When all had embarked, with Chief Godasiyo in the lead, all paddled

upstream. The flotilla of canoes was very large, covering the surface

of the water as far as the eye could see up and down the river. After

they had paddled a long distance, the people finally came in sight of

the forks in the river, and then it was that they began to converse

together—the two divisions of canoes, one on each side of the float of

the chief, Godasiyo—as they paddled upstream. One division chose one of

the forks in the river as the course to follow to their new settlement,

and the other division elected to turn into the other channel. Each

division gave its reasons for the choice which it had made, and the

divergent views gave rise at last to heated discussion. This strife

continued to the point where, if persisted in, the people would become

definitely separated; still no compromise was effected, so the leaders

in each division turned the prows of their canoes so as to ascend the

fork of the stream which they had selected. Thus they began to

separate.

When this movement began the two men paddling the two canoes on which

rested the float of Chief Godasiyo disagreed as to the course that they

should take under the circumstances. As each chose the fork branching

off on his side of the stream, the two canoes became separated, and the

platform on which Chief Godasiyo was sitting slipped off its support,

falling into the water and carrying the chief with it. The people drew

near and, looking into the water to see what had become of their chief,

they saw that she had sunk to the bottom, where she had become

transformed into a great fish.

Thereupon the people of the two divisions attempted to converse

together, but they were unable to understand one another, for their

language had become changed. It was in this manner that this body of

people became divided and possessed of different languages. Thus it

came about that there are so many languages spoken by the various

tribes dwelling on this earth.

113. A LEGEND OF AN ANTHROPOMORPHIC TRIBE OF RATTLESNAKES

In the ancient country of the Oneida, which they occupied when the

League of the Iroquois was formed, were a number of subterranean

caverns, which, it was said, were inhabited by various tribes of men.

The following legend is about one of these caverns:

It was said that in the olden time a certain young man of a good family

while out hunting in this region saw a large raccoon ahead of him,

which seemingly was attempting to escape from him. At once the young

hunter started in pursuit of the raccoon, and soon the race became

interesting, for the raccoon was gradually gaining on its pursuer. It

was not long before the raccoon had gotten out of his sight, so the

hunter was able to follow it only by following its tracks in the snow

that lay on the ground to the depth of a span. After a very long

pursuit the hunter finally tracked the raccoon to a large river, the

banks of which were very high and rocky. The tracks led along under one

bank for a long distance. The young man was becoming quite exhausted

when finally he came to the mouth of a cavern in the river bank, into

which the tracks of the raccoon disappeared. The entrance to this

cavern was just large enough to admit the body of the hunter, and he

decided to go in; but before doing so he set up his bow and arrows and

walking stick beside the entrance. He found that the passageway

inclined downward at a gentle grade. After entering the passage the

young hunter found that the way was long. Having gone so far in that

the light from the entrance had entirely faded away, at last he was

delighted to see that it was becoming light ahead of him. So he kept on

until finally he emerged from the cavern. Thereupon he was surprised to

see that the tracks of the raccoon led out of the passageway into the

open. The young hunter stood quiet for some minutes, viewing the

country around. He was greatly surprised to find further that the

climate of this region was quite different from that in which he

commonly abode, for he found black raspberries ripe or ripening,

although there was much snow on the ground in the country whence he had

just come. Then he resolved to follow a well-beaten path, which led

farther into the new country. As he went along he blazed the trees

bordering the path, or broke twigs and branches off the trees in such

manner that these would serve as signs by which he could retrace his

steps in the event of losing his way. He noticed that the path leading

from the entrance to what he thought was a cavern led inland, turning

to the right a short distance from the entrance. He followed this road

because he saw in the dust of the path the tracks of the raccoon which

he had been following.

As he walked along, keeping a sharp lookout for whatever might happen,

he saw in the distance a lodge, which from its appearance seemed to be

occupied; he noticed smoke arising from it, hence he inferred that

people were dwelling there. He resolved to go ahead to see who lived in

that lodge. As he continued on he still saw the tracks of the raccoon

which he had been following. On reaching the lodge the young hunter

entered, finding within two very aged people, seemingly a man and his

wife, who appeared to be superannuated. The old man was the first to

greet the hunter, saying, “My grandson, it is indeed well that you

visit our lodge and home.” Then the old woman joined her husband in

welcoming him with the words, “My grandson, it is indeed good that you

visit our home.” The hunter replied to these words of welcome, “I am

indeed glad that you two are still living in health in this world.” The

heads of these two old people were white and partially bald, for their

years were many; but they set food before their guest, which he ate

heartily and thankfully, for he had become quite exhausted from his

long pursuit of the raccoon. When he finished his meal he conversed

with the old man concerning the affairs of that country.

In a short time the old man said, “The chiefs of this settlement have

invited me to meet them in council this evening, and I should be much

pleased to have you accompany me to our lodge of assembly

(“Long-lodge”).” Here the wife of the old man added, “My grandson, you

should go with him and so become acquainted with our people and see the

country.” The young hunter consented to accompany his aged host, for he

learned that he was a noted chief in his land. Thereupon the aged chief

said, “My grandson, when we arrive at the lodge of assembly you must

not remain outside; you must enter with me; and when they begin to

dance you must return here at once, for if you should remain there you

would meet with a terrible misfortune. I am giving you warning in due

time. Moreover, you must not linger along the way homeward, but you

must make all possible speed. Yonder is a hut, which rests on a

platform supported by four posts, in which hut you must retire for the

night. There is a ladder leading up to the entrance of the hut, which,

when you have reached the platform, you must pull up after you and lay

on the scaffolding outside the lodge. I warn you further. You must not

consent under any consideration or persuasion to let down this ladder

to enable a person or persons to go up and be with you, for should you

give this consent a most appalling thing will befall you. Do not forget

these warnings. Your safety depends on your obeying what I have said to

you, for I am telling you these things for your welfare.” The young

hunter assured the old man that he would obey his warnings. Looking out

he saw the elevated hut to which the old man said he should retire for

the night, and he noticed that the supporting posts had been peeled and

carefully oiled to prevent anything from climbing them to reach the

hut. This fact aroused the young hunter’s curiosity, but feeling that

he should not pry into the affairs of his hosts he held his peace.

Having completed their small preparations, the aged chief and his young

guest departed for the council. When they reached the lodge of assembly

(“Long-lodge”), they found that they were on time. The hunter saw what

was usual on such occasions and gatherings—that those whose intentions

and purposes were good had already taken their places inside the

council lodge, and that those who had evil designs and propensities

were going to and fro outside. He noticed, too, that when the frivolous

young women saw him and recognized him as a stranger, they at once

guyed one another at his expense, jostling and hawing and clearing

their throats, in order to make the young stranger look at them and to

join them; but he paid no attention to their ruses. On entering the

lodge of assembly the aged chief and his guest found that it was

already well filled with the orderly people of the settlement, and that

the chiefs were all present, quietly awaiting the arrival of the host

of the young hunter. When the two had taken their seats the Fire-keeper

chief arose and in a formal speech uncovered figuratively the council

fire, expressing with much feeling the public thanks for all the good

things they enjoyed and for the preservation of their lives. He made

these remarks in a loud voice, giving thanks to the Master of Life.

After forbidding the commission of bad deeds by everyone there present

he carefully stated the purpose of their session. He asked every chief

to employ wisdom and mercy and justice in the conduct of the business.

After a number of the chiefs had discussed the matter pro and con

before them, and had in their parlance “cooked the ashes,” and the

business of the council had been transacted, the Fire-keeper again

arose to close the session formally, by saying, among other things, “We

now cover the fire with ashes. And after the dancing, which will begin

now, we will disperse to our homes.”

The young hunter, hearing these last words and remembering the strict

injunctions of his host, hastened out of the lodge and at once started

for home at a rapid pace. But his movements had been watched by four

young women, abandoned characters of the settlement, who at once

pursued him swiftly, laughing, hawing, and calling to him to stop and

await their pleasure. This conduct, however, only caused the young

hunter to travel ahead as fast as it was possible for him to go. Soon

he was chagrined to find that he was not leaving the young women, for

their voices did not die away, so finally he started to run at top

speed. After a time, becoming exhausted by the exertion, the hunter

slackened his pace to a brisk walk, whereupon he soon heard the sounds

of the laughing and guying voices of the pursuing women, who seemed to

be rapidly gaining on him. Again he started on a brisk run in a

seemingly vain effort to outdistance his fleet-footed pursuers, for

just as soon as he would relax his efforts in the least, the sound of

their voices could be heard not far behind him. The serious injunctions

of his aged host urged him onward as rapidly as it was possible for him

to go. Thus closely pursued, he finally reached the hut and lost no

time in ascending to it by means of the tree ladder, which he drew up

after him, as he had been directed to do by the old man. Having entered

the hut and secured its bark flap door as well as he could from the

inside, he anxiously awaited events. Soon the four wretched women

arrived and clamorously asked him to let down the ladder to enable them

to climb up to his room, but the young man gave no heed to their

importunities. Through small crevices in the walls of the hut he

watched them while they attempted to climb the posts, but as these were

greased the women were unable to do so. Throughout the night they

remained at the foot of the posts clamoring for the ladder. At daybreak

the women ceased their attempts and noise, and the young man fell

asleep from exhaustion. When he awoke he arose, and unfastening the

door flap of bark, he went out on the platform around the hut. On

looking down, he saw at the foot of each of the posts a huge female

rattlesnake, coiled and asleep; these he divined were the four wretched

women who had pursued him the previous night. His movements over their

heads awakened them, and at once they crawled away into the neighboring

thickets without indicating in any manner that it was they who had just

tormented him.

Having gathered up his few belongings and let down the ladder, he

descended to the ground and hastened to the lodge of his aged hosts,

which stood not far away. On entering, he was astonished to find the

aged host, in the form of a huge rattlesnake, coiled up on the couch,

but he was reassured by seeing the old woman, who was up, and who had

taken the precaution of assuming human form again. Though at first

somewhat nonplused by what he had just seen, the young hunter asked the

old woman, “Where is my grandfather? I suppose he has gone out into the

forest?” Without showing any perturbation, the old woman replied, “Yes;

he has gone out, but he will soon return. Back of the ledge you will

find water with which you may wash your face and hands. The morning

meal is now ready, and we will eat it just as soon as you return.”

Having washed, as suggested, in a bark trough in the rear of the lodge,

he returned to join the old woman and her husband at the morning meal.

While eating the young hunter took occasion to examine the furnishings

of the lodge more thoroughly than he had had an opportunity of doing

sooner. In the room he saw numerous bark vessels of many sizes with

various kinds of nuts, dried fruits, and berries; wooden vessels

containing honey; and small bundles of the dried twigs of the spicebush

shrub for use in making a beverage to be drunk hot with meals. The

youth was further surprised to see in a corner of the room, curled up

on a mat, the raccoon which he had pursued so persistently the previous

day. He was now fully convinced that he was the guest of a family of

rattlesnakes, for when he returned from washing himself at the back of

the lodge he found that the old man had again assumed human form,

appearing to him as he had the day before, and greeting him with,

“Well, my grandson, did you rest well last night?” The young man

replied, “Yes; I rested quite well.” When the old woman had placed the

food on the bench, she addressed the young man, saying, “My grandson,

now you must eat your fill, for there is plenty here. So do not be

afraid of eating all you wish.”

Having finished his meal, the young hunter thanked his rattlesnake

hosts, and after bidding them farewell he started for his own home. He

returned to the mouth of the cavern, for such was this place, and

crawling back through the passage he reached the surface of the earth

in his own country, where he found his bow and arrows and his walking

stick just as he had left them. He quickly made his way home to his

family, to whom he related his experiences in the cavern. He was so

astonished at what had befallen him while in pursuit of a raccoon that

he had the chiefs call a council of their chiefs and people to hear the

strange recital. He told them that he had indeed visited the

rattlesnake people, and that they assumed at will human form and

attributes and lived under human institutions. He was thanked by the

council and people for his recital. But the young hunter never

afterward took advantage of the invitation of the old rattlesnake chief

to revisit him and his wife.

114. THE TWINS: GRANDSONS OF GAHOⁿʻDJI’DĀʹʻHOⁿK [421]

In ancient times a certain family, consisting of seven brothers and one

sister, lived together contentedly in a large bark lodge. It was the

duty of this sister while her brothers were out hunting to cut in the

neighboring forest the firewood used by the family and to bring it to

the lodge.

It is said that the sister was uncommonly comely, although her size and

stature were above the average for women, and that she possessed

unusual strength. In the performance of her duties she was accustomed

to be absent from the lodge during the entire day, returning with her

burden of firewood in the evening. Now, the youngest of the seven

brothers was a recluse—that is to say, he was deanoäʹdoⁿʼ.[422] As the

duties of the sister did not require her to go far from the lodge, she

was usually the first to return to it in the evening, while the

brothers, who had to go many miles away to find game and fish, did not

return at times until very late at night.

There came a day, while the six normal brothers and their sister were

absent, and while there was no one in the lodge except the recluse,

when a young woman, daughter of the noted witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk,

came to the lodge bearing a huge basket of marriage bread. There were,

of course, eight beds to accommodate the seven brothers and their

sister, which were properly arranged along the sides of this long

lodge. The bed occupied by the youngest brother, the recluse, was

nearest to the doorway on its side of the lodge. The witch’s daughter

had been instructed by her mother to take her seat on this bed. But

upon entering the lodge the young woman, after looking around, set her

basket down in front of the third bed and took her seat thereon. This

bed was the third one from the doorway, counting from the entrance on

the left side of the lodge. Feeling, however, that she had not followed

her instructions, the young woman did not sit there long, but took her

seat on the next bed, because she imagined that it had a better

appearance than the one on which she had been sitting. But she kept on

shifting her position from bed to bed until she finally came to the

seventh bed. Here the second of the seven brothers and his sister found

her on their return to the lodge.

Seeing her seated on the bed and noticing the basket of

marriage-proposal bread, they inferred that she had come to marry their

brother on whose bed she sat, so they said to her kindly, “We are very

thankful that you have come to our lodge, oh, our sister-in-law.” She

made them no reply but by her actions showed her appreciation of this

welcome reception on their part. In the order of their ages the other

brothers returned to the lodge, and with the exception of the eldest

one all saluted her with words of welcome in the same manner as the

first two had expressed their delight at having her for their

sister-in-law.

The eldest brother was the last to return to the lodge, and by the

young woman’s own choice seemingly by sitting on his bed with a basket

of marriage-proposal bread before her, he was her chosen husband, so he

addressed her as his accepted wife. Noticing at once that he was blind

in one eye, she was chagrined for not having obeyed her mother’s

instructions with regard to the bed on which she should await her

future husband. She thought it best, however, to seem to ignore her

disturbing discovery and her unhappy feelings in consequence, so she

began to study her surroundings in the lodge. She saw that some one

whom she had not noticed before was lying on the bed next to the

doorway on the left-hand side of the entrance, the one on which she had

been told to sit on entering this lodge. She made the discovery also

that the person lying on this bed was the recluse of the family, that

in fact he was deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, and as such was “secluded” from all

persons. She noticed, too, that no one paid the slightest attention to

the recumbent figure, which was heavily covered with robes of skin from

head to foot. Hence her curiosity was thoroughly aroused, especially as

it was on this bed that her mother had directed her to sit.

The next day, when all the other persons of the lodge except the

recluse and the bride wife had gone out into the forest on their

various errands, she arose from her couch, and crossing over to the

other side of the fire, went to the bed on which lay the covered figure

and cautiously drew down the covering from the head of the person who

was fast asleep. There she saw with longing eyes and half-suppressed

passion a handsome youth of finely developed figure. She stood there

partly bent over the sleeping youth, sorely infatuated. By gently

shaking the young man she finally succeeded in awakening him, whereupon

she said to him, “Arise, my friend, and come to my couch and let us

talk together.” But the youth neither arose nor would he speak to her,

notwithstanding all her fervent entreaties to embrace her. Naturally

this conduct only intensified the young wife’s desire, so she continued

during the entire day to tease and coax the youth to go over to her own

couch. But he made no response to her persistent efforts. When she

thought it was about time for the other persons living in the lodge to

return, she went back to her couch, where she had remained of her own

choice the previous night. She did not love her husband since she found

out his misfortune and her great mistake in choosing his couch

(contrary to her instruction) for a resting place when she first came

to the lodge.

When all the family had returned to the lodge for the night and had

prepared, cooked, and eaten their supper of corn bread, boiled venison,

and spicebush tea, they retired to their several couches, whereupon the

bride began to tell her husband a story invented for the occasion. She

declared that when he and his brothers and sister had left the lodge

the day before and she was alone with his deanoäʹdoⁿʼ, or recluse

brother, the latter had come over to the side of her bed and had made

improper proposals to her, and that she had great difficulty in

resisting his attempted assaults. Her husband, however, made no reply

to this carefully concocted story.

Again, the next day, when all the brothers excepting the recluse, and

their sister, had left the lodge, the bride went to the bedside of the

recluse, and after awakening him, coaxed and begged him to come to her

own couch. Knowing her motive, the youth made no response to her

importunities except to tell her that she should be satisfied with her

own choice of a husband, reminding her that she had been satisfied to

reject the speaker when she first came to the lodge, although she had

been instructed to take a seat on his bed as a token of a marriage

proposal. Completely baffled by the attitude of the youth and enraged

by his conduct in refusing to gratify her desire, she returned at last

to her own couch with a heart filled only with bitter thoughts of

revenge on him. Then, in order to make her contemplated story appear

true, she lacerated and bruised her neck and face and breasts and arms

with her own hands and fingernails, in order to support her intended

accusation against the youth of an attempted assault upon herself.

When the other members had returned to the lodge in the evening, and

after they had eaten their suppers and had retired for the night, the

young bride again told her husband with much simulated emotion that his

recluse brother had made that day another attempt to assault her when

the other occupants of the lodge were absent, showing her lacerated

neck and arms and face in corroboration of this false story. Still the

husband made no response to her accusations against his youngest

brother. The next day, however, when he was out in the forest hunting

with his other brothers he related to them the story which his bride

had told him. They, too, received this information in silence.

On the third day after the arrival of the young woman in the family she

still had hopes of entrapping the recluse by inducing him to share her

bed with her. In fact, she had been sent by her notorious mother,

Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk, to marry this youth, not because the mother thought

he would make her daughter a suitable husband, but rather because she

wished to get him into her power, for, on her own account, she feared

to allow him to grow to manhood without an attempt to destroy him,

knowing well that all who were regarded as deanoäʹdoⁿʼ [423] were

possessed of most potent orenda (magic power), which they would put

into use as soon as they attained manhood—at the age of puberty. The

recluse youth had foreseen for many months the events which would come

to pass after the arrival of this dutiful daughter of

Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. He knew well that the great witch had sent her for

the express purpose of getting him into her power in order to destroy

him before he could develop into manhood. Hence, he sturdily resisted

all the wiles of the daughter to get him to embrace her, as he knew

that such action would place him at the mercy of her mother. He feared

being bewitched; he realized that he must exert to the full his orenda

against that of the great witch, for he was aware that the penalty for

being defeated was death. In order to carry out her scheme the young

bride arose on the third day when all except the recluse and herself

had left the lodge, and going over to the bedside of the youth, again

entreated him tearfully to come to her couch. But he was obdurate,

rudely repulsing her advances, until finally she returned to her own

side of the fire. Despairing of accomplishing her purpose by gentle

means, the young woman, whose anger was thoroughly aroused by the

youth’s refusal to be seduced by her, went out of the lodge into a

dense thicket, and, baring her legs, she plunged into the midst of

briers and thorns, which lacerated them very badly. In this condition

she returned to the lodge to await the coming of her husband. When her

husband and his brothers and sister had returned the young woman kept

her peace for a while, although she pretended to be troubled in mind.

But after they had eaten their supper and had retired for the night she

told her husband a story of another attempted assault on her by his

youngest brother, and to confirm this she showed him in the ill-lighted

room her torn and blood-stained legs and thighs. Her husband made no

reply, although he had decided what to do.

The next day after their morning meal all except the young wife and the

recluse left the lodge on their daily trips into the forest, the

brothers to hunt and the sister to procure bark and fuel for the fire.

When the brothers had reached their rendezvous in the forest the eldest

told the rest what his wife reported to him, and also that she had

shown him her bleeding legs and thighs in confirmation of her story.

After a short parley, the brothers solemnly decided that it was their

duty to kill their youngest brother; so they returned to the lodge that

night with the firm determination to carry out their resolution. The

next morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, they informed him

of their decision to kill him in order to put a stop to his scandalous

conduct toward his brother’s wife. The youth, knowing that he was

innocent of the charge and that the young woman had falsely accused him

to his brothers, calmly lay down on his couch in silence that his

brothers might kill him.

First, the eldest brother solemnly approached the couch, and drawing

his flint knife from his pouch he passed it across the throat of his

youngest brother; whereupon he was astonished to see that the knife had

made no cut. After sawing away with his knife until he had worn it out,

he abandoned the attempt with grave misgivings that all was not well

with his brother. Then the rest of the brothers tried in turn to cut

the throat of the youngest, but in this they failed completely. When

they fully realized that they had been foiled by some unknown power,

the recluse said to his astonished brothers: “None of you possesses the

orenda (magic power) to enable you to kill me. My sister alone

possesses such potency; hence she can kill me. When she has done so,

you shall build a log lodge of massive construction, and you shall put

over it a roof of the largest logs, so that the lodge shall be entirely

secure. But before putting in place the roof you shall lay my body in

the lodge and also leave my sister alive therein. Further, you shall

place my head in its correct position with relation to the rest of my

body. Finally, seal up the lodge with the logs as I have said.”

Then the sister of the youth, with her flint knife, beheaded her

brother, afterward withdrawing in deep sorrow. Thereupon the six

brothers of the dead youth set to work constructing the log lodge as

they had been instructed to do, using the largest logs they could

handle. When they had finished this task they placed their sister alive

in the lodge with the body of the slain brother, just as he had

directed, and covered the rude but strong structure with the largest

logs it was possible for them to obtain and handle. Then they returned

to their own camp.

When the brothers arrived there they were somewhat surprised to see

that the bride of the eldest had mysteriously disappeared. They

marveled greatly at this singular occurrence, which they could not

explain, for there were no traces of her having been attacked by an

enemy.

While they were thus perplexed there suddenly arose a terrific

hurricane and windstorm, which was the work of the notorious witch

Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the mother of the missing bride. At the height of

the tempest, within the lodge of great logs, the head of the youngest

brother became reunited to his body, and the youth came to life. At

once he said to his sister, possessed of potent orenda, “Oh, my sister!

press with all your might both your hands over both my eyes and keep

them there until I tell you to remove them.” The sister quickly obeyed

her brother, for she knew that the storm maidens would snatch away the

eyes of her brother if possible. The tempest swept the ground in all

directions from the lodge as far as the eye could see, trees being torn

up by the roots and tossed about as if they were grass stalks. The camp

of the six brothers was swept away and they were destroyed with it.

Nevertheless the lodge in which the youngest brother and his sister

were inclosed was left intact, and the two inmates were unharmed,

except in one respect: When the rage of the storm had subsided, the

brother said to his sister, “Now you may take your hands from my eyes,

for it was of no avail for you to have held them there.

Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk has overmatched me in sorcery; her orenda has

overcome mine.” From this speech the sister learned that the youth

claimed to be a wizard, possessed of orenda of abnormal potency and

efficiency. But she was greatly astonished and agitated to find that

her brother’s eyes had been snatched out from under her hands during

the storm and that consequently he was blind, for on removing her hands

from his face she saw the eyeless sockets.

Without any ado the brother said to his sister, “Let us leave this

place. Remove the roof of logs so that we may get out of this lodge.”

Then the sister, who was abnormally strong for a woman, set to work

removing these logs, and, when she had removed enough of them to enable

her brother and herself to climb out, they regained their freedom.

Thereupon the blind brother said, “Let us go home now; and in order to

do this we must travel directly southward from here.”

The sister, agreeing with this proposition, at once set to work making

preparations for the journey. In order to be able to bear her brother

on her back she constructed a kind of harness or carrying-chair

(gaʼnigoⁿʹʻhwāʼ). When she had completed her task she placed her blind

brother in the “chair,” and by means of the forehead strap bore it on

her back. Thus burdened, she started at once southward for their home.

Having traveled a long distance without stopping to rest, they finally

came to a place in which the sister saw a covey of wild turkeys. She

wished, mentally, it were possible for her to secure one of the birds

for food for her brother and herself. The former, being aware of her

thought, said, “Oh, my sister! make me a bow and an arrow, and I will

kill one of the wild turkeys.” The sister, having done as desired,

brought the bow and arrow to her brother, who said, “Oh, my sister!

tell me where the turkeys are and turn me so that I may face them as I

shoot.” As soon as his sister had placed him in the proper position,

with one shot he killed a turkey. The sister, who was delighted with

their good fortune, at once proceeded to dress and cook the turkey for

their supper. But when she told her brother that the turkey was ready

to eat he refused to partake of it, telling his sister that she would

have to eat it by herself. At this, without asking him his reason for

not eating his portion, she ate what she desired. Then she constructed

a temporary lodge (kanoñsʻhäʼ) with boughs, strips of bark, and other

suitable material, in which she and her brother remained for the night.

In the morning the sister ate what remained of the turkey and then,

placing her brother on her back, resumed the journey toward the south.

They traveled the entire day. When the sun was setting they again came

upon a covey of turkeys, one of which they killed in the same manner as

they had killed one the evening before. The devoted sister, having

dressed the bird carefully, boiled it by putting hot stones into the

water, but the young man again refused to eat any portion of it. When

the sister had eaten what she desired she reserved what remained for

breakfast. Then she made another temporary shelter in which they

retired for the night.

Next morning after the sister had eaten her breakfast she again took

her brother on her back in the carrying cradle and they resumed the

journey southward. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. When the

sun was setting they again came upon a covey of wild turkeys, one of

which was killed, and after being dressed, was cooked and eaten, as the

two other turkeys had been. Afterward the sister prepared a temporary

shelter, as she had done twice before.

In the morning of the fourth day they again set forth on their journey

southward. Toward midday the sister said, “Oh, my brother! I see a

lodge in the distance ahead of us. Beside it stands a very tall

chestnut tree. Shall I continue our journey?” The blind brother

replied, “Yes; go on! It is the lodge in which we formerly lived. Yes;

that is our lodge and home.” Thereupon the sister hastened her steps

and they soon reached the lodge. Within they found everything that was

common to the lodges of those ancient times, as clay pots, baskets,

wooden mortars, tubs of corn and beans, and bundles of spicebush twigs

for use in making a warm drink.

Nothing unusual happened to the blind brother or to his sister until

the third day after their arrival at their old home. On the morning of

that day, while the sister was out in the neighboring forest gathering

fuel, she was surprised to hear some person, seemingly near to her,

say, or rather whisper, “Chit!” Quickly turning in the direction whence

the sound proceeded, she was startled to see a short distance away a

handsome young man looking intently at her. After talking with her a

few moments he made her a proposal of marriage, in reply to which she

told him that she could not give him a definite answer without first

consulting her brother. Then she asked him to meet her at the same time

and place on the following day. The young man agreed readily to her

proposition, whereupon they separated without further ceremony.

When the sister returned to the lodge she told her brother of meeting

the young man, and asked his advice with regard to her acceptance or

refusal of the offer of marriage. He replied that it was his wish,

prompted by wise policy, that she should accept the offer, since the

young man was a noted wizard, son of the notorious witch,

Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk; for, if she did not marry him, her refusal would be

tantamount to a sentence of death on each; hence, they must accept the

inevitable.

During the following night the blind brother explained in detail the

reasons for his advice to her to marry the young man, who was the son

of the great witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the relentless enemy of their

family and kin.

The next morning the sister went into the forest to keep tryst with the

strange young man, whom she found there awaiting her coming. She told

him at once that her brother had been happy to consent to have her

marry him. He seemed greatly pleased at her reply and merely said: “It

is well. I will be at your lodge tonight. So, I go away now.” So they

two parted in this abrupt way. That night, when darkness had come, the

strange young man arrived at the lodge of the sister and her blind

brother. He remained overnight with his wife, but left the lodge at the

dawn. Before leaving, however, he assured his wife that he would return

at night. Accordingly, he came to the lodge that night also and

remained with his wife until the dawn, when he departed as he had done

on the previous morning.

Thus he came and departed for seven nights. Then he said to his wife:

“It is my wish that you return with me to my mother’s lodge—my home.”

His wife, knowing well who he was and who his mother was, readily

consented to accompany him; by so doing she was faithfully carrying out

the policy which her blind brother had advised her to pursue toward

him. On their way homeward, while the husband was leading the trail,

they came to a point where the path divided into two divergent ways

which, however, after forming an oblong loop, reunited, forming once

more only a single path. Here the woman was surprised to see her

husband’s body divide into two forms, one following the one path and

the other the other trail. She was indeed greatly puzzled by this

phenomenon, for she was at a loss to know which of the figures to

follow as her husband. Fortunately, she finally resolved to follow the

one leading to the right. After following this path for some distance,

the wife saw that the two trails reunited and also that the two figures

of her husband coalesced into one. It is said that this circumstance

gave rise to the name of this strange man, which was Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ;

that is to say, “They are two trails running parallel.” Not long after

the two reached the husband’s home, the residence of the notorious

witch, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, who welcomed her daughter-in-law to her

lodge.

In due course the wife of Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ gave birth to male twins. The

great witch, who acted as midwife to her daughter-in-law, cast one of

the children under a bed and the other under another, and then nursed

her daughter-in-law and instructed her as to her conduct during

convalescence.

Some days elapsed, when the inmates of the lodge were surprised to hear

sounds issuing from beneath the beds under which the twins had been

cast. At once the great witch, making two small balls of deer hair and

buckskin and also two lacrosse ball clubs, gave a ball and a club to

each of the twins. At once each of the twins began to play ball beneath

the bed under which he lived, and it was not long before each of the

little boys was seen to pass from under his bed beneath that of the

other. Thus they amused themselves the entire day, but at night each of

the twins returned under his own bed. Day after day the twins visited

back and forth. There came a day, however, when one of the twins tossed

his ball up in such wise that it flew out of the doorway of the lodge.

Thereupon the two youngsters followed the ball so nimbly and swiftly

that they were able to overtake it before it struck the ground. So they

kept batting the ball high up into the air and overtaking it before it

could reach the ground again. After playing thus for long hours, each

would return to his own retreat beneath the bed under which he lived.

This outdoor sport was indulged in by the twins for a long time. One

day, on being tossed into the air, the ball at once took a course

directly toward the lodge of their blind uncle, but the twins kept up

with it, hitting it with their bats before it could touch the ground.

They did not notice that they were approaching a lodge, hence they were

greatly surprised to see it finally fall into the smoke hole of the

lodge. They cautiously approached the lodge and, peering through the

crevices in its bark walls, they saw their ball in the hands of a man

with eyeless sockets.

One of the boys said to the other, “Lo. Go in, and get the ball,” but

the other replied, “I fear him. You go.” Finally they entered the lodge

together to ask the man to give them back their ball. As they drew near

the man, he said to them: “Do not be afraid of me. Fear not; I am your

friend. It is I who have caused you to come here to my lodge. By

sorcery I caused your ball to fall into my hand. Indeed, I am your

uncle, your mother’s brother. I should very much like to see you two,

but you observe I have no eyes, so I can not do so.” At this the twins

exclaimed together: “Oh! maternal uncle, how did you lose your eyes?”

The uncle replied: “Your grandmother, Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, overmatched

me in sorcery, and as a penalty she took out my eyes, so I am blind.”

The twins answered: “Oh, uncle! we desire very much that you see us.”

To this the uncle replied: “As it seems to be an impossibility for me

to see again, it would probably be useless for you to wish me to see

you.” But the twins said: “We will try to make you able to see us.”

With this remark the twins left their ball and their lacrosse clubs and

went into the neighboring forest. They had not gone very far before

they met Degĕñsʹgē (the Horned Owl). They asked him to lend them his

eyes for a short time, promising to return them to him uninjured.

Complying with their request on this condition, he removed his eyes and

handed them to the twins; then he sat down to await their return.

Delighted with their success, the twins hastened back to the lodge to

their uncle. Placing the borrowed eyes in his sightless sockets, they

asked him whether he could see with them, whereupon he told them that

he could see nothing. Disappointed with this result, the twins removed

the eyes from their uncle’s head and returned them to the Degĕñsʹgē

(Horned Owl) in the forest, thanking him for his kindness.

Going a short distance farther into the forest, the twins met

Ke’kʹʻhowā (Barred Owl), whom they asked to lend his eyes to them for a

short time. He readily consented on condition that they return them

within one day. So the twins soon had his eyes, which they carried back

to the lodge as swiftly as their feet could take them. But after

inserting them into their uncle’s eyeless sockets, they were again

disappointed to hear him say: “It is indeed too bad; I can not see

anything with them.” So removing the eyes, the twins carried them back

to Ke’kʹʻhowā, whom they thanked for his kindness.

The twins were not to be easily defeated, however, in their purpose, so

they went still farther into the forest. There they met Odoñnyoñʹdăʻ

(the Eagle), and they at once asked him to lend them his eyes for a

short time. The Eagle readily consented to part with them for a day,

and in a moment the twins were hurrying homeward with them. After they

had placed these in their uncle’s sockets he told them that he could

not see things clearly, merely faint outlines of them. So once more

they removed the eyes and gratefully returned them to the Eagle.

Not to be thus baffled in the attempt to enable their uncle to see

them, one of the lads proposed to the other that each lend their uncle

an eye from his own head. To this proposal the other readily consented.

Each of the lads having removed one of his eyes, the two started for

the lodge of their uncle. When they reached his side they placed the

eyes in their uncle’s head, who at once exclaimed in delight: “Oh! I

can see. Oh! I am so glad to be able to see you two, my nephews.” Then,

after taking a glance around the lodge, he returned the borrowed eyes

to his wonderful nephews, who said to him: “We will now go away to get

back your own eyes; so be of good cheer for a short time. We start

now.”

But their blind uncle replied: “Knowing what I do, it seems impossible

for you two lads to accomplish your purpose. So take courage and be

brave.” Then, after a moment of silence, he added by way of advice:

“Remember this: My eyes are partly bloodshot, and they are attached to

the swaddling wrappings of a female child, who is still fastened to a

cradle board, and whom they serve as breast ornaments. The lodge in

which this child may be found has a fox skin as its clan mark and

stands far away in cloudland. And, my nephews, no one can enter that

land unseen by the sleepless eyes of the grim warder, who is called

Haneʹʻhwăʼ,[424] and who on the approach of a stranger gives the alarm

by three terrific shouts. So have courage, my nephews.”

Undaunted, the lads left the lodge, and going to a neighboring swamp

they set to work industriously collecting a vast quantity of swamp

grass, which they placed on a large pile. When they had collected a

sufficient quantity they set the pile on fire, and when the flames

leaped the highest the lads, casting themselves into their midst, were

borne aloft on the huge billows of smoke, which mounted ever higher and

higher, and were soon in cloudland, where they came down in the form of

cinders.

Then one of the lads called two mice, which he instructed to creep

cautiously under the leaves, grass, and rubbish to a certain lodge

having a fox skin for a clan mark, and to emerge from the trail as near

the lodge as possible without being apprehended by the warder,

Haneʹʻhwăʼ. Then each lad entered one of the mice, and the two mice,

burrowing along under the leaves and other rubbish, soon came out just

where they had been directed to emerge. Notwithstanding their caution

and ruse, Haneʹʻhwăʼ knew the purpose which the two mice had in coming,

but before he could give the alarm one of the lads said to him: “Keep

silence. We will give you a quantity of wild beans if you consent to

our request.” Believing the lads to be harmless and to be on a mere

sporting expedition to show their powers of metamorphosis, he readily

consented to permit them unheralded to pass to their destination.

Having thus easily passed the warder of the lodge of

Gahoⁿʻdji’dāʹʻhoⁿk, the two lads, assuming the form and size of fleas,

at once entered the portico or porch of the lodge, in which several of

their aunts, sisters of their father, were pounding corn in wooden

mortars with wooden pestles. As fleas the lads, unnoticed, quickly

crawled up the legs of these women, and by vicious bites soon caused

the corn pounders to fall to fighting among themselves, believing that

they had been cruelly pinched by their mates. By crawling on and biting

the legs of all the women the lads were able to make all of them fight.

In fighting, the women, influenced by the orenda of the boys, employed

their wooden pestles in striking their opponents on the head,

fracturing their skulls. Thus, in a short time the women had destroyed

one another.

After all the women were either dead or stretched out unconscious with

fractured skulls, the lads cautioned the warder, Haneʹʻhwăʼ, not to

inform Degiyanēʹgĕñʻ, their father, what he had seen them do, should he

come there inquiring about his sisters. They told him to sing for their

father the following song:

Yekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.

Oekĕⁿnĕⁿnéʹʻhoʻ skahetchonăʼ otiʹʼsĕñ.

The warder consented to do what his boy friends had asked him to do.

Thereupon the lads quickly entered the lodge to which was attached the

fox skin clan badge. They soon found the cradle board on which was

fastened the female child, even as their uncle had told them, but they

were greatly astonished when they saw that the eyes of many persons

adorned the swaddling clothes (wrappings). Quickly but carefully

examining these eyes, which served as the breast ornaments of the

child, they soon found the eyes of their uncle, which were partially

bloodshot. When they had secured these they removed also the others, in

pairs, and, tossing them up into the air, said to them: “Return to the

place whence you were taken by stealth.” At once these eyes took flight

and returned to their owners. After killing the female child and

compassing the death of the treacherous Haneʹʻhwăʼ, the lads started

for home with their uncle’s eyes.

When the boys reached the point whence they must descend they assumed

the size and form of fleas, and, using the seed heads of the dandelion

as parachutes, they easily floated down from cloudland to the earth.

Going directly to the lodge of their uncle, they returned to him his

eyes. He was delighted beyond measure when he found that his nephews

had been successful in their expedition and had so speedily brought

back his eyes.

The lads had killed the baby in cloudland by means of potent drugs

given them by their uncle while they were still on the earth. Before

starting their uncle had told them not to fail to put this deadly drug

on the baby, for he knew that the child was the life itself of the

great witch, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk. Through its death the witch herself

necessarily died, because the child was her life, not her baby, as it

appeared to be. Thus, Gahoⁿʻdjiʼdāʹʻhoⁿk was destroyed and the young

deanoäʹdoⁿʼ man at last was revenged on her, partly through the potent

orenda of his nephews and partly by means of the potent “medicine” with

which he had armed them before they had started on their expedition

into cloudland.

115. THE LEGEND OF THE MISOGAMIST

In ancient days, it is said, there lived a good mother and her son in a

lodge that stood alone. Now, the son was a very successful hunter; in

the chase of all kinds of game animals he had no competitor. The

possession of an overflowing larder and of rare and excellent furs and

skins gave him an enviable prestige among his people.

It was natural among a hunter people that the prowess of the young man

in the chase should make him an attractive figure in the eyes of all

the mothers among his people who had marriageable daughters. So these

thrifty mothers urged their daughters to make the usual marriage bread

and to go to his lodge with proposals of marriage. Each of these

obedient daughters would say: “Indeed, I believe that thou and I should

marry.” This was the address made to the young man after the young

woman had set her basket of marriage bread before him, seated, to

receive her. In replying, the young man would say to each: “In so far

as I am concerned it is my settled purpose not to marry anyone, as I

have no desire to do so.” Thereupon the young woman, having failed in

her suit, would return to her home.

This pursuit of the young man by the marriageable daughters of the

community continued for many seasons. As each maiden came with her

proposal of marriage the youth invariably made the same answer. During

all this time his mother continued to remonstrate with him on account

of his firm resolution not to marry, telling him repeatedly that it was

a well-known fact that one who acted as he was doing would surely be

punished for his attitude by some great calamity. He refused, however,

to listen to her remonstrances.

Now, it was his custom to go every autumn to hunt in the forest, and he

would return home with great quantities of venison and other meat, and

furs and skins. All the people who had none of these things came to the

lodge where the mother and son lived together because they wished to

trade for some of the meat or for some of the furs or skins, each one

bringing therefor something of value. One would bring a bracelet,

saying: “For this cut me off a small portion of meat of the bear, of

venison, or of some other kind.” Another would bring a burden strap,

saying: “For this give me the skin of a beaver, or a small portion of

bear’s meat, for I have come to buy.” This trading continued for some

years, and all kept saying of the young man: “He is indeed immune to

adverse orenda.”

After a while another autumn came, and again he started alone on a

hunting trip into the forests where he knew game was always abundant

and in which it was his custom to camp for the season. Having reached

the place where his hunting lodge stood, he proceeded at once to repair

it and to supply it with suitable fuel and other necessities. Then he

went forth to hunt, as was his custom. He was very successful,

returning every day to camp with the game he had killed.

After a certain number of days thus spent he lay down one night to

rest, as usual. But in the middle of the night it so happened that he

moved about in his bed, and he was greatly surprised by feeling what

seemed to be a woman lying beside him. No one had ever slept with him

before, man or woman. Thereupon the surprised misogamist said: “Lo, who

are you?” The young woman, for such she was, in a fascinating voice

which thrilled the heart of the young man, replied: “Oh! I desired to

visit the place where you are only because of the love which I have for

you.” Saying this softly, she threw her arms around his neck and

fervently embraced him. He remained perfectly quiet, making no protest

against the fondling of the beautiful maiden. Without further ceremony

the young woman joyously exclaimed: “Come now! let us two go to sleep

again.” But the young man lost consciousness at once, and the last

thing he remembered were the words of the young woman. It was after the

dawn of day that he awoke. Uncovering his head, he found that he was

quite alone, and that, in fact, the young woman was not anywhere

around. He was greatly astonished at what had happened, and said to

himself in wonder: “What is this that has befallen me? Now, indeed, has

come to pass perhaps what my dear mother has been saying to me, for has

she not kept telling me that I would be punished sooner or later for my

unreasoning attitude toward those who have desired to marry me. Now I

shall start for my home, for I am seized with fear.”

He set to work at once making up his pack and putting the lodge in

order for his departure. When he had completed his preparations he

started for home.

At the end of the day’s journey he camped for the night in the place

where he usually stopped for this purpose. After kindling a hot fire in

the temporary shelter he set to work warming some pieces of cold meat

which he had brought with him, and then sat down to eat his supper.

When he had finished his meal he made ready to rest for the night. It

was quite dark, for the evening was then far spent. As he sat resting

he was suddenly surprised to hear noises that seemed to draw nearer and

nearer. He could plainly hear the sounds, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, sāʻʹ, and also

sounds caused by the moving aside and breaking of sticks and small

twigs, and the branches of trees falling. Seized with a great fear, he

at once added small dry sticks to the fire, which blazed up, giving a

great light, which enabled him to see whether anything was approaching

his shelter. Suddenly he saw standing at the end of the illumined space

a very large woman. After a moment’s hesitation she came up to the

opposite side of the fire and, addressing the now thoroughly frightened

young man, said: “It is just this: I have come here with the desire

that you should give me a portion of meat.” To look at her one would

have thought that she was in all respects a human being, as she stood

gazing toward the youth. As quickly as possible he took from his pack a

quarter of meat, which he heaved over the fire toward the woman, who

caught it. Then she began to eat it, while the blood dripped down on

her breast and over her garments. Thus she ate up a quarter of meat.

When she had finished she said: “The only thing for you to do is to

return to this place in the autumn, when the season changes again.” So

saying, she turned at once and started away, leaving the young man more

astonished than ever. Soon she was lost to view in the darkness.

Thereupon the youth was seized with great fear, and he kept saying to

himself: “Now indeed has been fulfilled the saying of my dear mother; I

am suffering the penalty which she told me would befall for my refusal

to marry some of the marriageable daughters of my people. But with it

all, I think that when I have returned home I shall not relate what has

befallen me on this trip. Moreover, in case some shall say to me, ‘Let

us marry,’ I will consent at once.” Of course he did not fall asleep

during the entire night. Very early in the morning he ate some cold

meat, and then taking up his pack, he started for home. Having arrived

there, he hung his pack on the wall of the lodge. His mother said: “I

am thankful for this.” Noticing a changed expression on his face, she

said to him: “Lo, pray what has befallen you, since you have returned

so soon after your departure?” The son replied: “Something unusual

happened, it would seem. I became homesick; this is the reason that I

returned home at once.”

During the time that the son was away hunting many women visited the

mother, who were continually asking her consent to a marriage with him.

So now the mother said to him: “I will tell you that three maidens paid

me visits, who proposed marriage with you; these maidens you know well,

as they are the three who have been the most insistent on marrying you.

So now it is for you to choose which of these three, or if not one of

these, then whom are you willing to marry? I do not know what may

happen should you again find it impossible to consent to marry one of

these maidens.” At once the son replied: “I will consent to taking one

of these maidens in marriage. I will marry without further ado.” He

then informed his mother which of the maidens he would marry, for he

well knew the names of all those who had come to his mother’s lodge

with their baskets of marriage bread. This answer greatly pleased his

mother, who said to him: “It is indeed the right thing for you to do,

for many women have come here to ask you to marry them. Now I will

bring here the chosen one.” So saying, she went at once to the lodge of

the maiden of his choice.

On entering the lodge of the maiden she greeted her and her mother,

and, after informing them of the purpose of the visit, said to the

former: “I have come after you to bring you to our lodge and fire. My

son has consented to marry you; so you will accompany me home, and you

it will be who will dwell with her spouse’s people.” The maiden,

agreeing to the proposition, said: “So let it be; I am willing to marry

him.” Thereupon the two returned to the lodge of the mother of the

young man, the misogamist. They reached the lodge, and, on entering it,

the mother said to her son: “I have brought with me her who is my

daughter-in-law. Now I will speak a few words: Oh, my child! you must

continue to love her; you must have compassion for her; never vex her

in mind or body; never let it be said that you are one of those who

kill their spouses. Some grasp them by the hair of the head to abuse

them; never do you thus. I am through.” This speech she addressed to

her son.

The maiden remained there one entire year, and she properly fulfilled

the duties of a good wife. A little later she gave birth to a daughter.

The child was very handsome, and she was also very large and healthy

and strong. In all respects she was of the size and hardiness of a

child who was large enough to be borne on the back in a cradle board.

Now the time had arrived in which the men who were capable of doing so

severally went out to their hunting grounds—autumn had come. One day

the young man said: “My dear mother, you will prepare provisions for a

journey, for I am again going out to hunt, and I am thinking of having

my wife accompany me, as the child is sufficiently strong and hardy to

be borne on her mother’s back in a cradle board. I will bear by means

of the forehead strap the provisions that we will take with us.”

Then the mother proceeded to prepare the corn bread in the usual way,

and the parched corn meal sweetened with honey or maple sugar. When the

bread was cooked she removed it from the boiling water and set to work

preparing the pack, in which she placed all the bread, making what was

called a wrapped pack. When she informed her son that she had completed

the task of preparing the food for the journey, he said: “Tomorrow,

very early in the morning, we two will start on our journey.”

Accordingly next morning the husband and wife set out. The wife bore

their child on her back by means of the cradle board and forehead

strap, and the husband carried the wrapped pack, containing boiled corn

bread and parched corn meal mixed with sugar and honey, by means of the

forehead strap. After traveling all day, in the evening they reached a

spot where it was the custom of the husband to camp for the night; this

was a good day’s journey from their lodge. He set to work at once

repairing the temporary shelter and kindling a large fire. Meanwhile

the young wife warmed up some cold meat and the boiled corn bread which

they had brought in the pack. Their evening meal prepared, the two ate

heartily. When they had finished their supper they made ready a rude

couch of bark and boughs on which they lay down for the night. The

wife’s mind was contented.

In the morning the husband rekindled the fire, and the wife warmed up

more of the cold boiled corn bread. When they had eaten their fill the

husband at once repacked their belongings. He also closed the temporary

shelter in order to preserve it for their return. Then he said to his

wife: “Now let us depart. Our journey will require fully the time of

the entire day, and we will arrive at my hunting camp in the evening.”

As predicted, they reached their journey’s end as the sun was sinking

low in the west. Its crimson rays shot upward through the treetops and

along the western sky.

The husband quickly began to make his hunting lodge ready for

occupation and also kindled a large fire. While the wife was warming up

the meats and the corn bread the husband kept on repairing the lodge by

filling up the crevices with moss and replacing such pieces of bark as

had fallen off. He desired to make the lodge warm and comfortable,

especially on account of their baby. When it was too dark to continue

his work the wife called him to their supper. They were happy and

contented. After finishing their meal they prepared their rude bed and

retired for the night. Before falling asleep the husband said to his

wife: “Tomorrow I will go out to hunt again.”

Next morning, as soon as they had finished eating breakfast, the

husband said to his wife: “I am about to start out to hunt now, and you

two will remain alone. Perhaps I may not return until just before

sunset. Of course, should I have very great success, I will return home

at once.” So saying, he left the lodge. Just before sunset he returned,

carrying by means of the forehead strap the entire body of a fine deer.

He set to work at once skinning the carcass. When this task was

completed he quartered the animal and hung up the parts to cure, but

not before he had selected some choice pieces for their supper. These

the young wife quickly prepared, and they ate their evening meal in

peace and quiet. The wife was, of course, very much pleased to have

fresh venison to eat; she was indeed happy. Then they retired for the

night and were soon asleep. In the morning the husband again started

out to hunt, saying to his wife: “You two will remain at home alone,”

assuring her that he would return as soon as he was successful in his

hunting.

Thus many days passed. The hunter was very successful in his hunting,

always bringing home large quantities of venison, bear, moose, and elk

meat and various other kinds of game. He and his wife had a great

quantity of meat hanging around the sides of their lodge to cure, and

also many fine furs and skins.

Toward sunset one day the young wife went out of the lodge to procure

fuel for the fire while the child lay asleep. As she was walking

around, she heard sounds made by some one approaching through the

woods; thereupon she hastily gathered an armful of wood and, quickly

reentering the lodge, took a seat near her sleeping baby. In a short

time, as she looked out through the openings in the forest, she saw

suddenly a very large woman approaching, bearing on her back an

unusually large child. At once she became fearful, exclaiming: “What

shall I do to save us? Perhaps we two shall now die?” So saying, she

quietly awaited the coming of the strange woman. In a few minutes the

latter entered the lodge and, standing in the doorway, said to the

frightened woman: “Do not have any fear of me, for I come with no ill

feeling in my mind toward you and yours; there is no evil in my mind,

so, above all, do not fear me.” With these words, she walked to the

opposite side of the fire and took a seat there. The young wife noticed

that the two children were exactly the same size. Although the stranger

kept comforting her by telling her not to be afraid, that she had not

come to the lodge for any evil purpose, her hostess was so fearful that

she made no replies, but she kept thinking: “It is certainly

unfortunate that my husband does not return at once. I wish he would

come. This is ill-omened.” Meanwhile the strange woman continued to

remain quiet. Looking at her face, one would think that she was human,

although she was so tall and so stout that she appeared uncanny.

Now there came sounds from a distance, as the sun was low in the west,

and the expected husband returned home. He entered his lodge, bearing

by means of the forehead strap the entire carcass of a deer. He cast

the burden down, giving merely a passing glance at the woman seated on

the opposite side of the fire, without saying a word. The young wife

then set to work getting his supper. When she had set the food before

him he said to her: “You would better give some food to the woman

sitting on the opposite side of the fire.” His wife willingly obeyed

this suggestion, carrying to her in a bark bowl a generous supply of

food, and saying: “This is for you to eat.” But the woman (or what

seemed to be one) refused to accept it, answering: “I do not eat that

kind of food.” At this the wife, of course, went back to her side of

the fire. Her husband sat with his back toward the strange woman and

studiously refrained from saying a word, but kept on eating. In a few

minutes the strange woman spoke, saying: “He knows what kind of food I

am accustomed to eat.” At once he rose, and, reaching up, took down a

quarter of venison, which he threw over the fire back of him toward the

strange woman. She caught this as it came to her. The wife was intently

watching what was taking place. The stranger proceeded at once to eat

the raw venison, and in a short time she had devoured the entire

quarter. While eating, the strange woman kept saying: “I am very glad

indeed. My wish has been fulfilled, for I desired to come here on a

visit.” When night had come and they were ready to retire to rest, the

husband prepared his mat at the feet of his wife and child, while the

strange woman and her child lay on the opposite side of the fire, which

was the guest’s side according to custom. The young wife of the hunter,

who was thoroughly frightened, kept thinking: “I just do not know what

may befall us that is untoward.”

In the morning the husband arose, and having rebuilt the fire, his wife

proceeded quite early to prepare breakfast for them. When they two were

about to begin eating the husband again took down a quarter of venison,

which he threw over his shoulder across the fire to the strange woman,

who caught it and began to eat it raw, the blood even dripping from her

mouth, so ravenously did she eat. When they had eaten breakfast the

strange woman said: “Now, my wish has been fulfilled—my wish to visit

this place.” All remained there in the lodge. After a while, however,

the strange woman arose, carrying her child, and, walking over to where

the hunter was seated, said to him: “Lo, take this child, for it is but

your own child. Here it is.” Shrinking away, the husband drew back his

hands, but the woman, preferring that he should have the child, gave it

to him, so he had to accept it. Thereupon, the woman said, “I desired

that he should just look on his child, and it was for this reason that

we two came hither.” So saying, she returned to the opposite side of

the fire, where she again seated herself. The husband sat still,

holding his child, dubious as to its real character. After a while he

arose, and going over to the place where the woman sat, on the opposite

side of the fire, he gave the child back to its mother. Then returning

to his own side of the room, saying, “I am now going out to hunt

again,” he started from the lodge.

In the meantime the two women remained in the lodge with their children

of the same size. The strange woman said to her companion in a

comforting way: “You must not have any fear of me.” When her child fell

asleep she laid it down on her couch and carefully covered it with a

skin robe. Then, turning to her hostess, she said: “I will fetch some

fuel, because it is so difficult and trying for you at all times to

have to bring it.” With these words she left the lodge in quest of

wood. She was absent a long time, when suddenly there came a sound,

dā—h, which drew nearer and nearer, as if one were dragging some great

object along the ground. On looking out to see the cause of the noise,

the hunter’s wife saw the strange woman approaching with a huge tree in

her arms, which she threw down just outside the doorway; it was a whole

dead tree, which was dry and hard. She proceeded at once to break up

the tree, and when she had finished her task there was a great pile of

wood—fuel for the lodge fire. The wife of the hunter was greatly

astonished at the enormous strength of the strange woman, and she again

was filled with great fear. Then the other woman, entering the lodge,

said: “I have now supplied you with a quantity of fuel.” Thereupon, she

seated herself on the opposite side of the fire.

She had just taken her seat, when suddenly she arose, saying: “ʼAʻʹhăʻ!

Now comes my husband trailing me. Have courage now, oh, my friend! and

help me. Hasten! Be quick! Go cut basswood poles, three in number, and

you must sharpen them. You must be quick about it, too, for if he shall

overpower us we two must perish.” The hunter’s wife ran out as swiftly

as possible, and having cut the basswood poles and sharpened them,

returned to the lodge. The other woman then said: “You must harden

[425] their points in the fire by turning them over carefully; let them

be burning. As soon as we meet at the doorway we shall fight, and we

shall fight on the outside of the lodge. And, of course, there can be

no doubt that he will overpower me, for he is very powerful. When he

throws me and falls on the top of me, you must quickly take one of the

burning poles from the fire and thrust it in anum ejus, turning it

around therein vigorously, and then withdraw it. You must quickly do

likewise with the other two burning poles. Thereupon, he will soon

become weak, and then I shall overcome him. Just at present you must

keep still and must watch carefully those poles, for they are our only

hope of success. Now he is coming on the run close at hand. Have

courage and aid me, oh, my friend!”

The stranger had barely uttered these words when she and her husband

met in a death struggle at the doorway of the lodge; they fought

outside so as to have more room in their struggles. In a short time the

man tripped his wife, and they fell to the ground with the man

uppermost. At once the hunter’s wife swiftly ran into the lodge, and

seizing one of the burning poles thrust it in anum ejus, and having

turned it round and round violently a moment withdrew it. Then she did

likewise as quickly as possible with the second and third burning

poles. This terrible treatment had its effect, and in a moment the

strange woman was able to free herself, and struggling from under her

weakened husband she strangled him to death. All this time she kept

saying to her friend, “Have courage, oh, my friend! Stand near by and

wait.” Then returning to the lodge, she said: “Oh, my friend, I am

thankful indeed that you have helped me in my trouble.” Having

recovered her breath, she added: “Now I will cast the body far away

yonder, as far as one can see.” So saying, she dragged away the body of

her husband, disappearing with it in the distance; but it was not very

long before she returned to the lodge, whereupon she said: “I have left

the body far away. Now we two unfortunate ones—myself and my child—will

return to our home, departing from this place. All that I desired was

that she should see her father. I thank you for what you have done for

us. Our kinsfolk dwell far away from here in the forests; thither we

two shall return. Now we depart.”

In a short time the strange woman and her child had disappeared into

the forest. They had been gone a long while when the hunter returned to

the lodge. He had nothing to say to his wife. Thereupon she resolved

not to tell what had taken place while he was away hunting until she

reached home. At first the husband and wife did not converse at all.

But finally the former said: “Tomorrow we will start for home.” So the

next day he made the necessary preparations for their journey, putting

their belongings into two packs. When all was ready for their departure

he placed the smaller pack on his wife’s back by means of the forehead

strap, and the larger on his own back in the same way. Then they left

their hunting camp for home much sooner than they had expected to do.

They kept traveling the entire day, and when the sun was low in the

west they arrived at the place where the hunter was accustomed to camp

when making his hunting trips in past seasons. Here they kindled a

fire, and warming up cold meat and boiled corn bread, they ate their

meal and then retired to rest. Early in the morning, as soon as they

had eaten their meal and repacked their belongings, they continued

their journey, arriving just before sunset in the lodge of the

husband’s mother. She was very thankful for the meat which they had

brought home in their packs.

It was not long after their return before the bride’s mother entered

the lodge. After the usual greetings she said: “Let us two revisit our

own clan.” The bride answered: “So let it be; we may go as you

suggest.” They finally reached the bride’s former home, where her

kinsfolk welcomed her. She then began at once to relate in great detail

all that had befallen her during the time she had been absent on the

hunting trip with her husband. Among other things she told them that

her husband already had a child by some unknown mysterious being, whom

he was accustomed to feed with raw meat; and that, when the strange

woman had come to their hunting lodge, her husband did not share her

couch, but that he lay alone at the feet of his wife and child. The

young wife narrated, too, all that occurred in connection with the

attack on his wife made by the strange woman’s husband at the doorway

of the hunting lodge.

When the bride’s kinsfolk had heard all these things they said: “It

seems certain that he has begotten a child by a woman Genonsgwa

(sometimes erroneously called “Stone Coat”). You should separate from

him lest you become enchanted by some evil power should you return to

him again.” The bride and her child therefore remained with her own

clan and kinsfolk, as they had advised her to do under the

circumstances. This astonishing report soon spread among the tribe. All

soon knew what had occurred on the hunting trip in the forest to the

misogamist hunter and his bride. It produced a great sensation among

the people. So it happened that all the women, as if by mutual consent,

shunned the misogamist hunter, and would have nothing to do with him,

privately or socially. This is what befell the man who was too proud

and selfish to consent to marry any woman of his own people. Now, in so

far as his standing is concerned, he is held as despicable beyond

measure and of no account among men.

116. THE ACTS OF THE SEVENTH SON, DJĔÑGOʹʻSEʻ

In the olden time there stood in a certain land a lodge surrounded by a

dense forest, in which lived a very old man, his seven sons, and a

daughter. The youngest son was very small, and he possessed a cur which

was not larger than a gray squirrel and a very small bow and arrows to

match it; the bow, it is said, was a half span in length.

This small boy and his diminutive dog played together daily, hunting

fleas around the fireplace. The cur would track a flea, and just as the

flea would leap up from its hiding place the small boy would shoot it

with an arrow from his diminutive bow. Thus he amused himself all day

and far into the night.

Now, the old man, the father of this family, forbade his sons from

going to hunt in a certain direction from the lodge. In time, however,

the eldest son, wearying of this seemingly unreasonable restraint,

determined to hunt in the forbidden direction, in order to learn, if

possible, what it was that caused his father to prohibit his brothers

and himself from going into that region. So, following his resolve, he

started for the region, but never returned home. Then the second son

resolved to follow his elder brother, so he also started for the

forbidden land; and he, too, never returned home. Finally, when six of

the brothers had gone away and none had returned, the aged father said

to his youngest son that he himself was going in search of his six lost

sons. After carefully instructing his youngest son what to do for

himself and his only sister in his absence, he started away. He, too,

failed to come back, and the two young persons in the lodge became

anxious about their own fate, as they were then dependent on

themselves.

At last the youngest, the seventh, son informed his sister that she and

he would have to follow the path of their father. The time was winter,

but they started, following the trail in a light snow. As they set out,

the young boy, seizing his diminutive cur, dashed it against the

ground, whereupon it immediately arose in the form of a very large dog.

At this the boy sent the dog away, as it was of no further use to him.

The brother and sister traveled the entire day, and when they were

nearly famished with hunger they came to a lodge just as it was growing

dark. In this lodge they found, to their great delight and comfort,

embers still burning and before the fire, which was nearly out, a large

piece of broiled venison still attached to the sticks and skewers. By

adding fuel to the fire they succeeded in building it up so that it

would last during the night. Having eaten the broiled venison, and

being very tired, they lay down near the fire and were soon fast

asleep.

In the morning they ate the remainder of the venison and at once

resumed their journey. They had no provisions to eat on the way, but

they traveled onward until the darkness made it difficult for them to

proceed farther, when, tired, hungry, and ready to drop from

exhaustion, they reached another lodge. In this they found dying embers

and a substantial piece of broiled venison. As on the previous night,

they rebuilt the fire, and when they had eaten the venison they lay

down to sleep beside the fire.

Next day the remains of the venison furnished their breakfast. Just

before starting the boy found a flint and a stone ax, which he took

with him. Toward nightfall a blinding snowstorm set in, but the little

wanderers kept on their way. When it was quite dark they came to a rude

covert formed by the interlocking of fallen trees, the united limbs of

pine and cedar holding the snow in such wise as to form a very rude

shelter. Under this retreat the two little wanderers found a place full

of dry leaves. Outside of this shelter the snow had fallen to so great

a depth that it overtopped their heads in many places. In this refuge

they decided to remain for the night, although they had nothing to eat

and no hope of getting anything. Nothing daunted by the cheerless

prospect before them, the boy and his sister kindled a fire with dried

twigs and other fuel. As soon as the fire began to radiate its heat a

covey of quail came out from under the branches of the trees forming

the shelter. The boy at once killed several of these, which he dressed

and cooked for himself and his sister. After eating their supper the

boy added to the fire enough fuel to keep it until morning; then they

retired for the night, burrowing among the dry leaves, not far from the

fire, for covering. Next morning the fire was built up again, after

which the boy found and killed more quail for breakfast. After cooking

and eating these, they awaited the abatement of the storm before

starting out on the trail.

During the day an old woman, who lived alone in the vicinity and quite

aloof from her people, left her lodge to look for hickory bark to keep

up her fire in order to prevent the cold from freezing her to death.

Noticing smoke issuing out of a great bank of snow at some distance,

she went to see what kept the fire from going out, and she was

astonished to find the small boy and his sister. Moved with pity, the

little old woman took the children from their uncomfortable place and

brought them to her lodge, where she placed before them what little

food she had. They ate their fill. The children were indeed very glad

to be with a friend. The little old woman told them that she desired to

have them remain with her as her own children.

Next morning the little boy, having spat upon one of his arrows three

times, cast it out of the lodge through the smoke-hole, saying to it:

“Go thou, then, hunt for a deer and kill it for our food.” Obeying him,

the arrow flew out of the smoke-hole and disappeared. After being

absent for only a short time, it returned through the smoke-hole. The

boy seized it, and, finding on it traces of fresh blood, he turned to

the little old woman, saying: “Oh, grandmother! go out and look for the

dead body of a deer; it lies not far from here.” Not far from the lodge

she found, indeed, the body of a deer, which evidently had been

recently killed. Having brought it to the lodge, she dressed it. Then

she cooked some of the venison for herself and her adopted

grandchildren, and while they were eating the little old woman

continually uttered words of thanksgiving to the Master of Life [426]

because she was again able to eat venison.

Every day thereafter, in the same manner, the boy sent out his arrow to

hunt game animals for the food required by him and his little sister

and their adopted grandmother. Sometimes the arrow would kill a bear,

sometimes a deer; it killed game of all kinds, and the small family had

plenty to eat and some to spare, in addition to their constant

feasting. Thus they lived several years, and the boy grew to young

manhood. During this time the youth did not go beyond the immediate

neighborhood of the lodge in which he lived; and he had no friends

except a certain young man, one of the people of the region, who came

to see him frequently and who was his close friend.

At this time the presiding chief of the settlement offered to give his

comely daughter to the best bowman and hunter among the young men of

his people. So he appointed a day when all the young men should go out

to hunt deer and bear to provide a suitable feast for the occasion. Now

the friend of our future hero came to the lodge to tell him of the

occasion, but he did not tell him, however, that the prize for the

winner would be the chief’s daughter; he merely asked the young man to

accompany him as his partner. So they started out together to hunt, but

they did not exert themselves very much in killing game animals. The

young man with the enchanted arrow occasionally sent it out to hunt for

them. When finally they resolved to start for home, the arrow had

killed in all twenty-four deer, so the share of each was twelve; but

five or six deer apiece was the average of those who went out singly to

win the prize for marksmanship. On the return of the hunters to the

village they learned of the great success of the two youths who had

gone as partners, and they could not repress a feeling of envy toward

them. Notwithstanding the result of the hunt the chief said, still

withholding his daughter from the winner: “I will fulfill my promise

after we have made many feasts with all the deer which have been killed

for this occasion.” Our future hero, however, still did not know what

he had justly won as a reward of the efficiency of his enchanted arrow.

During the festivals the envious young men conspired to put this

unsuspecting youth out of the way. In carrying out this resolution they

invited him to accompany them to an island on which they assured him

there was an abundance of game, and that they would return in time for

the festivities on the morrow. So he consented to go with them to this

place, in which they had agreed among themselves to leave him to die of

hunger and exposure. On leaving the village they went to a large lake

containing an island, from which the mainland was not visible in any

direction. After landing on the island the party dispersed, ostensibly

the better to hunt. Having previously agreed on their method of

procedure, the conspirators waited until they saw that the youth had

gotten some distance into the forest. Thereupon they returned at once

to the landing place and stole silently away, leaving their victim to

die from hunger or to be devoured by unknown monsters which, it was

said, infested the island.

Their intended victim kept on hunting, however, and finding only two

partridges, killed them and carried them along with him. When it became

so dark that he could not see, he returned to the landing place to seek

for his supposed friends, only to find that they had gone off, leaving

him to his fate. Seeking the tallest pine tree that he could find, the

young hunter climbed very high, to a point where the limbs were closely

interlocked. Having cut off a number of overhanging branches, he placed

them on the top of those on which he desired to rest, thus forming a

fairly comfortable resting place. Seating himself on this perch of

boughs, he soon began to doze.

Some time during the night he was roused from his slumbers by the

barking of dogs, which were following his trail. These belonged to a

Son of the Winter God, who was hunting for human flesh to eat. Finally

the dogs came up to the tree in which the youth was concealed,

whereupon he threw down to them at once one of the partridges which he

had been fortunate enough to kill. Seizing this, the dogs went off

fighting for it. Shortly they returned to the tree and began to bay at

him. At this he threw to them the other partridge, with the result that

they again went off as before. Seeing the dogs eating what he believed

they had treed, the Son of the Winter God called them off to another

part of the island, and they did not return hither.

In the morning the youth, descending from his lofty perch, went to the

shore of the island at the point where the party had made a landing.

Finding no boat there he struck his breast several smart blows, which

caused his stomach to give up a canoe no larger than a plum pit,

provided with a pair of oars. Several sharp blows on the diminutive

canoe with his enchanted arrows immediately caused it to assume the

proportions of an ordinary canoe. The same treatment made the pair of

oars assume the size of ordinary oars. Placing his canoe in the waters

of the lake and boarding it the young hunter soon rowed his way to the

shore whence he had been kidnaped by the envious young men. On landing

the young man drew the canoe ashore, and then striking it several sharp

blows with his enchanted arrow, it quickly assumed its former

diminutive size, and he in like manner restored the pair of oars to

their former dimensions, after which he swallowed them again. Thereupon

he wended his way at once to his own home with his adopted grandmother.

It was not long before it became village gossip that the young man had

returned home. Then his friends sent for him, asking that he attend the

shooting match and feast of venison given by the chief, whence he had

been kidnaped and taken to the island to die. Notwithstanding this

treatment, the young man consented to go to the chief’s entertainment.

Now, the tutelar deity of the presiding chief was a hen harrier called

ʼnwiʻʹʼnwiʻ in the vernacular. This the chief caused to float in the

air at double the height of the tallest tree, as the mark at which all

must shoot who were invited to the feast.[427] All the young men who

knew the nature of the prize that the chief had offered as the reward

for the best marksmanship kept shooting daily at this bird floating in

the air; but they were all shooting to no purpose, for some of the

arrows would not attain the altitude of the hen harrier, while others

which did so flew wide of the target.

Finally, the chief said to the Master of Ceremonies: “Now, after this,

let each man try only once more and then let those who have failed to

hit the target retire ... from the group of candidates, and place them

in a separate place from those who have not made this last attempt.”

This was ordered, and as quickly as a man took his last shot he was

placed at a distance from those who had not yet made the trial, lest

some mistake be made and someone be unwittingly given two or more

chances. Finally, when all the candidates had shot, it was suddenly

discovered that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had failed to take his chance. All had

failed before him to hit the hen-harrier hawk, so his friend urged him

to make the attempt, but he as steadily refused, saying, “I do not want

to kill it.” Notwithstanding his positive refusal, his friend placed

his bow and arrow in his hands, and with Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ resting his hand

upon it, he pulled the arrow to its full length and then let it fly.

The arrow shot upward and transfixed the body of the hen-harrier hawk,

which fell to the ground. Then the chief himself informed Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ

that in winning the contest for marksmanship he had also won his

daughter as the prize of the victor in this contest.

Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ informed the chief that he had not known until then that

there would be a prize for the winner in this contest for marksmanship,

and that as he himself had been adjudged the winner of the contest and

also of the chief’s daughter, he felt constrained to thank him for thus

considering him worthy of these great honors. The chief replied by

bidding him to repair to his lodge to claim his bride. This Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ

did.

When the competitors and suitors saw that Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ had won the prize

for which they had striven for so many days, they were greatly

chagrined, and, moved by jealousy and malice, they went forth and

secured the aid of sorcerers to compass the death of their more

fortunate competitor. The sorcerers were asked to permit Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ to

live with his wife until the dawn of the following day, when a

messenger of death should pierce his heart so that he should die.

With a light heart Djĕñgoʹʻseʻ repaired to the nuptial bed of his newly

won spouse and they two were very happy. But at the dawn of day on the

morrow he expired in his wife’s arms. Stricken with grief, the widowed

bride, divining the cause of her affliction, went out of the lodge to

see how near daybreak it was and lest her lamentations would disturb

the repose of the spirit of her dead husband. She was not afraid ...

for she was alone in the yard adjoining the lodge. Presently she heard

the door, which she had just closed after her, open, and looking back

again she saw her husband come out of the lodge and walk briskly past

her without speaking to her. At once she followed him as rapidly as she

could, but she could not overtake him. She did not become weary in her

pursuit, feeling no fatigue nor hunger. She kept up her pursuit all

that night, all the next day, and all of the following night. Thus, for

three nights and days she kept closely on the trail of her husband. He

had, of course, outwalked her, and so she could not see him on the

trail ahead of her.

At dawn on the fourth day she suddenly came to a narrow passageway

[428] in which stood two men, who accosted her, saying: “What do you

here? What brings you into this place, seeing that you are not dead?

This is not the land of the living.” She quickly answered them: “I am

following the tracks of my husband, which appear to lead through this

passageway; I am seeking him.” As they seemed to be not satisfied with

her reply, she related to them in detail what had happened to her and

her husband. When the men had learned her story they decided at once to

aid her, for no one who had not seen death could pass without their

permission freely given. They informed her that some distance farther

on there was another passageway, guarded by two fierce panthers, which

would rend her in pieces unless she was provided with the usual toll.

So they gave her two roasted pheasants, of enormous size, saying: “When

you reach the next passageway throw one of these to each of the

panthers and you may pass safely through. When you arrive at the third

passageway you will there find a man who will instruct you as to what

you must do further to accomplish your purpose.”

Taking the two pheasants and thanking the two men for their kindness,

the woman again followed the trail of her husband. When she had gone a

long distance she saw the couchant panthers guarding the way of death

and the dead. Following the instructions of the two men, and throwing a

pheasant to each, she quickly passed them. After following the trail a

long time, she finally came to the third passageway. The man who

guarded it said to her: “What do you here? What brings you to this

place, seeing that you are not dead?” She answered him: “I am following

the trail of my husband, which leads through this passageway.” Then she

briefly related to him the events which had caused her to undertake the

journey hither. The warder replied: “I will assist you in recovering

your husband. You must take with you this gourd, which is closed with a

tendon, for in this receptacle you will have to bring back the soul of

your husband, carefully shut up. You must take also this small gourd

bottle, which contains the fat or oil of man; you must take it with you

for you will need it. When you reach a very large strawberry field

stretching on both sides of the path, you must rub some of this oil on

the palms of your hands. In this field you will see an elderly woman

picking berries; she is the hostess of this country, and she will aid

you in all things, telling you just what to do. After anointing your

hands with the oil you must hold them up with the palms turned toward

the berry picker. Now start on your way.”

With a light heart the woman again took up the trail of her husband,

with the firm resolve to follow the instructions of the warder of the

last passageway. Finally she reached the large field of strawberries,

and taking oil out of the small gourd bottle and rubbing it on the

palms of her hands, she held them up toward the elderly woman, whom she

hailed in a loud voice. The woman, who was picking berries, heard her

call and stood attentive until the other woman came up to her,

whereupon she said: “What do you here, seeing that you are not dead?”

Answering the Mother [429] of Ghosts, the woman said. “I come here

seeking my husband, whose trail comes into this place,” and so saying,

she gave the two gourds to the Mother of Ghosts. The latter replied: “I

will put your husband into this empty gourd bottle, so that you may

take him back with you. Come then to the lodge.” The widow followed the

elder woman to her lodge, which stood a short distance from the field

of strawberries. When they reached it the elder woman concealed her

guest under some bark in one corner, at the same time saying: “Now,

keep very quiet, for all the people come here to dance every night, and

they will flee from me should they discover that you are here.” So the

woman lay quiet under the bark cover.

When night came the approaching whoops of the gathering ghosts could be

heard. Finally, one by one they began to enter the lodge of the Mother

of Ghosts. At once the hostess began to sing and to beat on the drum

used in the Great Feather dance. Then the concealed guest heard the

ghosts begin to dance. The ghost of her husband, however, had not yet

entered the lodge. When they had danced through a number of songs there

was a short recess, to give the dancers an opportunity to rest and to

readjust their apparel and ornaments. At last, the hostess asked the

bystanders: “Where is the newcomer?” They answered that he was outside

of the lodge, being still bashful among so many strangers. The hostess

then said: “Bring him into the lodge; let him, too, dance and be

merry.” So they persuaded him to enter the lodge, and when the hostess

again began to sing and beat the drum he joined in the dancing.

After dancing a short time the dancers, sniffing the air, said: “What

now? We smell the odor of a human being!” At once they started to flee

from the room, but the hostess chidingly said: “Oh, pshaw! It is only I

that you smell, for I am now getting very old again.” So they did not

leave the room, but began to dance again. When the ghost of the newly

arrived husband approached quite close to the hostess, she attempted to

grasp him, but he deftly eluded her hand, and the dancers all fled from

the room. But the hostess remonstrated with them, saying: “Oh, pshaw!

It is only I scratching myself. Why do you flee from me?”

The ghosts were finally persuaded to reenter the lodge and resume the

dance. Before long another opportunity presented itself, and the

hostess succeeded in seizing the ghost of the newly arrived husband,

while all the other ghosts escaped from the room. Quickly uncorking the

gourd bottle, the hostess soon compressed the ghost therein, and

securely closing it with its tendon stopper she called the embodied

guest from her place of concealment and hurriedly gave her the gourd

containing the husband’s life, and also the small gourd which contained

the oil of the body of man. Then she said to the now highly excited

woman: “Be you gone now! Be quick, lest they see you; the man at the

first passageway will fully instruct you what to do to have your desire

fulfilled. So go.”

Hurrying from the lodge into the darkness the woman followed the narrow

trail. When she reached the first passageway, its warder said: “When

you arrive at your home stop up with fine clay the nostrils, the ears,

and every other opening or outlet of your husband’s body, and then rub

the oil of man over his body. When you have finished this task,

carefully uncork into his mouth the gourd bottle containing his life,

in such manner that his life can not escape, but will reenter his body

and so reanimate it again.” The embodied woman agreed to follow these

instructions. Then the warder, giving her two roasted pheasants, which

were to serve as sops to the two couchant panthers guarding the middle

passageway, wished her a safe and auspicious journey home, and bade her

start.

The woman thereupon departed from the first passageway, walking as

rapidly as possible. She hastened along until she came to the middle

passageway. There she gave one of the roasted pheasants to each of the

panthers, and, quickly passing through the passageway, continued her

journey. Finally she came to the first passageway, through which she

went, and then, after traveling for three days and nights, she safely

reached home.

Here she quickly prepared the body of her husband as she had been

directed to do, filling every opening and outlet with fine clay mixed

with deer fat to soften it, and then she carefully rubbed it with the

oil of man. As soon as she had completed the preliminary work she

carefully and anxiously uncorked the gourd bottle containing the life

of her husband into the mouth of the body thus prepared. In a few

moments she was elated to see her husband’s body come to life again.

This experience rendered the body of the husband invulnerable to the

spells and incantations of sorcerers and wizards. The faithful wife and

her resurrected husband dwelt together in peace and health and

happiness until, in the fullness of years, they died and went to the

land of the Mother of Ghosts.

117. THE LEGEND OF HODADEÑON AND HIS ELDER SISTER

It is said that once there lived together all alone in a very long

lodge an infant brother and his elder sister. The only remaining fire

burned at the end of the lodge. In this place for some years abode

these two, undisturbed by any unusual event.

One day the brother said to his sister: “Oh, elder sister! what truly

is the reason that we two live here alone in a lodge which is so very

long?” In answer his sister said: “Indeed, we have been quite numerous

in the not distant past; our relations, who have lived and are now

dead, filled this lodge on both sides of the fire pits, to the

doorways. The sorcerers have caused them all to perish; and this

explains why you are called Hodadeñon, for you are the last one not

under enchantment.”

It was evident that the young boy would become powerful in the exercise

of orenda (magic power). It happened one day that he said: “Elder

sister, you must make me a bow and an arrow.” She had great compassion

for him, so she answered: “Let it be so.” Then she made a bow and an

arrow, using on them her best skill. Having completed her task, she

gave them to him. “Thank you, elder sister,” he said; “now I will hunt.

Hereafter you and I will regularly feed on meat. Now I will go to

hunt.” She said: “Let it be so.”

Then the boy went out of the lodge. His voice continued to break forth

as he went murmuring right there round about the lodge. He did not go

far away. In the evening he entered the lodge, saying: “Ho, my elder

sister, I come, having killed nothing. Tomorrow, very early in the

morning, you must arise and prepare food for me. Then I will go to

hunt, for very early in the morning game wanders about in the

clearings.” In the evening they became quiet and slept.

At the dawn of day the boy spoke, saying: “Elder sister! come now,

arise. You must prepare food for me. As soon as I finish eating I will

go to hunt.” Arising, she prepared food, which was soon ready for him.

As soon as he finished eating, he said: “Now, elder sister, I will go

to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply, thinking that he would not

go far away, as he was still so very small.

He went out of the lodge early in the morning. After a long time his

voice was no longer heard. Thereupon his sister went out, wondering,

“Where has he gone?” She looked around, going from place to place, but

nowhere was he to be found. Then she thought, “He will get lost.” Soon

after she had reentered the lodge, the sun being nearly set, it

happened that all at once a noise again arose, as if something had

struck the door—then suddenly Hodadeñon pushed his body against it and

entered the lodge. He said: “Elder sister, it is a fact that I have

been to hunt for game. I have killed a something, I know not what [it

is]. Blacklegs, perhaps, it is called; banded-tail, perhaps, it is

called, this thing that I have killed. So to the spot you and I must

go, and you must take along the ‘burden cradle,’ for in that will the

body be brought, as it is of great size.” “Let it be so; go on,” she

said. “You would better take the burden cradle,” he said again. “Wah, I

will carry its body easily,” she said. “Wah, you must be very strong,”

he replied. “Go; let it be so,” she admonished him.

Then the two started. Having arrived at the place, he told her: “Right

there I stood, and there it walked. Thus [I did] with my arrow, saying,

‘sî, sî, sî, sî, stop thou, first.’ So it did stand, forsooth. From

here I shot, so that I hit it right in the center [of its body],

whereupon it fell backward, saying, ‘daʻ, daʻ, daʻ, daʻ.’ Toward it I

ran, crying, ‘Do not break my arrow that I prize so highly,’ while it

rolled itself about in the dust.” While they slowly made their way

along Hodadeñon did not cease telling what had happened. At times his

sister would say: “Come, go thou on.” Suddenly he said: “Right there it

lies. Do you think you can indeed carry it back?” “Wah,” she said,

seizing it by the neck and starting homeward, adding: “Come; go thou

on.” “Goh, it is true, thou art strong, elder sister,” he said.

“What thing is it named, the thing that I have killed?” “Djoqgweyani

[430] it is called,” she said. “Djoqgweyani is it named, elder sister?”

he asked. “That is its name,” she replied. “Does it taste good?” he

asked. “It tastes good,” she answered. “Dumplings are what it requires,

for dumplings are what people put with it.” After reaching home she

plucked the game, after which she “set up” the kettle and put in

dumplings [with the meat]. Constantly did Hodadeñon stand around about

the fire saying, “So it will indeed taste good to us?” “Ho, it

certainly does taste good,” she said. When it was done she removed the

kettle [from the fire] and placed the mess on pieces of bark, and the

soup and dumplings in a bark bowl. Then they ate. Hodadeñon kept saying

constantly, “It is so good, is it not, elder sister?” “Oh, yes! it is

good,” she would reply. “Djoqgweyani—is it not true that is the name of

the thing I killed?” he would say. “That is its name,” was her answer.

When they finished eating, he said, “Tomorrow again will I go to hunt.

Then indeed a large game animal will I kill.”

It was a usual thing in the evening that this boy did not go to sleep

at once. Continually in the dark noises were heard here and there;

then, again, under the bed these noises were heard. What he was doing

was not known. So the elder sister said: “My younger brother, what are

you usually doing making noises in the dark, yes, even under the bed,

for long periods; and, too, you go about laughing?” “Well,” said he, “I

will tell you. It is this. I am engaged in hunting fleas. They are very

palatable, tasting good to me. I have now told you. Whenever one

escapes I laugh. So never ask me this again.” He added, “Now again I

will go to hunt.” “Let it be so,” she said in reply.

Thereupon Hodadeñon went out. For a short time his voice was heard

around about outside the lodge; then again nowhere was his voice heard

by his elder sister. On going out of doors and looking around without

finding traces of him, she reentered the lodge. Not very long after,

all at once she heard approaching footsteps; then something struck the

door, which opened, and there stood her younger brother, Hodadeñon. He

said: “My elder sister, get the burden cradle right away; forsooth, I

have killed a large animal, and you are not able to bring it without

the burden cradle. I wonder what the animal is called. Perhaps

Baldheaded is its name; perhaps Snot-nose is its name; perhaps

Tasseled-with-Hemlock-bough [431] is its name.” “Come, go on! let us go

back there,” she replied. “But you will take the burden cradle,” he

added. She answered: “Oh! I am fully prepared to bring it. Go thou on.

Let us then start.”

Thereupon the two started. She followed him a long distance, when at

last he stopped and she did likewise. He said: “Right here I stood when

suddenly yonder there walked a very large animal, and when I said,

‘Tci, tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop thou first.’ Just this way [indicating]

I did with my arrow. I shook my arrow. The animal stopped. Then I said,

‘What, indeed, is thy name? Bald-head, it may be, you are named;

Snot-nose, it may be, you are named.’ Then I shot it there so that the

arrow fixed itself just in the center of the body, making it fall

backward, saying [with its wings] du, du, du, du; it fluttered loudly

its wings as it fell backward. Thereupon then I ran thither, saying as

I went, ‘Do not break my arrow’; which I prize so much. Then I went

near the place where it lay. So right there it lies.”

Hodadeñon then asked: “Gwe. What is its name?” She replied: “O’soont it

is called.” Seizing it by the neck and throwing it on her shoulder she

started homeward bearing the body, and said: “Come, go thou on; let us

go home.” So they started homeward. They had not gone far when he said:

“O’soont, is it not the name of what I have killed?” “That is it,” she

said. Soon afterward he again said: “O’soont, is it not the name of

what I have killed?” “That is it,” she again replied; “go thou onward;

so be it.”

Once more they started forward. It was troublesome to answer him as

they went along, for every little while he would stop again, saying:

“My elder sister, what is the name of what I have killed?” Her answer

was always: “O’soont is its name. Come, do you go on.” She became

thoroughly provoked with him because at short intervals during the day

he kept asking her the same question over and over.

When finally they reached their home, he asked: “Does it taste good?”

She replied: “Hoh, it tastes good. It must be accompanied with

hulled-corn mush.” After plucking the animal and cutting it up, she

boiled it in a kettle over the fire. While it was cooking she

exclaimed: “Hoh, how fat it is,” for the oil came bubbling up in the

kettle. Again Hodadeñon stood around and kept saying: “My elder sister,

does it taste good?” She would reply, “Woh, it does, indeed, taste

good.” Then she hulled corn and made meal, from which she prepared mush

to go with the boiled meat. Having removed the kettle from the fire and

skimmed off the fat, she mixed it with the corn-meal mush. Next pouring

the meat into a bark bowl and the corn-meal mush into another, the

sister said: “Come now, let us two eat together.” While they ate the

boy still kept saying: “Elder sister, I do think that the thing I

killed tastes good. It is called O’soont, and it certainly does taste

good.” They finished their meal, whereupon the boy said: “Tomorrow

again I shall go to hunt. This time perhaps I shall kill something

which will indeed be much larger than what I have killed already.” Soon

it became night, and they lay down to sleep. But as for Hodadeñon he

spent the night going about hunting fleas, laughing when one would

escape him.

When morning dawned the boy said: “Come, my elder sister, arise now.

The game animals habitually go about the open spaces very early in the

morning.” The sister having warmed up things [to eat], they ate their

breakfast. When they were through the boy said: “Now I shall go out to

hunt.” With these words he went out of the lodge. After going around

the lodge murmuring for a long time, all of a sudden his murmurs

ceased. He was now nowhere about the lodge, for he had gone to some

unknown place. It was a long time before the sister heard the footsteps

of a person who was approaching—the sounds, dih, dih, dih, dih. Again

Hodadeñon struck the door, making it fly open, at which the boy leaped

into the lodge, exclaiming: “Elder sister, let us go back right away. I

have killed a very large game animal, but I do not know what animal it

is. It may be that its name is Great Eyes; it may be that its name is

It Has Two Long Ears; it may be that its name is White Tail. Now it is

that you must take the burden cradle; otherwise you can not bear its

body, for it is so great in size.” Answering, she said: “So be it. I

will take the burden frame.”

Then the two started, and having arrived at the place, the boy suddenly

stopped, saying: “Just here is the place where I was when I was

surprised to see this animal running along there. Only my arrow I held

out and said to the animal, ‘Tci, tci, tci, tci. Stop, first,’ and it

stopped. Thereupon I asked it: ‘What is thy name? Perhaps

Thy-Two-Eyes-are-Large is thy name; perhaps Thy-Two-Ears-are-Long is

thy name; perhaps Thy-Tail-is-White is thy name?’ Then I shot, hitting

the animal in the very center of its body. It ran along farther, and I

pursued it. At a long distance from here I suddenly found its body

lying there, with the arrow protruding very little, so deep had it

penetrated into the middle of the creature’s body.” The two went on to

the place where the game animal lay, and on reaching it, the boy said:

“Here it lies.” His sister was surprised to see the body of a deer

lying there, and she exclaimed: “My younger brother, I am thankful that

now you have killed a large game animal. I have been in the habit of

pitying you, hoping that perchance by the risks you have taken you

might grow up to be a good hunter. Now I think you are immune to the

orenda (magic power) of the neogen, for you have killed an animal

bearing this name.” In a short time the boy exclaimed: “Oh, elder

sister! does it taste good?” She answered: “Yes; indeed, it tastes

good, and I shall now skin it.” When she completed this task she

quartered the deer, after having cut off the legs, which she placed

aside in a pile by themselves. Then she proceeded to arrange a package

of the meat on the burden cradle, securely binding it with cords of

bark. Having finished her own load, she next proceeded to make a load

for the boy of the four legs of the deer. Deftly fashioning a pack

strap of bark, she fastened the load on his back, saying: “Come now,

you take the lead.” At this he started ahead, and kept on while she

gathered up her utensils and made ready to follow. Her load being very

heavy, she could hardly manage it. In order to get it on her back she

had to place it first on a log, from which she was able to raise it to

her back. Then, with the sister following the lead of her younger

brother, both went along with their burdens. A long distance was

covered when she saw him sitting on a log with his burden resting on

the log, too. He said: “I am resting because the load is so heavy.

Come, do you also rest yourself here.” So, setting her load also on a

log, she, too, rested. Again the boy asked: “My elder sister, what is

the name of the thing that I killed?” She answered: “Neogen is its

name.” He asked: “Does it taste good?” “Hoh, it tastes good,” she

replied, “if it is cooked in the right way. Come now, let us go on

homeward.” Of course she helped him get his burden on his back. When

she readjusted her own load, she followed her brother. On reaching

home, she found that he forsooth had arrived there too. As she entered

their lodge her forehead strap broke, letting her burden fall, with the

sound, pumh! It was very heavy.

Unwrapping and untying the packages of meat, the sister hung the

various pieces around the interior of the lodge; the meat nearly filled

the small room. Next she stretched the skin. For this purpose she made

a large hooplike frame, telling the boy to watch her carefully while

she did so. Then she attached the skin around the edges to this frame

by means of bark cords. “In this way do people generally do this thing,

which is called ‘stretching the hide,’” said the sister, “and you must

ordinarily do it in the same manner, for I believe that you will live a

very long time.” “So be it,” said the boy, “I will follow your

instructions. Come now, do you prepare the food. I will try it to learn

how good it is.” The sister answered: “So be it. I will make a dish of

meat cut into small pieces boiled down. I will prepare it.” So she set

up the pot [over the fire]; and around the place the boy hung,

continually saying: “Perhaps this will taste exceedingly good to us. It

tastes good indeed, I suppose.” “Oh! it tastes good,” she replied. So

things went on until the food was cooked, when the sister removed the

pot from the fire. Then she put the meat into a bark bowl, and the soup

also. The deer’s liver had become by this time of the consistency of

bread, so the brother and elder sister began to eat. While at their

meal the lad exclaimed three times: “Ho, my elder sister, what I killed

tastes exceedingly good.”

When the two were through eating the boy said: “My elder sister, I

shall now take a rest because I am tired out. Just now we have an

abundance of meat.” Then he rested. Indoors he walked around, and

indoors, too, he seated himself at times, and for a long time he went

about hunting fleas. The sister went to fetch wood for fuel, taking the

burden frame with her, so the boy was left by himself.

Suddenly he was startled by the sound of some one singing in the loft

above: “My younger brother, tobacco. Once more I want to enjoy a smoke,

my younger brother.” Climbing up into the loft, the boy was surprised

to find a male person lying there, having a very large head and an

enormous suit of hair. Hodadeñon said: “Gwe, what ails you?” The man

replied: “My younger brother, I desire to smoke. Yonder lies a pouch

made of skunk skin; in it there is a very small quantity of tobacco and

there is also a pipe.” Having found the pouch as said, Hodadeñon took

out of it a very small piece of tobacco; also a pipe. Next he proceeded

to cut up all the tobacco, and kept saying, “I shall use it all, as it

is my custom to do, for it is abundant seemingly.” Having completed his

preparations, he took from the pouch the fire flint and the punk, and

struck off sparks that set fire to the tobacco. Then, placing the pipe

in the man’s mouth, he said: “Now you shall smoke.” Replying, “I thank

you, my younger brother,” the man drew in the smoke, and smoke settled

all over his head. Thereupon mice in large numbers came out of his hair

because of the tobacco smoke that settled into it. Hodadeñon then ran

away because he was choking with the smoke.

Just then his elder sister returned and said in a loud voice: “What are

you doing? What are you doing?” Hodadeñon replied evasively: “My elder

sister, what is the reason that you have not told me that a man lay in

the loft who is your elder brother? You have constantly said that we

two were alone, and that that was the reason I am called Hodadeñon.”

The elder sister replied: “The reason why I have not told you before is

because you are inattentive.” The younger brother answered: “I cut up

the tobacco because my elder brother kept saying that he desired to

smoke, and I used all of it, for there was only a very small piece

left, and it would seem there is an abundance of tobacco growing. As

soon as I placed the pipe in his mouth he drew in the smoke and blew it

out, whereupon his hair became filled with the smoke and many mice came

forth from it. The room was filled with smoke. I was choking from the

effects of it when I descended from the room. That is what you heard

and led you to say that I was doing mischief.”

The sister retorted: “I do say that you are careless and inattentive.

You used up all the tobacco. At all times it was my habit to scrape

only a very small quantity, which I put into his pipe, and he would

smoke. The times that he smokes are a year apart. But now you have used

all the tobacco. This is the reason that I say you are careless and

inattentive. Moreover, you have killed him, for I think there is no

more left of that on which he must live.” Hodadeñon answered: “How far

away is the place where that thing abounds?” She replied: “It is

distant.” He persisted: “Come, tell me in what direction it grows.” She

answered, “It is of no use for me to tell you. You could never have the

power to accomplish the task of getting some.” “Guʼúʻ!” he exclaimed;

“you seem to have a great contempt for my ability. Come, tell me,

please.” Thus they spent the entire day disputing about the matter. The

sister kept on saying: “It is of no use for me to tell you.”

Finally the lad stopped talking. It was a long time before the elder

sister spoke again, saying: “Now my mind is troubled. I shall now tell

you and make you understand, too. Look at this lodge of ours, which is

a long lodge. It was full of our kin and relations, who are no more.

Your brothers were many. They have all been lost in the region where

the tobacco abounds. That place is full of what are called female

sorceresses. So it is impossible for you to accomplish the task of

getting the tobacco. The lad replied: “So be it. I shall make the

attempt. I shall succeed in this matter, as is known [that I can]. Just

look at what I can do; no matter how dark it may be I can slaughter the

fleas, a task which no one else has been able to do.” The sister

responded: “Do the best you can.” To this the lad said: “Tomorrow you

must prepare provisions for me; I shall start then.” At once she began

preparing food for the journey. The lad added: “You must make me a

pack—one that is called a wrapped bundle.” So she made such a bundle

and placed meat and bread in it. In the morning the two arose,

whereupon the lad said: “I shall start. You and I are now to eat

together for the last time.” When they had finished their meal the

sister exclaimed: “My younger brother, do your best.”

Then he set out on his journey. Around the lodge he walked with his

pack, murmuring as he went from place to place. Thus he spent the day.

In the evening he reentered the lodge, with the words: “Oh, elder

sister! I did not start. Tomorrow, I think, I shall surely start.” So

saying, he laid his pack down. In the morning he said: “My elder

sister, I am about to start. You say that the path leads directly

south?” She replied: “That is what I have said. In certain places there

are yet visible spots where fires have been kindled and where forked

rods or crotched sticks are set in the earth, on which are fixed pieces

of bread which are of many degrees of staleness. You also shall affix

bread there to such rods. Such is the custom.” [432] The lad replied:

“So be it. You shall be suddenly startled; the ashes where you have

kindled a fire shall be scattered because a measure of tobacco will

fall there, causing the ashes to fly up. Then you shall think that I am

still alive. I believe this shall come to pass.”

Taking up his pack, the boy said: “My elder sister, I am starting—you

say that the path leads directly south?” She replied: “That is what I

said.” Thereupon he went out of the lodge. For a long time she heard

his voice around the lodge, as he went about murmuring. After that she

heard it no more. Then she said: “Now, I suppose he has started. Oh! he

is to be pitied, for he will become wretched. It is doubtful whether we

shall ever see each other again.” The lad followed the path, and in the

evening he suddenly came to a spot where it was plain that fires had

been kindled and people had spent the night. The remains were of many

times. Having decided to spend the night there, he kindled a fire, by

means of which he warmed the bread and the meat which he took out of

his pack. When he had finished his meal, he was startled to see near by

forked or crotched rods set in the ground, on some of which were fixed

pieces of bread, and on others pieces of meat. These had been there for

widely varying periods. At this sight he exclaimed: “Oh, how wretched

did they become! Those persons who have left these remains are indeed

all dead, and they were brothers to me. So I, too, shall do the same

thing.” Then he set up in the ground a rod with a crotch, on which he

fastened a piece of bread among the other fragments of all ages—some of

them quite old. Then he lay down and went to sleep, with his body

supported against his pack. In the morning, finding everything as it

should be, the lad said aloud: “I am thankful that I am still alive. My

elder sister said indeed that it was doubtful that she and I would see

each other again, because the path I must follow passes through all

manner of difficulties.”