time, but have never seen a little
child.” The children soon seemed larger and sometimes would go to hunt
birds. They were never gone long at a time, and never went out of sight
of the lodge. “Grandmother,” called one of the boys one day, “come and
see what we have killed; it is all spotted and lies yonder in the
weeds.” “Where is it? Where is it?” she asked. The boys led the way,
but she could hardly keep in sight of them, as the weeds were tall. On
reaching the spot she found a fawn, a few hours old, which they had
killed. She carried it home, saying to herself: “I am thankful to have
these children; they will be great hunters in time; their game is
getting larger. First they kill birds, now a fawn.” When they did not
feel like hunting they would play out near the lodge and then go in and
sit down.
One day one of the boys said, “Our father is coming.” The other said,
“I hardly think our father is alive.” The old grandmother overhearing
this, told the boys to go out and shoot birds, for she wanted some to
roast and eat. The next day while the children were out a man came into
the lodge. The invisible brother had told him where he would find his
children, and that he must say when he came to the old woman’s lodge,
“Grandmother, I am thankful to see you,” and to the girl, “Sister, I am
very glad to see you.” As he went in he saw the old woman and saluted
her as grandmother; to the girl he said, “Sister.” One of the boys
outside said, “Our father has come.” The other replied: “I do not
believe this is he, for our father had two dogs. There are no dogs with
this man.” As the boy was bound to know, raising the doorflap slightly,
he saw his father sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face in
his hands. Noticing a red spot on his jaw, the boy said further: “Look
for yourself; see, he has a mark on his face; it is really he. Let us
go and see which way he came; we can tell his trail, and we will follow
it and see whether we can find the dogs.”
They had gone but a short distance when they found that the dogs had
gone in another direction, whereupon one of the boys said: “Let us
follow their tracks; father loves those dogs; let us find them.” In the
evening they found one dog sitting on a fallen tree. The larger boy
said: “There sits one of the dogs.” “Let us go and see if it is really
father’s dog,” said the other. On hearing the children’s voices the
dogs were as much pleased to see them as the boys were to see the dogs.
The boys now said, “Let us all go home.” The boys did not know the way,
however, so the dogs took the lead. It was late at night and very dark,
and the people at home were frightened and very anxious about the
children, not knowing where to look for them. When the boys came back,
the grandmother asked: “Why were you gone so long? Why did you frighten
us so?” “We were looking for our father’s dogs,” said they. Thereupon
they went into the lodge, the dogs following. The man was lying down,
so all went to sleep. All were now together again.
The young woman was the man’s own sister and the grandmother was his
grandmother. They all lived very happily together. And this is the
story.
58. DOONONGAES [135] AND TSODIQGWADON
Doonongaes, who lived at one end of Ganyodaes,[136] or Long Lake, had
such orenda (magic power) that no one in that region could influence or
control him. He claimed the lake and all that lived in its waters.
Doonongaes had a servant, Skahnowa,[137] who lived at the other end of
Ganyodaes, which was so long that one end of it could not be seen from
the other. Skahnowa’s work was to patrol the lake and keep off
intruders. One morning early he jumped up, saying, “I must be on my
rounds, for if I do not I shall be punished.” So he hurried along the
shore; soon he saw some one with a pole, evidently fishing. Skahnowa
approached and, seeing him eating a fish, he asked, “What are you doing
here?” “Oh! there is a great deal of fungus138 growing on the hickory
trees here,” replied the intruder. “If you are getting fungus from the
trees, why do you go to the water?” asked Skahnowa. “You see,” said the
man, who was Djidjogwen,139 “the fungus is sandy and I go to the lake
to wash it.” “Well,” said Skahnowa: “I think you have stolen something,
and you better give up one of your own people as a gift in payment140
for what you have taken. The owner of this lake will come soon and he
will settle with you. I am going on.” Djidjogwen stood on the bank and
kept thinking: “Can this be true? It is very strange if it be true that
one person owns this lake.” Going to his master, Skahnowa said: “I have
news for you. There is a man yonder at Dediosteniagon141 who is getting
fish out of the water very fast.” “I will stop him. I like to amuse
myself in this way,” said Doonongaes, who got his kettle ready at once
and, taking his club, started for the place.
Skahnowa continued his journey around the lake. When Doonongaes came in
sight of Dediosteniagon, looking around carefully, he saw a man [142]
some distance off. “Oh! that is the one,” thought he, and diving under
the water he came out right in front of Djidjogwen, who had pulled out
a great fish a moment before. “What are you doing?” asked Doonongaes.
“What business have you to meddle with my game animals?” “Oh! you are
mistaken. I am not meddling with them. I am merely eating the fungus143
that grows around here,” replied Djidjogwen. “Then how came that fish
here?” asked Doonongaes. “As I stood here a small bird flew along above
the water, and a fish, leaping up to catch the bird, perhaps, jumped
out here on the shore,” said Djidjogwen. “Oh! that is not true; I will
punish you,” snapped Doonongaes. Djidjogwen started to run. Doonongaes
followed and, striking him on the head with his club, killed him,
remarking, “That is the way I treat intruders on Ganyodaes.” He then
threw the body of the dead man over his shoulder and, after reaching
home, cooked his flesh. When the flesh was cool he ate the meat, which
he enjoyed much, and thanked Skahnowa for what he had done.
One morning Doonongaes said to his servant: “I am going on a long
journey, and I want you to be faithful in the performance of your duty.
If you find a trespasser, kill and eat him.” “Very well,” replied
Skahnowa, “it shall be done as you say.”
Doonongaes went westward, traveling day and night for a month. He
traveled till he came to a broad opening.[144] In the middle of the
opening he saw a lodge, which he could not reach without being seen.
“Very well,” thought he, “I will go underground.” He went into the
ground, and going forward until he thought he was at the right place he
came out. Peeping through a crack in the lodge wall, he heard singing,
and saw that there were two very old women inside. The words of the
song were, Onen waongiʹons ne ganio.145 “That does not sound well,”
thought Doonongaes; “I may get killed here. I will see whether I can
not steal this lodge.” So he pushed his horns under the lodge; then
lifting it on his head, he rushed away, carrying it on his horns. He
came very soon to the edge of the woods and ran into it. Finally he
heard a noise in the lodge. “Well,” said a voice, “it seems to me that
there is a terrible wind blowing.” (He went at such speed as to give
the impression of wind blowing past the lodge.) The other woman said:
“You must do all you can to stop it. Let us stand, you in one corner
and I in the other and sing our wind song.” Taking their places, they
said: “We beg you who have care of us to stop this wind. Our lodge is
so small that we are afraid it will blow away.” Then they sang Gaintho,
Gaintho.146 One of them, seeing the lodge moving, called out, “Hwu,147
our lodge is moving.” “Well,” said the other, “maybe Doonongaes has
come; he always troubles poor people; hurry up, go out and see.” So she
went out through the smoke-hole, and, looking around, saw that they
were far out in the dense woods. On taking an observation to see
whither the wind was going, she saw a long black body moving, and she
saw that their lodge was on it. Going in, she said, “As I looked down
the wind I saw a very black thing, which was so long that I could not
see the end of it.” “It is just as I said to you,” said the other
woman; “this is Doonongaes, who is making sport of us. Now, do your
best to punish him.”
These two old women, who were Gwidogwido [148] people, and sisters,
were possessed of such very powerful orenda (magic power) that it was
hard to conquer them by sorcery. Taking their clubs, therefore, they
went out of the smoke-hole. Then the elder of the two said: “Go to the
end of his tail; something is sticking out there. Strike it, and I will
try to cut its head off.” While the younger sister went to the tail,
the elder went to the neck joint. The younger sister, seeing objects
which resembled fins sticking out, began to pound these; soon she saw
that she was driving them in. “What shall I do,” thought she; “my
sister said these things would crumble to pieces.” She kept on
pounding, however, until she saw that something like milk began to come
out. She stopped striking them, whereupon the milklike fluid turned
into foam and came out stronger and stronger. At last, becoming
frightened, she ran to her sister, whom she found lying down, doing
nothing. She said, “Oh! my sister, what is the matter?” “Oh!” said the
elder, “I can not do anything; he has overpowered me by his orenda
(magic power); do the best you can.” The younger, driving their flint
knife into the neck joint, began to hammer it; finally the knife went
out of sight. Then she asked her sister, “What shall we do now?” “Our
only safety is to run away,” was the answer. The younger sister, going
down the smoke-hole, got a narrow strip of the skin of Djainosgowa.
This was the container of their magic power, or fetish. Coming back to
her sister, she said, “Now I am ready.” The elder answered: “Take hold
of one end of the skin and I will take the other. Then let us run to
the end of Doonongaes’ tail, where we will jump off and get away as
fast as we can.” It was a good while before they came to the end of the
tail. Then jumping off, they hurried along, not on the straight trail
but somewhat to one side of it.
Doonongaes, who was running all this time with great speed, said at
last, “I do not hear anyone talking.” Then his neck began to feel
tired, and he said, “This lodge wearies me,” and jerking his head, off
went the lodge, falling some distance away. On going up to it he found
it empty. “Very well. We shall soon see about this,” thought he: “No
one has ever been able to get away from me. I will put these two out of
the way.” Thereupon he ran back as fast as he could, saying, “When
could they have escaped? Oh! my neck is sore.” As he went he snuffed
the air to find the women. Halting and looking around he saw tracks
where they had jumped from his tail, for the earth was torn up. “Ha,
ha! you think you are going to escape me,” he said, starting with
lightning speed on their track. He ran until night. Toward morning he
said: “The pain in my neck is increasing. I wonder if I should better
go back. No; I can not give up this chase. I have always thought I
could allow no one to overpower me, so I will keep on.” At midday he
came to the end of the women’s trail, and could track them no farther.
Now, he thought, “What shall I do, for I am determined to put them out
of the world?”
Standing up, he became taller and taller until at last he stood on the
tip of his tail with his head high in the air. He saw a smoke far off
on one side, so he came down and shot off in that direction, reaching
the place in a few moments. Halting by the lodge, he thought: “I hear
some one inside. Very likely magically powerful people live here.” On
peeping in, he saw a very old man sitting down smoking, with his head
bowed. Doonongaes watched him for some time; at last the old man,
looking up, said: “Hwu, my nephew has come! Well, nephew come in. Why
do you stand outside?” “This is my uncle’s lodge; it seems he knows
me,” thought Doonongaes; so he went in. “Well, nephew,” said the old
man, “I am glad to see you. I have been expecting you for a long time.”
“Well, I have come. What do you want?” said Doonongaes. “Oh! you and I
will fight against each other,” replied the old man. “That suits me
exactly,” answered Doonongaes; “it is the very game I amuse myself
with.” “We will wait until noon tomorrow, when the fight will begin;
you can stay here with me until then,” said the old man. This old man
was the grandfather of the two women who were trying to escape. His
name was Gwidogwido. The next day the old man said, “Now, let us go.”
They went through the woods until they came to an opening, whereupon
the old man said, “Here is where I always fight.” Seeing the ground was
covered with bones, Doonongaes became greatly frightened and asked, “Is
there not some way to annul our pact, for I want to continue my
journey?” “No,” replied the old man, “we have agreed to it.” “What
would happen if I should refuse to play?” said Doonongaes. “Well, if
you do not want to fight, give yourself up to me, and I will do what I
like with you,” answered the old man. “If I do that I suppose you will
kill me; so we may as well fight,” replied Doonongaes.
Thereupon the fight began. Doonongaes had a basswood club, while the
old man had a mallet. As they fought they moved around the opening
until they came to the farther end, striking at each other all the
time. At the end of the clearing they began to tear up trees, which
they hurled at one another. They opened a broad road through the
forest, uprooting the trees as they fought. They advanced until they
came to another clearing, at the farther end of which they saw a
village. Doonongaes now got another basswood club, for they had thrown
away their weapons when they began to hurl trees. The old man had to
defend himself with his hands and arms until they reached the village.
There he picked up a lodge, which he threw at Doonongaes, whereupon
Doonongaes threw another lodge at the old man. Thus they continued
throwing lodges as they went along, until a great cry was raised by the
people as they saw their lodges smashed on the heads of the combatants,
and so all attacked the two men.
The people of the village were Djihonsdonqgwen [149] people, who were
great fighters. They determined to punish the two men, so with their
flint knives they killed the old man Gwidogwido, but Doonongaes ran out
of sight, shouting, “I have always said that nobody could conquer me.”
He added: “It seems to me that there is something in my neck. Can it be
that a limb fell on it, and a splinter stuck into my neck?”
Doonongaes went on until he came to a new lodge. “Perhaps,” thought he,
“another uncle of mine lives here. I will have a look.” Peeping through
a crack, he saw two little boys playing with a man’s head, and heads
all around the lodge with flesh on them. He wondered where the boys got
these for they were too small to go out to hunt. “Perhaps they will be
able to cut my head off,” thought he, running away. A few moments later
one of the boys said to the other, “Did not you think some game came to
the lodge just now?” “Yes,” replied the other. “Well, let us hurry out;
we will soon bring it back,” said the other. Taking their knives, they
ran out and around the lodge. Seeing the trail, they ran along it until
they were at Doonongaes’s heels. When he turned and saw the two boys
behind him, each with an uplifted knife ready to strike, he seized the
first boy and threw his knife away. Then he did the same with the other
boy, and putting a boy under each arm, he hurried on. As he went along,
he saw a high precipice, whereupon he said, “Perhaps I had better throw
these boys over, for they annoy me.” After throwing them over the
precipice, he walked on. Presently he heard “Tcu! Tcu! that man walking
over there falls (is about to fall).” Doonongaes turned around to see
where the voice came from, with the remark, “This sounds as though they
meant me.” He stood looking around; soon he heard some one laughing,
and saw a man high up on the cliff. “It is absurd that he should make
sport of me,” said Doonongaes; “I will punish him.” Doonongaes hurried
toward the man, who was ahead. When he came to the spot where he
thought the man was, he could not find him, and could see no one. Soon
he saw far ahead the man peep from behind a tree, then dart back and
peep out again. Doonongaes ran to the tree, and going around it, said,
“Now, I will punish you, you scoundrel”; but he found no one there. He
looked everywhere. At last he saw another tree far ahead with the man
peeping from behind it. He hurried to the place, saying as he ran after
the man around the tree, “I have caught you”; but when he got around,
he could see no one. “This is provoking,” said Doonongaes, “he is
making sport of me; I must punish him without fail.”
Doonongaes sat down under the tree to rest from the chase and closed
his eyes; in a little while he was sound asleep. The man came back and,
seeing Doonongaes asleep, said, “I thought this man said he was going
to beat me.” As he stood looking at Doonongaes he resolved to kill him.
Taking out a flint knife he cut his throat. At first foam came from the
cut but no blood; then it seemed as if Doonongaes blew a great breath,
whereupon out came the blood streaming in every direction. Then
Doonongaes died. “I did not have much trouble,” thought the murderer,
who was one of the Djoñiaik [150] people, “though he called himself
powerful”; and sitting on the tree above the body he continued to
laugh.
When Doonongaes was killed his blood ran down the precipice. The people
who lived in the ravine below said they saw it. “This looks like the
blood of our people, like the blood of our great chief.” They all
gathered at the place where the blood was coming, and one of the
tallest men said, “I will try to look over.” He stretched himself up,
but could see nothing except the bare cliff. Then another man got on
his shoulders, a third on the shoulder of the second, another and
another doing likewise until in this way they reached the top. Djoñiaik
saw men coming, and noticing that they were the same kind of people as
Doonongaes, he said, “They are so many I will run away.” So, slipping
down from the tree, he was off.
The men looked around—there lay the great chief of their people. One of
them, who became chief for the time, said: “Every one of us must do his
best (in the exercise of orenda). We will try to make him alive again.
Let two of you build a very large fire and two of you go to the end of
a lake for a thing that has been of great aid to our people—the white
pebble. Go quickly; and two more go to Doonongaes’s lodge at the end of
Ganyodaes, to get his fisher-skin pouch and bring it here; and two of
you go to the end of the earth and notify our grandfather, who lives
there. Tell him what has happened and find out what he thinks about it.
Let two go to the place where the rocks are the highest in the world,
for in that place lives a man who is master of the thing that has the
greatest power in the world. Let two get on the trail of the man who
killed our chief, Doonongaes; when they overtake him, let them kill him
if necessary, but if not let them bring him here and we will do what we
like with him.” In a short time the two appointed to make a fire had an
enormous one burning. The two sent for the white pebble reached a lake
surrounded by a hemlock forest that seemed to grow on rocks without any
earth. On looking around, the two men saw many stones of the kind for
which they were sent. Having picked up the right one, they went back
immediately, saying on their return, “We have brought what we were sent
for.” The new chief thanked them. Now all the people waited.
The two men sent to Doonongaes’s lodge reached the lake, and as they
went along the bank, one of them said: “I am getting hungry. Let us
have some fish.” “Very well, we will catch some,” replied the other.
Soon they had a number of fish, and sitting down on the bank, they
began to eat them raw. Skahnowa saw these men eating fish, so he came
near and asked: “What are you doing? You are stealing my fish.” “Oh,
no!” replied the men; “this lake does not belong to you.” “Well, to
whom does it belong?” asked Skahnowa. “It belongs to the Controlling
Power,” was the reply. “No, the man who owns this lake has ordered me
to watch it,” said Skahnowa. “What is his name?” he was asked. “His
name is Doonongaes,” he replied. “Well,” said the two men, “Doonongaes
was killed some time ago.” “Are you sure of that,” asked Skahnowa.
“Yes; we have just come from the spot where his body is,” they said.
“Where is that?” asked Skahnowa. “At Broken Land, where the laughing
man lives. You know where that is,” they said. “Oh, yes,” answered
Skahnowa; “I will go and see. If he is dead, I suppose I shall get
possession of this lake and own it myself.” “Take the trail we came
on,” said the men. Then they went their way, while Skahnowa took the
trail along which they had come.
The two men searched Doonongaes’s lodge, but for a long time they could
find nothing. At last they found in the smoke hole the pouch they
wanted. They took it out with them, and running very fast, they
overtook Skahnowa when he was almost at Broken Land. The three went on
together and in time came to the place where Doonongaes lay. Skahnowa,
looking at the remains, said, “It is true that he is dead, and yet he
thought no man could kill him, so greatly did he esteem himself.” The
two men delivered the pouch, and then sat down, waiting for the others
to come.
The two men who went to their grandfather arrived at the place they
thought was the end of the earth, whereupon one of them said: “We are
here. Now how are we to find where our grandfather lives?” The other
answered, “I wonder if this is really the place?” They went along the
edge of the water, which was only a small lake, not the end of the
earth. Keeping on, at length they went around the lake. Seeing their
own tracks ahead, they said: “The other two men have passed here. Let
us go this way.” After going around again, they said: “Two more men
have come up. Now let us hurry and overtake them.” The two had not gone
far when one of them fell down with a great cry, saying: “I can not go
any farther. There is something in my foot. You finish the journey
alone. On the way back you can stop for me.” “Very well,” said the
other. On running around the lake still again, he said, “There are six
men running; now I will do the best I can. Why! there is a man sitting
ahead on the bank. Well, I thought I would overtake those people soon.”
The man who was sitting down, on turning to see who was running up, saw
his friend. The runner said to himself, “Why, it looks like my friend
who hurt his foot.” On coming to him, he asked, “What are you doing
here?” “I am resting; my foot is nearly well now, and I will start at
once. Did you go around and come back?” he asked. “Oh, no! I was on the
trail all the time,” came the reply. They set out together. One said:
“This must be a small lake. When we come to the other end we will go on
in a straight line.”
They now watched the sun, and when it was at the other end of the lake,
they took their course from it, and then traveled a long time straight
ahead. Again they reached the limit of the land. Once more they said:
“It seems that we have come to the end of the earth. Let us look for
our grandfather’s lodge.” They saw an opening or clearing, and on the
farther side smoke arising. They found a lodge there, and on looking in
saw an old man, at which they said one to the other, “I wonder whether
that is our grandfather.” While they were looking, the old man,
straightening himself up, called out: “Come in, grandsons. Why do you
stay outside?” They looked at each other, saying, “How did he see us,
for his back is toward us?” Going around the lodge, they entered. The
old man said, “You have a message, otherwise you would not have come;
but let me get my pipe first.” [151] Taking his pipe and beginning to
smoke, he said, “Now I am ready.” “Well,” said the two men, “our people
are assembled in an important condoling council, and they said to us:
‘Go to our grandfather; tell him that our chief has fallen and that we
want to make him alive again.’” “Very well,” replied the old man, who
was one of the Ganos (Spring-frog people); “you have come on a very
important errand and I will give you something that will be of great
use to you, in fact the only thing that can bring your chief to life
again.” Going into a hole in the ground, the old man returned with a
white flint in the form of a canoe, about as long as a finger. In one
end of this white flint canoe was some black paint and in the other end
was a powder—a medicine of some mysterious kind. The old man said:
“When you go to use what I give you now, color your faces with this
paint, then paint your dead chief’s face with it also; and after that,
put this powder on the edges of the wound and wash his face with cold
water. Then blow on him and he shall come to life. When he opens his
eyes, put this powder into water and give it to him to drink.” Hurrying
off in the boat, they arrived at Broken Land without delay. They said:
“We were hindered by the lake.152 We kept going around it.” The new
chief replied, “People seldom get away from that lake, which is called
Ganigonhadontha Ganiodae152 (the delirium-making lake); it puts men out
of their minds.”
The people now waited for the next two men. Those two went ahead till
they came to an opening lengthwise in the trail. On looking around,
they could see people sitting here and there. One of the men said: “I
wonder what they are doing. Are they watching and guarding the opening?
We must pass.” They passed by unharmed and traveled till night, when
they came to a hollow tree lying on the ground. They crawled into this
and had been there only a short time when some one rapped and said,
“Well, are you here for the night?” One answered, “Yes; we are.” “What
would you do if the Ganiagwaihegowa should come?” was asked them. “Oh!
we should like it; we should play tag and have a good time,” they
replied. Soon they heard a voice saying: “Come out as quickly as you
can. I have come to help you, for this is a very dangerous spot. The
magic power (orenda) of the man you are looking for extends to this
place, and he has a great many other places under his control. You must
follow me, or you will not live through the night.” They went with the
owner of the voice, seeming to rise in the air as they journeyed. After
a while the guide said, “Stop here and see what would have happened to
you if you had stayed in the tree.” As they looked back, they saw
Ganiagwaihegowa [153] tear the tree into bits, which flew around in
every direction. Ganiagwaihegowa looked for the men, saying: “He who
notified me said that two men were here. He always disappoints me, but
if he does this once more, I will cut his head off.” Then
Ganiagwaihegowa went away. The guide said, “Ganiagwaihegowa has gone
home, and you are now safe.”
They spent the night in another hollow tree. The next morning they
hurried on and at midday came to the place where the rocks were
high—the highest rocks in the whole world—on the summit of which lived
the old man. As they stood at the foot and looked up, they said, “How
is it possible to get up where that old man lives?” but they went. They
searched until they found a ledge that seemed to ascend in a spiral;
this they began to climb, one ahead of the other. Sometimes they
slipped, almost falling off. At length the man ahead slipped on a round
stone, and over he went, striking on the rocks as he fell and going
down out of sight. “Well,” thought the other man, “my friend is dead;”
thereupon he kicked the round stone from the ledge. In falling it
struck the fallen man, who was just regaining consciousness, on the top
of his head, killing him.
The man above went on until he reached the top of the rocks. At the
lodge of the old man, whose name was Hasʻhonyot (i.e., “his back is
turned”), of the Odjieqdah [154] (Crayfish or Lobster) people, he stood
a while, thinking, “this man is at home, I suppose.” Looking down among
the rocks, he said, “See where I would fall if he were to kill me.”
Peeping into the lodge, he said: “Sure enough, he is at home; he is
looking toward me and must have been looking at me ever since I came
up. I wonder where that thing is for which I have come. I wonder
whether that is it hanging up there. How shall I manage to get inside?
Perhaps I would better turn the lodge over and let it fall among the
rocks.” He overturned the lodge—down it went over the precipice,
whereupon he thought: “What will happen when it strikes? I will go and
see. I have overturned the lodge of the most magically powerful person
in the world, and did not have much trouble in doing so.” When the man
got halfway down he slipped. The farther he fell the faster he went. At
last, slipping over the edge of the rocks, he fell till he struck on
the topmost limbs of a great hickory tree; the limbs threw him upward,
so that he landed on a ledge on the side of the precipice. Not knowing
how to get down, he said: “I must die anyhow. I may as well jump.” So
jumping off, he came down the same hickory tree, to the branches of
which he clung; then he slipped to the ground, where he found his
friend’s body with the skull crushed. “I think it was I who killed him
by kicking off that round stone,” he said; “well, I could not help it.”
The old man’s lodge stood all right on level land. He peeped into
it—there sat the old man. “This is dismal. I will burn the lodge,” said
he; so he piled up sticks until he had it covered, whereupon he set
fire to it. After the fire was well started, the old man said: “It is
getting rather hot here. I wonder what is the matter. Perhaps
Sʻhodieonskon [155] is playing tricks with me. It seems there is fire;
it feels like that. I wonder whether he is burning my lodge?” After a
while, hearing the noise of burning timbers, he was sure that there was
fire. “Very well,” said he; “if that is the case, I will call on
Hasdeaundyetʻha.”156 Then, taking native Indian tobacco out of a basket
made of corn husks, he began to burn the tobacco and to call on
Hasdeaundyetʻha, saying, “I ask you to make it rain so hard that the
rain shall put out every spark of fire around my lodge.” The moment he
finished speaking rain began to fall. It rained so hard that the man
outside had to run for safety. In a few moments the sky cleared off,
the fire was out, and no traces of rain were left.
“I wonder how things are where I set the fire,” thought the messenger.
On returning to the place he found everything quiet—no fire; all in
order. “Pshaw! what can I do?” said he; “I might take the lodge along,
as it is not very heavy.” Picking it up and putting it on top of his
head, he started for Broken Land. Traveling with great speed, he soon
came near to his destination; but before coming in sight of it, taking
the lodge off his head, he said, “I will leave it here and let the new
chief say what shall be done with it.” After setting it down, he went
to Broken Land. “You have come, but where is your companion?” asked the
chief. “He fell from the rocks and was killed,” he replied. “Did you
bring what you went for?” he was asked. “Yes,” he answered. “Where is
it?” was the next question. “Not far from here, and I want you to say
what shall be done with it.” The chief replied, “Well, let us all go
there.” Thereupon all went to the spot where Hasʻhonyot’s lodge was
left. The chief said, “You stay outside while I go into the lodge.”
When inside he looked at the old man, who sat there smoking with his
head down. The chief thought “He is a very magically powerful man; he
could kill me in a moment if he liked;” then he said, “My friend, I
have come to your lodge.” The old man kept on smoking, not seeming to
hear. The chief called again louder, when the old man said, “It seems
as though someone is talking.” Then scooping the matter out of one of
his eyes with half of a clamshell, he threw it away; then he cleaned
the other eye in the same way. Having done this, he looked up, and,
seeing the man, said: “What are you standing there for? Go out! I do
not want you in my lodge. I live on the top of these rocks so as to be
alone,” said the old man. “I came out here,” answered the other, “in a
friendly way. Come out, look around, and see where you live.” On going
out and looking around, Hasʻhonyot saw that he was in a level country
and that many people lived about him, and he wondered how he got there.
“Did I bring it,” thought he, “from where the wind blows, or not? I
wonder whether my lodge was moving when my head was moving and bumping
here and there.” “Well,” he finally said to the chief, “what do you
want?” “I came,” replied the chief, “to see whether you would lend us
that thing which has so great and wonderful magic power?” “What do you
want it for?” the old man asked. “Our chief has been overpowered and
killed. We want to bring him to life,” said the chief. “I can bring him
to life,” said Hasʻhonyot, “in a very short time.” “How shall we pay
you?” the chief asked. “Find two of your best-looking women and send
them to me. I ask no more,” he replied. “I will talk with my friends,”
answered the chief.
Thereupon the chief went out and told his people what the old man said.
They talked together a good while, saying: “The most beautiful women
are married; how can they be given away? Perhaps we should never see
them again?” At last the people said: “Let them go. If their husbands
are angry, we will settle with them.” They told the women that the old
man would have control of them thenceforth. The women said: “We all
want to have the chief come back to life. We must consent. Perhaps it
will turn out to be all right.” The chief went back to Hasʻhonyot and
said: “All is settled. The women are willing.” “Bring them here, then,”
said the old man. The women were brought to him. Now Hasʻhonyot had
five bloodsuckers as attendants, and he said to them: “Tie these women.
Do not let them go farther away than your own length.” The old man
carried these bloodsuckers under his tail. They fastened on the women
at once, but still held to Hasʻhonyot’s back. “All right now,” said
Hasʻhonyot; “your chief will be alive tomorrow, but in the meanwhile I
do not want any of your people around here.” The people dispersed, but
stayed around at a safe distance to see whether the chief would come to
life. During the night the old man went to the spot where the body of
Doonongaes lay, and as the women were tied to him, they had to
accompany him. He said, “There is no need of bringing this
terrible-looking man to life.” Nevertheless he went to work, cleaning
and washing the wound and putting upon it a certain weed pounded soft.
Then reaching down for water, he poured it on the mouth of the corpse
(there was no water near by, and the women never knew where he got it);
then he blew into Doonongaes’s mouth and talked to him (the women could
not understand what he said). Having done this, he built a small fire
and told one of the women to run to the lodge and get what was under
his couch. As she ran along the bloodsucker stretched out, but as soon
as she picked up the bark basket of tobacco and started back, the
bloodsucker began to contract. Hasʻhonyot took the tobacco and burned
it, saying, “I burn this to you, the Complete Power,[157] and ask you
to bring this man to life.” Then he sang, “Onen dondaʹwe né diiohegoⁿ
(what keeps alive is coming back here).” When he had finished singing
he sat a good while watching. Doonongaes did not come to life then. The
old man sent the woman again for tobacco, which he burned, repeating
the same words. Then he sang, Onen sagaion ne honhehgon, da onen
denshadat hehioendjade.158 When he had finished singing he blew into
the mouth of the dead man,159 who thereupon came to life. “You are well
now,” said the old man. Doonongaes did not speak. Again the old man
said, “You are well now.” Then Doonongaes answered, “I believe I am
well.” Hasʻhonyot said: “I will go home. You stay here until your
people come in the morning.” Hasʻhonyot went home, and the women went
to bed with him.
The next morning the people came to Doonongaes and found him alive.
They were very glad. “How did you bring me back to life?” he asked. “We
sent a man to Hasʻhonyot’s lodge and he brought back the lodge and the
old man, who promised to restore you to life if we would give him the
two most beautiful women of our people. Therefore we gave them to him.”
“That was not right,” said Doonongaes; “I will kill that old man.” The
people said: “Do what you like. You are alive now, and we will go
home.”
Going to the old man’s lodge, Doonongaes cried out, “Hallo, old man!
what are you going to do with these women—keep them for life?” “Of
course I will; they are mine now,” Hasʻhonyot replied. “I wish you
would let them go,” said Doonongaes; “why should you keep them?” “I got
them as pay for bringing you to life,” was the answer. “No matter; you
must give them up,” replied Doonongaes. “Oh, no,” replied Hasʻhonyot.
“You must,” said Doonongaes. “Well, then you must get out of my lodge,”
retorted the old man. “No, I will not go until you free the women,”
answered Doonongaes. Hasʻhonyot rejoined: “You must go at once; if you
do not I will kill you. I did not think you would annoy me, if I
brought you to life.” “Well, why did you bring me back to life?” asked
Doonongaes. “Go out of here,” said Hasʻhonyot. “I will not go. I want
those women,” said Doonongaes. The old man, springing up, drew his
flint knife. “Now, I say you must go,” said he. Doonongaes, drawing
back slightly, thought, “Pshaw! what a coward I am! I can play tricks
on the old man.” Going outside, he put his horns under the lodge—up it
flew in the air and then fell to the ground. (The lodge was of
stone.[160]) “Very well,” said the old man, “I will kill you.” So he
went out. “What are you doing?” he asked; “I think you are trying to
throw my lodge over. Do you want me to cut your head off again? I can
do it very easily,” he added. “All I want,” replied Doonongaes, “is
that you release the women.” “I will not release them,” declared
Hasʻhonyot. “You must,” said Doonongaes, and taking a reed, called
owl’s arrow, he hit him on the back; the blow glanced off without
hurting the old man a bit. Again Doonongaes asked, “Will you let me
have the women?” “No,” exclaimed Hasʻhonyot. “Well, I am going over
there a short distance. I will come back soon,” said Doonongaes.
Going into the lodge, Hasʻhonyot asked his attendants, the
bloodsuckers: “What shall we do? I think he intends to kill us. Do you
think he can do it?” “Yes; we think he has gone for help,” they
rejoined. Doonongaes had gone to find the Djihonsdonqgwen [161] people.
He came to the place in which they all lived, one great lodge—a mound
lodge. Peeping in, he saw a great many people walking around.
Immediately one spoke to the others, saying, “Hurry up! we have some
game here.” Straightway there were great confusion and crowding and
rushing to and fro. There seemed to be rooms all over this immense
lodge, above and below and on every side. Entering, Doonongaes said:
“Let us have peace. I came here to lead to a work which you will like;
I know you will. I have come to hire you to kill a man over there.”
They said to one another, “Let us get ready to go.” Their chief lived
on a hill near by, but they did not notify him. Doonongaes led them to
Hasʻhonyot’s lodge, saying, “I want you to kill this old man, but do
not harm the women.” A great many went into the lodge, filling it, and
there was a vast crowd outside. Some time passed, and then Doonongaes
heard the old man scream and saw him run out. When outside the crowd
around the lodge caught him. They released the women. They hurried
home, accompanied by Doonongaes, who left the Djihonsdonqgwen to fight
with the old man until they thought he was dead. When the women reached
home they said, “We are now the wives of our great chief, Doonongaes.”
“Thank you, my daughters,” said their mother; “he has saved you, and it
is right that you should live with him.” So Doonongaes went to the
lodge of the two women and did not return to Ganyodaes.
After a long time had passed both women had children, and he continued
to live with them until one day he said, “I am going to the place where
my friend, Hasʻhonyot, used to live on the high rocks.” When he reached
the foot of the rocks, he saw something lying on the ground, whereupon
he said, “He looks like some of our people.” It was the man who had
fallen over the precipice while climbing up to Hasʻhonyot’s lodge. At
last Doonongaes, having found the ledge on which the men had climbed,
reached the summit where the lodge had been; there he saw the
footprints of the man who had overturned it. On looking around, he
could see to the end of the earth,[162] in all directions. He looked
toward the west. Seeing far off a man killing people, he exclaimed,
“Pshaw, that man is a fool!” Descending the cliff, he hurried to the
place, where he found a great many people. To the man who was killing
them, he said, “What are you doing?” “Oh! I am guarding the land under
my control,” was the reply. “Yes. What is your name?” asked Doonongaes.
“My name is Tsodiqgwadon,”163 was his answer. “You and I belong to the
same people, then,” said Doonongaes; “we will therefore decide the
matter of supremacy164 in this way: Whichever one of us has the orenda
(magic power) to command the great rocks of the cliff on the south side
of this village to fall, shall own this place.” Then Doonongaes said,
“Let the rocks fall and fall this way.” He had barely spoken when the
rocks began to fall toward him. “Only half the rocks have fallen,” said
Tsodiqgwadon. “Now command them to go back to their places.” It was
done. Now it was the turn of Tsodiqgwadon. He said, “I command every
rock of the cliff to fall,” and every stone fell with a great noise,
only a mound of earth remaining where the cliff had just stood. Then
Doonongaes said: “You have won. You have more orenda than I have. You
are more magically powerful than I. I can do nothing more. Now, tell me
what I can do to satisfy you.”165 Tsodiqgwadon said, “I want you to let
women alone. Every woman living is mine.” Going home to his wives,
Doonongaes said to them, “You are not mine any longer.” “Why not,” they
asked; “have you sold us, or have you been beaten in a game in which
you wagered us?” “No; I met a man who claimed you,” he replied. “Who is
he?” they persisted. “Tsodiqgwadon!” exclaimed Doonongaes. “We do not
know him; how can we be his wives?” they asked. “Well, that is what he
said. I did all I could but he magically overpowered me. Now, I will go
to my old home, where I shall be better off,” answered Doonongaes.
Thereupon Doonongaes went to Ganyodaes and, after seeing that all was
in order, he began to cook. When he had finished he heard footsteps. A
man kicked at the door, and in came his servant, Skahnowa, who said:
“What are you doing in my lodge?” “How came this lodge to belong to
you?” asked Doonongaes. “Get out of here!” said Skahnowa; “I do not
want you.” “I wish,” said Doonongaes, “you would tell me by what right
you claim this lodge.” “My master, the former owner, was killed, and I
took possession of it after his death,” replied Skahnowa. “Ah! that is
it. Do you not know me? I have come back,” said Doonongaes. “You
Doonongaes? No; I am sure my master was killed and that his body has
decayed by this time,” said Skahnowa. “No; it is I. I have come to
life,” answered Doonongaes. For a time Skahnowa was silent; at last he
said: “We will test this matter. Go to my lodge and bring the hind
quarter of a bear.” “Very well,” replied Doonongaes, and he started,
disappearing in the water of the lake. Coming out at a distance from
the lodge, he killed a bear and, without having gone to Skahnowa’s
lodge, brought a hind quarter. Skahnowa said: “You went quickly. Did
you bring what I sent you for?” “Yes. Here it is,” replied Doonongaes.
“This is fresh. All the bear meat I had home was roasted. You are not
Doonongaes. Go out of this lodge,” said Skahnowa. Beginning to cry,
Doonongaes went out. Skahnowa then started on his round of the lake.
Doonongaes had not gone far when he said, “What a coward I am! It would
be stupid of me to give up my lodge.” He went back but did not find
Skahnowa there, so he took possession. The next day at noon Skahnowa
returned just as Doonongaes was ready to eat. “What are you here for?”
asked Skahnowa. “I told you to go away.” “Why should I give up my
lodge?” asked Doonongaes. “If you do not go away, I will beat you,”
said Skahnowa. They began to quarrel, and then, going outside, began to
fight, moving along the lake. They fought the rest of the day and all
night. The next morning Skahnowa said: “This is a hard task. It may be
that he is my master. The only thing that makes me doubt it is that he
did not do what I asked him to do. He did not go to my lodge.” Finally
he said to Doonongaes: “Let us give up fighting.” “No,” replied
Doonongaes, “let us have it out. A man has to be killed, one way or
another.” “Very well,” said Skahnowa, so they fought again in good
earnest. Being of equal magical strength, they fought day and night for
one month.[166] Then Skahnowa said: “We would better stop fighting. I
think neither of us can conquer.” “Yes,” replied Doonongaes, “it is
useless to fight longer; but I want you to promise not to order me out
of my own lodge again.” “Very well,” answered Skahnowa, “you may keep
the lodge; the owner of it was killed long ago.” Doonongaes asked: “Do
you not really know me?” “I know my master is dead,” said Skahnowa.
Doonongaes now went back to the lodge, thinking: “How can I get
possession of my lake? I must manage to control it again.” The next
night as he lay thinking, he fell asleep and had a dream, and in the
dream a man said: “I have come to say that you have been fighting with
your servant Skahnowa. We people of orenda, or magic power,[167] know
immediately what is going on. All the people of magic power are stirred
up now, and if you wish to live, you must go to Tsodiqgwadon. All these
people fear him. You must get up and go now, for these people will be
here exactly as the sun comes up in the east. Start immediately, and
try to be there before daylight.” Doonongaes was astonished at his
dream, but said, “I want to live, so I will go.” Starting about
midnight, and going to his wives, he slept with them. Then he arose
very early in the morning and journeyed on. He found Tsodiqgwadon at
the same place where he had seen him killing people. He had barely sat
down when a man, kicking aside the door flap, asked: “Have you seen
Doonongaes?” “What do you want of him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “We want to
have a trial of our orenda, or magical strength,” came the answer.
“Yes; I have seen him, but it was a good while ago,” said Tsodiqgwadon.
“There are fresh tracks coming here. Why do you try to hide him?” said
the stranger. “I am not trying to hide him, and do you go out of my
lodge,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “I want to see Doonongaes,” said the
other. “Have I not said that I have not seen him? Do you understand
me?” declared Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, I did not come with any evil
intent,” said the other. “But why do you insist, when I tell you I have
not seen him?” retorted Tsodiqgwadon. “But the tracks made by him are
fresh,” was the other’s reply. “Pshaw,” said Tsodiqgwadon, “do you not
know what kind of man I am?” The visitor, who was a Dagwanoenyent,168
ran out, screaming: “Oh! do not touch me. I do not want to fight.”
“Well, if you do not, then go home,” said Tsodiqgwadon. The man then
started for home.
This man was barely out of sight when they heard a second man coming.
Kicking aside the door flap and jumping in, he inquired for Doonongaes,
saying, “I will eat him should I find him.” This was Niagwaihe.[169]
Tsodiqgwadon said, “I have not seen him.” “That is always the way with
this man,” muttered the other; “he is always hiding bad people. How
comes it otherwise that his tracks are here?” “I have not seen him.
What do you come for? I do not want you in my lodge,” declared
Tsodiqgwadon. “Why do you hide Doonongaes?” rejoined Niagwaihe. “I told
you I have not seen him,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “His fresh trail comes in
at your door,” replied the other. “Well, perhaps he came in and went
off another way,” said Tsodiqgwadon. The man went out to look; then,
coming back, he said, “No; it is as I told you; his trail comes in
here.” “Do you want to fight him?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “No; I merely
came to see him,” was the reply. “If you do not go away I will kill
you,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “You know what sort of person I am; the best
way for you and me is to have it out.” Tsodiqgwadon then went outside,
whereupon Niagwaihe screamed: “Do not beat me. I did not come with any
ill feeling.” “Well, go home or I will fight you,” said Tsodiqgwadon.
Niagwaihe disappeared. “Now,” said Tsodiqgwadon to Doonongaes, who was
standing just behind him, “come out of your hiding place.”
They had barely sat down in the lodge when footsteps were heard again
and Djainosgowa [170] rushed into the lodge, saying, “Yes; this is the
man for whom I have come.” Seizing Doonongaes by the hair he pulled him
out of doors. Tsodiqgwadon followed them. When outside he saw
Djainosgowa walking off with Doonongaes on his shoulder. “He has taken
away my friend, who came to live with me. Never mind,” said
Tsodiqgwadon to himself, going back into the lodge and beginning to
smoke. Then he thought: “Perhaps I would better go to help him. They
may kill him.” So, following Djainosgowa’s trail, he found him sitting
down talking with Doonongaes, and asking, “How did you come to think
that you have orenda? Why did you want to kill your servant?”
Tsodiqgwadon listened. Doonongaes answered, “Let us have peace. Why
should we fight?” “No,” replied Djainosgowa; “I am going to try your
strength in orenda.” Tsodiqgwadon was there, but had made himself
invisible to them. All at once Tsodiqgwadon seized Doonongaes and,
putting him on his back, said, “Let us go home. What is the use of
being here?”
After Tsodiqgwadon had gone a few steps Djainosgowa found, on looking
around, that Doonongaes had disappeared. He searched everywhere for
him. At last he said, “Pshaw! I think Tsodiqgwadon took him away,”
whereupon he started back. When Tsodiqgwadon reached home, he said to
Doonongaes, “We will sit right down here. Djainosgowa will be back
soon.” Almost immediately Djainosgowa came in and asked, “Have you seen
Doonongaes?” “No; you jerked him out of my lodge. That is the last I
have seen of him,” declared Tsodiqgwadon. Djainosgowa said, “I believe
you are playing tricks on me. Where did you leave him?” “Why do you
accuse me? Go home! I am tired of you,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “I want to
see Doonongaes,” replied Djainosgowa. “Go out of here!” exclaimed
Tsodiqgwadon. “I will not go until I am satisfied,” persisted the
visitor. “I tell you to go. Can you not understand?” said Tsodiqgwadon,
getting up and going toward Djainosgowa, who jumped out of the lodge,
saying, “Oh! do not be angry. I did not come with any bad feelings.”
“Go home,” replied Tsodiqgwadon, “or I will beat you.” Djainosgowa had
to go, for he was conquered by superior orenda. Then Tsodiqgwadon said
to Doonongaes, “What have you done to all these people that they come
here after you?” “I had fought with Skahnowa, who had taken my lodge,”
replied Doonongaes. “We fought for one month, and because we fought so
long all the people having magic power around the world are excited;
that is all.” “Let us go to your lodge,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “I should
like to see your servant who is so powerful in orenda.”
Thereupon they went directly to the place. Skahnowa was on his daily
rounds. “Where has he gone?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! he has gone
around the lake. He will be here soon,” said Doonongaes, who began to
cook. Just as they were sitting down to eat, they heard footsteps, and
a man sprang into the lodge, calling out, “What are you doing in here?
Go out!” “Oh! be quiet,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, what right have you
in my lodge?” answered Skahnowa. “Be reasonable,” said Tsodiqgwadon.
Skahnowa dropped his head; then, raising it again, he asked: “What are
you doing? Are you on some errand of importance?” “We have come to see
what you have been doing with your master,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “It
is a great annoyance to have people come to try the strength of
Doonongaes since your fight with him took place.” “Is that man there my
master?” asked Skahnowa. “Yes; he is,” replied Tsodiqgwadon. “How came
he to be alive again?” Skahnowa asked. “That is nothing strange among
us people of great magic power—persons who are possessed of potent
orenda. We die and become alive again;[171] that is the way it was with
Doonongaes,” said Tsodiqgwadon. “Now I understand,” said Skahnowa. “I
will not quarrel with him; he can have his own lodge. I will never
trouble him again.” Tsodiqgwadon said to Doonongaes, “Let us go.”
So they went along the lake shore and were soon at home. The ground
about was covered with tracks. Everything had been eaten; not a scrap
was left. “What are you going to do now?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “The best
I can do,” said Doonongaes, “is to go home with you and you can give me
a couple of women to live with. Skahnowa will forget his promise and
will attack me if I stay here.” “Very well; come along and I will take
you to a woman,” Tsodiqgwadon said, so he brought him to a filthy,
ugly-looking creature of the Hanondon [172] people. “Here is a woman—I
want you to stay with her,” said Tsodiqgwadon. Doonongaes replied, “I
want another.” “Well, let us go on a little farther,” declared
Tsodiqgwadon. They soon came to a lodge in which was a woman of the
Hawiqson(t)173 people, dirty, and so badly deformed that one of her
feet was on her forehead. “Well,” said Doonongaes, “I suppose I shall
have to live with these women. You are the ruler here.”
Tsodiqgwadon left him. Night came and Doonongaes hung his head, saying:
“I think my friend Tsodiqgwadon has treated me badly. I will not stay
with these women. I will go away.” He traveled all that night and the
next day; he traveled southward 10 whole days and nights. When 10 days
had passed Tsodiqgwadon went to the place where the women, Hanondon and
Hawiqson(t), lived, saying, “I will see how my friend Doonongaes is
getting on.” He asked the women, “Is Doonongaes at home?” “No,” they
replied. “Where has he gone?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “We do not know,”
said they, “he did not stay here; he went off the first night you left
him.” “Pshaw! let him go,” said he, and Tsodiqgwadon went home.
At the end of 10 days Doonongaes came to a large village in which all
the people wore feather headdresses. The chief of the village,
Gasaisdowanen,[174] asked Doonongaes, “What did you come here for?” “To
make a visit,” replied Doonongaes. “Who will take this man to his
lodge?” asked the chief. “He may go with me,” called out one man, so
Doonongaes lived with him. After a few days news came to the chief that
the people from the far west were going to make war on him; then a
challenge came. The chief asked his people to volunteer to fight the
western people. In two days he had 500 volunteers, among whom was
Doonongaes. They started, women going with them until the night of the
first day. The next morning when the warriors went on the women
returned to their homes. The warriors continued their journey until
they began to see signs of danger and to hear war whoops here and there
in the distance. When they stopped for the night the chief said, “Let
one man be on guard all night.” Doonongaes volunteered to do this
sentinel duty. He kept the fires burning and watched. About midnight he
heard a great war whoop and, saying to himself, “I do not want to die,”
he ran off. The western people, who were Dagwanoenyents, came to the
spot where the people were asleep and killed and scalped every one of
them. After getting away to a safe distance Doonongaes lay down and
slept. In the morning he said, “I will go and see what has happened to
my friends.” He found them all dead and scalped, whereupon he thought,
“I will go to the wives of these men and take them all.”
When Doonongaes returned to the village he called the women together,
and said, “I wish to tell you that your husbands are killed, and that I
will marry all of you.” After talking the matter over all the women
except one were finally willing to accept the proposal. Doonongaes
said, “Very well; I will settle with the unwilling one.” He stayed one
night at each woman’s lodge. When he came to the unwilling one he said,
“If you do not marry me, I will cut your head off.” “Well,” she
answered, “you will have to overpower me first.” She was a great woman;
her name was Diagoisiowanens.[175] Doonongaes continued, “I am
magically the most powerful man in the world,” referring to his orenda,
or magic power. “Well, you must try me,” said she. Thereupon he went
out, saying, “I will be ready in the afternoon,” but he never returned.
Going southward, Doonongaes traveled until evening. That night he spent
in a hollow tree. He went on for eight days. The ninth night he said,
“Diagoisiowanens thought she could overpower me, but I am too far off
now.” He was just going to sleep when he heard someone walking on the
leaves who, coming to the opening of his camp, said: “Doonongaes, are
you here? What would you do if Hononeowanen [176] should come here?”
“Oh! I should like it,” answered Doonongaes. The man went off, as it
seemed, and soon a great noise of falling trees was heard—a terrible
noise—the earth was torn up on every side. When Hononeowanen reached
the tree he said, “Come out!” Turning himself into a snake,177
Doonongaes went out. When the other one saw him, he said, “Why, you are
one of my people.” “Yes, I am the chief of our people, the most
powerful person on earth,” was the reply of Doonongaes. “I think not,”
said Hononeowanen. “Yes, I am. In the west lives a man of our kind,
pretending to be the most powerful person magically in the whole world.
I met and overpowered him (Doonongaes lied; he meant Tsodiqgwadon).
“Well,” said Hononeowanen, “that man has more orenda than I, so if you
have more orenda than he, I do not want to meddle with you, so I will
go away.” So saying, he went off. Doonongaes stood a while thinking:
“Why did Hononeowanen come over here? I suppose he forgot that I am
second in magic power among my people. Well, I will go back to my
wives, but there is no use in doing that, as Diagoisiowanens might kill
me. I will go southward.”
Doonongaes then walked two nights and days without sleep, until he came
to a great plain on the eastern side of which there was smoke arising.
Thereupon he turned himself into a man.[178] Soon he reached a village,
but he saw no one, though smoke was rising from every lodge. Entering a
lodge, he found a kettle full of meat over a good fire, but there was
no one at home. Going around the village, he waited. Just at noon he
thought, “I would better go again and see whether anyone has come
back.” He found no one. “This is very mysterious,” said he. “I will go
away—perhaps this is a place of the arts of sorcery.”
Doonongaes next went westward. In the evening he saw another “opening”
and smoke arising, as before. “If I do not find anyone here,” said he,
“I will go back to the two women whom Tsodiqgwadon gave me.” He reached
the place, where he had been but a short time when he saw coming toward
him a splendid-looking man with great feathers on his head. This was
Hostoyowanen,[179] the chief of the village. Doonongaes greeted him
with, “Do you know the village off there in the east? Where have all
the people gone?” “They are dead,” answered the man. “Niagwaihe has
eaten them all. Tomorrow, perhaps, he will come here and destroy us.”
“I should like to stay here a few days,” said Doonongaes. “Very well,”
replied the chief, “tomorrow I will show you my village.” The next day
they went all around. Doonongaes saw that the people had beautiful
things—wampum, shells, and valuable skins; there were many people and
lodges. After they had seen all the village, Hostoyowanen said: “Now,
you must not stay any longer. I do not want you to die here. Run
southward and you may be saved.” The chief went home and Doonongaes
went southward. He ran fast, and when night came he slept in a hollow
tree. The next morning he said, “I am going westward. I do not mind
what that chief said.” Toward midday he was hungry. He said: “Oh! my
neck is sore; it has been sore for a long time and feels as though
something were in it. How can I cure it?” Having found a spring, he lay
down to drink from it, but saw the reflection of someone in the water.
“Oh! that looks like my wife, Hawiqson(t). Why is her face reflected in
this water? I am far from her now. This is strange,” mused Doonongaes.
Being frightened, he did not drink but, jumping up, he ran toward the
south, forgetting which way he was going. He ran all night. Just at
daylight he fell down from weakness. “Why,” thought he, “am I getting
so heavy and weak? Is it because I am hungry?” He lay there and could
not rise; he was too hungry, for he had not eaten anything for a whole
year.180 He thought: “Well, there is no need of my standing up. I am a
snake.” Changed from a man into a great snake, he went on, saying,
“Well, I am traveling again.” At noon, coming to a village, he went
into the last lodge, in which lived an old woman and her granddaughter,
who were very poor. “I want to stay with you a few days,” said
Doonongaes. “I have nothing to eat,” answered the old woman. “I want
merely to sleep; I do not care for eating,” Doonongaes replied. “Then
you may stay,” said the old woman. The next morning, before she was out
of bed, Doonongaes asked, “Had you a family long ago?” “Yes,” she
answered, “a long time ago I was married and had a large family, but
only two are living now.” “Well,” said Doonongaes, “you must have kept
a bow and arrows.” “Look around,” said the old woman to her
granddaughter, “and see whether you can find a bow and arrows.” After
hunting for them, at last she found a bow and arrows. Doonongaes
straightened the arrows and strung the bow. Then he shot through the
smoke hole, saying to the arrow, “Go for a large bear.” Soon they heard
the sound of approaching footsteps and then of something falling in
front of the door, at which the old woman said: “I think that man
Dagadiye has come again, for he is always rushing through the village.
He does not kill, but he chases our people.” Doonongaes laughed at her
words. “Why do you laugh?” asked the old widow. “I laugh at what you
say,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, what do you think the noise was?” she
asked. “I do not know,” said Doonongaes. “Go and see.” Going to the
door, she exclaimed, “Hwu! Hwu! There is a great bear here!” The old
woman made a hole under the jaw of the bear and, putting her thumb into
the incision, she tore off the skin. Then cutting open the body, she
took out the intestines, after which she hung up the meat. Then she
began to think: “Why did this bear come? Who sent it?” Finally she
asked, “My grandson, can you tell me why this bear came?” Doonongaes
said, laughing: “Did you not see me shoot? I told the arrow to bring a
bear and the bear came.”
Doonongaes staid there all day, while the grandmother cooked. The next
morning he heard a noise. A messenger came in, saying: “I have come to
notify you that the daughter of our chief, Deyenegonsdasden,[181] is to
be married to the man who can shoot the black eagle perched on the top
of a pole that reaches to the clouds; the shooting begins at midday.”
Doonongaes said, “I can marry the chief’s daughter, for I can kill any
one of the eagles, even when flying high.” He straightened his arrows
and strung his bow as he lay by the fire. Looking through the smoke
hole, he could see the eagle on the pole.182 At midday all the people
were around the pole, when the chief said, “Now, do you begin.”
Doonongaes saw through the smoke-hole how the arrows flew. Each man
tried twice, but none of the arrows went near the target. He watched
until night, and then the chief said, “Tomorrow we will try again.” The
next morning Doonongaes said, “None of these men can kill that eagle.”
Stringing his bow, he shot an arrow through the smoke-hole, which he
saw go straight to the eagle and pierce it. The eagle fell, while the
arrow transfixing it stuck into the ground, taking root so deep that no
one was able to pull it out. Every man said, “I did it.” But the chief
replied, “Then take the arrow out.” Each tried but could not draw out
the arrow. Now Doonongaes said to the old woman’s granddaughter:183 “Go
after my arrow. Somebody may break it.” She went to the place, saying,
“A man at our lodge sent me to get his arrow.” Thereupon, taking hold
of it, she pulled it out easily.
“My daughter is married now,” said Deyenegonsdasden, so he sent two men
for Doonongaes. They found him by the fire at the widow’s lodge. When
they told him to come to the chief’s lodge, he asked, “Why does the
chief send for me?” [184] “He wants you to marry his daughter, for you
killed the black eagle on the top of the pole,” he was told, “Oh! I do
not want any more wives. I have more than 100 now,” returned
Doonongaes. They insisted, but he refused. On their return this was
told to Deyenegonsdasden, who said, “Now let 8 or 10 of you go, and if
he won’t come willingly, tie him and bring him here.” Going back, they
said, “You must come.” “I will not,” replied Doonongaes; “I am not
going there for nothing,” declared Doonongaes. “Well,” answered the
men, “it is not for nothing. The chief wants you to marry his
daughter.” “Is she good looking?” asked Doonongaes. “Oh, yes! she is
very beautiful,” the men replied. “Well,” said Doonongaes, “it would be
a shame for me to marry her; I am too nasty a man.” They tried hard to
persuade him, but he would not go. Then they tried to tie him, but he
hurled them away. Even after trying all day they could not bind him.
When night came they said, “We might as well give up and go home.” When
they went back they told the chief, “We can do nothing with him.” Then
the chief said to his daughter, “You must go to him.” As her father
told her that she must go, the girl went. She entered the old woman’s
hut, but Doonongaes paid no attention to her. After a while she said,
“I came to stay with you.” “Where do you live?” asked Doonongaes. “I
live in the center185 of the village,” the girl replied. “Who is your
father?” he asked. “The chief,” she said. “Oh! I will not marry you,”
said Doonongaes. “Are you sure you will not marry me?” asked the girl.
“Yes; I have too many wives,” he replied. “Are you married at home?
Where do you live?” she inquired. The reply was: “Sixteen186 days’
journey from here I have more than a hundred wives. Farther on I have
two more.” “Where did you come from?” she continued. “I think you know
the place,” he said; it is called Dedyosdenhon.”187 “Yes,” he replied,
“I know where that place is; it is far away, near the end of the earth.
I suppose you will not go back there. It is too far, and you will marry
me.” “No, I am not looking for a wife here. Such people as you are188
would not help me.” The beautiful girl began to cry. Doonongaes,
looking at her, asked, “What is the matter?” Whereupon she cried harder
and harder. Now Doonongaes himself began to cry. The old woman asked:
“What is the matter? Why do you cry?” No answer. Then she herself began
to cry. Her granddaughter, coming in and seeing that all were crying,
began to get lonely and to cry, too. Now all were crying, and they
cried louder and louder. Just as it became dark the chief heard the
sound of crying, and sent men to find out where it was. They went
through the whole village, but found no one crying. At last one said,
“Let us go over to the old widow’s hut.” On nearing it they heard the
sound of crying, so they returned to the chief and said, “The crying is
at the lodge of the old widow, Deienensowanens.”189 Hearing this, the
chief said: “My daughter is at that lodge. I must go over there.” When
near, he, too, heard the sound of crying, at which his heart grew weak,
and he thought to himself, “I can not go into that poor hut.” So he
remained outside, and soon he also began to cry, and he cried until he
forgot everything. When he came to his senses he was sitting at the
side of the old widow, “Broad-Shoulders.” He did not know where he was.
He was not crying, merely thinking why the others were crying. After a
while he said, “Let us all be of good cheer and stop crying.” Now the
old woman thought, “Who said that?” and, on looking up, she saw the
chief of the village, whereupon she asked, “Why are you here? I never
saw you near me before.” “I came to cheer you up,” he replied. “Very
well,” said the widow, “but tell your daughter to stop crying. I
thought it was the rule to cry, for when she got here she began to do
so.” The chief said to his daughter: “Stop crying! It is not right for
you to cry. If you do not stop, I will cut your head off.” Being
afraid, she stopped. Doonongaes cried on as before until finally the
old woman said, “My grandson, every one has stopped crying; so do not
cry.” He paid no heed. The chief tried to stop him, but he cried the
more, and continued to cry until morning. He was sitting on a block
with his elbows on his knees and his head resting on the palms of his
hands. In the morning his companions saw a great pile of wampum in
front of him. All his tears were beautiful wampum. The chief asked:
“What are those things? Are they not good for something?” “Yes,”
replied Doonongaes, “if they are strung together. If a man is sad and
cries, and a string of them is given to him, all will be well again.”
Doonongaes had now stopped crying. The chief said, “I want you to be
the chief of this place, and I will be the second, or vice, chief.”
Doonongaes sat with drooping head for a while, after which, looking up,
he said: “I do not want to be a chief. I am great enough now. I am
known everywhere. I am second in magic power in the entire world—that
is enough for me.” The chief asked, “Do you know who is first in magic
power in this world?” “I do,” he replied. “Who is he?” was the next
question. “Tsodiqgwadon, who lives at Dedyosdenhon,” he answered. “Very
well,” said the chief, “I can say no more. I will go home, taking my
daughter with me.” “Yes; go! I do not want you here,” Doonongaes added.
The chief and his daughter then returned home, whereupon Doonongaes
began to laugh. The old woman asked, “Why do you laugh?” “Oh! I am
laughing at the chief, for his daughter very much wants to get
married.” The old woman replied, “You would better stop laughing and
appoint some one to marry her instead of yourself.” “Well, grandmother,
you must go and find some poor man to marry her,” said Doonongaes.
“Very well, grandson. I will go to a ‘Shabby Man’ who lives on the
other side of the village and speak to him about it.” When she got to
the place she said to the “Shabby Man,” “I have come to have you
marry?” “Who would marry me? Nobody wants me,” said the man. “Oh, yes!
I can find you a wife, a beautiful one, too,” was her answer. The
“Shabby Man” said, “All right,” and went home with the old woman.
Doonongaes asked: “Are you the man? Do you want to marry?” “Yes. I
should like to marry, if anybody would have me,” replied the man.
Doonongaes said to the widow’s granddaughter, “Go to the chief and say
that Doonongaes will marry his daughter now.” So she told the chief
what he said. “Very well,” he answered, sending his daughter to the old
woman’s hut. Doonongaes asked her, “Do you want to marry me?” “Yes; for
you killed the eagle,” she replied. “Would it please you if I should
appoint a man to marry you?” Doonongaes added. “Yes,” was the girl’s
answer. “This is the man I appoint,” declared Doonongaes. Turning to
the “Shabby Man,” the girl said, “Come, we will go home to my father’s
lodge.” At this the man laughed for gladness.
Doonongaes spent a whole year with the old woman. One morning he said:
“Now, I am going to the southern end of the earth. I want to know how
things are there.” “Very well,” replied the grandmother. “Come in on
your way back,” she said. “I will,” said Doonongaes. He left all the
wampum with the old woman, for if he wanted any he had only to cry in
order to get it. After traveling all day and all night, in the morning
he came to a great opening in the woods. As he stood looking around the
place, he saw some dark object in the west. Looking very sharply, he
said: “What is that dark thing? Is some one watching?” He stood there a
good while. Just at midday, seeing that the object was lying down, he
thought: “What can that be? I must go there and see.” He ran thither as
swiftly as he could, and on coming to a piece of smooth ground, there
he found one of the Djainosgowa family. The one that had been standing
up was the old man who guarded the opening; he was now lying down to
sleep, for it was just midday. There were two old Djainosgowa persons
and five children. Doonongaes, frightened, ran into the woods,
thinking: “I must go home. I do not want these Djainos people to kill
me.”
So Doonongaes ran a whole month, day and night, until he reached the
lodge of Tsodiqgwadon, whom he found sitting by the fire with his head
hanging down. When he looked up and saw Doonongaes he said, “Oh, my
friend! are you alive?” “Yes; I have been traveling,” said Doonongaes.
“Why did you leave your two wives?” asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! I do not
think those women good enough for me; they are too ugly,” was his
answer. “Why did you tell me you wanted them?” he was asked. “I did not
want them. I wanted good-looking women,” he said. “Well, you can not
have two beautiful women,” declared his questioner. Soon they heard a
noise, at which Tsodiqgwadon said, “Sit down behind me.” A stranger,
entering, asked, “Have you seen Doonongaes?” “I have not,” answered
Tsodiqgwadon. “Well, I have tracked him to this lodge,” came the reply.
“What of it? I have not seen him,” was the reply. “You must have hidden
him,” persisted the stranger. “No; I tell you I have not seen him.” The
stranger, who was Djainosgowa, and who had followed Doonongaes from the
great opening, now said, “I must go home.” “You would better do so,”
replied Tsodiqgwadon. As he started off, Tsodiqgwadon said to
Doonongaes: “Come out here. I want you to go to the northern end of the
earth and see how my father is getting on. He lives at the edge of the
earth. Ask him if he will not come here. Tell him we are to have a
great council at Broken Land. All the people of the world are to meet
there.” “What is your father’s name?” asked Doonongaes. Tsodiqgwadon
said, “Deanohdjes.[190] He is of the Geia191 people.”
Doonongaes immediately started on the journey. He traveled day and
night for a whole year,[192] but could not reach the northern end of
the earth. One morning he said, “I do not believe I shall ever get to
the place where Deanohdjes lives.” Sitting on a large stone he wondered
what he should do. At last he thought, “Well, I must go on; if I do not
Tsodiqgwadon may kill me, for he is greater in sorcery than I.” So he
traveled on for another whole year. Then he thought again: “How much
farther must I go? I am very far away from Hanging Rock.” (Tsodiqgwadon
was so magically powerful that he caused Doonongaes to lose his course,
and hence to go round and round without ever drawing nearer the place
to which he was sent.) One morning Doonongaes heard a voice from some
village near by. There sat Tsodiqgwadon, who turned, and, looking at
him, asked, “Well, have you come back?” “Yes,” said Doonongaes. “Have
you seen my father?” continued his questioner. “No; I could not find
his lodge,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, you have been gone a long time.
Where have you been?” said Tsodiqgwadon. To this Doonongaes rejoined:
“I thought I was on my way north, and that I was a great distance from
here, and I wanted to know how far I was from your father’s lodge.”
Tsodiqgwadon began to laugh and to make sport of him, saying, “I want
you to go straight ahead this time, not in a circle.”
Doonongaes now set out the second time. He traveled northward for 10
days and nights, when he came to a narrow opening which was so long
that he could not see the farther end. This was called
Nitgendasadieha.[193] He started to cross this opening. At night he
slept soundly on the grass. The next morning he traveled on. He was
10194 days in crossing this opening. Going on farther, he came to a
second opening, through which he saw a lodge at the farther end.
Peeping through the cracks in the wall, he saw sitting inside by the
fire with his head down, smoking, an old man. The old man, who was of
the Osigweon195 people, raising his head, said: “I smell a human being.
My nephew must have come. Well, nephew, come in. Why do you stand
outside?” Thereupon Doonongaes, thinking, “How did he know I was here?”
went in. The old man continued: “I have been wishing for a long time
that you would arrive, for I knew you were coming. Now, nephew, I have
a game which I always play when anyone visits me—it is a foot race. We
run from one end to the other of the narrow opening.” “I have nothing
to bet,” replied Doonongaes. “Oh!” replied the old man, “bet your
head.” “Very well,” said Doonongaes. “Wait a while,” said the old man;
“I will tell you when I am ready,” and he went into another room.
Doonongaes, making himself invisible, followed him. The old man had a
bark canoe there, in which was a living thing that seemed to be without
bones, being a mass of flesh about 2 feet long, in the shape of a
lizard. As the old man rubbed his hand over it, a fluid resembling milk
came out of the living object, with which the old man rubbed his hands
and his whole body. Doonongaes also rubbed himself with the juice
before going out. Then the contestants placed themselves at the end of
the opening, whereupon the old man said, “I will start just as the sun
comes to the middle of the sky.” They stood watching until the sun was
exactly in the middle of the sky. Then they started. The old man,
throwing out his arms, pushed Doonongaes far back. The latter,
springing up, however, soon overtook the old man, and catching him by
the neck, threw him back, saying, “That is what I do when I want to
win.” They ran on until the middle of the afternoon, when they reached
the other end of the opening. At sunset Doonongaes was back at the
starting place, where he staid all night. In the morning the old man
came, and Doonongaes said: “I have won. Now I will take off your head.”
“Well,” said the old man, “I will have a smoke first.”196 “Oh, no,”
said Doonongaes, cutting off the old man’s head at once.
Then Doonongaes continued his journey northward, traveling for two days
and nights. When he tired of walking he turned into a long horned
snake. Soon, seeing a great black cloud coming with rain and thunder,
he thought, “Hinon [197] wants to kill me”; hence he went down into the
earth so far that Hinon could not reach him. After staying there a good
while, he said, “I must go on”; so he changed himself into a man again
on account of his dread of Hinon. He soon came to a river, on the bank
of which he stood, wondering how he was to cross. He went along the
bank to the point where the river entered a lake. There he thought, “I
must change myself into a snake and go into the water.” After crossing
he became a man again so Hinon would not pursue him.
Doonongaes journeyed on a whole month. One morning he came to an
opening called Gendagwen(t),[198] where he saw nothing. Having passed
through this he saw a woman. He ran forward swiftly, but could not
overtake her. She went with such speed that they were the same distance
apart at night, when he thought, “I can not catch her, so I may as well
camp.” Picking up some dry sticks, he made a fire. On looking around he
saw that the woman had camped just ahead. “Oh, pshaw!” thought he, “I
will go there.” He started, but as he advanced so did she. When he came
to her fire there was no one there, so he said, “I will stay here.”
Soon he saw another fire ahead, which he knew to be the fire of the
woman whom he was following, whereupon he said: “I am ashamed to stop
here, so I will go on.” He reached the second fire, but no one was
there. Then he said, “I will go back to my own fire and stay there.”
When he reached his camping place the woman was back again at her first
fire. He followed her all the next day, always at the same distance. On
reaching an opening she went into a lodge. Following, he found her
sitting on one side of the fire, and an old man on the other side with
his head bowed. Seating himself near the woman, Doonongaes asked her,
“Do you not want to marry me?” She made no reply. He asked again, “Will
you marry me?” He asked three times, but received no reply. Then the
old man, who was a Dagwanoenyent (i.e., Cyclone), raising his head,
said to the girl: “You have brought home game. Wash my big kettle,
granddaughter, and boil some water, and I will kill the game.” At this
he began to sharpen his flint knife, whereupon Doonongaes ran out, with
the old man following him. Doonongaes mused: “What trouble comes to me:
I shall die now. This is because I tried to catch the girl.” The old
man was close upon him now, and as he lifted his knife to strike,
Doonongaes stepped aside, so the old man cut his own knee. He fell down
on account of the pain, but spitting on his hands, he rubbed the wound,
thus curing it instantly. Then springing up, he ran on. All day he
followed Doonongaes. Many times he cut himself as he did the first
time, but always healed the wound with spittle. At sunset Doonongaes
said, “What a shame! I ought to kill that man.” Turning himself into a
snake, he tore him to pieces. As he threw off the legs, he said, “I
want you to become owls,” and away they flew, owls. He made the old
man’s flesh into all kinds of birds.199
Then he said, “Now, I will go back to the girl; it may be that she will
marry me.” Reaching the lodge just at midnight, he went in and said to
the girl, “Your grandfather is dead.” “Is that true?” she asked. “Yes,
I have killed him,” said Doonongaes. “Well, what do you want?” she
demanded. “I want to live with you,” said Doonongaes. “Very well,” she
replied; “I was afraid of the old man—this is why I did not answer your
questions at first.” Doonongaes stayed with Ganos,[200] for that was
the girl’s name, a whole month. Then he said one morning, “I must
continue my journey.”
So Doonongaes set out, and after traveling northward for 16 days and
nights, he came to the edge [201] of the earth. It was very cold there.
As he looked around, he saw a lodge in which he found a very old man
with white hair reaching to the ground all around him as he sat there.
Doonongaes said, “I have come to visit you.” The old man did not hear.
Thrice Doonongaes spoke but received no answer. Then he looked for a
club. Finding one, he hit the old man on the top of the head, saying,
“Do you not hear me?” The old man never moved, but muttered, “Mice must
have fallen from above my head. No matter.” Doonongaes, thinking what
kind of man is this, struck him again. Thereupon the old man, lifting
up his hair and tying it back so that he could see, asked, “What are
you here for?” “I came to visit you,” said Doonongaes. “I do not want a
visit from you. Be off!” he commanded. Doonongaes, who was nearly
freezing to death from the extreme cold, retorted: “Be quiet! do not
get excited.” “Oh! I do not care for other people,” said the old man.
“What did you come here for?” “I came to ask a question. Do you know
where Deanohdjes lives?” asked Doonongaes. “Yes; he lives in the middle
of the ice lake over yonder,” said the old man. “Do you know whether he
is at home today?” said Doonongaes. “Oh, you could not go to him today;
it used to take me 10202 days and nights to go to his place,” said the
old man. “Is there a trail?” inquired Doonongaes. “Yes, you will find
my tracks,” said the old man, who was a white bear.
Now it grew colder and colder while Doonongaes traveled half a day
before he reached the place where Tsodiqgwadon’s father lived. He found
an open space in the ice. After standing there a while he saw a man
with great teeth rising from the water. The man said to Doonongaes,
“What do you come here for?” “Your son sent me. There is to be a great
council at Broken Land. All the people of the world will be there,”
answered Doonongaes. “What is the council for?” asked Deanohdjes. “I do
not know; your son has not told me,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, I will
start in 20 days from now,” rejoined the elder man.
Trembling with cold, Doonongaes turned back without delay. In 10 [203]
days he was at Hanging Rock. Tsodiqgwadon asked, “Have you seen my
father?” “Yes,” replied Doonongaes. “Well, what did he say?” was the
next question. “He said that he would start in 20 days,” answered
Doonongaes. “Let us go to Broken Land,” said Tsodiqgwadon. They
started, but as they had 10 days’ time and it was only one day’s
journey to Broken Land, they went southward to look around. The next
day near sunset they saw a man coming toward them. “Who is that
coming?” asked Tsodiqgwadon; “he looks like a chief. What a great
headdress he has! [He had long feathers and much wampum.] He looks like
a great man, for his face is painted red and black.” Doonongaes said,
“Let us chase him.” “What shall we do with him if we catch him?” asked
Tsodiqgwadon. “I will take hold of his head and you of his feet, and
thus we will stretch him,” answered Doonongaes. “Very well,” said
Tsodiqgwadon. When they met, Doonongaes asked the stranger, “Where are
you going?” “To the north, to see the place where White Hair lives,”
was the reply. “What would you do if I should wrestle with you?”
inquired Doonongaes. “Oh! I should like that,” he said. So they began
to wrestle. Doonongaes threw his adversary; and then, taking hold of
his head and Tsodiqgwadon of his feet, the two began to pull, and they
pulled until his legs and arms were stretched out to a great length.
Thereupon Doonongaes said, “We will call you Gaisonhe.”204
Leaving him, the two traveled on. The second morning they saw some one
ahead, an ugly-looking man who had a great deal of wampum wound around
his body. He was shooting arrows as he sat on a stone. Doonongaes and
Tsodiqgwadon looked in the direction his arrows were going and saw many
deer standing there, but they noted that his arrows never struck one of
them. Going up to the man, Doonongaes asked, “What are you doing?” “I
am trying to kill deer. I have tried all the morning, but I can not
kill one,” said he. “Such a shot as you are can never hit anything even
if he were to shoot 10 days,” said Tsodiqgwadon, adding, “I will help
you.” As the man shot, Tsodiqgwadon blew on the arrow, which went into
the ground, at which Tsodiqgwadon said, “You will never see that arrow
again.” Immediately it took root and turned to Ohohwa Ohnoh.[205]
Tsodiqgwadon changed the man into an owl, after which they went on.
Just at midday the two came to a cliff. As they stood on the edge,
looking down, Doonongaes said, “It seems as if some people live down
there.” Tsodiqgwadon replied: “I think so. Let us go down.” When they
reached the bottom, they saw that under the cliff was a plain, or
opening, with the cliff hanging over one side of it. The plain had
three points—a northern, a southern, and an eastern. At each point
there was a lodge. Doonongaes went south and Tsodiqgwadon went north.
Looking into the lodge that stood on the southern point, Doonongaes saw
an old man working at something. “What is he doing making such a
noise?” thought Doonongaes. The old man, looking up, said: “This odor
is like that of a man. How could anyone get in here, for my master
guards the entrance to the cliff?” The old man, who was of the Odjieqda
[206] people, was making a wooden bowl. He went to work again, saying,
“I will not waste time smelling.” Doonongaes heard him, and, saying “I
will make him waste his time,” he thrust his horns under the lodge,
and, lifting it into the air, threw it down so that it broke into
pieces. The old man, however, still sat on the ground in the same
place. Doonongaes laughed. The old man thought to himself, “Who is that
laughing?” and, looking up, he said: “Oh! that is Sʻhodieonskon.207
Well, I will not do anything. I will go and tell my master”; with this
remark he started toward the entrance, while Doonongaes hurried off to
the lodge at the eastern point of the opening. There he heard the sound
of pounding, and peeping into the lodge, he saw four Odjieqda women
pounding Odauhdjah208 in stone mortars. The eldest asked, “Do you not
smell the flesh of man?” “Yes,” replied the others. “Well, hurry up,
take your clubs and try to kill him,” she continued. Doonongaes ran
off, frightened. The women came out, but could see nothing but tracks.
The old woman, whose name was Deiehnies,209 said, “Never mind; he will
come back.” “That is a strange place,” thought Doonongaes; “I will go
back and see what they will do”; so saying, he returned to the lodge.
The women immediately knew of his return, and old Deiehnies said, “Make
haste, my daughter, and kill the game.” When they came out they saw a
man standing near the lodge. Then the old woman changed her mind,
saying: “Do not bother him. It must be that he wants to marry—that is
why he comes.” One of the girls added, “Yes; let him alone,” but the
eldest said, “No; let us kill him.” The two younger girls returned to
the lodge, but the eldest, running up to Doonongaes, lifted her club to
hit him; he dodged, however, with the result that she struck herself210
on the knee, whereupon she fell down crying. At this the old woman came
out, and taking hold of her by the hair, shook her, saying: “What are
you doing? If you want to kill the game, run after it.” Then the old
woman ran up to and struck at Doonongaes, likewise hitting her own knee
and falling down crying. Doonongaes now went to the lodge where the two
younger girls were and they stood up near him, for they liked him. As
old Deiehnies and the eldest girl came in, the women began to fight.
Going outside, Doonongaes watched the fight. They fought long and hard,
but had not finished when Doonongaes set fire to the lodge; before the
women knew it, the flames were so fierce that they could not escape, so
all were burned to death. Thereupon Doonongaes said to himself: “Why
did they try to kill me? They did not know what kind of a man I am.
Everyone ought to be kind when I come. I will go to find Tsodiqgwadon.”
Doonongaes now went to the lodge in the north, but he found no one. He
heard, however, a sound as of ball-playing. Following the sound he came
to an opening, where he saw his friend playing ball with two old men of
the Dagwennigonhge [211] people. It was a close game, and Doonongaes
stood watching it. Soon they ran past him, and Tsodiqgwadon called out,
“Why do you not help me? There are two against me”; so Doonongaes
joined in. The old men played well, but Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon
won. Then Tsodiqgwadon said, “Take the wager. Cut their heads off.”
“Very well,” replied Doonongaes, “that is what I like.” So he cut off
their heads, and throwing them into the lodge, then burned it up. The
heads burst and Dagwanoenyents212 rushed forth. Now the cliff began to
crumble, at which Doonongaes exclaimed: “Let us go quickly! This cliff
may fall and bury us under it.” Doonongaes and Tsodiqgwadon ran out as
quickly as possible and were barely outside when down came the cliff.
Doonongaes said, “The man from the first lodge ran out at this
opening.” As they stood there looking carefully around they saw a
lodge, in the doorway of which sat a man, whereupon Tsodiqgwadon said:
“That man’s name is Hahnyusdais.213 He is the master of the dwellers
under the cliff, and he kept them as prisoners.” “Let us go up and see
the fellow,” answered Doonongaes. When they went to the lodge,
Hahnyusdais asked, “What did you come here for?” “I came to ask you a
question,” retorted Doonongaes. “Well, wait until I smoke,” Hahnyusdais
replied, and taking out a stone pipe, he began to smoke. Doonongaes
continued, “I came to ask you what has become of the men you had under
the cliff which has just fallen in?” “I will go and see,” replied
Hahnyusdais. As the place was full of earth he could not look in, and
he said to Doonongaes, “Do you not belong to the Dagwennigonhge
people?” “No, I do not,” was the answer. The old man then inquired:
“Why is this place full of earth? I went in some time ago, but I can
not go in now. A man named Deagonstwihes214 came out of here a little
while ago and then went back. I suppose he was buried in there.”
Doonongaes began to laugh at what he had done, saying to Tsodiqgwadon,
“Let us chase and catch Hahnyusdais.” “What shall we do with him?”
asked Tsodiqgwadon. “Oh! stretch him,” came the reply. Thereupon they
caught him, and Doonongaes taking him by the head and Tsodiqgwadon by
the feet, they pulled in order to stretch him out. Hahnyusdais
screamed: “Oh, stop! I do not want long legs. I want to be as I am.”
But they only pulled the harder, Hahnyusdais growing longer and longer,
until Doonongaes said, “This man now belongs to our people; he will be
Haunhdji.”215
Leaving their victim, the two then went toward the east. At midday they
met the two men who had been sent to track the Laughing Man [216] after
he had killed Doonongaes. “What are you doing?” asked Doonongaes. They
replied: “We are tracking the Laughing Man, who killed our chief. We
were sent to track and to kill him. We shall never stop until we catch
him. Here are his tracks.” “Who was your chief?” said Doonongaes.
“Doonongaes,” they replied. Doonongaes, laughing, said, “Do you not
know that when Sʻhodieonskon dies he comes to life again in a short
time?” “No,” replied the men, whose names were, respectively,
Hatkwisdowanen217 and Hushewathen.218 “We do not know that. We never
heard the old people say that,” they answered. “Well, two days after I
died I came to life. It is no use to pursue the Laughing Man any
longer. You will not catch him, but he will never kill me again. You
would better go home,” added Doonongaes. The two men said, “Thank you
for our freedom; we are at liberty now to go where we please.” “I
should like to take a smoke,” said Doonongaes; “I used to have a
pouch,219 but I do not know now where it is.” “Well,” said
Hatkwisdowanen, “when you died two men were sent to your lodge to get
your pouch. I think that the chief, Hagondowanen,220 has it now.” “I
will be at his place tomorrow,” replied Doonongaes. “We are going to
have a great time at Broken Land. Will you not be there?” “It may be
that I shall, if I do not get killed. I suppose my wife is enraged
because I have been away so long,” answered Hatkwisdowanen.
Hatkwisdowanen and his friend now started for home, while Doonongaes
and Tsodiqgwadon went on eastward. At nightfall the latter came to a
lodge, within which they heard some one singing, Onen gagwégon
sawadiyon heníyon ganyoh.[221] “Why does that old woman sing so?” asked
Doonongaes. “Let us run through this hut,” he added. “Oh, pshaw!”
answered Tsodiqgwadon; “what is the use of chasing people all the
time?” “I will tell you why I like to do it,” answered Doonongaes. “All
people get angry when they see me and try to kill me, so now I am going
to kill all the people I can.” Tsodiqgwadon remained outside while
Doonongaes went into the lodge, crying out, “Now I have come back.” The
old woman, whose name was Gonyahsgweont222 and who belonged to the
Nosgwais223 people, raising her head, said, “It seems as if some game
creature was talking in my lodge.” Looking around and seeing
Doonongaes, she said: “What are you doing in here? There is no use
troubling me, for I have never chased you.” She knew he was
Sʻhodieonskon, and that he always chased and killed people. She began
to beg, but, going behind her, he held her by the shoulders when she
tried to turn around. Then catching her by the feet, he pulled her out
of the lodge. “Do not make sport of and trouble me,” cried the old
woman; “I am poor, but I have never harmed anyone.” “Why do you sing in
that way, then?” asked Doonongaes; “I thought you were the woman who
killed all kinds of game.” “I was feeling happy, that is why I sang,”
answered the old woman. At this Tsodiqgwadon said, “You would better
let that old woman alone.”
So Doonongaes left the old woman and the two went on. When they met
people they changed themselves to resemble those people. They were
magically the most powerful persons living. Tsodiqgwadon was greatly
superior to his friend in this respect, possessing the greatest orenda
in this world. All were afraid of him because he could do anything he
liked. All at once Doonongaes said: “My neck feels bad. It has been
sore for a long time.” “When did it become sore?” asked Tsodiqgwadon.
Then Doonongaes told about the two old sisters Gwidogwido, and said
that ever since he had lifted and carried away their lodge his neck had
troubled him. “You must have been bewitched by their lodge,” replied
Tsodiqgwadon; “let me feel your neck?” When Doonongaes held his head
down Tsodiqgwadon saw the end of a flint knife. He tried to pull it
out; he continued to try all night long, and just as the sun [224]
arose he drew it out. “There! I have it,” said he. “The wizards
bewitched you. There are many more wizards than you know of. I have
cured you now for life.” Taking up the knife, Doonongaes looked at it
and said, “How strong I am to carry so long a knife in my neck so many
years.”