One day while the elder brother was away, the younger one became

lonely, so he decided to make something. Seating himself on the ground,

from a portion of earth he formed an object which was in shape like a

grasshopper. After he had finished it, he set it down, saying, “Can you

not jump?” Then he blew on it until at last the grasshopper did jump.

As the grasshopper flew away, the youth decided to try to make a

creature that would fly higher. So he made a bird of red clay, which is

the cherry bird. After he had finished it he set it up, telling it to

fly. Obeying him, the bird flew up in the air, alighting on a bough.

This was the first land bird. Thus the youth made one after another all

the birds of the air. Then he resolved to make a creature that would

run on the ground. So forming a deer out of earth, he brought it to

life. Thereupon, saying to it, “Now you shall run swiftly and go

everywhere around the world,” he caused the deer to live by blowing

upon it. In this manner he made all the various kinds of wild animals,

and also formed a human being out of the earth.

The elder brother had a chosen place where he sat while making these

things. When he formed the human being, his brother chanced to find

him. Then the younger brother, deciding that he, too, would form a

human being, went off by himself. Having formed a human being as best

he could, he brought his creation to life, but it did not look like the

human being his brother had formed; it was a strange looking creature.

When he saw that it was not a human being, but an ugly-looking object,

he said: “My brother has made a human being over there; you may eat the

human being made by my brother.”

The elder brother, suspecting the younger, went near him and found him

making animals of various kinds, and he also heard him instructing them

to eat human beings. So, going back to his own place, the elder brother

caught the cherry bird, and pulling out the hind leg of a grasshopper,

he gave it to the bird, saying, “Go and scare my brother.” As the bird

held the leg it became in form like that of a human being and bloody.

Flying near the younger brother, the bird perched on a near-by bough

and began to cry out, “Gowe! Gowe!” When the younger brother saw what

the bird carried and heard what it cried, he left his work and fled

home to his grandmother, to whom he said: “A bird came and perched just

where I was at work. I believe my brother made it to frighten me, for I

was afraid that it would pull my leg out, so I fled from there.” When

the elder brother returned the grandmother said, “You should not

frighten your brother.”

Finding that the first human being made was wandering around alone, the

elder brother decided to make a companion for him in the form of his

grandmother. So he did this, and when the new being was finished he

breathed into her, telling her to walk, and then he took her to the

man, saying to him: “I give you her. You must always go together.”

During the night the human beings found that one of the man’s arms and

one of the woman’s were in the way, so the man said, “We will cut them

off,” and this they did. When their maker came along in the morning and

saw what they had done he said: “This will not do. I shall give them

blood and pain”;[360] so from himself he gave them a portion of blood

and a measure of pain. He also put back the arms which they had severed

from their bodies. Before this they had no blood nor pain. To the man

he said: “I have made you two, and now you shall have children like

yourselves. You may also hunt the animals which I have made for food.

Kill them and eat their flesh; this will be your food. I have decided

to go above in the sky. You will not live here forever. You shall die,

and your spirit shall come up to me where I will live hereafter.” After

the younger brother found that the elder brother had gone up into the

sky he went forth and, seeing the man and the woman, he talked with

them. Then he said to himself, “I am going to make a human being at any

cost.” So, taking earth, he shaped it as best he could; and when it was

completed he blew into its mouth and ordered it to arise and whoop.

Thereupon it shouted, “Ho, ho!” He shoved it from behind and it took a

great leap. It was a green frog which was as large as a man. The

younger brother was now angry and said: “I can not make a man. My

brother has made a human being and she-human being and many animals.

May what I have made become man-eaters and eaters of animals—eaters of

whatever my brother has made.”

The elder brother, looking down from the sky, saw that all the animals

which his brother had made were trying to eat up the human beings and

the animals which he had made. So he placed all these monsters of his

brother’s creation down in the ground and ordered them to stay there so

long as the earth remained. Having done this, he returned to his home

in the sky.

When the younger brother learned that his animals had been placed

underground by his brother, he was very angry, and exclaimed, “I shall

try again to make a human being.” So he worked a portion of clay to

make it pliable and responsive, going at times to take a look at the

human being which his brother had made. But when his own human being

was finished and he had brought him to life, he was indeed a

horrid-looking creature. The younger brother told him to whoop, but he

could only say, “Ho, ho!” This creature was Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who was

told by the younger brother to go and eat up all the things that his

elder brother had made. Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa started off to do this.

The elder brother in the sky, seeing what was going on, came down to

earth to place Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa under the ground. But the latter spoke

first, saying: “I desire to live on the earth. I will be your servant

and will help you. I will go around in the woods and rocky places. The

ashes of the fires shall be my medicine for human beings. Should anyone

be taken ill, I will scatter ashes over the patient, who shall be made

well at once.” The elder brother could not put Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa

underground, for he had spoken first, so he had to allow him to remain

on the surface of the earth.

Now, the younger brother, going to his grandmother, said: “I have tried

my best to make a human being, but have failed. I shall now cause

people to be evil-minded. I shall go away and shall have a home, too.

And all the evil people who die shall come to me and I shall torment

them because I could not make a human being.”

If one who is good shall die, he shall go to the elder brother, in his

home in the sky.

75. THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE MICE FETISHES

In times past there lived two brothers in a lodge which was built in a

secluded place in the forest.

Most of the time the elder brother was lying down in order to mature

some design which he was developing in his mind. From time to time he

would say to his brother: “Now, my younger brother, be very careful of

everything, and be on your guard against the evil that others may try

to do us. Whenever some person comes here to see us, remember what I am

now telling you. And do not forget that under my bed, in a secret

place, are a human skull and some other sacred things, which it is not

proper for you to show any other person.”

Some time afterward two young women came to the lodge of the two

brothers to look around in order to learn what the two young men had.

After showing them many things, the younger brother said, “I must tell

you that there are some things which are sacred, and which, therefore,

I cannot show you.” But after a while, as the two women appeared to be

so kind and agreeable, and so much pleased with what they had seen, and

as they shyly pleaded to be shown the things which the younger brother

said he was not at liberty to show, at last yielding, he brought out

the human skull. Snatching it out of the young man’s hands, one of the

young women flew away quickly, while the other followed her at once.

Thereupon the elder brother said, “Now, you must chase these women with

the corn-pounder and see whether or not you can overtake them.” So he

ran after them with the corn-pounder, and soon overtaking them, pounded

them to death; then he carried the skull back to his elder brother. The

latter asked him, “Have you recovered the skull?” The younger brother

replied, “Yes, and I have also killed the women.”

Not long afterward, two other young women came to the lodge to see what

the brothers had that was curious. The younger brother showed them

various common articles, but the women said that these were not the

articles they wanted to see. Finally he showed them the human skull, at

which one of the women, snatching the skull away from the young man,

flew out of the smoke-hole, the other woman following her at once. When

the younger brother cried out at what they had done, the elder brother

told him to bring his bow and quiver of arrows. The younger instantly

obeyed, whereupon the elder brother shot an arrow up through the

smoke-hole.

Some time after the woman had taken the skull away, the elder brother

told the younger that he was going to the place to which the women had

carried it. While on the way there the elder brother asked himself the

question, “How shall I disguise myself?” He finally concluded to

transform himself into an aged man; so, making the necessary change, he

became a wretched-looking old man. On his journey he reached at last a

place where there was a large assembly of people, some of whom came to

him, saying, “We will aid you”; but he replied, “I do not want to

mingle with the crowd, for I am too old to do so; but I shall lie down

a little way from the assembly.” While lying there he discovered what

he wanted—information concerning the woman who had carried off the

skull. He learned that she was there, and that she was ill and

suffering great agony. On inquiring casually what was the trouble with

the woman, he ascertained from another woman that she had been shot

with an arrow, which was still in her body, and that no one had been

found who could draw it out. She was in terrible distress from it.

Every one in the assemblage was asked to attempt to draw out the arrow,

but no one was able to do it. Finally, the pretended old man was asked

to make a trial of his power and reluctantly consented to make the

attempt; but he only feigned to be averse to performing this act. So,

bearing him to the place where the woman lay in a lodge, they brought

her on a piece of skin and laid her near him. Thereupon the old man,

seizing the arrow with his teeth, drew it out little by little. At

this, some who stood by, exclaiming that it was almost out, seized the

arrow to extract it the more quickly, but it shot back into the woman’s

body as soon as they had touched it. With one accord they exclaimed,

“We are sorry for what we have done.” Seizing it with his teeth, the

old man again drew the arrow slowly forth. Each time that he stopped to

rest he cautioned the people with the words: “Do not touch it. Keep

your hands off of it.” Then he would say, “I will try again.” After a

while he got the arrow out. Then he said, “This is my arrow.” The woman

arose from the skin and was well.

The old man was taken back to the spot where he had lain in the first

place, although the people asked him to enter some lodge. He told them,

however, that he preferred to remain outside in the place which he had

first chosen. They brought him food and drink. Now, the woman who was

cured went to her own lodge.

Then the old man asked the people to make him a present of corn, bean,

and squash seed, which he desired to plant the next spring. So they

brought to him the seed carefully wrapped in a skin. But he did not

leave the place where he first lay down. After a while he opened the

bundle and, calling the mice, said: “Little creatures, here is enough

for you to eat. I desire to have you dig a tunnel underground to that

woman’s lodge, so that you may go under her bed and get a skull which

is there. Seize it and bring it through the tunnel to me.” Shortly an

army of mice came to eat the corn, beans, and squash seed. When they

had finished eating they began to tunnel, and they did not cease their

work until they had made a hole through the ground to the lodge. There

they found the skull, which they drew out slowly. Then the old man

stealthily crept to the place where they had left the skull, and,

taking it, after dismissing the mice with thanks, he started homeward.

He had told the mice to eat all they desired, and so they did eat what

they could in the lodge. As soon as the pretended old man was out of

sight of the lodge, he again became a young man. Turning toward the

village, he spoke a curse upon it, saying, “Let fire break out and

destroy all that belongs to that wicked woman, the lodges, and the

people.” Instantly the whole was in flames and was soon entirely

consumed.

Then the young man resumed his journey toward home. When he arrived

there he said: “Now, my brother, after much trouble I have recovered

this skull; so do not permit any person to see it again. I have

destroyed with fire the entire village and substance of that wicked

woman. Hereafter we may live in peace and contentment. So heed my

words.”

76. THE ORPHAN

In times past, in a certain village of the Seneca there was an orphan

boy, about sixteen years of age, who went around among the people,

going from lodge to lodge to live on the charity of owners, and living

wherever people were willing to keep him. Sometimes he slept by a brush

fire on the ground and ate whatever was given to him.

When the youth was about twenty years old he was still as much a boy as

ever. A chief who was very rich lived in the same village. He had a

daughter and two or three sons. One day the boy stopped near the

chief’s lodge, where they were burning brush. One of the chief’s sons

came out and said to him, “Oh, my friend! how long have you been here?”

“Not long,” said the orphan boy. “Well, do you not feel poor and lonely

sitting as you do?” was the next question. “No; I feel just as rich as

you do,” replied the orphan. “Do you sometimes think that you would

like to have a wife?” asked the young man. “Yes; I sometimes think that

I should like to have one if I could get one,” answered the orphan.

“Well, what would you think of my sister for a wife? Many men have

tried to marry her, but she has refused all.” “Oh!” said the orphan

boy, looking up, “I should as soon have her as anyone else; she is

handsome and rich.” “I will go and ask her,” said the young man,

thinking that he would have fun with his sister. Entering the lodge, he

said to her: “There is a young man out here who says he would like to

marry you. Will you have him?” “Why, yes! I would rather marry him than

anyone else,” she replied. “Shall I tell him so?” her brother

persisted. “Yes,” she answered. Thereupon he told the orphan boy, who

said, “I shall be glad to marry your sister and live with her.” The

brother in fun repeated this to his sister, who said, “I will go myself

and ask him.” She asked the orphan, “What did my brother tell you about

me?” He told her everything. She then said: “I will live with you as

your wife. Come tomorrow night at this time and I will take you for my

husband.” The next morning she hunted up leggings and moccasins for the

orphan boy. As was the custom with youths, he had never worn moccasins

in summer. The young woman made ready everything for him. In the

evening she went to the meeting place, where she found him. She brought

water with which he washed himself; he then put on the garments and she

tied up his hair. This time she told him to come to her home and to go

straight to her bed, without talking with any of the men, because one

of her brothers was always playing tricks. He did as he was told. The

waggish brother looked at him and laughed, and calling him by name,

said, “Come and sleep with me.”

In the fall the sons of the chief were ready to go on a deer hunt, and

the young married woman thought that she, too, would like to go,

inasmuch as she had a youthful husband, who, perhaps, would become a

good hunter. The husband said, “Yes; I will go and try,” for he had

never hunted. When they had traveled some distance, they camped and

began hunting. The husband, having found a place where there were wild

grape vines, made a swing. There he swung all day, never hunting, as

the others did. At night he would go home without game, but he did not

tell what he had seen in the woods. The brothers killed many deer. One

day one said to the other: “Our brother-in-law gets no game.” The other

replied: “Perhaps he does not hunt.” So they agreed to watch. On

following him, they found him swinging, and they noticed that the

ground was worn smooth around the swing. Thereupon they said: “We will

not live with this man and feed him. We will leave him and camp a day’s

journey away.” So they started, leaving the man and woman only one

piece of venison.

The boy never ate much, so his wife had most of the meat. When all was

eaten she began to fear starvation. One day while the boy was swinging

he saw a great horned owl alight in a tree near by. Having shot it, he

put the body under the swing, where he could look at it as he swung.

His wife was getting very hungry, and when he went home that night she

said, “If I have nothing to eat tomorrow, perhaps I shall be unable to

get up; you ought to kill something.” “Well, maybe tomorrow I shall

kill something,” replied the orphan.

The next day he went as usual to the swing. While swinging he heard a

sound like the crying of a woman. He was frightened and stopped

swinging. Soon he saw a female panther coming toward him with three

cubs. As they approached he heard a great noise in the north, the

direction from which the panthers had come, and a Dagwanoenyent

appeared, tearing down all the trees in his path. He stopped on a tree

near the swing. “There! you know what harm you have done,” said the

Dagwanoenyent. (The old panther and cubs had been in Dagwanoenyent’s

lodge on the rocks and had run away.) “Why are you so angry at the

panthers?” asked the young man; “what have they done to you?” “They

have torn up my best feather cap,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “What makes

you think so much of your cap? It must be very fine,” said the orphan.

“Yes; it was fine,” replied Dagwanoenyent. “Of what kind of skin was it

made?” was the next question. “It was made of the skin of a horned

owl,” said the Dagwanoenyent. “What would you think if I gave you

another one?” queried the orphan. “How can you get one?” asked

Dagwanoenyent. Going to the foot of the tree, the young man tossed up

the owl which he had killed. The wind had stopped blowing as soon as

Dagwanoenyent lighted on the tree. The old mother panther stood at

hand, listening to what Dagwanoenyent and the young man said to each

other. As he tossed up the owl, Dagwanoenyent caught it and said, “I

thank you; this is better than the old one;” so saying he flew away.

The panther thanked the young man, saying: “I am very glad you had this

owl. You have saved my life and the lives of my children; now I will

try to help you. Go to that knoll yonder, and just behind it you will

see a couple of buck deer fighting. You must try to kill both. The one

you shoot first will not run; they will fight until they die.” Running

over to the knoll, the orphan found the two bucks and killed both.

Taking a large piece of the venison, he went home to his wife, for she

was almost starved to death. “I have brought you meat,” said the

husband. “I have killed two buck deer today.” Jumping up, she threw the

venison on the fire to broil, and hardly waited for it to cook before

she began to eat it. The young man and his wife dragged the two deer

home, and having skinned and dressed them, had plenty of venison. The

young woman also dried the meat and tanned the skins. The panther told

the orphan that now he must hunt, and that he must never swing, because

he would kill much game.

When they had a great deal of meat the young man said: “I should go to

see your brothers now. Probably they have a large quantity of meat, for

they are good hunters.” He started on his journey, which took an entire

day. Having killed a deer on the way, he carried along the venison. He

found the lodge of his brothers-in-law, which looked very desolate.

Peeping in, he saw all the brothers, who appeared weak and miserable;

so he walked in, saying, “How are you, my brothers-in-law?” One said,

“There is our brother-in-law.” They answered, “We are nearly starved;

we have found nothing to kill.” “Well,” was the response, “we have

plenty at our place. Come and live with us. I have meat here on my

back. Eat and then go with me.” Thereupon he gave them the venison,

which they ate almost raw. The food made them strong, so they started

with him for his home.

The young man got home very quickly and told his wife, “Your brothers

are badly off; they are worse off than you were.” During the night the

brothers arrived. They were satisfied, and afterward lived with their

sister and brother-in-law. Soon all went back to the village, loaded

with skins and venison. Now the man and his wife were rich. They lived

in the Genesee Valley.

77. THE GREAT WORM [361] AND HINON

One day a boy was wandering about hunting in the woods. While he was

looking around for birds he noticed on the limb of a tree a large,

many-colored worm. He thought it very beautiful and he watched it for

some time. The next day he went to the woods again, thinking all the

time of the worm and wondering whether it still would be there.

When he came to the tree he saw the worm on the branch, but in another

place. The boy had a string of birds which he had killed that morning.

Tearing off a small bit of the flesh of one and fastening it to a

stick, he tried to feed the worm. It ate a little and the boy was

greatly amused. The following day the boy again found the worm and fed

it. The worm always remained near the place where he had first

discovered it. Each day the worm ate a little more and larger portions.

After a while the boy gave it a whole bird at a time; then soon two

birds, feathers and all. The worm had now become very large, too heavy

for the limb of the tree on which it had been staying, so it fell to

the ground. It never looked for food, but seemed to wait for the boy to

bring it.

One day the youth was out with a number of boys hunting. When they

started for home he said, “I shall give all my birds to the worm.”

Thereupon the other boys questioned him about the creature and wanted

to see it, so he led them to the worm, and they had great sport seeing

it eat. At every turn it seemed to change color and grow more

beautiful. The boys were delighted to throw birds at the worm that they

might see it snatch and eat them. Finally they said, “Let us go hunting

tomorrow and bring it all the birds we can find.” This they did.

For a long time the boys brought the worm birds, then rabbits, all of

which it ate. The worm grew very rapidly, became very long and thick—a

huge monster. The boys never told their parents or relations about the

worm, for they were afraid of losing their sport. They would go early

every morning to see the worm. The creature swallowed everything that

came within its reach.

One day while the boys were throwing the worm food they began to

wrestle, and in the excitement the youngest boy was thrown near the

creature. In an instant the boy was swallowed. At this the rest of the

boys were terribly frightened. When the child was missed the parents

looked for him everywhere; they went among the boys to see whether he

had not spent the night with one of them. But they could not get the

slightest clue to the whereabouts of the boy. The other boys said that

they had seen him the day before; that was all they pretended to know.

After this the boys pushed two or three others of their number near the

worm, which devoured them, too. It had become very large and ferocious,

and ruled the boys by a spell. One day they found that the worm had

killed and eaten a deer. Thereupon they were seized with great fear,

for the creature had grown so immense, and they ran away without having

their usual sport.

Now the village was built on a large mound-like hill, sloping on all

sides. The morning after the boys had failed to feed the worm the

people were alarmed to find the village surrounded by a terrible

monster. They were afraid to go near it, although they knew that they

must die if they remained shut up in the village. At last the greater

number, having found on one side what seemed to them to be an opening,

all rushed in. It was the mouth of the worm and all were swallowed.

Then the boys told those who remained that it was this worm that had

eaten the missing children.

When they saw that all who had tried thus to escape were devoured they

were terrified, and counseled together to save themselves. Only a few

were left. These decided to appeal to their grandfather, Hinon. So,

burning tobacco, they called on their grandfather, Hinon, the Thunder

god, imploring him to save them from this awful worm. As soon as the

tobacco was burning, they heard him approaching in a great black storm

cloud with terrific noise. With his lightning he struck the worm,

tearing it to pieces. These pieces rolled down the hillside into the

valley below, which became a lake.

78. THE CHIPMUNK AND THE BEAR

The Bear thought herself a very powerful creature in the exercise of

orenda (magic power), and hence was always trying to exhibit this power

before other animals.

One day she got into a hot dispute with a Chipmunk. Finally the

Chipmunk said: “Why do you boast so much? You have no remarkable

orenda.” At this sally the Bear, becoming very angry, asserted that she

had so great magic power that she could, if she wished, prevent the sun

from rising in the morning. The Chipmunk retorted, “No, you have not;

you can not do that.” “Wait and see,” replied the Bear. The Chipmunk,

not to be fooled, declared he would wait, saying, “We shall have the

sun at the usual time.” When the sun rose, as usual, the Chipmunk,

laughing, made sport of the Bear and her boasting. Finally, the Bear

got so terribly angry that she turned on the Chipmunk, who made his

escape by flight, for fortunately his burrow was near; but as he

reached it, the Bear was so close upon him that she stretched out her

paw to clutch him, and the Chipmunk just slipped from under it into the

hole. The next day the Chipmunk appeared with three marks on his

back—marks of the Bear’s claws, which the Chipmunk carries to this day.

79. THE GREAT WHITE BEAVER AND THE LAKE OF THE ENCHANTED WATER

Once in old times there lived a grandfather and his grandson in a lodge

in a forest far from any village. All the other people of their tribe

had been carried away through sorcery practiced by their enemies. The

grandfather therefore carefully guarded from witches and wizards his

grandson, who was the only hope and comfort of his declining years.

One day the little grandson, almost breathless, ran into the lodge

exclaiming: “Oh, grandfather! I have heard something which is very

wonderful, crying out, Kidjiʹde.” “Oh!” answered the grandfather, “that

is the bird which is called Chickadee; it is the first kind of game

that a young hunter kills.” Taking his cue from this reply, the lad,

seizing his bow and arrows, went out and after many fruitless attempts

killed the chickadee and brought its body into the lodge to his

grandfather. Thereupon the grandfather set up in the ground in front of

the fire two small forked sticks and laid across another stick in the

two forks. Having dressed the chickadee, he hung it on the cross stick

to broil, singing and dancing with great joy, saying, “Now my grandson

will become a great hunter.”

At another time the grandson ran into the lodge, crying out: “Oh,

grandfather! I have seen something with four legs, a black face, and

with four stripes around its tail; it was large and fat.” “Oh!”

answered the grandfather, “that is what is called Dju’äʹkăʼ;[362] it is

the second kind of game that a young hunter kills. It has good meat and

fine fur.” Renewing his hunting, the lad soon killed the Dju’äʹkăʼ and

brought its body into the lodge. The grandfather sang and danced again,

saying, “Oh! my grandson will be a great hunter.” After dressing the

body of Dju’äʹkăʼ he hung it on the cross-stick before the fire to

broil. When it was cooked both ate the flesh of Dju’äʹkăʼ.

A few days later the lad ran into the lodge, exclaiming, “Oh!

grandfather, I have seen a very strange thing, which was walking on two

legs; it had red skin on its head, a black coat, and made a great deal

of noise.” The grandfather told the lad what this new thing was,

saying: “Oh! that is Ohsoon. It makes the best kind of soup, and it is

the third kind of game that a young hunter kills.”

Running off into the forest, the lad soon saw a flock of the Ohsoon and

ran after them until he had caught one. He thought that the soup of

which his grandfather spoke must be in its legs. But after examining

them thoroughly and finding no soup, he exclaimed, “My grandfather must

have tried to deceive me”; with that remark he let the bird go free.

Then he ran back to his grandfather, complaining that he had caught one

of the Ohsoon and, after carefully examining its legs, had found no

soup in them, and that therefore he had let the bird go free. His

grandfather pityingly said, “Oh! you foolish boy. The soup is not in

its legs but in the body. You must kill, dress, and cook Ohsoon, and

then you will have very fine soup.” With this information the lad again

went out into the forest, and, having caught another of the Ohsoon,

brought it home. The old man was highly delighted with the success of

his grandson, so he himself killed, dressed, and cooked Ohsoon. Again

he sang and danced, frequently saying, “Now, my grandson will be a

great hunter.” When the bird was cooked, they ate their fill and were

both satisfied.

On another day the lad went out to hunt. In the forest he saw a very

strange creature, with long thin legs and something on its head

resembling the branches of a tree. Being very much afraid of this

creature, the lad ran home to his grandfather to tell him what he had

seen. His grandfather said: “That is Neogen,[363] which is the fourth

and greatest kind of game that a hunter kills. When a man can kill

Neogen he is a good hunter.” Taking his bow and quiver of arrows the

lad went into the forest to look for Neogen. After long hunting he

killed Neogen and dragged its body home to his grandfather. But on this

occasion the old man did not dance, for this was an event for solemnity

in conduct. With due respect to the amenities of the occasion he

carefully instructed the growing lad in the art of dressing the deer

and of preparing its skin for use. Then he told his grandson that he

had evinced the qualities of a good hunter, and that, “Hereafter you

need not run back home to tell me what you have seen. You now have the

right to kill anything that may come in your way. A man that can kill a

deer is a great hunter, and he then can kill all kinds of game.”

The next time the youth went to hunt he brought back a fine bear. His

grandfather was now very happy, for they had an abundance of meat.

Assuring the youth that he had arrived at the age of manhood, as

indicated by the change in his voice, he said to him: “My grandson, I

am much pleased with you. You may go when hunting in every direction

except toward the east. You must not go toward the east, for there

dwell very wicked women, who have killed through sorcery all our

people. So give heed to what I tell you.”

The next time that the young man started off to hunt he directed his

course southward. But as he traveled on he kept thinking of those

wicked women in the east, who had destroyed all his kindred. Finally,

he decided to change his course from the southward to eastward, and he

kept on for some time in the latter direction. At last he came to a

tree which was covered all over with what appeared to be the scratches

and nail marks of raccoons, whereupon he said to himself, “There must

be a large number of raccoons in this tree.” So he removed his outer

garments and laid aside his bow and arrows; then taking a stout club,

he climbed the tree until he came to a hole very near the top. Peering

into this opening, he saw many raccoons down in the hollow trunk. By

thrusting his club down among them, he killed a number. Drawing them

up, he threw them on the ground at the foot of the tree. Finally he

chanced to look down—there at the very foot of the tree he saw a

beautiful young woman sitting on a log. As soon as she caught his eye

she exclaimed, “Come down here. I wish to talk with you, so do not

delay.” The young man paid no attention to her at first, but kept on

killing the raccoons and casting them down to the ground. She hailed

him again, urging him to come down to talk with her. To avoid her, he

crept around the tree, and there he changed himself into a red-headed

woodpecker. Next he climbed up higher into the tree, pecking at the

bark as he went for a short time. Then he shot his arrow off toward

home; it whizzed through the air making a sound like a woodpecker. The

young woman, who thought that he was the arrow, flew after him with all

her might. But the young man, assuming again his own form, slipped down

the tree, and after putting on his garments and gathering up the

raccoons and his bow and arrows, he started for home.

His grandfather was greatly delighted to see so great a number of

raccoons, but when he learned where the young man had got them he

became very angry and chided him severely, saying, “You must not go

there again, for if you do great harm and evil will befall us.”

The next day the young man started off from home, going directly

southward. But when he was out of sight of the lodge he suddenly

turned, going directly eastward. On the course he passed the tree where

he had killed so many raccoons, and finally came to a second tree,

which was also full of raccoons. Stopping there, he killed a large

number, and while throwing them to the ground from the tree, he again

saw the woman who had accosted him at the other tree. She urged him to

come down, and did not fail to use very enticing terms. As he recalled

his grandfather’s words, the young man well knew that he should not go

down to her, but a feeling came into his heart which urgently prompted

him to comply with her request. So reluctantly descending halfway,

there he stopped. But the woman kept urging him to come down. Finally,

having reached the ground, he sat on the end of the log, near the

middle of which the woman was sitting. She asked him, “Why do you sit

so far away? Young people customarily sit near each other when they

talk together.” At this the young man drew a little nearer to her. But

she still urged him to come close to her, so finally he took his seat

right at her side. Now she began to tell him stories of wonders and

magic power, talking to him until at last, becoming wearied, the young

man fell asleep. Then the young woman, placing him in a bag which she

threw over her shoulder, hurried away through the air. At the end of a

long journey she alighted on the ground, and taking the young man from

the bag, she aroused him and asked, “Do you know this place?” Looking

around, he replied, “Yes; my grandfather and I have fished here.” The

young woman replied, “I do not believe what you say. Point out

something you remember.” The young man (willing that she should see

these things) said, “Oh! there are the poles we set up, and there is an

old kettle in which we cooked.” He had bewitched her eyes, so after

seeing these objects she believed what he had said.

Again the woman told him stories until she had put him to sleep; then

putting him into her bag she carried him far away, finally alighting on

the ground. Taking him out of the bag and causing him to open his eyes,

she set him on a narrow cliff under a mountain, where he had room only

sufficient for him to lie down—a place not wider than a small deerskin.

Looking upward, he saw the mountain extending far above him, and

looking downward, he saw that the earth was many hundreds of feet

below. Nearer to him were other mountain peaks, narrow and pointed, on

which were lying the bodies of men—some alive, some half dead, others

half eaten, and still others reduced to mere skeletons. The sight of

these things caused the young man many bitter reflections. He

repeatedly said: “Oh! now I see that my grandfather was entirely right

in the advice he gave me. There are indeed very wicked women who dwell

in the east.” His feelings of chagrin were only heightened by what he

learned from what one of the living men told. Calling to the man lying

on the nearest cliff, he asked him how he happened to be there. The man

in broken accents replied: “A woman deceived me and brought me here.

Other women brought those other men to the spots where you see them

lying. Their flesh is being eaten from their bones, yet they do not

die. You and I shall be eaten when they get ready to come to us.” He

ceased speaking, and the young man then thought long on some means of

escape from such a lingering, horrid death at the hands of such wicked

women and their agents. At last he remembered that in years past he had

had a dream in which he had seen a Great Spider, which approached him,

saying: “My friend, I will keep and protect you when you shall be in

trouble. So call on me when you shall be in fear of death.” He

therefore cried to this Great Spider for aid, saying: “Oh, Great

Spider! help me now. I am in great trouble.” Hardly had his words died

away before an enormous spider, which was as large as a man, came to

him and at once began weaving webs and to form a rope. When it had

finished the rope the Great Spider suspended it from the mountain above

the man. The rope was quite strong enough to support the man, and

thereby he climbed up to the top of the mountain above him. There he

saw a large level country. Then by the aid of the Great Spider,

lowering the rope to the men below on the cliffs who were still alive,

he drew them up one after another. Having thanked the Great Spider for

its aid, he dismissed it. The men thus rescued went to their homes.

Then the young man set out for the home of the woman who had so

cleverly deceived him. After a long journey he found her living with

her mother in an old lodge standing quite alone. Addressing the young

woman, the daughter of the old sorceress, the young man declared his

purpose in coming by saying: “I have come here to marry you. When I

first saw you I was greatly pleased with you; and I now love you. Will

you be my wife?” Replying, the young woman said, “Oh! I hardly know

what to tell you, for I have a very disagreeable mother, and I am much

afraid you will not be able to live in the same lodge with her. It was

in obedience to her command that I carried you to the narrow cliff on

the mountain peak. I am willing to make the trial if you wish it.” The

young man accepted her even under these adverse circumstances, and so

they became husband and wife.

One night some time after this the old woman, the mother-in-law of the

young man, who slept at the back end of the lodge, pretending to be in

an agony of pain, rolled around on the ground. Her daughter, knowing

what the trouble was, said to her husband, “Strike my mother on the

head with the pestle for pounding corn.” In doing this he said to her,

“Oh! mother-in-law, what is the matter?” Seeming to have been awakened

by the blow of the pestle the old woman said: “I have dreamed, and my

Dream Being declared that it is necessary in order to avoid some

unknown calamity that my son-in-law kill the Great White Beaver that

lives in the Lake of the Enchanted Waters, and that with its flesh he

must prepare a feast for the Dagwanoenyent.” The son-in-law replied:

“It is all right, Oh! mother-in-law. I will attend to this to-morrow

morning. So go to bed, and let it not worry you.”

The next morning the young husband set out for the Lake of the

Enchanted Waters. Having arrived there he soon found the Great White

Beaver. With but a single arrow he shot and killed it. But as soon as

he lifted its body out of the lake the enchanted waters pursued him

with great fury. These waters were reputed to be so full of evil

enchantment that the flesh of any living thing coming in contact with

them immediately fell from the bones. Knowing this, the young husband

ran for his life, bearing the body of the Great White Beaver. At last,

reaching the lodge in safety he triumphantly threw the carcass of the

Great White Beaver down on the ground, and at that instant the waters

of the lake quickly receded. The old woman was now in a great rage at

the turn of affairs. At times she cried out, “Oh! he is a terrible man.

I thought that surely his bones would now be in that lake. Oh, my poor

son! Oh, my poor son!” It seems that the Great White Beaver was no

other than her son, who was a great sorcerer, and who assumed this

formidable shape to deceive other shamans and sorcerers and to lure

them to certain destruction. But evidently his orenda had been overcome

by that of the young brother-in-law, his sister’s husband.

Having dressed the dead Beaver in accordance with established custom on

like occasions and having had its flesh cooked, the young man invited

the Dagwanoenyent and the Gaasyendietʻha to come to the feast given in

their honor. Coming, one and all, they filled the lodge to overflowing,

the Dagwanoenyent being little else than great, horrid, round heads

with long hair and with great flaming eyes. Their host commanded them

to eat everything—flesh and bones—and to drink the broth, for it was an

“eat-all” feast. When the feast had been devoured to the last morsel,

the ugly old heads began to smack their lips, and they praised

ironically the feast, saying: “What a splendid feast, a fine dinner,

the old woman has given us. Oh! how sweet and toothsome was her son’s

flesh.” Then the Great Heads [364] grinned at one another derisively.

Now, beside herself with rage, the old woman, seizing a club, drove all

her unwelcome guests out of the lodge.

The next night the old woman again rolled and tossed on her bed,

finally falling into the fire, crying out, Agi! Agi! The wife of the

young man had told him that this time her mother would dream that he

and his mother-in-law must go into the sweat-lodge—the man first, and

the old woman after him. So when the old woman rolled into the fire,

the young wife said, “Now, strike her with the pestle for pounding

corn.” At this he struck her a blow with the pestle while she was

rolling about among the ashes and fire, and groaning as if in great

agony. The old woman, pretending to awake, said, “Oh! I have dreamed

that my son-in-law entered the sweat-lodge—he first, and then I.”

Making light of her dream, the young man said, “Oh! go to bed,

mother-in-law. I will attend to this matter in the morning.” Early the

following morning the sweat-lodge was heated hotter than it had ever

been before. When the son-in-law entered, the old woman sang and danced

around it, saying, “Let there be heat enough in there to smother him.”

In a couple of hours she cautiously pushed aside the door flap of the

sweat-lodge, remarking, “He must be dead by this time.” But she was

deeply chagrined to find that he sat inside very comfortably, and that

he had not even perspired. It was now the old woman’s turn to enter the

sweat-lodge. As she did so, the son-in-law began to sing and to dance

around it. He sang, “Let this lodge become flint; let it be red hot at

first; and then let it be at white heat.” As it grew hotter and hotter

the old woman begged for mercy, but none was shown her, and thus she

was burned to death.

Now the young husband, addressing his wife, said, “As you brought me

the most of the way hither on your back, and as you know the way, take

me home.” So she bore him on her back over the fields, over the

forests, past the fishing-grounds where he said he and his grandfather

had fished, past the raccoon trees, and at last brought him to the

lodge of his grandfather. The aged grandfather welcomed his grandson

and his wife, being very glad that his grandson had lived through all

the difficulties which he knew he had met while he had been absent.

There they lived in peace and contentment.

This is the story of the Great White Beaver and the Lake of the

Enchanted Waters.

TRADITIONS

80. GANON, THE SENECA WAR CHIEF

Ganon was a Seneca war chief. Having called a council, he said, “We

must go to see the Cherokee, and find out whether we can not agree to

be friendly and to live in peace hereafter.” The people consenting, the

chief continued, “We must purify ourselves thoroughly before we start;

this will take ten days.” Thereupon a great many went off into a deep

forest. All were men. There was no woman in the company. When they got

into the deep forest they took medicine to make them vomit. This they

did every morning for ten days, in addition to bathing and swimming and

washing their bodies each day.

At the end of ten days the chief said, “We shall go now on a high hill

and there make a trench the length of a man’s body. Then we will put a

man into it, placing boughs across so he can not be seen, and on top of

all the whole carcass of a deer.”

Now, they had invited Sʻhadahgeah to come down, and the people staid

near the trench. The man under the bush heard a noise, and saw a common

eagle come, eat a little, and then go off; then the eagle came back

again, ate, and went away in another direction. It seemed as if it

notified other birds, for they also came. The man who was lying

underneath the brush scared them away, for they did not want common

birds to eat the meat. After a while the concealed man heard a

tremendous noise, which he knew was made by Sʻhadahgeah, the bird they

wanted. Sʻhadahgeah is a very cautious bird; it looked everywhere

before beginning to eat the meat. The man got his hand carefully around

the bird’s tail, which he held firmly, and when the bird flew away he

pulled out one feather. It took two years to get a full tail of

feathers; hence they had to entice down a good many birds in this way

before they got enough for the purpose. When secured, the party was

ready to start for the Cherokee country.

Many days were required to reach the land of the Cherokee, who had

built a fort around them so that an enemy could not enter. The Seneca

got there early in the morning, when the gate was open. Two of the

Seneca dancers, adorned with feathers, made a noise like a whoop. When

the Cherokee heard this they came out, whereupon they saw the two men

singing and dancing. “These men must have come on some errand,” said

the Cherokee chief. When the two men came nearer they said: “We wish to

meet in council, as we come to talk about something important.” All

turned and went toward the lodge of assembly. All the Seneca had come

directly there, but only the two were singing and dancing. The lodge of

assembly was crowded. The Seneca sang and danced until tired, when they

stopped. The Cherokee did not dance. The Seneca chief said: “Now I will

tell you for what purpose we have come to you through the forest. We

have thought among ourselves that it is time to stop fighting. You and

we are always on the lookout to kill one another. We think it is time

to stop this. Here is the proof, if we agree to be friendly. Here is

the wampum. If you and your people are willing to be friendly, you will

take this.” With these words he held out the string of wampum as their

credentials. The Cherokee chief, coming up, met the Seneca chief,

saying: “I will take it and hold it in my hand, and tomorrow we will

tell you what we have decided to do.” Then turning, he said to his

people: “Go home and bring food to this lodge of assembly.” Thereupon

all brought from their homes so much food that there was a great pile

lying across the lodge of assembly. All ate together, but could not

consume the whole amount.

The next day they ate together again. “We have decided among

ourselves,” said the Cherokee chief to the Seneca, “to accept this

wampum, to be friendly with you, and to bury all the weapons of war so

no man may reach them again.” In response the Seneca chief said: “I

thank you. We are very glad that you have accepted our offer, and now

all of us have put our weapons together, and the white wampum shall

hang between us, and the belt shall be as long as a man, reaching down

to the ground.” The Cherokee said to their people: “Now is the time for

any of you who wishes to do so to pick out relatives from among the

Seneca to be adopted.”

When the notice was given the Cherokee women picked out one man,

saying, “You are to be our uncle, our mother’s brother.” Some other

woman took another for a brother; and finally all were taken except

Ganon,[365] the chief. Then Ganon, being above a Cherokee, said, “No

one has a right to take Ganon away, for a young man is here who will

claim him as his father.” At this, the young man, walking up to Ganon,

said, “Father, I am glad to see you. Now, father, we will go home.”

Speaking thus, he went to his mother’s lodge, taking his father with

him, and it was found to be he. He took him to the lodge where Ganon

spent the first night, and the young man was really his son. When Ganon

came to the lodge he recognized the woman. Everyone was pleased with

the place and relationship.

A good many days later a man came to the village from the East—the

Great Salt Water. He came from the Seoqgwageonon [366] tribe to

challenge them to a ball play, and he told how many days it would be

before his people would come. They came at the time appointed. The head

man was dressed in skins which were so long that they touched the

ground. Next day the Seoqgwageonon began to bet with the Cherokee. The

Seneca were there. The bet was two very heavy, costly skins, and other

valuables. The Seneca and the Cherokee said, “We can not say that we

shall win this game, but we are willing to play.” The play began. The

Cherokee lost the game. Then the Seneca said, “We shall try this time,”

and they bet again heavily. All were ready. They put their netted clubs

to the ground. After a little swift running, the Seneca brought the

ball to their goal, making a point. After the game had continued a

while, having made all the points agreed on, they won the game. They

now doubled the bet, and again the Seneca won. They won the third game

also. Now the Seoqgwageonon said, “We will try the race with you.”

The ground was quite level, and the opening was very broad. The

Cherokee chose a Seneca runner. They were to run the first time without

betting, and to bet on the second running. The men ran to the post, and

his people, seeing that the Seneca runner was just the thickness of his

body behind as they reached the post, asked him whether he had done his

best. He replied, “No; I have not.” Now they bet and the second, the

real race, began. At the middle of the course the Seneca runner said to

the other, “Do your best, for I am going to do mine.” The Seneca left

the other far behind, winning the race. Now the Seoqgwageonon said,

“There is yet one race, the long race, which we shall try.” The

Cherokee said, “We have won everything from these people. I believe it

will be best to let them win one game. If they lose all, they may make

trouble.” So they selected a Cherokee to run, who was beaten, whereupon

the Seoqgwageonon went home.

In two days another man came to say in behalf of the Seoqgwageonon that

he had come to challenge them a second time, and that they were to meet

halfway and have a fight. The Cherokee said to the Seneca who were with

them: “You are so few in number here with us that we do not want to

have you killed, so we think you would better go home.” When the time

came, the Cherokee met and fought with the Seoqgwageonon and were

beaten. Three years later the Seneca went to visit the Cherokee. On

this occasion they heard all about the fight, and the Cherokee told

them that the Seoqgwageonon had said, “We should like to fight with the

Seneca, for I am a double man; I have two virile members.” So the

Seneca held a council and decided to fight them, saying, “We shall try

and see whether he has two virile members.” The Cherokee volunteered to

guide the Seneca. They traveled many days until they came to a place

where the Cherokee said, “This is as far as the Seoqgwageonon usually

come to hunt.” They came to a path, and finding a footprint, they

waited there for the man who had made it. Soon they saw a man carrying

meat on his back. “We must take that man,” said the Seneca, “but let us

be careful lest he hurt us.” When he came near they ran at him. As soon

as he saw them, he whooped and dropped the meat. Then he drew his bow

and arrow to shoot, but before he could select his arrow, he was taken

captive. They caused him to stand in the middle of the assembly,

saying, “Let us see whether he has two virile members. “When they saw

he had only one, they said, “Now we want your people to stop saying

they have two virile members.” Thereupon the Seneca went back to the

Cherokee village.

Soon a runner came from the Seoqgwageonon, who told the Cherokee that

they wanted to have war with the Seneca and that he had come to

challenge them. The Seneca answered, “We will try to gratify them;” so

they started for the Seoqgwageonon village, guided by the Cherokee.

They came to an opening, from which it was one day’s journey to the

first village. Stopping at a hill in this opening, they were about to

send two messengers to the Seoqgwageonon when the Cherokee said, “You

must send them so as to arrive at the village about sundown.” They did

this. When the messengers arrived near the village they saw that the

Seoqgwageonon were playing ball. The messengers then went around to the

south side and threw sumach darts, so as to deceive the other Indians

into thinking them of their own people. The Seoqgwageonon so regarded

the messengers, hence they did not take notice of them. The messengers

having killed a man, scalped him, and rushed off whooping. On the way

home the Seneca kept saying to one another, “Djágon—brace up, take

courage.” About dusk they saw dust rising from the ground a good

distance behind. The Seoqgwageonon on horses were pursuing them. The

Seneca saw that they would be overtaken in the open, so they hurried to

a dry creek with overhanging banks, where they hid. Soon the horses and

dogs drew near, but the dogs failed to find the Seneca and the pursuers

went on. Shortly they returned, but again failed in their search.

The next morning the Seneca went on to Odaiadon, where there was an

opening into a forest. The messengers soon saw the dust a second time

and knew from this that they were being pursued. In a little while they

could see the horses which were coming on them; soon the horses were

near. The arrows of the Seoqgwageonon whizzed past them, and now their

enemies were almost on them, but the runners were at the opening, where

their people were arrayed in the form of a horseshoe. As soon as the

pursuers got into this formation the Seneca closed in on them,

capturing and killing all but one, who, being in the rear, turned and

fled in time. The two Seneca now followed the horseman until they saw

that he met a crowd. He talked to his people, and he and they went back

together to the country of the Seoqgwageonon.

The Seneca and the Cherokee now went to the Cherokee country, and in a

month the Seneca returned to their own place.

After a while the Seneca said, “Let us go again to our friends, the

Cherokee.” When they arrived there all were glad and invited them to

their lodges. They said to the Seneca: “We hear that the Seoqgwageonon

think the Seneca are dangerous and bad people. They themselves are

fortune-tellers and can see what other people are going to do, but they

can not tell what the Seneca are going to do. They are magically more

powerful than the others.” During this visit they merely amused

themselves with games and other sports.

81. HATCINONDON:[367] A HISTORICAL TRADITION

Hatcinondon was a great warrior, the greatest among the warlike Seneca

of the Iroquois Confederation.

Once Hatcinondon led a large company of warriors to the Cherokee

country on a raid. In time they arrived at a place called Oyada [368]

Thadinongeh, which was within the Cherokee country. They knew well that

the Cherokee were on the lookout for them. Having reached this place,

Hatcinondon told his men to remain where they were, and that he would

go ahead to spy out the land and to learn what could be done. Then he

departed from the camp of his men. Soon it was discovered by the enemy

that he was in the Cherokee country, and he was closely pursued by

them. He fled into a region covered with a heavy growth of reeds, which

was in two great sections, with a narrow strip of comparatively clear

land between them. Hatcinondon managed to escape into one of these

stretches, unobserved by the enemy, who believed that he had concealed

himself in the other part. So they set guards at the narrow strip of

land dividing the two sections of reedy land. After they had set fire

to the reeds and burned them up they made a careful search for his

charred body; but Hatcinondon had fallen asleep from exhaustion in the

other stretch of reeds. During the night, however, two men came to him,

who seized him by the arms, saying: “We have come for you.” When they

had brought him to the place whence they had been sent, they said to

him: “We have now brought you to this man who sent for you.” Whereupon

the two men pointed out a lodge, with the words: “There is where the

Heron lives who sent for you.” Hatcinondon went up to the lodge, but

could find no doorway; but after he had searched for some time without

success he heard a voice on the inside say, “Come in!” and a door

opened of itself, and Hatcinondon entered the lodge. Within he found a

man, who said: “I sent for you, and you have now come. Are you not

hungry?” At this Hatcinondon thought: “This is a strange way; this is

not the way I do. I would give the food at once.” But Ne Hononhsot,

knowing the thought of Hatcinondon, laughing, remarked: “I said that

only in fun.” Arising, he got half a loaf of bread made of corn meal,

half a wild apple, and half a pigeon, which he offered to his guest.

Hatcinondon said, laughing: “How little it is that will satisfy me.” To

which Ne Hononhsot answered: “If you eat this I shall give you more.”

As soon as Hatcinondon began to eat he saw that as he ate everything

became whole again, so that he was not able entirely to consume

anything. He was finally satisfied with what he had eaten. Then Ne

Hononhsot said: “Now that you have finished eating I will speak with

you further.”

While Hatcinondon was speaking he heard footsteps of someone

approaching on a run, and suddenly the door was thrust open, whereupon

the Sun came in so quickly and with such brightness that he had to hold

his head down to shield his eyes. The newcomer conversed with Ne

Hononhsot but Hatcinondon could not understand a word that was said. In

a short time the visitor started off toward the east. Then Ne Hononhsot

said to Hatcinondon: “This man is the one whom you Seneca call Endekha

Gaahgwa.[369] It is night now down on the earth, so he is hurrying

toward the east. He told me of a great battle that is now ended.”

Ne Hononhsot was indeed Hawenniyo, and he said: “This is what I

expected when I created human beings. I thought they would fight. The

man who has just been here is the one who watches on the earth below. I

want you to know that when you meet an enemy who shoots at you, you

must not run away but must walk straight up to him. He shall not hurt

you. An arrow shall not kill you. It is something else that shall kill

you. Now you shall eat again.” Ne Hononhsot next gave him the same kind

of food, one half of each object. Then he continued: “I am the cause

that the Seneca do not now fight with the Cherokee, for I love both

tribes. When you return home you will find all your people there, and

they will know that you are alive. When you get back to your party of

warriors you must tell them that they must leave the warpath at once

and cease fighting, returning to their homes and remaining there until

they shall find something to satisfy their wants. Now my messengers are

ready to lead you back to your camp.”

Going out of the lodge, and directed by the messengers, Hatcinondon

passed through an opening and soon found himself in the reeds where he

was before he had been called away, and then the messengers departed.

Returning to his party of warriors, Hatcinondon told them what he had

seen and heard. All went home, where they held a great council, and it

was there agreed that the party should go to the Cherokee country in a

couple of days. At the appointed time they started, while Hatcinondon

went directly to the Cherokee lands again. He was not afraid, for he

knew that an arrow would not kill him. In time the Seneca met the

Cherokee, and a fierce fight took place. Remembering what he had been

told, Hatcinondon, going straight to the enemy, killed and scalped a

Cherokee warrior, whereupon he immediately proclaimed, “I have killed

and scalped a warrior. My name is Hatcinondon.” He did this before any

of the Cherokee knew that he was there. They had a great battle and

many were killed. After the fight the party of Hatcinondon retreated to

their homes. The news soon spread that this party had returned home

with scalps.

Shortly after this affair another Seneca party started away to fight

the Cherokee, and Hatcinondon accompanied it. They soon encountered the

Cherokee, and in the ensuing fight Hatcinondon was captured. He was led

away, bound, to the Cherokee village, where a great council of war was

held. It was a standing rule with the Cherokee that when any person

from the Six Nations of the Iroquois was captured his or her fate was

left to the decision of two women, whose privilege it was to determine

how such a person should be tortured. These two women at this council

decided that Hatcinondon should be hung up and tortured to death by

fire. So he was securely bound to a tree, the war post, and wood was

carefully piled up under and around him. He had given himself up as

lost. They were about to set fire to the pyre of wood when a violent

rainstorm came up, causing the women to defer the execution until the

storm should have passed over. All the people sought shelter from the

storm, leaving Hatcinondon tied to the war post. While there alone he

saw an old woman coming toward him, who said: “My grandson, you think

that you are going to die, but you are not. Try to stir yourself.”

Thereupon, moving himself about, he found that his bonds were loosened

and that he was free. “You see now that you are free,” she said; “I

thought that I would come to return your kindness. You remember your

people once made a circle of fire and I was in the middle of it. You

recall, perhaps, that you saw a toad in the middle, and that you saved

the toad, placing it in your bosom. I was that toad. You carried me

until you came to water, in which you placed me. This is the reason I

am returning your kindness, for I see that you are in trouble now. I

brought that rainstorm and now I want you to run in the direction of

the next stream, and you must continue down the stream.”

When the rainstorm was over the two women returned to the war post,

only to find that Hatcinondon had escaped. They gave the alarm at once,

and the warriors assembled, calling the dogs, which forthwith took up

the trail. Soon they reached the stream and followed the current. As

Hatcinondon fled he came to a tree that leaned over the water. He found

that the trunk was hollow and that he could get into it from the water

and then crawl farther up. Here the dogs lost the trail and finally the

pursuit was abandoned. When the pursuers had departed he heard two

people approaching the spot, talking. Presently they sat on the tree at

the very place where he was concealed. He overheard them say, “It is

wonderful how that man escaped from us.” Hatcinondon was very careful

not to cough lest he should be discovered. But at last he heard them

depart and there was no further sound of talking. At last, having come

out of the hollow in the tree, he went southward, down the stream. When

night was approaching, while walking along he heard a blow which

sounded like that of an ax on a tree. Being greatly frightened, he

became very wary in his movements. While standing listening, he saw

three men, who had made a fire where they were going to camp for the

night. When darkness had fully set in he crept up stealthily, shielded

by a very large tree. Standing behind this tree, he saw that the men

were sound asleep and were snoring. Without disturbing them he secured

their weapons, with which he armed himself, carefully hiding those he

did not need. Then with an ax he killed the three men, whom he scalped.

Thereupon he said: “The blood is too strong, so I shall go aside from

this place.”

Taking their provisions, he went to a neighboring stream, where he made

a fire. Having done this, he went back and dressed himself in the best

of the garments of the slain men, for he was entirely naked; then he

returned to his fire, and, having cooked his meal, he ate it. When he

had finished his meal he prepared and painted the three scalps.

The next morning Hatcinondon, taking with him what provisions they had,

traveled in a great circle until he had found the path by which he and

his party had come to that country. Discovering fresh tracks leading

both ways, he learned that his friends were still in the country. As he

went along the path he saw smoke ahead, at the sight of which he

stopped and listened to see whether he could hear Seneca speech. He was

delighted to hear Seneca terms, and displaying the three scalps on a

stick he called out, Goʹweh, goʹweh! three times. When his friends

heard this, shouting for joy, they ran to meet him. They saw indeed

that he had three scalps and brought him to their camp fire. They were

glad that he had been found for they had watched day and night for his

return, but had about concluded that he had been killed. Setting out

for home, they found all their people well. This is the story.

82. GODIONT [370] AND THE SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

In Genesee Valley is Dedioitgeon—the mouth of a gully. In that place

lived the Seneca people. Godiont, the principal woman in the village,

had a meeting with a Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, who said to her, “We think it

would benefit your people for us to settle permanently at Dedioitgeon.”

Godiont thought it was good and kind in them to do this, and so she was

glad. Afterward when anyone was sick she went to that place and called

on the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa for assistance. She invited them to come to

her lodge, and got a pot of corn soup ready for them. They came in

person, and having asperged the patient with ashes and having blown on

him, they ate the corn pudding. The Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa said to Godiont,

“Whenever you invite us to come, you must have the pot ready, for we do

not wish to wait. After we have arrived we want to do our work

quickly.”

Once there was a man who had not much substance, who thought he would

fool the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa. Going to their place, he invited them,

saying, “Your help is required at a certain place” (naming it). They

went there, but found no one, and nothing was ready. After waiting a

while, the chief one said: “We have been trifled with. This will not

do. Godiont did not do this. Some other person has trifled with us. The

one who has done so must die. We are not to be trifled with. The people

must understand this. It is best for us to move away from this place.”

“I will tell you,” said he to Godiont, “what I want you to do. Make

masks as near like our faces as you can, and let men wear them, and we

shall work through these masks and thus help the people.” “Soon the man

who has trifled with us must come here,” said the oldest

Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa, “and you shall see what will happen to him.” Soon

the man came on a run. He was in a kind of crazy fit. Coming right to

the spot where the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa were, he fell down and began to

vomit blood, and finally died. After that day the people knew it was

wrong to make fun of the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa.

83. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

The inhabitants of a village saw an enormous Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa

approaching, whereupon they were very angry and provoked to see that it

could think of coming; so they got their bows and arrows ready to

shoot. But the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa called out: “Your arrows can not kill

me. I have not come to harm you. I have come for tobacco, and you must

collect voluntary contributions of it and give me all that you can

spare.” They did not shoot, for they well knew that their arrows would

have no effect except to make the Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa angry and

revengeful. So they collected a quantity of tobacco, which they gave to

him. Then he left them with the promise that he would never trouble

them again if during their tobacco harvest they would always set aside

a portion of this soothing plant for him. He kept his promise, as he

never molested them after this.

84. SʻHAGODIYOWEQGOWA

The Onondaga say that Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa live in a cave among rocks near

their reservation. They assert as a fact that they have seen

Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa going along in front of these rocks and entering the

cave, and they believe that many Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa live in that place.

Sʻhagodiyoweqgowa are represented by the so-called False Faces, or

maskers, of the Iroquois.

85. GENONSGWA

Three men were hunting in the woods. One of them, who was married, had

his wife and child with him. While the men were off in the forest the

woman and child remained in the lodge. The child was small and swathed

to a cradleboard.

One day when the woman returned to the lodge with water from a near-by

stream, she heard talking, and, looking into the lodge, she saw a woman

dressed in stone. The woman had taken up the baby and was rocking it on

her knee, singing, Aʼuwah, aʼuwah (such good eating). Every little

while she would take a bite out of the child’s cheek. The child

screamed. Then spitting on her hand and rubbing the cheek, it became

whole again, and the child stopped crying. The mother stood near the

door, and seeing all this, was terrified. “Now we are going to die,”

said she to herself. The Genonsgwa (Stone Coat Woman) looked up, and on

seeing the mother bade her come in and be not afraid, as all would be

well. Toward night the hunters returned. When they saw the woman

dressed in stone, they were afraid, but the Stone Coat Woman said, “I

have come to help you in hunting.”

So they all lived together. The men went hunting day after day and had

good luck in finding game and bringing home meat.

One evening during this hunting season the men said, “We have found a

pond not far away that has a great many beavers in it.” The Stone Coat

Woman said, “I will go with you tomorrow.” The next day she went to the

pond, and having cut a small circular hole in the ice, called to the

beavers to come out. A number came out; these she caught and killed.

Then she called again and more came out; she killed them, too, and so

she continued to do till the hunters had as many as they wanted. The

men skinned the beavers and kept the furs. The Stone Coat Woman fell to

eating the bodies raw.

One morning the Stone Coat Woman said to the hunters: “A visitor is

coming, and you must do all you can to defend yourselves. My husband is

mad, and perhaps he will kill us all. When I left him, I ran away and

came to you; he is angry, and when he comes I will fight with him as

well as I can. You must be ready with a basswood stick. Sharpen it and

harden it in the fire a little to make it effective. When he throws me

to the ground, as he will do, you must spear him from behind and kill

him. He will come some time this afternoon. Then you must be on the

lookout for him continually.” At last they saw him approaching; he came

up and talked with his wife. She begged him not to make any trouble,

saying she would go home with him, but he would not listen to her

words. He saw there were two men there; so he became jealous and began

fighting. He knocked down his wife, and as he leaned over to beat her,

the men ran the basswood spear into his body, thus killing him. Then

the woman, having gotten up, said: “I do not know what will happen to

us now, for my husband has two brothers, who know he is dead, and who

will come here and kill us. The river is open; you have canoes and must

escape that way.”

The Stone Coat Woman then went off alone; the others took to their

canoes. As they were pushing out into the river, a man came to the

shore, calling to the oarsman to come back a moment; refusing to do so,

he pushed farther out. Thereupon the other man called out, “It is lucky

for you that you did not come back, for I came to eat you.” So these

people had a narrow escape.

86. GENONSGWA

A long while ago, while some Seneca were out hunting, a Stone Coat came

up to them, saying: “I should like to remain here with you, and I think

that you will derive good luck from me. You can have all the skins you

need and meat enough to live on. I will take the rest.” The Seneca

agreed to this.

The next morning the hunters had great luck in hunting. When it was

time for them to go home for the season, the Stone Coat said, “I will

pack each man’s load of meat and skins.” They had dried meat,

buckskins, and furs. The Stone Coat packed in a single bundle what he

thought each man could carry; then he shook each bundle till it became

small. He told the men to cast their bundles on the ground when they

got home, and that they would become as large as when he began to pack

them. Bidding them good-by, the Stone Coat said, “I hope you will all

come to this place next winter; then we can all be together again.”

The next winter these hunters went back to the same hunting-ground,

whereupon another Stone Coat came to them, who said, “My father has

sent me here to bring one of you hunters to his home; he wants him as a

son-in-law.” One of the men volunteered to go, saying, “Probably we

shall be better off; perhaps we shall live longer by doing as he

wishes”; so he accompanied the Stone Coat. When they came to the Stone

Coat’s house, the old man said, “I sent my son to bring you here. I

want you to marry my daughter. You must not be afraid. I will make my

people understand that they must not touch nor harm you.” So the man

married the Stone Coat’s daughter, although the old man said that his

people would be surprised at his giving his daughter to a Seneca.

The Stone Coat rubbed his son-in-law’s hands, feet, and body with an

object like a bone, and then told him to go out hunting. The young man

felt himself growing so strong that he felt he could carry off

everything he laid his eyes on. There was a certain young man of the

Stone Coats who loved the old Stone Coat’s daughter and wanted to marry

her. Being angry with the Seneca, he came up to him, saying, “You and I

must have a foot race. If I should outrun you, thereby winning, I shall

cut your head off and take your wife. If you win you may cut my head

off.” The appointed day came, and all the Stone Coat people assembled

to see the race. The young man’s father-in-law said, “You need not be

afraid. I will help you.” Taking some substance out of a stone box, he

rubbed it over the man’s body. Thereupon he and his opponent, locking

arms, ran until they reached a tree, when they were to have let go and

run on, but the Stone Coat held on to the man’s hand, so that their

locked arms bent over the hemlock tree. When they got nearly to the end

of the tree the Stone Coat let go, causing the tree to spring back,

throwing the man backward a good distance. The young man, hurrying

forward, outran the Stone Coat, and cut his head off in the presence of

all.

87. GENONSGWA

Once while a man was out hunting in the woods he saw that a Genonsgwa

was following him, and thereupon he began to run for his life. Finally,

when closely pressed, he ran up on a tree trunk which in falling had

become lodged on another. The Stone Coat stopped and stood looking

around, but he could not find the man, for his body was rigid on

account of his Stone Coat, so he could not look upward. Then the man

saw him draw from his pouch a magical finger, which he placed in the

palm of his hand. The finger at once raised itself, pointing to the man

in the tree. When the man, who was a fast runner, saw the magical

finger pointing at him he knew that he could slip down from the tree,

snatch the magical finger, and escape with it. He did so. Stone Coat

shouted after him, begging, praying, and promising to be his friend

forever if he would give back the magical finger. The man was afraid to

go near Stone Coat lest the latter might deceive and seize him; so

finally he threw the magic finger back to the Stone Coat. Ever after

this particular man and the Stone Coat were on friendly terms.

88. GENONSGWA

At times men got lost while hunting in the forest, and it was supposed

by their friends that Stone Coats ate them.

Once three Seneca went out on the warpath against some other tribes.

They journeyed directly westward from the place where the Seneca lived.

After a day’s journey they encamped in a deep ravine at the head of a

stream. When they had made their fire they saw a fine-looking man

coming toward them. When he came up, he said: “I think it well to do

what I am going to do. I have come to tell you that there are hundreds

of people on the warpath who intend to eat people. Tonight you must

camp here. They will make their camp in sight of yours. One of you

three must go to their fire and say: ‘Hallo, I have discovered your

fire. Where are you going?’ They will answer: ‘We are on the warpath.’

Your man must reply: ‘I, too, am on the warpath,’ to which they will

respond: ‘Well, we must fight.’ Then your man must leave them and come

back to your camp.”

The Seneca soon afterward saw men come and make a camp a short distance

away. Thereupon one of the three hunters, drawing near them, said:

“Hallo, I have discovered your fire. Where are you going?” “We are on

the warpath,” they replied. “So am I,” he answered. Looking around, he

saw stone clothing lying against one of the trees, while the owner of

the clothes was resting on the ground. The people were all Stone Coats.

The next morning the Stone Coat army went up the ravine toward the

Seneca camp. They made a terrible noise, for all the army sang, “We are

going to eat the Seneca tribe.” When the Stone Coat force had gone

about halfway up the ravine, filling the entire space between them and

the Seneca, with a great whoop they rushed forward. But at that moment

great rocks rolled down on them and great trees fell on them, killing

them, and the Seneca saw a strange, wonderful man running along on the

top of the rocks and trees. Whenever he saw a Stone Coat head in sight,

he would hit it, killing its owner. Only one Stone Coat was left alive,

and he, having escaped, was never seen again. The man who was throwing

down the rocks sang all the time that the Seneca tribe could stand

against anything—against the world. When the contest was over, the

strange man came to the three men, saying: “I am the one whom you call

Hawenniyo. It is I who saved you. I did not make these Stone Coats.

Something else made them.” And Hawenniyo said further: “I want you, the

Seneca people, to be the most active of all tribes in every kind of

game or contest and in hunting.”

89. GENONSGWA

When the Seneca lived at Canandaigua one of their medicine-men notified

them that something terrible was about to happen, something which would

cause many to lose their lives. At this they were greatly frightened;

they quarreled with one another and became suspicious even of their own

children.

One night a great uproar was heard in the village, and jumping up from

their couches, men, women, and children, running out of their lodges,

fled as fast as they could in every direction. The weather was very

cold. Among the people of the village was a woman who two days before

had given birth to a child. She ran for her life, holding the infant in

her arms; it was wrapped up and she carried it as a bundle. On the way

she determined to throw the bundle down so as to be able to run faster,

and on coming to a tree having a hole in one side, not far from the

ground, she dropped the bundle into it. This was a bear’s den, and as

the bundle fell into the hole the old bear found it. The woman, running

for her life, overtook some of her people, who asked her what she had

done with the child, but she made them no answer. After many had been

killed, the enemy (who were Indians) disappeared, and the Seneca made

new homes for themselves.

In the spring, while on a hunting expedition, a man came to a chestnut

grove, where he camped. The next day while hunting he saw a she-bear

with cubs. He killed the old bear. As she fell over, she struck one of

the cubs, which cried like a child, while the other cubs ran up a tree.

The hunter, hearing the cry, thought it very strange. When he came near

the spot, he saw a small boy, who ran away crying. The boy was so wild

that the man could hardly catch him. He cried all the time. The hunter

said: “Stop crying, nephew; nothing will harm you. Stop, nephew!” The

little fellow answered: “You made me cry. You killed my mother; you

have made me very miserable. Over there are my brothers” (pointing to

the tree). “I should not have killed your mother had I seen you first,”

said the man; “but how came that bear to be your mother?” The boy, who

was covered with hair, replied: “I will tell you. When your people fled

from Canandaigua in the evening of the attack on them, I was thrown

away. I was then only two days old, but I remember everything. I knew

my mother’s mind. I was a burden to her when she was trying to escape,

so she dropped me into the hollow trunk of that tree over there, where

a bear happened to live. The bear caught me as I fell, and said that I

should live with her children, and that she could keep us all. My

mother threw me away to die. The bear is the mother who nursed and

cared for me.”

“Very well,” said the man; “I know this is true. You will be my son

now.” The boy did not like this, but he agreed to it at last. The man

promised that all he had or would get should be his. He stopped crying,

and the man, strapping him on his back, carried him to camp. After

this, whenever the man went out to hunt, he tied the boy so that he

could not get away, until one day the boy said, “Do not tie me. I will

never leave you” (his nature had now become human). The hunter had

buried the mother bear without taking off her skin. As the boy had

promised not to run away, the man let him go with himself to hunt. The

boy seemed to have some way of knowing where bears lived, but he never

told his father where a female bear was, only where male bears were to

be found, and his father shot them. This man had always been a poor

hunter until he found the boy; afterward he had wonderful luck. Some

time having passed, the man said, “We must go back to our own village.”

When they reached home the boy said, “That woman (meaning his mother)

will see and know me.” “Pay no attention to her,” said the man; “she

threw you away.”

They had been home two days, when the woman heard that the hunter had

brought back a little boy (the hair had fallen off the boy and the man

had made him clothes). Visiting the hunter’s lodge, she watched every

movement of the boy. He was afraid of her; he knew her thoughts when

she threw him into the tree and knew them now. He said, “This man is my

father; he brought me home.” But she made up her mind the boy was hers

and urged him to go home with her. One day, when she knew the hunter

was away, going to his lodge, she tried to catch the boy, but he ran

into the woods, crying from fright. She followed him. The hunter came

back, and not finding the child, looked for tracks, soon discovering

that the boy had fled from his mother into the woods. The man was

sorry, for he was afraid he would never see the boy again. He searched

for him for several days. Then he happened to think that perhaps he had

gone to their old hunting lodge. On finding him there, he asked, “Why

did you leave me?” The boy answered: “A woman followed me. I thought

she was going to kill me. She called me her son. I did not like it. I

told her I had no mother, but she tried to catch me. I would rather

live here all the time.” The man was willing, so, having built a better

lodge, they remained there. The boy was an industrious worker and the

man became very fond of him. One day the boy said, “I want a playmate.”

“All right,” replied the hunter; “your mother is going to have a child.

I will bring it.” This did not satisfy the boy, who wanted a companion

near his own age. So, going to the settlement, they brought back the

man’s sister’s child, who was only a little younger than the

bear-nursed boy.

Now there were three in the lodge. When he went off hunting the man

often left the boys at home, telling them not to go far from the lodge.

After the lapse of time, however, they began to venture farther and

farther away from the lodge, until one day, when they were quite far

off they saw that the leaves and grass and hills and valleys and

everything else were moving together westward. Looking more closely,

they saw a large body of land moving, even with game on it and moving

as if it were a river. Presently they noticed a coon sitting on the

moving ground and going along with this stream, or river, of land.[371]

Watching it made them forget everything. As the coon looked at the boys

they were about to shoot it with their bows and arrows; one indeed drew

his bow, but the coon held up his paw against his face to ward off the

arrow. At last the elder boy said: “Let us go home now; we will come

here tomorrow and play all day.”

When the hunter came back he had killed several bears and had driven

one to the lodge. Calling the boys, he said, “I drove this one home

only to let you have a hand in killing it.” Instead of killing the bear

at once they plagued and tormented it. When they had killed it the man

was well pleased and told them that was the way they must do

thereafter.

The next day, as usual, the man when starting off cautioned the boys

not to go far from the lodge, for if they did they would meet with

trouble. But they were so anxious to see the place where they had been

the day before that he was scarcely out of sight when they started off.

They found that the river of land flowed on the same as it had the day

before, the only difference being that it was running more rapidly.

They resolved as they saw the animals riding on it that they would do

likewise. The younger boy rode some distance on the land stream (it was

dry land, but moving just like a river; it was not wide, for a person

could jump across it). When the boy came back he said to the other, “Go

and try it; it is great fun.” “Well, go with me,” replied the other.

They tried it together. It was like sliding down hill; instead of

stepping off the “river of land” they would fall over on the land that

was not in motion, and then they would get up again. The smaller boy

said, “Let us continue on this stream as far as it goes.” The other

agreed to this. It was necessary that they should be always of one

mind. The smaller one said, “You go ahead.” “All right,” replied the

other. He ran on the stream and the other followed. They were having a

good time, as they could hear each other shout and laugh. After going

some distance the younger one decided to get off and run back, so he

called out to the other, “I will go back but will come down again.” It

seemed to them exactly like sliding down hill; it was fun to run

upstream as well as ride down. As the younger one got on again to go

down, his companion passed him, running up. It seemed that they were

going faster this time, and when both were on again, one called out to

the other, “Let us go as far as we can.” Soon they came to a place

where everything seemed to be passing in at a doorway. The boy behind

saw his companion go in at the doorway on the stream of land, and he

thought it was great sport. At that moment he heard a noise from within

which sounded as though some one had killed his friend; then he too

went in at the doorway, only to find that it was a place to snare game,

and that no one could get off after he had gone so far. All the game

went of their own volition, even as they themselves had gone. The

instant the elder entered the doorway the man of the lodge hit him on

the head with a hammer, killing him. Both boys were now dead.

Two Genonsgwa lived in this lodge, and it was through their great

orenda (magic power) that everything was drawn to them. One of the two

said to the other, “Hai! now we will have something to eat,” and

running splints through the bodies of the boys, each took one to roast.

The two Genonsgwa did not seem to be of the same family, for each sat

on his own side of the fire and cooked for himself. As the bodies began

to cook the fat came out, falling on the fire and simmering. A body was

standing on each side of the fire, and one called out to the other,

“You are burning.” “Guah!” said the Genonsgwa, “that one has a voice,

but this one is roasting finely; it can not burn. When one begins to

burn the other tells him of it.” One of the Genonsgwa then began

eating. “Oh! how delicious this is,” he said, smacking his lips. After

he had eaten off all the flesh that was well cooked, he put the rest

back to finish roasting; thereupon the partially eaten boy said to the

body on the other side, “You are burning.” “How good they are; they

won’t let each other burn. It is queer game that talks like this,” said

one of the Genonsgwa. The Genonsgwa kept on roasting and eating until

one and then the other finished, neither leaving a particle uneaten.

As the first finished he began to be in terrible pain; the other told

him that he must help himself, for he was eating his last morsel. Soon

he, too, began to groan, and he said to the other, “There is some

mystery about this game; it must be that which makes us so sick.” All

night long they groaned, each lying on his own side of the fire. Toward

morning one quieted down, and at break of day the other also ceased

groaning. The two boys were born again, and both Genonsgwa had died

from the terrible pain of giving birth to them. One boy said to the

other, “If these men had not bothered us, we should have been far from

here. Let them be as full of witchcraft as they can be, they do not

amount to anything in comparison with us. We have gotten through with

them. I have always heard that these men, our uncles, were very potent

magically, but they are not. This is why our father warned us not to go

far from the lodge. We will go back and tell him all.” While they were

there everything was moving. The game which was not killed passed

through the lodge. The elder boy said, “Let us go!” As they were

starting he saw his mother passing through the lodge; they stood there

laughingly, but did not speak to her. The younger said, “Now we will

destroy the lodge. Our uncles have done great harm to people. A man

should not eat another man. There shall be no more of this. Henceforth

men shall eat only game.” [372] The younger boy said this. Of the two

boys he had the greater power of witchcraft and was the first to be

born after being eaten by the Genonsgwa. He walked around the lodge,

throwing red paint such as they used to paint their faces; this action

stopped the movement of the stream of land and everything became quiet.

He then said, “Now, let us run!” They ran a short distance; on halting

and looking back they saw the lodge in flames. The Genonsgwa one after

the other burst with a loud report.

When the boys arrived near home they heard singing, whereupon the

younger said, “Our father is feeling bad because he thinks we are

dead.” The other replied, “When we get to the lodge, you will tell him

of our adventure.” “No; you must tell him. He will believe you sooner

than he will me, for you are older,” was the answer. When they entered

the lodge, the hunter was sitting by the fire; his song was about the

loss of his children. “Father,” called out the boys, “we have been

hunting and we have come back. We have not been killed and we shall not

die. There is no trouble in the world for us, for nothing can harm us.”

The elder man, looking around, greeted his boys, whom he was very glad

to see. At night they began telling their adventures: How far they had

been; how they had seen a stream of dry land and had ridden on it to

the Genonsgwa lodge; how they had killed the two Genonsgwa and burned

their lodge. “And now,” said the younger, “we are going farther.” The

hunter said: “Your uncles are ferocious men; they have killed all my

people except you. You will find beyond the lodge you burned other

lodges; they are all inhabited by your uncles.” The younger boy said:

“I do not care about them. I meet all people with pleasure; their

action or treatment matters not. I am determined to try everything.”

The man made up his mind to say no more; he was astonished at their

resolution and became aware that his children were possessed of potent

orenda (magic power), and that, though there were many witches and

wizards, they were far above them all. The younger boy seemed to have

control of his father’s mind, and it was through his influence that the

father let them do as they liked. The advice of the younger was: “You

stay at home and never worry about us. We will go to see our uncle who

lives beyond Genonsgwa lodge; perhaps he will tell us some stories. We

are lonesome.” Their father said, “I am afraid that if you go you will

never come back. Your uncle is full of orenda, and it is his custom to

kill his visitors.” The little fellow answered: “Let us go. I want to

know all persons who possess orenda.” The hunter replied: “Beyond the

lodge you destroyed is another. Your uncle lives there, and beyond that

other uncles dwell. The first lodge is ‘three looks’ from here; the

lodges are all ‘three looks’ apart.” Having heard this, the boys

departed.

When they came to the Genonsgwa place they halted; looking around, they

could see some object at a distance. There was the end of the first

“look.” Getting near to that object, they looked again, and seeing a

similar object, they went to it; then looking off at a distance and

seeing an opening in the woods, they said, “Our uncle must live there.”

They advanced cautiously, in the hope of surprising their uncle. As

they got out of the woods they saw a lodge, and as they came near it

there seemed to be no one in it, all was so quiet. The younger boy

crept up carefully, and making a sudden leap, sprang into the house,

calling out, “I have caught you, uncle!” “How are you, nephew?” said

the uncle; “I am glad you have come. I am sick; you shall give me

medicine.” “All right,” replied the younger boy, “whatever you wish

shall be done. What is it you take most pleasure in?” “It is this,

nephew,” said the uncle. “When a person comes to see me I play hide and

seek. If you find me, I lose my head; if I find you, I take yours.” The

boy looked around everywhere. The lodge was entirely empty, but he saw

hanging from the rafters where they met in a point, a very small bag,

and concluded it was there that his uncle would hide. The uncle told

the boys to hide first. The younger said, “All right,” for he had

decided where to hide. As was usual in those days, there was a very

large log on the fire, and the fire was all there was within the walls

of this lodge. The old man said, “The finder must go over the top of

the hill, and when the hider is ready he must call.” Thereupon the old

man went out, fastening the door behind him. The boys heard the clatter

of his bones as he ran beyond the hill. The younger boy said: “I will

go into the log and you go behind the sun. When you are ready I will

give the word.” The elder boy, flying off through the air, hid behind

the sun. Then the other called out, “Now, ready!” “This is what I do to

my nephews,” said the old man, as he came running into the lodge. He

expected to find them sitting around somewhere, but seeing no one, he

caught up his club and singing out, “Here you are; come out of this,”

he struck at the wall. He went to every part of the lodge, saying, as

he hit the wall with the club, “Here you are; come out.” The boy in the

log was looking at his uncle, laughing; the boy behind the sun was also

watching him, and could see the club as it hit the walls of the lodge.

When the old man’s time was up, he said, “Come out. I can not find you.

I give up.” As he said this, the nephew behind the sun showed himself,

and laughing at the old man, came down to the lodge. The other boy

crawled out on his hands and knees from the heart of the log. The old

man, laughing loudly, said, “Now I will hide; you go beyond the hill,

and when I am ready I will call.” They started off and had been waiting

some time when they heard the old man call, “Now, ready!” At this they

ran to the lodge. The younger, picking up the old man’s club, did as he

had done. At every crack and crevice he gave a thump, saying, “You are

here; come out.” He was sure the old man was in the bag, but he kept on

as though he did not suspect it. The man was so large that, even after

making himself small, he was so crowded that the boy could see the bag

move occasionally. At last, going up to the bag, he gave it a heavy

thump with the club, saying, “Come out, uncle!” The old man came out,

laughing, and said, “My little nephew, you are full of sorcery; no one

ever found me before.” The boy said, “It is customary when a person

makes a bet to live up to it. You have lost your head.” The man begged

his nephews to give him time to smoke. “No,” said the younger; “if you

had won, I should not have asked it.” Upon this he ran up, and catching

his uncle by the hair, cut off his head. Thereupon the elder boy picked

it up, and striking it against a tree, commanded that trees should

hereafter have heads (knots) on them, which could be used to make

ladles and bowls (to this day all trees with knots have the uncle’s

head fastened on them). Then they burned the home. The elder boy said,

“Our uncle has delayed us; otherwise we might have been a long way on

our journey by this time.”

The youths traveled on until they found tracks, and not long afterward

they came to the edge of the woods, where they saw a lodge near by. The

younger said, “You stop, and I will go to this lodge alone.” The elder

boy saw his brother go into the lodge; then he waited a long time.

There were four witches in this lodge, and as soon as the boy went in

the old woman said, “Hurry up! get the pot over the fire.” The boy

looked on, thinking that very likely they were going to make a feast

for him. The girls were sisters of the boys’ uncles. The elder boy

getting out of patience waiting, at last called his fetish, the mole.

When it came, he said: “I have called you to take me to that lodge. My

friend went there, and I wish to see what has become of him.” They went

together into the ground. He told the mole to stop in front of the

younger boy, but underground. The women were such witches that they

knew when anyone was approaching. When the old woman was ready, she

said to the boy, “Come and sit on this side,” and to her eldest

daughter she said, “Lay a skin on the ground and put on the skin the

game that has come to see us.” The boy knew that she intended to kill

him. Another of the women took a mallet from the wall, but as she

raised it to strike him, the youth said, “Let the mallet strike the old

woman.” As the mallet came down, it struck the mother; and as the girl

raised it again, he commanded it to strike one of the sisters,

whereupon they began immediately to fight among themselves. The boy sat

commanding the mallet to strike first one and then another. There was a

terrible struggle, a great sound of blows, and at last there was

silence. All the women were dead. Then a voice from under the ground

asked, “What are you doing, brother?” Knowing that it was his comrade

who spoke, he said, “Oh! the women have had a little sport of their

own.” “All right,” said a voice behind him, for there stood the other

boy. “I got out of patience,” said he; “we might have gone a long way

on our journey if it had not been for these women. We will burn up

their lodge, after which I think we will go home. We have done harm

enough.” “What have we done?” said the other; “we have only put an end

to man-eaters, who have killed many of our people.” “Very well,”

answered the other, “I do not want my mind to be different from yours.”

“There is one thing still to be done,” said the younger brother, “and

when we have finished that, everything will be right; but before we

undertake it we must purify ourselves. We will go to the river; you

must be very careful. I will go first, and you stay on the bank. Unless

we bathe and purify our bodies, we shall meet with misfortune, for many

of the people where we are going are filled with evil magic power.”

Coming to the river, they found very thick red water. The elder youth,

seeing the younger go into this water, thought it must be a great

pleasure; so without heeding his companion’s word of warning, he went

in also, whereupon the filth of the water gathered on his body and he

sank out of sight. His brother had great trouble in saving him.

“Perhaps we are sufficiently purified,” said the younger; “though if

you had waited until I called you, it would have been better. You have

caused me to fail in my purpose.” All the filth that had gathered on

his body dried, so he could hardly close his eyes. It was as much as

the other could do to get him washed clean. At last he was as before he

jumped into the red water. Then his companion said: “Now, let us go. We

shall come to a large village where there is ball playing.”

They soon came to an opening, in the center of which stood a pole, and

many people were scattered around. As the two went forward the younger

said to the chief, “We have come to challenge you. What are your

rules?” “We wager our heads in betting,” replied the chief. “I thought

you had something else to wager. Everyone seems to bet heads,” said the

challenger. He saw there were many animals around, which these people

fed with heads. “There must be two on a side,” said the boy. The chief

told his people that the strangers challenged them to a game of

lacrosse ball and that there were to be two players on a side. “But you

must take part yourself,” said the boy; thereupon commanding a spider

to weave a web across the ball ground, so that the ball could not pass

it. When the game began the ball flew off in the direction of the

spider’s web and, hitting it, was thrown back. The elder boy, catching

the ball, ran for the first point, which he made, thus scoring one

point, at which he called out, “The game is mine; we have won, and the

game is finished.” “No; it is not,” replied the chief. “That is the way

we play,” retorted the younger boy; “whoever gets one inning has the

game.” The chief assented, saying, “You have won the heads of the men

you played with.” “Not true,” said the boy; “we bet with you; no matter

who did the playing for you.” Thereupon the elder boy, running up,

caught the chief by the hair and cut his head off, saying, “Do not let

us talk with the fellow; if it had not been for him we might have been

far along on the way.” The chief had wolves, panthers, and all kinds of

carnivorous animals. Going up to their dens, the younger boy ordered a

panther to come out, which it did, and then he said to it: “Your

masters wanted to feed you with human flesh; that is not the desire of

Hawenniyo. He put you on earth to be free; henceforth you must never

allow yourselves to be captured and fed with human flesh.” All the

animals rose and separated. To the bear the youth said: “I wish you to

eat that dead man’s body that lies yonder. Then go and never be seen in

this part of the country again; your place is among the cliffs and

mountains.” The people there asked the boys to be their chiefs, saying

that they had never liked the old man. The boys, having agreed to this,

commanded the people to remain where they were, as it was not the will

of Hawenniyo that his people should leave their old homes.

The two brothers now started back, saying to the people: “Our father

will wonder why we do not return. You stay here. We will come sometime

to see you.” When they got home the younger one said, “We have finished

our work in the west; we have killed all the man-eaters. There will be

no more trouble of this kind hereafter.”

90. BALD EAGLE SENDS MUD TURTLE AROUND THE WORLD

A bald-headed old man lived on the top of a mountain, while his wife,

who had three children, lived near a lake about half the way to the

summit. It was the old man’s daily custom to go down to fish in the

lake. On his way home he gave some fish to his wife, and thus they

lived well and prosperously.

After he had lived in this way many years, the old man became curious

to know how large the world is. Being the chief of his people, having

called a council, he said to the people: “I should like to know the

size of the world, and I wish some one would volunteer to go and get

this information.” One young man said, “I will go.” “All right,”

answered the old man; “how long will you be gone?” “I can not tell, for

I do not know how far I shall have to go,” was the answer of the young

man. “Go on,” said the old man; “and when you return, tell us all about

your journey.”

The young man started on his journey, and after traveling two months he

came to a country where everything was white—the forests, the ground,

the water, and the grasses. He could not go farther. It hurt his feet

to walk on the white substance, so he turned back. On returning home he

sent word to the chief, who said, “I do not believe he has been around

the world, but we shall hold a council and hear what he has to say.”

The council was held, at which the young man said that he had not gone

very far, but that he had proceeded as far as he was able, and he told

all he knew about the White Country.

The people, not satisfied with his relation, said, “We must send

another man”; so they despatched a second man, who was gone four months

before he returned. The old man again called a council, at which he

asked him, “Did you go around the world?” “No, but I went as far as I

was able,” answered the man. “Everything was as it is here until I came

to the White Country. I traveled two months in the White Country and

could go no farther. I could not have lived if I had gone on.”

So the people sent a third man, who went on until he reached the White

Country, where he traveled longer than the second man. On coming back

he reported that the people there lived in white houses and dressed in

furs (looking like the animals).

Encouraged by this, the old man sent a fourth man, who went on,

noticing everything, until he came to the White Country, whereupon he

crossed white rivers and white lakes, keeping on the run. He was gone

eight months. He said, “I returned more quickly than I went, for in

coming home I cut across in a straight line, reaching the green land

sooner than if I had come on the road by which I went.”

The old chief now sent a fifth messenger, who ran nearly all the time.

He crossed the White Country and beyond found a place where there was

nothing but rocks, rocks, rocks. He had to climb very high and then go

down; so he went up and down until he wore off all his moccasins. After

being gone ten months he came back. At a council called by the old man

this fifth man said: “I have passed over the whole country and have

crossed rocky places. In returning I came straight home. The route was

not quite so long as the road by which I went. It can not be very far

across the world.” “How did you know the way?” asked the old man. “Oh!

I took notice of the trees. The tops of the hemlocks lean toward the

east, and our home is in that direction, so I followed the bend of the

hemlocks,” was the man’s reply.

The old man, the bald-headed chief, was learning something all the

time. Various people went, one after another; each came back with a

story slightly different from those told by the others, but still no

one satisfied the chief until one man said: “I will start and will go

around the world before I return.” The old man looked at him; he was

very uncouth but strong. The chief said: “I think you will do, and you

may go.” Thereupon the man went home to his people, who held a council

of their entire tribe. Each one of their best travelers agreed to make

a journey by himself in a different direction, and afterward to come

home and tell all he had seen to the one who had promised the

bald-headed man to go around the world. So the man and his whole tribe

journeyed for forty months. At the end of this period they returned,

and, at a council, each told what he had seen. Then the old man whom

the chief had sent out announced his return. The chief called a great

council, before which the man appeared, telling all that he had seen

himself and all that each one of his nation had seen and related to

him. He finished with the words: “I have been all around the world; I

have seen all kinds of people, all kinds of game, all kinds of woods

and rivers. I have seen things which no one else has ever seen.”

The old bald-headed man was satisfied. “Now I am chief of all people,

and you will be next to me. You will be second chief.” This was the

reward the man got for his journey. So he immediately took his position

as second chief.

The old chief was the Bald Eagle. The man who became the second chief

was the Mud Turtle. The first man who went out was the Deer; his feet

could not stand the ice of the White Land. All the others were

different kinds of people (animals and birds).

91. THE POOR HUNTER AND DJOGEON [373]

Once there was a man who went hunting every autumn. In order to have

better luck he was in the habit of taking medicine and emetics for 10

days before he started. The medicine he employed was made from the bark

of various trees. Notwithstanding this long preparation by fasting and

medication, he was not a successful hunter. For this reason he was

accustomed to carry a heavy load of parched cornmeal, so that if he

killed no game he would at least not starve to death.