Finally, the brother said: “My sister, you believe that it is I who act

thus, but it shall be made evident that it is not I who am doing this.

To-morrow as soon as I depart the man will return and will enter the

lodge. As soon as he starts to leave you must seize his robe of skin

and pull it off, for it is exactly like mine in all respects.”

In the morning the brother started, as was his custom, on a hunting

trip. After he had been gone only a short time a man suddenly entered

the lodge and at once seized the lone sister, whereupon they struggled

fiercely. When he attempted to throw her on the ground she exerted her

whole might to free herself. Having failed in his purpose, he started

to flee from the lodge. As the ends of his robe were flying about,

catching hold of it, she drew it off, at which he went out of the lodge

leaving the robe in her hands, as its fastening broke.

It was not very long after this episode when her brother reentered the

lodge. He said to her: “Has he made another visit?” She replied: “Yes,

of course, he has; it is you yourself returning.” She did not believe

in the least what her brother was telling her, for she felt sure that

it was he who was tormenting her. By this time her mind had greatly

changed from normal, for she did not cease from lamenting her

situation, being so worried to think that it was her own brother who

had attempted to outrage her. She then handed him the torn robe,

saying: “Here is this robe.” Taking it, he said: “There, now! that is

certainly the robe of my friend. As to me, in hunting I had climbed a

tree on which a bear lived and fell from it, and in the fall my robe

was torn.” Laying the two robes together and finding that both were

torn, he said: “Now you see what I have been saying all along has come

true; whatever happens to me happens also to my friend;” and he added,

“Well, do you now believe what I have been telling you?” Then she

stopped her weeping and gazed at the robes as they lay together and she

saw that they were exactly alike in every respect. Again he asked:

“Well, now, do you believe what I have told you?” But she did not say

anything in reply.

Then the brother said: “Your mind is still unchanged that it is I who

am abusing you, so now this shall take place to-morrow. As soon as I

start again I shall hide myself in a place near by. As soon as the man

attempts to attack you again or to leave the lodge you must seize him

and not let him go. Thereupon I shall come in and kill my friend, and

then it may be that you will believe me in saying that it is not I but

my friend who is abusing you. We two, of course, shall be doomed to

death because of my act, for his mother has the power to transform

herself into a great bear, so potent in sorcery is she.”

Since the beginning of this trouble the sister had not prepared food

for her brother, and he himself made ready what food he needed and ate

his meals. She refused to do her duty because she was very angry at

him.

In the morning, when he had finished his meal, he again started out to

hunt, saying to his sister, “You must now carry out my instructions as

I have given them to you.” He did not go to his hunting grounds,

however, but hid himself near the lodge and kept a faithful watch on

his home. He had been there quite a long time when suddenly he

perceived his friend running toward the lodge, which he entered. After

waiting a few minutes the brother ran to the lodge and on entering saw

his sister and his friend struggling fiercely, the latter striving to

get out of the lodge. As the brother entered the man let go at once of

the sister, whereupon the former said: “My brother, my friend, now we

are doomed to die. I can do nothing in the matter.” Making ready an

arrow, with a twang it sped into the breast of the man, where it stuck

quivering, while the victim, reeling, fell backward to the ground. Thus

the brother killed the man who had been his friend. Drawing out the

arrow he exclaimed: “Well, do you now believe what I have told you in

this matter?” But his sister made no reply.

The strange man and the brother did indeed look alike. They were of the

same height; they had the same kind of hair, half of it reddish in

color; they had the same kind of raiment and their robes were alike,

even to both having been torn.

Then the brother said to his sister: “Now, I suppose we must hide the

body of this man, and, moreover, you must by all means aid me in this

matter, for now, of course, we are both guilty. It had been better had

you consented to what he desired, for he wanted to marry you. We will

dig a grave where the fire burns—that is, under the fireplace.” Then

they two dug a very deep grave under the fireplace, in which they

placed his body. They took great pains in covering the grave, so that

one would not know that a man’s body lay buried there. Over the spot

they rekindled their fire, and thus finished the task.

The brother then said: “My younger sister, now have the courage to do

the best you can, for we two in appearance at least must live as

husband and wife, as it is certain that in one, or perhaps in two days

the woman will come here. When she does it must appear that we are

indeed husband and wife in order to mislead her.” Then he said further:

“I shall not go to another place again; we shall remain here together.”

So they dwelt together thus until the next day. As soon as it was

morning they sat together, because they constantly expected that at any

moment the mother of the dead man would come in haste. Hence they lived

as husband and wife, and the brother kept saying to his sister: “Be of

good courage; you must do exactly as I tell you, for we must try to

escape in order that we may live until we reach the distant place

whence we two started.”

When the sun had sunk low in the west the door flaps were thrust aside

suddenly, and the old woman entered the lodge. They two who lived there

were indeed husband and wife (in appearance). The old woman thereupon

said: “Oh! I am exceedingly thankful that now for certain I have a

daughter-in-law.” At this they two smiled.

The old woman said further: “I have misgivings in my mind, caused by

the actions of your dogs. None of them will accept what I offer them

for food. You should go there again to feed them, and you two might

remain there once overnight.”

The young man replied: “So be it.” Just then the fire began to sing

unexpectedly, and the fire spoke too, saying three times: “He, my

friend, has killed me.” At this the old woman exclaimed: “Kyū-uʼ! It is

frightful. It is an astonishing thing that is happening in the

fireplace which you two have for yourselves; for it does not cease from

saying: ‘My friend has killed me, there in your fire.’” The young man

answered: “I do not know anything about the thing concerning which you

are perplexed.” Reaching for an arrow, he scraped it, saying: “It is so

that we two, I and my friend, use the fire for the scrapings from our

arrows;” and thereupon he threw the scrapings into the fire. At once

the voice from the fire pit exclaimed several times very rapidly: “My

friend has killed me!” The young man again said: “We use the fire for

the scrapings from our arrows.” The old woman exclaimed: “Kyū-uʼ. You

two have no sense,” and she then departed. The young man said to her as

she was leaving the lodge: “We will soon be there.”

When they were alone he said to his sister: “It is just as I have been

saying right along: we two are about to meet our death.” He believed

that she was in great fear, so he added, “Do you have courage; and do

not let it appear that you fear anything.” Just as the sun sank low in

the west they started for the place where stood the lodge of the old

woman. They arrived there just before night. As they entered the lodge

and sat down in the place where the friend of the young man was

accustomed to sit they were surprised to see standing on one side a

screech owl and on the other a horned owl. They were more distressed

when the screech owl sang out, “It is another, it is another, it is

another, it is another.” Then the old woman said: “Lo! This is

happening all the time, and it gives me a troubled mind.” The young man

answered her: “It is very strange that you pay any heed to the various

notes of the screech owl,” and he said to the owl: “Here, this is what

you eat,” giving it meat. It stopped uttering its warning notes and

merely repeated its usual note thrice, saying, “Ho-ho-ho-wāʼ.”

Then all lay down for the night, and the brother and sister lay

together in the place where the dead friend of the brother was

accustomed to lie. All of a sudden the horned owl cried out: “Hi, hi,

hi, hi; he takes to wife his younger sister.” This it repeated thrice.

At once the old woman arose, saying: “Why do you two not stop it

constantly saying, ‘He takes to wife his younger sister.’” But the

young man exclaimed: “Fie upon it! Why do you pay any attention to all

the notes made by a common horned owl?” With these words he again gave

it meat, which it greedily seized as he said to it: “Here, take this;

it is what you eat.” As soon as it had finished eating the meat it

resumed its regular note, “Hi, hi, hi, hi.” Then the young man said to

his suspicious host: “So let it be; now lie down again.” However, the

old woman continued to grow more and more suspicious, for she began to

believe that something had perhaps happened to her son and that he was

no longer alive. At midnight the brother said to his sister: “You must

lie as still as possible and I, too, shall do the same; we must pretend

to be asleep.” They at once began seemingly to snore, but of course

they were not snoring; they did not know what the old woman would do

should they fall asleep.

The old woman arose very stealthily while the notes of the owls

continued, the screech owl saying, “It is another, it is another, it is

another,” and the horned owl, “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he takes his younger

sister to wife.” Creeping slowly over to the spot where the two were

lying, and thrusting her hand under the coverings, the old woman made

an examination of their private parts, after which she exclaimed:

“Pshaw! Of course things are as they are with those who do as married

people are accustomed.” Then she went back to her part of the lodge and

again lay down.

In the morning the old woman prepared the morning meal, and all ate

their breakfast. When they had finished eating the old woman said: “I

have mysterious premonitions. I visited the place there where thy

friend has kindled a fire, and it says continually, ‘My own friend has

killed me; my own friend has killed me; my own friend has killed me.’”

The young man replied: “Pshaw! It is foolish to pay any attention to

that noise, for it is caused by our scraping arrows there.” As he spoke

he got his arrow and began scraping it, and cast the litter into the

fire, whereupon the fire said several times, “My own friend has killed

me.” He added, “Now cease paying any attention to such idle things.”

The old woman replied, “So be it, as you say.”

Then the young man said: “Oh, mother! We two will now go back to the

other place. I said that of a certainty we would remain here only one

night, and perhaps now my brother-in-law is anxious about us.” The old

woman replied: “So let it be as you have spoken.” He answered: “In two

days we two will return again.” So they started for their home, where

they arrived all right. Then the young man said to his sister: “The

only thing left for us to do is to make preparations to escape. You

shall take the lead and I will remain, and I shall overtake you if it

so be that I shall survive.”

The brother then drew from under the couch whereon he was accustomed to

lie a small case and took therefrom a very small black dog and a little

rod of red willow. He used the rod to tap lightly the dog, which

immediately began to grow in size. At first he said: “It is not yet

large enough,” although the dog was then of the size of ordinary dogs.

So he tapped it again and it continued to grow and had now reached the

size of the largest kind of dogs. Yet he said: “Still I do not think

the dog is large enough, for it is not yet large enough for you to ride

astride of it;” so he tapped it with still other blows, which caused it

to grow in size. It had become at last a very large dog.

Having done this, he said to his sister: “You two shall go together.

This shall be done on the way: As soon as you become wearied, the dog

will stop beside a tree, and then you must descend from his back; and

as soon as he becomes tired he will likewise stop beside a tree. You

must watch for this, and then you must descend from his back, and run

ahead as fast as it is possible for you to go. Thus you two must make

your way homeward. You must keep a course directly eastward without

fail. You two must remain in camp at night on the way; and you, my

sister, must lie down beside the dog’s body. You two must not get far

apart from each other, and you must take rests. He himself knows when

you should rest, and you must regulate your actions by what he does,

for it is a fact that he is our brother. You must know, too, that it is

uncertain whether you will see the old woman, who is immune to the arts

of sorcery and who, too, is able, it may be, to overcome our orenda

(magic power). It seems uncertain whether you shall again see

Hahadodagwatʻha; it is uncertain, I say, for verily, it is I who am

called Hahadodagwatʻha.” Then he added: “Now, you two flee;” whereupon

the younger sister mounted the dog’s back, and her brother again spoke

to her, saying: “Have courage. We shall have the good fortune of your

safe arrival in the place where our mother dwells.”

Thereupon, the two started away in great haste, the brother remaining

alone in the lodge.

As the sister rode the dog, he would stop beside a tree, whereupon she

would say: “Oh, now! my brother has become quite wretched, and I

suppose he is now very tired.” With this she would descend from his

back, and they two would go on. They kept a certain course directly

toward the east. Having gone a great distance, they two would stop for

the night, and the young woman lay down right beside the dog. In the

morning they would again start on their journey. After going only a

short distance, the dog would again stop beside a tree. Then the young

woman would say: “Oh! my brother is to be pitied; now he wants to bear

me again on his back, I suppose.” So saying, she would mount the dog,

which at once would start running with her. When at midday the dog

stopped beside a tree, the woman said: “I suppose he is now tired out,”

descending from his back. As the dog crouched down she decided that it

desired that they should take some rest. Then the dog lay down near by,

and she seated herself close to him, saying: “I suppose he is now

asleep, being very tired.”

Thus, she sat for a long time looking around. Suddenly a fine-looking

bird alighted near her, which she resolved to catch. When she was about

to seize it, the bird would fly away, but would usually alight again a

little way from its former perch. When the young woman would run up to

it with the intention of seizing it, it would fly away just in time to

foil her purpose. Thus she pursued it a little farther, still a little

farther, but could not catch it, although she was determined to do so.

Suddenly she heard the loud barking of a dog which was approaching,

saying, Wuʹ, wuʹ, wuʹ, and at once she ran toward the place, then quite

distant, where lay the dog. When she returned to this place the dog was

gone, for it had resumed its course and was barking as it went farther

and farther. At last it disappeared in the distance. Then the young

woman began to weep, indeed, and she repeated the words of her elder

brother: “You must not change your course, but you must keep going

directly eastward.” While she was so engaged her brother,

Hahadodagwatʻha, arrived there, having overtaken her.

He remained for two days, when the footsteps of some one were heard by

him, and suddenly the old woman, entering the lodge, said: “Lo! Where

is your wife?” He answered: “Did you not meet them on the way?” “I did

not,” she replied. He said to her: “It may be that while you and they

were gathering things by the way you missed one another.” The old woman

answered: “Oh, that is true, of course, I suppose. Without ceasing, his

pets are uttering notes. At times my mind is deeply troubled by this

state of affairs. So let it be. I shall now go back to the other place,

for they have probably arrived there now.”

In a very short time the old woman departed for her home. Running

through bypaths, the young man reached it ahead of the old woman, who

found him sitting there when she arrived. Her son’s pets were making a

great noise when she entered the lodge, whereupon she said: “Lo! Where

is my daughter-in-law?” He answered her sneeringly: “Pshaw! My

daughter-in-law, you say! Why, she has gone home. When she and I

returned there all the food was exhausted, so she longed for her

mother. I said that in two days’ time we would return here.” Thereupon

the screech owl kept saying: “It is another one, it is another one, it

is another one,” while the horned owl said: “Hi, hi, hi, hi; he has

taken his younger sister to wife; hi, hi, hi, hi.” Finally, the old

woman exclaimed: “I am beginning to give attention to what is being

said, for they have never before during the time you have had them as

pets acted in this manner.” In reply the young man said: “Pshaw! you

are all the time paying attention to what they are saying; instead you

must give them meat, and then they will stop as usual. This is all you

have to do to quiet them.” Then he started for his own lodge, saying:

“After two days’ time you must again go there.”

The only thing he did when he arrived at his lodge was to make

preparations for leaving, and when everything was ready he departed. He

followed his sister, keeping on the track made by the dog as it ran

along homeward. He had fled some distance when his body became very

weak.

At the end of two days the old woman went to the lodge of the young

people, where she found no one. Turning to the fire pit in her great

anxiety she was surprised by hearing the fire again say, thrice in

succession: “My friend has killed me.” Thus it spoke. Thereupon the old

woman said: “Oh! my son lies there where I have been thinking he lay

all the time. It is exceedingly dismal to think of.” Then she began to

dig up the fireplace; and she found him lying there with his face

upturned and an arrow sticking through the middle of his breast. At

this discovery she began to weep and lament, saying: “Oh, my dear

child! you have indeed become wretched. When I have killed them I will

return to pay the last rites to you.” So saying, she went out of the

lodge and started for her home.

Having arrived at her lodge, she took from a bark receptacle in which

it was kept hickory-nut meat and ate it, making the sounds, “Gaoñʼ,

gaoñʼ, gaoñʼ,” and saying, too, “I shall fortify my body with this

meat.” When she had finished eating her meal she went out of the lodge,

and going to a neighboring tree, by her great strength she tore off a

great part of it with her paws. Exclaiming, “I do not think that this

will suffice,” she reentered the lodge and ate more of the hickory-nut

meat. Then she exclaimed, “Now I wonder whether this will do.” Going

again to the tree she tore it into shreds, and then exclaimed, “This is

now sufficient; I have strength enough.”

Then she started away, running swiftly. She had become a bear of

enormous size and power. Going to the place where the tracks of the

fugitives showed the direction they had taken, and placing her paws on

the path along which they had fled, she exclaimed: “It is impossible

for you to escape even though you should have gone to the end of the

earth.” With these words she started in pursuit of the fugitives. As

she ran along she often placed her paws on the track made by the young

man, and this act caused him to reel and stagger, so potent with evil

orenda was the body of the old woman. They were at this time two days’

journey apart, but the old woman, who had transformed herself into a

huge bear, was rapidly overtaking the fugitives, every moment drawing

nearer and nearer to them, for she was indeed running rapidly.

Finally the young man overheard the old woman, who had resumed her real

character (that of a great bear), say: “Thou shalt surely die.” As he

listened to the words he drew from his fawn-skin pouch the feather of a

wild pigeon. Casting this back of him he made the invocation: “Right

away let there be a roost of pigeons here and let their numbers be so

great that their droppings shall form a rampart stretching across the

world and equal in height to half that of the tallest tree.” As soon as

he had finished speaking the air resounded with the sounds made by the

alighting of many thousands of wild pigeons; among these sounds one

heard, Gäk, gäk, gäk, gäk, and Dūm—m.[453]

There was no possibility for anyone else to possess more orenda than

that possessed by the young man; so he passed on, and behind him the

great bear came on a run. The monster arrived at the roosting place of

the wild pigeons. There was a rampart of their droppings extending

upward half the height of the tallest trees. The bear made an attempt

to force its way through the great rampart of droppings, but was unable

to do so, merely becoming thoroughly covered with the filth. It was not

easy for the monster to extricate herself from the great rampart, hence

she decided on another course of action.

She started on a run along the rampart’s edge, saying: “There has never

been a time when a pigeon roost extended across the world.” After

following the rampart for a long time she became tired and returned to

the place where the tracks of the fugitive seemingly entered the

rampart, where she lay down for the night. In the morning there was

nothing to be seen, for the rampart had disappeared. Thereupon the bear

exclaimed: “How exceedingly unfortunate this is; verily, he is a great

wizard.” Starting in pursuit again, she placed her paws on the track of

the young man, causing him to stagger and reel.

Not long after this he heard her speak again, saying: “Thou shalt

surely die.” At these words the young man took from his pouch a piece

of rock, which he cast behind him with the words: “Let a rock cliff

rise here at once which shall reach across the world and which nothing

shall have the power of clearing, nothing that has unusual orenda.”

With this the young man passed on, but as soon as he had ceased

speaking the rock cliff stood complete. In a short time the great bear

arrived at this cliff. She failed in an attempt to go through in

several places, as it was impossible for her to pass this obstruction.

Next she ran along the side of the cliff, saying: “We have never heard

of a rock cliff that extends across the world.” But after going a long

distance the bear, becoming weary, returned to the spot where the track

of the young man disappeared under the cliff. There she stopped for the

night. In the morning there was no rock cliff to be found, whereupon

the great bear said: “How exceedingly distressing this is.” At once

placing her paw on the track made by the young man, she added: “Indeed,

he is a mighty wizard.” At this the fugitive reeled and staggered, and

the old woman in the form of a great bear again pursued him.

He had not gone very far when suddenly he heard ahead the singing of a

man: Agadăʼädjoñʹⁿiga soʹdjĭʼ ĕñʼʹ ăgwasʹ deiodiʼäʹdet. When the young

man came up to him the singer said: “My dear nephew, have courage. I

shall detain the monster with difficulties. It has not been long since

your younger sister passed here, and now there is nothing intervening.

So have courage. Your mother’s lodge stands not far from here.”

So the young man passed on. The man who had been singing set up many

pikes, and when he had finished his work he was surprised to see coming

toward him a great beast. Soon the bear came up to the place where he

set his pikes and assaulted them with great force. These gave way to a

small extent, whereupon the two, the great bear and the man, who had

now assumed his true character, grappled. In their long struggle the

pikes were broken, and the great bear, at once freeing herself, again

ran onward.

Suddenly the young man saw running ahead of him his sister, who was

nearly exhausted. Overtaking her, the young man said to her after

seizing her arm: “Have courage, my younger sister. We are to die

perhaps, I think.”

They lost no time but at once fled. They went a long distance before

they stopped to camp for the night. In the morning he said: “We will

take this direction.” Having cut a rod of red willow he struck the dog

with it three blows. At once the animal became very small and he placed

it in his bosom.

At the point toward which they were running they suddenly saw what

seemed to be a rock cliff, in which was an open cavern. Out of this a

female personage was looking and saying: “Have courage, my children.

You two will live if you will come in here.” At that time the brother

was dragging his sister along, so exhausted had she become. As they

came to the entrance to the cavern the woman thrust out her hand, and

seizing the arm of the young woman, helped draw her into the cavern,

while the young man also entered. The woman exclaimed: “I am thankful

that you two have returned alive. That animal which is coming on the

run shall suffer for this.”

It so happened that there was a kettle of boiling oil over the fire;

this boiling oil was bear’s fat. The beast came on the run to the

opening of the cavern, and, crouching low, thrust in her nose. At once

the mother of the two fugitives cast a ladleful of boiling oil into the

face of the great bear. The pain caused made the bear fall over

backward some distance from the cavern, and she began to howl and

writhe around on the ground. But the relentless old woman carried out

the kettle of boiling oil to the spot and poured the remainder on her

enemy, which finally died there in great agony, just as the old woman

had threatened.

Then the old woman, their mother, said to the two returned children:

“You two who have been absent for so long a time have now returned home

again; and I suppose that you would have been made captives had you not

escaped. Now, you and I will dwell together again.” Thereafter the

mother and her children were again contented in their minds and dwelt

together happily.[454]

Suddenly he saw a man lying prostrate with his feet in the water, who

was groaning and saying, ʼĕñʻ, ʼĕñʻ, ʼĕñʻ. Hahadodagwatʻha said to him:

“Well, what is the matter with you, my friend?” The man replied: “I am

very ill; have pity on me and take me to a dry place and lay me there.”

Unsuspecting, the young man said: “So be it. I suppose that I can carry

you on my back.” When he knelt down, the strange man had great

difficulty in getting on his back and in securing a hold on the young

man’s neck.

Then Hahadodagwatʻha arose, and going a short distance to a dry and

pleasant piece of ground, said to his patient: “Now, you can lie here.”

But the stranger replied: “Oh! just a little farther.” But

Hahadodagwatʻha answered, “Lie down here.” The man would not consent to

dismount, however, but kept on saying: “Only a little farther.” So

Hahadodagwatʻha went some distance, when he said again: “Now, get off;

this is a fine place in which you can lie down.” But the man persisted

in saying: “Only a little farther.” Hahadodagwatʻha would not consent

to carry him any farther, saying: “You must now get down by all means.”

Thereupon he began to shake himself with great violence, saying: “Get

down! Why do you not get down?” But the man would not get off his back,

although Hahadodagwatʻha told him that he was very tired. Then, going

to a hickory tree standing near by, Hahadodagwatʻha said: “If you do

not get down, I will rub you off against this tree;” but the man

remained without making any reply. Hahadodagwatʻha rubbed his body

violently against the hickory tree standing there, saying the while:

“Why do you not get down?” But he himself was injured by the rubbing,

so he gave up the task. He said: “This man has caused me great

(prospective) trouble.” For a long time he continued bearing his burden

around from place to place. Finally he exclaimed: “It is very

distressing to me that you do not get off my back.”

At last Hahadodagwatʻha decided on more heroic measures. He kindled a

lot of dry fagots, and he made a large and very hot fire. Then he asked

the man again: “What have you decided to do? Why do you not get off my

back?” Making no reply, the man remained on his back. Thereupon the

young man proceeded to lie down with his back to the fire in an attempt

to burn off his tormentor. But the man, notwithstanding the great heat,

stuck fast. In a short time Hahadodagwatʻha himself was not able to

stand the intense heat, for his own skin began to scorch. Being thus

baffled again, he stood up. He said to his tormentor: “This conduct on

your part is very distressing to me; now you and I must die together.”

But he received no reply from the man. Hahadodagwatʻha was indeed very

tired from carrying this burden around from place to place. Finally he

decided on another course of action. Going to a very high and steep

cliff and lying down on the edge, he said to his tormentor: “I will

roll over the brink unless you get off my back.” There was no reply to

these remonstrances. The man merely kept on breathing. Lastly

Hahadodagwatʻha said to him thrice: “Now, get off my back;” but the man

remained silent, as before. Thereupon the former exclaimed: “We two now

die!” at the same time rolling over the brink. The two turned over and

over, but fell slowly, their bodies finally coming down very lightly on

the bottom of the chasm. Then the young man said: “Now, get off of my

back; I am very tired.” Still the man would not in the least heed this

pleading.

Once more the young man said: “You shall now get off my back.” Going

aside, he stripped off basswood bark, of which he made a noose.

Climbing an elm tree near by, he carried his burden to the very top,

where he fastened the rope to a large branch and the noose around the

neck of the man on his back and also around his own. When he was ready

he again said: “Look here! If you do not get off my back, we two shall

die now indeed.” But the man made no reply. Then the young man said: “I

will now cast my body down to that place yonder.” Before doing so he

again asked the man: “Shall we two live? It is for you to decide. Get

down from my back.” But still he received no reply to his pleadings.

Without further parley he said: “Now, we two shall die,” and cast

himself down. But the great branch broke off [455] and floated down

slowly until it rested on the ground. Arising, the young man said:

“This is exceedingly distressing to me. You have made me very tired,

and I am almost exhausted.” But he received no mercy from the man.

Suddenly he remembered that he had in his bosom a very small dog,

whereupon he started to find a red-willow rod, bearing at the same time

his burden. Soon he found the desired rod, which he cut off. Taking

from his bosom the dog, which was black in color, he began to strike it

with the red-willow rod. At once the dog began to increase greatly in

size; soon it became the usual size of dogs. Additional strokes caused

it to grow larger and larger until at last it attained the size of a

very large bear, one of the largest known. Then the young man said to

the dog: “My servant, remove from my back the body of the man who is

clinging there,” saying “Wăʹʼs.” At once the monstrous dog, seizing the

man by the back of the neck, began to shake him with great force. The

body of Hahadodagwatʻha was whirled about in the terrific struggle, in

which the gripped opponents fell and arose in many places; the struggle

lasted until the dog seized the man by the throat and began to choke

him. In a short time it was able to pull off the man and to fling his

body aside. Then Hahadodagwatʻha sat near by until his tormentor died,

for he himself was entirely exhausted.

Then he said: “Come here, my dog! I am thankful to you, for you have

saved me from destruction. You are the cause of my being now alive. Let

us two start for home and let us go to the place where dwell together

they who are your brothers.” So they started and went on for some

distance and then encamped for the night. Thereupon the young man said:

“As regards me, I am very hungry; so it behooves you to kill a deer.”

At once the dog ran afar off, and in a short time it returned, dragging

along the body of a fawn. This the young man skinned, and after

quartering the carcass he set pieces of it all around the fire to

roast. It was night, and when the roasts were done they two ate their

supper, the man and the dog, sharing the meat. In the morning they

again started for their home, and they kept traveling until they

stopped for the night. In turn the young man went hunting for raccoons,

climbing a tree in order to kill them. Having dressed and cooked a

raccoon, they ate it. When they had finished eating, they laid down

together, the man and his dog.

In the morning they two started, and they had not gone far when they

saw in the distance a lodge. In this they were surprised to find a man

half of whose hair was red, and there they found, too, the younger

sister of the young man. The latter said: “Now has returned our brother

who was lost, the Dog.” They asked him: “Where did you two meet?” He

answered: “We met at the place of high cliffs. It was he who saved my

life when I was in danger of death. This is the reason why we have been

able to return to the place where you two, his brother and sister,

dwell and where your mother also dwells. Now I give myself up here

where you dwell, and we shall all be together always, because he has

saved my life and is your brother. I, too, am a master of game and a

good hunter. So we shall be very contented in our minds.” Then the man

half of whose hair was red said: “So be it. I, too, am a good hunter,

and I will also help to make ourselves contented.” Thus did they make a

compact that they would all compose a single family for all time.

This is the length of the legend.

130. THE STORY OF HAHSKWAHOT [456]

In times past there was a boy who spent his time in hunting birds to

kill and in cooking and eating them.

On one of his expeditions he came to a large rock, beside which he took

his seat to rest, for it was drawing toward sunset, and began to make

arrow points.

While seated there a man spoke, saying: “I shall relate a story.” The

boy at once began to look around to learn who it was that had spoken.

He finally came to the conclusion that it was the rock beside which he

was sitting that had spoken for his benefit. In reply the boy said:

“What is the name of it?” The man answered: “It is called a fable

(tradition); now you must make me a present of a bird (for telling you

this story).” The boy, replying “So be it,” left one on the rock. Then

the man again spoke, saying: “You must return here; I shall relate a

legend, but as to us we remained at home in the world that was.” And

the boy went home.

In the evening the boy returned to the rock and seated himself upon it.

Thereupon the man said: “Well, now, I shall say that you must speak;

you must say, ‘What?’ I shall tell you what is called a legend. As soon

as I make an end of telling one legend I may go on with another. But if

you become sleepy, as you may, you must tell me, and we will take a

rest; and you can come again to-morrow evening.”

The boy hunted birds, and he had many different persons to accompany

him. He said to each: “You must accompany me (to hear) a man telling

legends, as I think they are called. In the evening they two would take

their seats on the rock and listen until they became sleepy, and then

all would take a rest for the night. The next day they two would again

return to the rock, and finally other persons followed them to the

place. In the evening they would again sit around, and the man would

relate another legend. On the following evening they would again repair

to the rock. There were now a large number who went to the place where

the great rock stood; and the man would again tell a legend. In this

manner did it come to pass that there are legends in the world, as

these stories are called.

Finally the man at the rock said to the boy: “You will grow old in

years. You shall use these legends to aid yourself in your old age (by

telling them to persons who will pay you for doing so). So it came to

pass that as the boy became old he did not cease telling legends.

It was in this manner. When in the evening he would tell a legend some

brought on their backs loads of wood for fuel; others brought meat;

others brought bread; and still others brought tobacco. These things

were left in the lodge of the old man who had been at the rock when a

boy. People gave him these things to repay him for telling them some

legend. Many times the lodge would be full of people who had come to

hear him relate the legends of their people.

So it was that legends came into being, for the people of the former

other world were people who possessed great and powerful orenda. The

stories of their acts have become the legends of this world. The scene

of this story was laid in the former world.

The end.

131. THE LEGEND OF GENONSGWA [457]

In ancient times this event came to pass as other like things had taken

place. A man went out to hunt on the game preserve of his people.

It so happened that he camped in the night in a large forest. He had

four hunting dogs with him. There he made his camp and kindled a fire

for the night, and in due time the hunter and his dogs fell asleep.

Some time after this the dogs began to bark, and one went to inform the

hunter of his danger. Shaking him to arouse him, it said: “I think that

we shall now die; near here are men who are very large in size going

about stealthily. They must be, I think, what are called Genonsgwa.”

Thus did the dog speak, and continuing, he said: “Perhaps there is

(time) yet in which you yourself may escape. As to the beast, as much

as lies in our power and opportunity we shall attempt to prevent it

from overtaking you. So you must do this: You must make three torches,

which you must carry and which will suffice, I think, for your purpose

in reaching the place where dwell other human beings. You must do thus

when you see a forked branch your height above the ground; you must

insert one of the torches therein as you pass along, when the torch is

nearly burned out; this will become a hindrance to the Genonsgwa, for

he will think that you may be near at hand taking a rest and will stop

without fail. This will be an aid to you, for you can then gain a good

start on him. Then at a suitable distance you must insert another one

of the nearly-burned-out torches.”

At that moment he heard the dogs approach, barking, from the direction

in which he had come, and he fled with all possible speed. When he had

only one torch left he heard the barking of the dogs quite near him,

for they had reached the place in which he had fixed the second torch.

When the man arrived there it became evident to him from the sounds he

heard that one of the dogs had just been killed in the distance.

Thereupon the hunter stirred up the firebrands to cause them to blaze

up and throw out more light. Soon they gave sufficient light to enable

him to see as far as the tree indicated by the dog, behind which the

strange man, or being, moved around stealthily; with great hands he

held to the tree and he had, too, very long legs. Having made the

needed preparations, the hunter at once fled from the place.

Having reached a point out of sight of his camp, when his torch that he

was carrying was nearly extinguished, he heard sounds which told him

that another dog had been killed, and he knew, too, from this that the

Genonsgwa was close at hand. Remembering the advice of the first dog

that informed him of his danger, he began to cry out the sign of

distress, Gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, for he was then aware that the

settlement of his people was not far away. They were still all awake

and, hearing the cries of distress in the distance, they at once ran in

the direction from which these came. Having reached the place, they

found the man. The Genonsgwa was then very close to the hunter, who was

nearly exhausted. The latter fell into the circle of his friends none

too soon, for the Genonsgwa, seizing him by the leg, tore off some

flesh. Then at once he turned, fled from the people, and disappeared,

and no one knew whither he had escaped.

The end.

132. THE LEGEND OF THE STONE COATS (GENONSGWA)

It so happened in times past that three warriors left their homes for

distant regions. They started away for the purpose of killing any

people whom they might find in order to obtain their scalps. So they

would travel for many days, and when they observed that they had

arrived near a settlement they would conceal themselves, and one or

more spies would be sent out by night to make a reconnaissance for the

purpose of learning when, where, and how to make the attack.

It was a custom with them for the chief or leader of the little party

to say: “Who will volunteer to go to investigate that light which

appears in the distance?” Thereupon one of the warriors would reply: “I

will go to reconnoiter that light,” and he would go, if alone, without

definite instructions as to how he might find his companions in case he

had to retreat; but if two decided to go, they would first agree on

some point as a rendezvous in case they should have to retreat in

haste. Then the spy or spies would go to the place whence the light had

appeared. Having arrived there, he would manage to crawl stealthily

into the shelters or lodges he might find, and he would also find the

inmates lying asleep and their garments hanging on the supports of the

structures.

In making such a reconnaissance one of the spies found the inmates

asleep, and he saw that their garments, which were of stone, were set

up against the trees which stood near by. He was surprised by one of

these sleepers arising and saying to him: “What are you doing here?

What do you want?” The spy replied: “I do not want anything; I intend

nothing; I want peace.” But the other person said to him: “You intend,

as you know, to kill all persons who may fall into your power; so you

and I shall fight. That is verily what you and your companions are

doing on your way here; you come with the intention of fighting all

persons whom you do not fear. To-morrow at midday you and I shall meet

face to face yonder in a place not far from here, in a valley which is

very deep and has very high cliffs. You shall enter it from one

entrance and I from the other, and there in the valley we shall meet.”

He said this and ceased speaking. The spy replied: “So let it be.”

Having returned to the camp of his companions, the spy told what he had

seen, saying: “I have seen a distressing sight. I saw beings who had

assumed human forms and actions but who were not human. I saw their

clothes, which were stone in material,[458] set up against the trees

about their camp. One of their number arose and said to me, ‘What are

your intentions?’ I replied, ‘Nothing; only peace;’ but he as quickly

said: ‘You desire to kill all persons who may fall into your power; so

to-morrow at midday in a valley that is near here, and that is very

deep, we, you and I, shall meet; you must enter it from the opposite

side, and I shall enter it from this side; then you and I shall fight.’

I do not think that we have the ability to overcome and kill these

people. They are numerous, forming a large body.”

The chief of the little party remained silent, thinking over the

situation. Finally he said: “By means of a sacrifice we must ask Him

who has made our lives to aid us in the coming battle. Moreover, we

shall use in the sacrifice of prayer native tobacco, which I shall now

cast on the fire.” Then he took from his pouch native tobacco, which he

cast on the fire with the following words: “Thou who hast made our

lives, give most attentive ear to the thing I am about to say. Now we

are about to die. Do Thou aid us to the utmost of Thy power. Thou,

ruler, it was Thou who gavest us this native tobacco; it is this that I

am now employing. Here, take it; it is offered to Thee. Thou hast

promised us that Thou wilt always be listening when we ask in prayer by

sacrifice. Now, it matters not whether Thou Thyself shall stand here,

or whether it shall come by the way of a dream, do Thou tell us fully

what we must do in this crisis which Thou knowest confronts us so

closely. Now I finish my tale. So it is enough. Now, moreover, we will

lie down to sleep.”

Then they lay down to sleep. At midnight the chief, who was awake,

heard some one speak there, saying: “I have heard your prayers asking

me to aid you; so now I have arrived here. In this manner you must do,

to-morrow. Verily, you two have agreed to meet in the deep valley at

midday. You must act in this manner. You must go along the top of the

ridge at the cliff’s edge, and you must lie prone, resting on your

elbows; this you must do before it is midday. You must remain perfectly

still, and you must not carry out your agreement with them. Then you

must watch the opposite cliff, and as soon as you see a bear on the run

there you must shout Pa—ʼa p-hu-e. Then you must retreat a short

distance and stop, whereupon you shall see how truly I will aid you.

You will hear them when they come into the valley, for the sound tau—u

which they will make will be very loud.”

The men followed the directions given them by their Creator, to whom

they had appealed in their extremity, and went to the cliff and lay

down just as they had been instructed to do. They had not waited long

before they heard their enemies coming along in the valley, with their

chief singing as they marched. The chief of the warriors was intently

watching the opposite cliff, when suddenly he saw a bear running along

on the edge of it. At this he shouted, as he had been instructed to do,

Pa—ʼa p-hu-e, and then, quickly arising and turning back, they fled;

but after going a short distance they stopped, and turning around, they

looked back to see what was taking place in the valley. As they

watched, the sound of the oncoming of the Genonsgwa increased in volume

and intensity; and when they had all got into the valley the sound of

their marching became a veritable roar, sounding like dōō-ō.

Now they saw what astonished them; they saw the earth from the sides of

the valley fall into it, carrying with it the forests which grew on it

in the region of the valley. At once the sounds of the marching of the

Genonsgwa died out, and the only sounds they then heard were the

breaking and crashing of the trees as they settled down under the

mountains of earth that fell into the valley. Then they heard the voice

of their Creator saying: “What you asked of me has been granted in

full. I am He whom you usually call Our Master. Verily, I continue to

aid you, who are called the Seneca people. I aid you in all things, in

ball-playing, in foot-racing, and in warfare. Now you shall go to your

homes, to the places where your dwelling-places are. Never in the

future must you do what you were doing. It is much better that you

shall settle all differences which you may have with all other peoples.

You must stop your present course, for if you do not do so, you

yourselves shall bleed in turn. So you must make peace with all your

neighbors, must bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the bow and

the arrow, and the battle-ax. All these you must bury in the ground,

and you must leave them there, and thus put them out of the world. Now

I am through.”

Then the warriors started for home and soon arrived at their dwelling

places. Immediately the chief assembled the people; he went through the

village, and as he walked along he said to them: “We will hold a

council, and we must assemble in the Long lodge; we must assemble there

early in the morning as soon as the morning meal has been eaten.

Everyone must be there—children and women; the entire body of this

people must be there to listen to the tiding which we have brought

back.”

Early the next morning the chief made a second announcement, saying:

“We will hold a council to-day.” So a large body of persons gathered in

the Long lodge in which was the council chamber, and when they had

taken their places the chief arose and addressed them thus: “You must

give strict attention to what we have to say to you. We have been

absent in distant regions, where we had intended to kill any people

whom we might find. There we saw people such as we had never seen

before, for their garments were of stone. It is probable that we never

could kill them; they were very numerous. It so happened that we

encamped very near them and that when they kindled their fire we saw it

in the distance. Then I, who was the chief of the band, said ‘Come, we

will go to reconnoiter in the vicinity of that light.’ One of the

warriors answered: ‘I will go there,’ but I went in his stead to the

neighborhood of the light to investigate. Having arrived there I found

persons lying around asleep, and I saw that their garments were of

stone, and that they were set up against the neighboring trees.

Suddenly one of the sleepers, springing up, said to me, ‘What are your

intentions?’ I said in reply, ‘I do not intend to do anything,’ for I

was afraid. He replied: ‘Do you not intend to kill anyone you can? Now

you and I shall fight. To-morrow when the sun is at midday, there where

the deep valley is, in the bottom of the valley, you must come from the

one side and I, for my part, will enter the valley from the opposite

side, and therein we shall meet; then you and I will fight.’ I replied

to him: ‘Let it be so,’ and departed thence and returned to our camp,

where I at once told my friends what I had seen. I said: ‘I have seen

an astonishing condition of things. When I arrived there I found the

people lying down, and near by, leaning against the trees, were their

garments, which were of stone, so it is probably impossible for us to

kill them. So let it be.’ I will make a sacrificial prayer to Him who

has completed the structure of our lives; I will cast on the fire

sacrificially native tobacco. At once I took tobacco, and holding it in

my hand, I said: ‘Thou hast promised to aid those who shall pray to

Thee with an offering of this native tobacco,’ and then I cast it on

the fire, and forthwith arose smoke from the burning tobacco. Thereupon

I said: ‘Now aid us; tell us what we must do; perhaps You may come to

us in a vision; perhaps You might send the advice to us through a

dream; at all events tell us what to do. Now, we will lie down to

sleep.’

“Just at midnight I was surprised to hear one speak, saying: ‘I have

come to aid you; I tell you that to-morrow just before midday you and

your men must go to the valley, and there overlooking it you must lie

down prone and rest on your elbows.’ And he said, too: ‘You must watch

carefully the opposite side of the valley, and when you shall see a

bear running along the opposite cliff you must shout Pa—ʼa p-hu-e, and

thereupon you must all arise and flee from the place a short distance

and must stop and look back toward the valley, and then you shall see

what shall happen, what shall happen to the persons of your adversaries

when they will enter the farther entrance to the valley—these

Genonsgwa.’ The noise made by these Genonsgwa as they came forward was

very great; the sound that they made was dū—ūm. As they came on, the

voice of their chief was heard singing; he chanted the war song of the

Genonsgwa, saying: ‘No one has the power to overcome me;’ this is what

he said in his singing.

“Just then the cliffs on each side of the valley with the forests

growing on them were upheaved with a deafening roar and crash and fell

into the valley upon the advancing Genonsgwa; this was followed by the

sounds of breaking trees and their limbs as they were crushed under the

weight of the overturned cliffs, and then all was silent. Thus did this

event come to pass.

“Now I shall speak to this assembly as it is here listening to what I

have related. He who aided us was the Master of Life. He told us to

return home, and He bade us never to undertake an enterprise such as

that which took us from our homes. He bade us to make peace with all

tribes of men, of whatsoever land or language they might be; for if we

should not follow His advice we ourselves might one day shed one

another’s blood; and He bade us to bury deep in the ground the

scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax and the

war-club. He bade us to put all these things out of this world, telling

us that if we do this we shall be contented and happy in the future, if

we consent to this and to inform all our people of this advice and the

chiefs, too. But as we do not know what the chiefs will do in this

matter we have called this council to ascertain this important opinion

of our chiefs. Now we have told you these tidings which we have brought

with us, and now you must take great pains in considering this matter

in all its bearings; I mean you, our chiefs. There, I am through with

my address.”

During the entire day they discussed this matter in all its bearings.

Some said that it would not be good for them to adopt this kind advice,

as many of their relations had been killed by the enemy, and they had

always intended to have revenge for their deaths.

Others spoke for and against the proposition which had been presented

to them by the returned warriors. The discussions took a wide range and

consumed the entire day. Finally one of the leading chiefs of the place

arose and said: “It is better that we take a recess until early

to-morrow morning, at which time we will again assemble here. I will

then speak, telling you my views on this question after having thought

on them during the night. For this reason all should be present again;

so you must come and hear what I have to say to you. So there.”

Then they dispersed and went to their homes. In all the lodges there

was much speculation as to what the chief would tell them in the

morning. All had different views as to what he would say, and they made

up their minds that they would go to the Long lodge at early forenoon.

So in the morning of the next day they again assembled in the Long

lodge, and there was present a very large body of people.

Then the chief arose to his full height and began to speak, saying:

“The time has now come. I said that to-day I should speak to you. My

mind is now made up; I have decided what to say to you, and now I will

tell you what I have thought best for us to do. I agree to the proposal

to make peace with our enemies; that to that end we must certainly bury

deep in the ground the scalping-knife and the war bow and arrow and the

battle-ax; and that we must leave these things there out of sight and

reach. You must put these things out of the world. So let this come to

pass. Let everyone who has come here carry out this resolution as I

have indicated it to you in what I have said. So there. Come, then, let

us now make preparations. I suppose that we must send an embassy of two

persons to that neighboring tribe, although we may not be certain

whether they will be at all willing to make peace with us and thereby

settle our difficulties. So we must commission our ambassadors to pray

them to cease waging war against us; and we, too, must stop fighting on

our part, and must cast away deep in the ground the scalping-knife, the

war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax. These we must throw away, and

thus you will put them outside of this world. When the two

(ambassadors) arrive in the country of our enemies they shall say: ‘We

have been sent by the chiefs of our people to know whether you are

willing to agree to settle our difficulties and to make peace with us.’

This is what you two shall say. This is all.”

After some deliberation the chief arose again and said, “Come, now. Who

will volunteer to go far away to the foreign land where our enemies

dwell?” Then a certain man said, “I am willing to go.” “So be it,”

replied the chief; “who else is willing to go? There is one lacking.”

Then another man said, “I am willing to go.” The chief accepted him by

saying, “So let it be.” Then the last volunteer asked the chief: “I ask

you, who art the chief, what must be done, should they perhaps kill us,

and you would not hear anything about it? Should we become angry should

they attack us there, even though by doing so we should probably lose

our lives? So there (is what I have to say).”

Then the chief arose, and addressing the two ambassadors, said: “You

have asked me a question. I shall tell both what you must do when you

discover that the people whom you are going to visit dwell not far

ahead of you. When you make this discovery you must leave there in

safety your scalping-knife and your bows and arrows and your

battle-axes; and you two must also carefully wash your faces so that

there shall be no more paint on your faces. Then you must go to the

village of the people; and according to custom they will not kill you

because you have not your scalping-knives, your bows and arrows, or

your battle-axes, and because you will not have your faces painted.”

[459]

Then the warrior answered: “So be it. I think that my friend and I may

perhaps start this evening just as soon as it becomes quite dark.”

During the entire day they made their preparations so they would be

able to start in the evening. In the early part of the evening they

came together, whereupon one said: “My friend, now let us start, and

you will leave directly from here in your own way, and I, too, will

leave here directly in my own way.” The friend replied: “Do you feel

that you have sufficiently potent orenda?” He answered: “I think so.”

The other continued: “What kind of thing does it (your body), usually

pretend to be as it flies along?” His friend replied: “Oh, just the

night owl, saying wu, wu, wu, wu, hŭ, hŭ-u.” At this the other,

laughing, said: “My friend, you are indeed a brave man (a male).” His

companion answered: “With regard to yourself, what kind of thing does

it (your body) usually pretend to be as it goes along? Now I have asked

you.” In replying the other man said: “As to myself, I shall be a fox,

and I will go along barking; and we shall keep apart just the distance

that I can hear the hooting of the night owl. How far do you say?” He

replied: “Let us be just so far apart that it will be possible for me

to hear the barking of the fox. And this, too, must be done. As

daylight approaches we must draw nearer to each other, and when it is

morning we will rejoin at some convenient place.” Then they started.

They observed their order of going, and when they had concluded that

they had arrived in the neighborhood of the people whom they were going

to visit, they were surprised to see the lights of a number of fires.

So they stopped and sat down on a log. Then one of the men said: “We

must leave our things, our weapons, here—our scalping-knives, our bows

and arrows, and our battle-axes—and we must remove the paint from our

faces, too. There, on that side of the log, you may lay your things,

and you must cover them with moss and earth very carefully; and I will

lay my things here on this side of the log, and I will cover them even

as you do.” Thus they completed this task of concealing their weapons.

Then one of them said: “My friend, it shall be that he who shall be

spared alive shall dig up these things, for we shall soon see them, and

when they see us there is no assurance that either of us shall be left

alive; but should one of us escape then let him dig up and carry home

both these buried outfits.”

Then they went toward the place where they believed the enemies lived.

They had not gone far when they were surprised to see in the distance a

temporary shelter made of corn husks, for this was at the time of the

corn harvest and the people were drying the strings of ears of corn.

Thereupon one of the men said: “I will do the talking when we arrive at

that temporary shelter; so do you not speak a word about anything. So

now, come, let us go thither to the lodge.”

When the two men had arrived near the temporary shelter the children

noticed their approach and fled into the shelter. On arriving at the

shelter the two men found that the doorflap was of deerskin. When they

had stepped inside they saw a woman sitting there; they noticed also

that the children had hidden themselves, and that the woman was greatly

frightened, for the color of her face had changed. One of the men at

once said to her: “Do not fear us; we do not come on an evil errand,

and you may know this to be true because we have not our

scalping-knives, bows and arrows, or battle-axes, and we have no paint

on our faces. So do not be afraid. We have come on a good errand; do

not fear us.” All at once the woman spoke, saying: “Oh, children;

verily, they will not kill us.” At this the children came forth from

their hiding places, and the mother, too, regained her composure. The

spokesman of the two visitors said, “Are you and your children here

alone?” The woman replied, “No; our old man has gone yonder into the

valley where in fact we dwell; he will soon return.” Then the man said:

“So let it be. We will remain here until he returns.” The woman

answered: “Let it be so.” So when the old man had returned the

spokesman of the two ambassadors said: “We come as messengers. Let us

talk together in peace. We are not thinking of evil purposes, and

these, our peaceful sentiments, are shown by the fact that neither of

us has a scalping-knife, a bow and arrows, or battle-ax, and is not

painted on the face. For this reason let there be peace while we talk

together.” It seemed at first that the old man was angry, but when he

had heard this statement his mind changed, and he said, “Come, then, do

you relate the message which you have been sent to bring to us. Come,

now, tell us.” The man replied: “So be it. We have come to you to

propose that we at once settle all our differences, because we have

slaughtered not only ourselves, but also our friends and kinsmen. Let

us stop this slaughter; and let us bury deep in the earth the

scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax; in the earth

we will put these weapons; so if you are willing to accept our

proposals you will put these murderous things outside this world, if

you are only willing to do so.” The old man replied: “So be it. Let us

go to the place where usually we assemble in council in the Long-lodge,

for indeed the chiefs dwell some distance from here. I will tell them

what you have brought as a message to us. I do not know what answer

they may give. I think you two should remain here, and I will go yonder

to the Long-lodge, where are the chiefs of our people. It would not

succeed well if you two should go there, for usually they are angry

when they see an enemy. I will prepare myself properly to tell them the

message which you have been sent to bring to us. Then I shall come for

you should their reply be favorable to a conference with them. Thus it

shall be done.” One of the ambassadors answered, “Let it come to pass

as you have suggested.”

Thereupon the old man started for the Long-lodge to confer with the

chiefs of his people. When he had reached a point near the village he

began to cry out: Gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ, gōʹweʻ. This is called proclaiming.

As soon as his cries were heard everybody came forth from their lodges

and at once went to the Long-lodge to hear what news the crier was

bringing them. So a large assemblage crowded the Long-lodge. Then the

old man, who was still crying out the cries of warning, entered the

Long-lodge, whereupon they set him down on one side. One of the chiefs

arose and said: “Now, you must relate the important news which you

bring to us, so tell us. That is all.” Arising, the old man said: “I

will tell you of a very important matter which has come to pass. I saw

two men who were in the lodge when I returned to my home. I was

astonished, but one of these men at once arose and said: ‘We assure you

that we are not intending anything evil, and this is proved by the fact

that we have no scalping-knife, no war bow and arrows, and no

battle-ax, and we have not our faces painted. We have been sent by our

chiefs to learn whether we can not settle all our difficulties. We have

been killing ourselves and shedding each other’s blood; so let us stop

doing this, and let us bury deep in the earth the scalping-knife, the

war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let us lay these very deep in

the ground. You must put these things outside the world. Thus it shall

be done, provided that you will agree to this proposition. So this is

the number of words which has been sent you by us.’ I am now through

with what I have to say. So, there.” In reply, the chiefs of the

village said to the old man: “Perhaps you would better fetch the two

men here and let them come into this place. You alone go back after

them. You must hasten your steps as you go, and you must bring them at

once with you.” The old man, replying, “So let it be,” at once went out

of the lodge and started on a run toward his temporary lodge, where the

two men were awaiting his return. On entering, he said to them: “I have

come after you.” Arising at once, they started for the place where the

council was being held, and having reached there, they entered the

Long-lodge. One of the ambassadors was in a frenzy of fear, seeming to

fear they would be killed, for before entering he kept saying to his

friend: “Have courage, my friend; one of us will certainly escape.”

When they entered the Long-lodge they made room for the two messengers,

or ambassadors, to sit. One of the chiefs of the village, arising,

said: “Is it true that you have been sent to come into our country? Are

the things true which our friend has told us in full? That is what you

two must tell us, for we do not know whether what he told us a short

time ago is the truth or not.”

Then the spokesman of the two ambassadors, arising to his full height,

said: “We two will now tell you that we were commissioned on a very

important errand by our chiefs. We come to you to propose that your

people and our people shall settle all the troubles which have caused

them to shed each other’s blood. What your chief has told you is an

important matter. I am through.”

Then one of the chiefs of the village, arising, said: “Lo! now do you

talk, everyone who has something to say, you who are the chiefs of this

village, whether we shall agree to settle our difficulties with the

people who have sent these two men to us, and to bury deep in the

ground the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrow, and the battle-ax.

Come, now, let each one say which side of the proposal he takes,

whether we shall make peace, or whether we shall reject these overtures

for peace. There are only two opinions that can be given; when one

speaks he must tell which is his opinion. So I am done.”

Then another chief arose to speak, saying: “I am next in order to speak

my sentiments. I am unwilling to consent to settle our difficulties

with the people represented by these two messengers, because the many

stains which have come from the blood of my own kinsmen, shed by these

two men who are sitting here, are scarcely dried. In my heart there are

constant passions arising which prompt me to take vengeance for this

cruel slaughter of my own kinsmen; and I am tempted to scalp these two

enemies who sit here in our presence.”

Then another chief, leaping to his feet, said to the one who was

speaking: “Do you stop at once. Do not say that again; you must stop

that kind of talk. I will say but a few words for my part. You two who

are sitting here must listen and must hear all that I have to say in my

own behalf and in that of my people. I think that we all realize that

what we are about to do is a very important affair. One person alone

has made us of one flesh and of one form, and of a reddish color. Now,

too, you shall hear me declare that I agree to accept your proposal for

an adjustment of all difficulties between your people and ours. We must

bury deep in the ground all those things with which we fight; and you

must put them out of the world; and this statement you must make when

you two return to your own homes.” The chief accepted this proposition,

saying: “So now we will meet in joint council at the river, which is

just halfway from here to our own country; we will meet there on one

side of the river, and there you may prepare your camps. You must all

go—children, women, and men—all must be present there. On the opposite

side of the river we will make our camps. After the tenth night from

now we must all be in camp there, and I shall bring all the

people—children, women, and the warriors. So there; thus it shall come

to pass. Then we shall lie down to rest and in the morning you and I

will talk together, as thou art a chief and as I, too, am a chief. So

you shall stand on the other side of the river, and I shall stand on

this side of the river. Then it shall be that you will tell me how you

and I may adjust our differences; and you shall accomplish this within

the time of 10 days. After 10 nights you will have arrived on your side

of the river, and I, too, shall have arrived on my side of the river.

So there is what I have to say. Come, now, make your preparations, and

when you have completed them we shall start to go to the river.”

In the meantime the two ambassadors had returned to their home and had

made their report, and their chiefs had given the people instructions

to prepare themselves to go to meet their former enemies at the river

that bounded their lands. On both sides the people and the chiefs kept

tally of the days that passed; the next day was one; the next, two; the

next day, three, and so on. On the eighth day the chief on each side

said: “Come now, let us start.” Thereupon they left their homes for the

place of meeting; none remained behind. They traveled a long distance

before they stopped for the night. In the morning they started again

and arrived at the river bank at a seasonable hour. The chief of the

opposite party said, too: “Come now, let us depart for the river bank

where we are to meet in council.” All started, not one remaining at

home. They, too, traveled a long distance before camping for the night,

and in the morning early they, too, continued their journey and in good

time arrived at the river bank, at the place of meeting. There was

assembled a large body of people.

Then one of the chiefs, standing beside the river, said: “Behold! now

tell me what your thought is as to how you and I may be able to adjust

our troubles in peace. Tell me this. So there is what I have to say.”

Then the chief on the opposite side of the river, standing near the

brink, said: “Now has come to pass what I think that He who alone has

made our lives, desires, but where He abides I do not know, for our

lives are alike, our forms are alike, and the color of our skin is the

same, for we are reddish in color. We have blundered. We have only

killed one another, and we have only shed one another’s blood. So let

us stop this evil work, and let it not come to pass again; and let us

bury the scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; let

all these be left deep in the ground; and thereby we shall put these

out of the world. So this is my opinion. Let us be at peace in the

future; let us be at peace in our minds; and let the minds of our

people be at peace, those of our children, our women, and our warriors.

Such is my opinion, and I who speak it am a chief. So this is enough.

Now it is for you to speak, you who are a chief. I do not know whether

what I have said is pleasing to you. This will I do. I have finished.”

There was a great sound—dauñ—made by the assembled tribes, for there

were very many people. Then the chief on the opposite side of the

river, standing on the shore, said: “Now, you who are a chief have

ended your address, and I agree to all that you have said; hence you

and I will adjust all our troubles and difficulties so that they may

never return. Now, too, you and I will bury deep in the ground the

scalping-knife, the war bow and arrows, and the battle-ax; all these

things we will place in the earth, so that none of them shall come

forth again, and there they shall disappear from the earth. Thus let it

come to pass. So, there.”

Then, on the opposite side of the river, the other chief who had

proposed this conference, arising, said: “I am, indeed, thankful that

my desires have been fulfilled in this peaceful agreement. I do give

you many thanks for your part in this matter, and so now you and I will

bury in the ground all those things with which you and I have been

accustomed to kill each other, in such manner that they shall never

again come forth. We will put them out of the world, so that so long as

the earth stands such things shall not again take place. So, there.”

Then the chief on the other side of the river, arising in his place,

said: “I am thankful for the accomplishment of this great compact of

peace, and I congratulate you as well, you who are also a chief. So now

we shall prepare it; and it shall be very broad. You and I must set to

work so that we may make this good thing for our people; and this shall

be a level (peaceful and fruitful) country; and thereon we must, one

and all, take one another by the arm (hand)—all women, children, and

men; and by this means each one will bear testimony to the fact that

truly, indeed, we have made peace and have settled harmoniously all our

difficulties; and when we shall have taken one another by the arm then

we must dance to express our joy and good will and hope for the

continuance of this peace during time to come.”

Then all who were able to do something were set to work, and they

prepared a symbolical field of peace [460] whereon they and theirs

might enjoy life and might promote their welfare in such manner as

seemed to satisfy their desires. When they had completed the task they

cried to those across the river who had accepted the propositions of

peace: “Come now! Do you come across the river and let us enjoy

ourselves together.” Willingly obeying, the people soon crossed the

stream, and they soon were standing on the prepared field of peace,

whereon they ranged themselves in long files preparatory to taking part

in the dances. Then the leaders grasped each other’s arms, saying,

“Now, let us all take hold of one another’s arms, and then let us

dance,” and then they continued, “We must now dance all night long.”

Then they danced. Thereupon the singer began to sing: Häʼ ʹäʼ hoiāʹneʻ,

häʼʹäʼ hoiāʹneʻ; wăʹʻhu, wăʹʻhu, wăʹʻhu, hãʼʹäʼ hoiãʹneʻ. (The only

word in this line which has a clear meaning is the second, which is the

title of the highest order of federal chiefs.—Ed.)

When daylight had come, one of the chiefs made an address of

thanksgiving. He said: “I am very thankful that day has dawned in peace

on this assembly here present. So now we give our thanksgiving to Him

whose place of residence we still do not know but who has made our

lives. So now you and I have finished this work, which puts an end to

any bitter feeling between us that might in the future lead some one to

scalp another. So now we will separate again. So now we, for our part,

will start for our homes, and you, too, will return to your homes.”

So it came to pass that the two peoples arrived safe at their homes,

whence they had come forth to make peace with their enemies, and this

peace has lasted unto this day.

So this came to pass in this way. And this is the end of the legend.

133. THE STORY OF THE WHITE PIGEON, THE CHIEF OF THE PIGEONS

It is said that among wild pigeons the white ones are the chiefs of

their communities. According to tradition, a white pigeon once flew

into the forest lodge of a noted old man, the Wild Cat. The visitor did

not appear ill at ease but stood in the lodge wherever it seemed good

to him, and then without remark he flew away.

The old man, Wild Cat, somewhat amazed by the quiet conduct of his

visitor, related the incident to his neighbors, saying that this visit

portended that something out of the ordinary was about to happen. But

an entire year passed and nothing unusual had happened to old Wild Cat

and his fellows and neighbors.

But at about the same season the next year the same White Pigeon again

visited the old man’s lodge. At this visit the old man believed that

the White Pigeon was a man (i.e., one of his own kind of beings), so he

conversed with him on many subjects. During this visit White Pigeon

informed the old man, Wild Cat, that all the various tribes of birds

had held a council at which it had been decided that the wild pigeons

should furnish a tribute to mankind, because their Maker had selected

the wild pigeons for this important duty as most other birds had only

very little to give up because their mode of life required them to live

dispersed here and there, and so what they had to offer could be

obtained only with difficulty, while the others had nothing to offer

toward the support of mankind.

So, the pigeons being the only tribe of birds which built their nests

and reared their young in a single community, it was resolved by the

various tribes of birds that the pigeons should spare some of their

young to men for food. White Pigeon continued by saying that he had

come purposely to notify old man Wild Cat of this momentous decision,

and to tell him the young pigeons were to be taken at the proper

season, and the manner in which this must be done.

He said: “In the season of the roost, when the young pigeons have

attained a suitable size for eating, the people should select a

suitable person as superintendent or master of the hunt, and he should

give the needful directions to the people for making their preparations

for the hunt before starting for the hunting grounds in which the

pigeons have their roost in the forest.”

On such a hunting expedition the entire community was engaged, and so

it was not unusual to have a very large multitude of people moving

along a common path at this time. But to secure order and obedience

certain rules for the march must be observed by all. Of these, one was

that when the party halted to rest, to eat, or to camp for the night,

the leader would place a rod, suitably painted, across the path, and no

one was permitted to pass over it or to go around it for the purpose of

continuing the journey regardless of the rest of the party. It was held

that should one break this injunction some misfortune would inevitably

befall the party. When the party was ready to proceed the leader would

take up the rod and then the journey would be resumed.

Upon nearing the roosting place of the pigeons it was customary to make

a collection of gifts from the people, consisting of various articles

of ornament and trinkets of all kinds, for an offering to the pigeons.

These freely given gifts were placed in a bark bowl and this was borne

solemnly into the forest to some swampy place where tall weeds were

plentiful, and these gifts were spread out on a piece of elm bark while

native tobacco was burned and an invocation to the offering was made to

the pigeons and their Maker.

Tradition reports that for the first hunting expedition the people as a

whole did not observe the rules of the master of the hunt, which he had

learned from the White Pigeon. So some went around the painted rod

placed across the path when the party halted for any purpose; others

withheld presents from the offering, and many accidents happened to

them; some broke their legs, others their arms, some fell sick, and

some died. A great number of misfortunes befell the expedition.

After the expedition had returned to the home lands this fact aroused

much discussion. So the old man, Wild Cat, questioned his people as to

their conduct, and they informed him. He declared that they had brought

these ills upon themselves and urged them to observe strictly the rule

which the White Pigeon had given them for their guidance if they wished

to avoid these misfortunes. So the following season the people went out

to the hunt, but they carefully observed the rules laid down for their

guidance and all went well, and so every spring for 20 years they

continued to go out on these expeditions without any marked untoward

events taking place.

But toward the end of this period many factions had arisen among the

people. The young people asked, What is the need for these things?

Pigeons may be killed at any time of the year. They are fit for food at

all seasons of the year. What can pigeons do with these offerings of

ornaments and trinkets which they are not able to wear or make any use

of? Another faction of the people killed the pigeons wherever and

whenever they found them, killing both the young and the old pigeons.

Another faction boasted that its members had no faith in what was done,

and so they had no desire to engage in pigeon hunting, even refusing to

eat any of the pigeon meat when it was offered to them. But it was not

long before misfortune began to assail these seditious factions. The

members of the faction which had refused to eat any of the pigeon meat

died off one by one. Before the visit of the White Pigeon they never

died, they seemed to be immortal; but now disease and death abounded

among them because they had failed to obey the regulations prescribed

by the White Pigeon for their guidance.

These conditions continued for some time, becoming more and more

distressful as time elapsed. Then, for the third time, the White Pigeon

visited the old man, being just 20 years after the second visit. The

old man did not know that he was talking to the chief of the pigeons,

for he appeared to him in all respects as a man.

The White Pigeon informed the old man that thereafter as long as the

world should last men and women would die because they had disobeyed

the rules proclaimed by the Pigeon people. And, further, that in the

future people must not kill any white pigeon, and that they must

observe the rules for the hunting of pigeons, and that this was his

last visit to him. And immediately he flew away.

The conditions among the people did not change for the better; the

several factions still existed, and there seemed to be no common

purpose in the community; some of the factions observed the rules for

hunting, some only in part, while still others paid no attention to

them, even mocking those who did. Some years passed when a stranger

came among this people and finding his way to the lodge of the old man

he said to him, “You must accompany me.” Without any question the old

man followed him, for he regarded him as a man like himself.

They traveled for a number of days until finally they came to the place

in which lived the tribe of the stranger, which was a place situated on

the top of very lofty mountains. The stranger’s friends received the

old man with every mark of respect and kindness. This people were the

Donyonda (i.e., Eagle people), although to the old man they appeared to

him as men like himself.

There were among the old man’s people persons without faith in the

teachings of the old man which he reported he had learned from the

White Pigeon. And there came a day when a man of the Crow tribe of

people told one of these disbelievers that the old man, their chief,

was at that time living among the Donyonda, or Eagle people, and

offered to conduct him to the land of the Donyonda people. The

disbeliever accepted the proposal of the Crow man and so they set out

together. The Crow man and his companion finally reached the land of

the Donyonda people on the top of a very lofty mountain.

The old chief recognized the man from his home, but he would have

nothing at all to do with him either by word or act. He even went so

far as to say to his adopted friends, “This man has come here for no

good purpose; the working of his mind is very different from that of

ours.” Consequently, the chief man of the Donyonda people ordered one

of their warriors to take this man away and to throw him onto the moon.

So on the following day the warrior placed the man on his back and bore

him swiftly away; and when he reached the side of the moon he cast the

man onto the moon’s side and left him there, and he remains there to

this day.

But old Chief Wild Cat lived with the Donyonda people for a number of

years. As time passed, however, the mind of the old chief became

affected and he became morose and despondent, which resulted in his

becoming obnoxious to the people of his adoption. Things went from bad

to worse, and so finally the Donyonda people held a council, where it

was stated that because the old chief could or would not think the

things which harmonized with their thoughts they would send him to a

tribe of people who agree with no one, not even with their own people,

and who were hostile to all other tribes of people. So they chose one

of their principal men to take the old chief the next day to the brink

of the mountain and to roll him down the mountain.

This was done, and the old chief rolled swiftly down the mountain side.

He went down so swiftly that he screeched with fear; but finally he

reached the foot of the mountain and the level ground. Upon reaching

the foot of the mountain he was transformed into the bodily form of a

wolf and also found that he was in a swamp in which the Wolf tribe

dwelt. They welcomed him in a most friendly manner. So he lived here

among the Wolf people for some time.

But the old man had not lived here long before trouble arose between

him and the Wolf people. The lapse of time only emphasized the

disagreements and the hostility of the Wolf people against the old man.

Finally the Wolf people began to be very angry with the Wild Cat for

his provocative acts, and then it was not long before the Wolf tribe

fell upon the old man, Wild Cat, and tore him in pieces and devoured

him. They left his bones gnawed clean on the ground.

At the time that the Eagle man visited the old man, Wild Cat, the old

man had a grandson who was a mere boy—a child. But at the time the old

man was devoured by the Wolf people the grandson of old Wild Cat had

grown up to be a young man. And he still remembered his grandfather,

Wild Cat, and at times he would wonder where his grandfather had gone

and what had become of him.

So there came a day when the grandson said, “I will now travel to see

what has become of my grandfather. I will seek for him in the lands

toward the sunrise.” So, after making suitable preparations, he started

on his quest for his grandfather.

He journeyed eastward for many days, when finally he met a man who

questioned him, asking, “Where are you going? Where are you from?” The

grandson replied, “I am traveling in search of my grandfather.” After

this conversation each went on his way. The grandson continued his

journey for some time when he met the second man, who asked, “Where are

you going? Where are you from?” The grandson replied, “I am traveling

in search of my grandfather.” Then the man said, “I have seen your

grandfather living among the Eagle people.” The grandson continued his

journey eastward until he finally came to the dwelling place of the

Eagle people on the mountain. Here he was informed that his grandfather

had been expelled from these people, and that he had been rolled down

the mountain to the Wolf tribe. “What am I to do?” asked the grandson.

“You had better go home,” said the old chief of the Eagle people, “for

if you do not return home you shall lose your mind and the mind of your

people; you shall become something else, someone else.” Then the

grandson asked, “Can you change me now so that I may go to the place

where my grandfather is?” They replied, “Yes; we can change you so that

you can go thither with perfect safety.”

The grandson having given his consent to this proposition, he was soon

changed into a panther and then rolled down the mountain into Wolf

swamp, where many Wolf people lived. The presence of the panther

aroused the bitter hostility of the Wolf people, who attacked him

savagely in an attempt to kill him. But owing to his great strength

they were unable to accomplish their purpose.

So he traveled from place to place in the Wolf country, where he was

regarded as an open enemy, although he was engaged only in looking for

his grandfather. There came a day when he found his bones, and placing

together the bones under a large hickory tree he pushed against the

tree, shouting “Arise, oh, grandfather. The tree is about to fall on

you.” His grandfather heard his warning and at once sprang up. He

recognized his grandson.

But the grandfather would not agree with his grandson as to how to

live, where to go, or what to do. So, after much bitter fighting, they

finally separated. The grandfather went in search of his own people and

the grandson in quest of his.

When the grandfather met the acquaintances of his early life he was no

more able to agree with them than he was before he left them; so, after

much strife and fighting, the people finally became so enraged at him

that they fell on him and for the second time he was killed and eaten

up, and his bones were left bleaching on the ground where they had

devoured him.

The grandson journeyed from place to place for a long time, and he

encountered many difficulties and disappointments in his quest for

people of his own tribe.

But one day he was pursued by a hunter with three dogs. When the dogs

came within reach the grandson killed them one by one before the hunter

could come to their assistance, and thus he escaped from death at the

hands of the hunter.

So, passing beyond this place, he met one day a woman of his own tribe.

He addressed her pleasantly and she replied in the same mood. This

woman finally agreed to marry the grandson. As the years passed they

became possessed of a large family, consisting of several boys and

girls. It was not many years before these children were large enough to

look out for themselves. In the meanwhile the father and mother

quarreled bitterly, then these boys and girls quarreled among

themselves, and lastly with their parents. The result of this condition

of affairs was that the family dispersed, each one going off alone.

Again, the grandson was left alone, having no friends or family of his

own. He was left completely to his own resources for providing the

means of his living and for protecting himself from his enemies. He

traveled many dreary days in solitude. But there came a day when he met

a woman of the Panther tribe of people, who was cooking some deer meat

for herself. As the grandson was very hungry he asked this woman to

share some of the deer meat with him, but she refused absolutely to

spare him a morsel.

So, hungry as he was, he had to pass on without anything to eat. Some

time afterwards he was fortunate enough to kill a deer. So, after

dressing it and preparing it properly and cooking it, he sat down to

eat. And while he was enjoying his venison the woman who had refused

him a portion of venison boldly came up and asked him for some of the

venison. He showed his teeth and growled and snarled so fiercely that

he finally drove the old woman away.

When he had finished his meal he packed up his belongings and departed.

He traveled several days from place to place. Suddenly he became aware

that several hunters with three dogs were pursuing him. So he fled from

that place until he became wearied and then he climbed a very tall

tree. There he hoped to escape his pursuers, but the dogs tracked him

so well that soon the hunters were under the tree. Whereupon one of the

hunters shot him, mortally wounding him, and he fell to the ground in a

dying condition. The dying Panther man said to the hunters, “This, your

act, shall cause bitter hostility between your people and my tribe, and

many of both tribes will die in consequence.”

As the hunters were bearing the body of the Panther man homeward, a

Panther man met them and saw the dead body of the Panther man—one of

his own kindred. At once he returned to his people, telling them what

he had seen. So with two other Panther men he retraced his steps to

find the guilty hunters.

The three Panther men were not long in finding the camping place of the

hunters and they quickly succeeded in killing the dogs and the hunters

and in devouring them, leaving their bones to bleach on the ground.

The friends and kinsmen of the hunters waited many days for the return

of the hunters and their dogs, but they waited in vain. So a number of

them formed a party and went out in search of them. They found their

bones on the path and also the dead body of the Panther man. In the

thickets near by they also found other Panther men asleep. These

discoveries were reported in the village of the dead hunters, and there

was aroused a bitter feeling against the Panther people; and so all who

were able to go out to hunt Panther people started out to destroy the

Panther tribe.

This resulted in a bitter strife between the people of the village and

the Panther tribe, and many of the bravest on both sides were killed

without bringing any satisfaction to either side. During this struggle

the bones of the grandson lay bleaching on the path in the forest. But

it so happened that one of his sons one day passed along that path, and

he recognized his father’s bones. So by gathering them together under a

large hickory tree and setting them in order the son of the Panther man

brought his father back to life by pushing against the hickory tree and

shouting, “Father, arise lest the tree topple over on you.”

When the father arose he had the form which he had when he left his

home in the village in search of his grandfather. This transformation

frightened the son so much that he fled through the forest away from

that place, and the grandson made his way home to the village of his

own people. He entertained his friends and kindred with the recital of

his adventures.

There came a day when the old Eagle, who had enticed away old man Wild

Cat, was in a reminiscent mood, and so he wondered what had become of

the old man whom he had left among the Wolf tribe. So he finally

resolved to pay a visit to the country of the Wolf people. He left his

home and traveled along toward the Wolf country. At last he was greatly

surprised to find scattered around the bones of the old man, his

friend. So he decided to aid his old friend by bringing him to life

again. He therefore collected together the bones lying about and placed

them in order under a great elm tree, and when he had gathered all the

bones he stepped up to the elm tree and suddenly exclaimed, “Be quick,

friend, arise, lest the tree fall on you.” At once the old man, Wild

Cat, leaped up in his original shape and condition in form and mind, a

man. So, after the usual greetings, the old Eagle chief led his friend

home to his own people, whence he had taken him so long ago. Having

arrived there, old man Wild Cat found his grandson, and to him he

related all his adventures while away from his people. He declared, “We

must highly esteem the Pigeon tribe of people.” (Then I left there.)

134. THE WEEPING OF THE CORN, AND BEAN, AND SQUASH PEOPLE

There was in the olden time a village of the Iroquois which was

situated in a very fertile and beautiful country. They raised corn and

beans and squashes, and for many years they were contented and

prosperous. But there came a time when their crops began to fail

them—the corncobs were bare of grains, the bean pods were empty, and

the squashes would wither away before the time to harvest them. The

people went hungry, for they had no food from their fields and game was

very scarce.

One day a very old woman, who was Matron and Chief of her clan, was

walking near her planted field, meditating on the misfortune of her

people. As she walked she heard bitter weeping out in the field, and

she at once decided that some one must be in deep distress. So, walking

into the planted field, she was surprised to find that it was the corn

that was weeping; and the beans were weeping too; and the squashes were

weeping also. The old woman had great compassion for the corn and the

beans and the squashes for their weeping. She stopped beside a hill of

corn and asked, “Oh, you dear Corn, why do you weep? Tell me the

reason.” The Corn between sobs said, “You place us in the ground to

grow, but you do not perform your further duties to us. You do not

cover us with sufficient earth as you know you should; and you do not

hill up the earth about our feet so that we can stand firm; and you

fail to dig up the earth sufficiently around us to give us water; so it

is that many of us have remained only a few hours or a day or two and

then have gone home; only a small number of us remain and now we are

all dying because of your neglect. You even permit our enemies to

strangle us to death.”

As the old Matron listened to this pitiful story she was bitterly

grieved. She then went to the Bean people and to the Squash people, and

from both she heard the same painful story of neglect by her people.

She was deeply moved, and so she went to her lodge and wept along the

path homeward. Having seated herself on her couch in her lodge, she

kept on weeping. Her people having heard her sobbing were much puzzled

by it, and they being moved by sympathy also began to weep with their

Matron. Soon many persons had assembled at her lodge, and they all were

mourning with the old woman.

Finally, the chief of the clan came to the lodge and addressing the

people he told them to cease their weeping and to be of good cheer; and

that he would ask their Matron what had caused her to return from the

planted field with such grief. So the people ceased their weeping, and

then the chief, addressing their Matron, who was still sobbing

bitterly, asked, “Mother, what caused you to weep while you were in the

planted field?” After somewhat composing herself she replied to this

question by saying that she had heard bitter wailings in the planted

fields and that on going there to learn the cause the Corn people, and

the Bean people, and the Squash people had complained to her that she

and her people had not properly cared for them by not covering them

with sufficient earth to enable them to live and by permitting their

enemies to grow up around them so that they had no more ground on which

to stand. Then the Matron ceased talking, but kept on weeping.

Upon hearing this statement the people assured the chief that this was

the first information they had received as to the reason why their

Matron had been grieving so bitterly.

Thereupon the chief called a council of his clan and laid before it the

remarkable statement of their Matron. The council upon hearing this

recital resolved that in the future whoever planted either corn or

beans or squashes must cover the grain with sufficient earth to give it

sustenance, and must care for the growing plants by properly hilling

them and by digging around them to loosen the earth to make it mellow,

and lastly, by destroying their enemies (the weeds) who grew about them

so luxuriantly.

So, in the following spring, when planting time returned, they were

again admonished as to the proper methods of planting the corn, the

beans, and the squashes. The people all agreed that they would follow

the advice of the council in this matter because of the statement of

their Matron as to the real cause of their withered crops.

So, in accordance with this resolution, the next springtime they did

place the seed corn and beans and squashes sufficiently deep in the

ground to give these grains sufficient covering of earth to grow well.

The old chief stood by the planters while they were seeding their

fields to see that the work was properly done. Later, when the tender

sprouts of corn and beans and squashes had reached such height that

they required more earth to support them, the people were called

together and urged to hill up their growing crops and to destroy

thoroughly the enemies (weeds) of these useful plants. These plants

were growing luxuriantly and were strong, but toward harvest time

something came and destroyed these growing crops. A certain nation of

people came and carried away the corn and the beans, leaving only some

squash shells. Again the people mourned their loss, confessing that

they must have been guilty of some other form of negligence.

So the following spring they again took great pains in their planting

and in their care for their crops; but just as soon as the green corn

was becoming fine and fit to eat a certain nation of people began to

steal the corn and beans and squashes. The people suspected what people

had come and carried away their corn and beans and squashes.

So the chief of the people called a council to discuss the situation

and to suggest means to meet it. It was finally resolved that several

stout and alert warriors should be set to watch the planted fields to

see who might come to steal the ripening crops. These watchmen went

into the fields in the evening. Toward the dawn of day they discovered

a number of persons who were tearing off the ears of corn and the bean

pods, and also others who were stealing the squashes. These thieves

they captured and held as prisoners. These prisoners were taken in the

morning to the council lodge before the clan chief.

The chief, after looking the prisoners over, remarked that these

thieves were their enemies because they had stolen their corn and beans

and squashes. Then he asked one of the corn thieves, “Where do you

live?” “A long way hence in the forest,” came the reply. “Are there

many of your people?” continued the chief. “We are a large nation,”

came the answer. In like manner he questioned the squash thief and the

bean thieves, and these made replies similar to those made by the corn

thieves.

They bound the corn thieves and daily they took them out of the lodge

and all the chiefs and the people came to see them, and everyone was

privileged to strike these thieves a blow with a staff, and the thieves

would weep bitterly at this treatment. Then they would be taken back

into the lodge. The bean thieves and the squash thieves were also daily

punished in this way.

Daily the corn thieves wept loudly. After a long time had elapsed these

thieves were told that if they would conduct the people to their own

nation they would be set free. The corn thieves agreed to this

proposition and the old chief selected a party of his warriors to lead

the thieves back to their own nation.

The corn thieves led the warriors a long way into the forest. But at

last they came to a settlement, and the thieves said this is a village

of our people. The warriors killed many of the people, and then they

set free the thieves whom they had brought back to their country. The

people whom the warriors had killed were carried home.

Then some warriors were sent to the squash stealers with an order to

split their upper lips so that they would not be able to eat squashes

again.

It is said that the warriors whipped the corn thieves so much during

their captivity that they wept so much that their faces were striped

and their backs were striped and their tails were ringed, from the

blows they received; and these marks have remained to this day. The

corn thieves were raccoons. The squash thieves were rabbits (hares?),

and their lips have remained split to this day from this punishment.

Tradition says that the ancestors of the Seneca thought that all trees

and shrubs and plants were endowed with human life and were divided

into families, having brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers. And

that in like manner the Corn, and Beans, and the Squash have human

lives, and that if one offended them they would grieve and would depart

and would leave the people without food.

135. SʻHAGOWENOTʻHA, THE SPIRIT OF THE TIDES

In the long ago an uncle and his nephew, his sister’s son, dwelt

together in a lodge. It so happened that the uncle, the elder man, had

to keep a recumbent position. He had lain so long that the roots of a

tree standing near their lodge had overgrown his body, so it was quite

impossible for him to arise.

As time passed he called his nephew to him and said to the youth: “Go

yonder in the distance to the clearings, where the logs are lying one

on the top of another, and plant there beans, corn, and squashes. They

make good eating, I assure you. And if these things should grow under

your cultivation they will furnish us with something to eat in the

future.” Thus spoke the old man.

In a short time he continued: “Bring forth from under the couch yonder

a basket in which there is some seed corn, as it is called.” The youth

brought the basket and placed it beside the old man. With the seed corn

were the beans for seed and the squash seed.

Then the old man said to the youth: “Bring me from under the couch

yonder the small baskets, 10 in number; I need them; for you must make

a girdle of baskets around your body.” So the nephew brought the

baskets to his uncle, who with his own hands placed in each of the

baskets some of the several kinds of seeds, thus dividing the seed

corn, the beans for seed, and the squash seed. He carefully completed

his task.

Having done so, he addressed his nephew, saying: “Come, now! go yonder

to the clearings where the logs are lying one on the top of another,

and there you must plant these seeds.” The young nephew replied: “So be

it, my mother’s brother. I will place beside you all the things which

may be necessary for you while I shall be absent planting the seeds.”

So the nephew placed beside his uncle a bark dish containing hominy, a

fire poker and a knife, and a cake of boiled corn bread. Then he said

to his uncle: “I am now going to plant the seeds.”

Having arrived at the clearings he set to work preparing the ground for

planting the seeds which he had brought. He had been at work a

considerable time and had already planted a number of hills when he

heard the voice of his uncle singing. The words of the song were: “Now,

now, now I believe that I have arisen, now indeed.” At this the

youthful nephew ran back swiftly to the lodge to prevent his uncle from

arising. Having arrived there the young man seized his uncle and

repressed his desire to arise, asking him, “What has come to pass that

you began to sing?” The uncle replied: “I became thirsty, and so I

began to sing.” The young man brought his uncle water to drink, and

after the latter had quenched his thirst the youthful nephew said to

him: “You must now lie quiet, as I ask you to do.” The uncle answered:

“Return again to the clearings to plant the seeds. As there are no more

left in the lodge you must pick up those which you dropped from your

baskets.” He referred to the 10 small baskets in which he had himself

placed the various kinds of seeds.

So as soon as the young man had gathered up all the seeds which he had

spilled along the path as he had hastened toward the lodge he again

began to plant them in hills. Again, as he had nearly finished seeding,

he heard the voice of his uncle singing: “Now, now, now I believe that

I have arisen, now indeed.”

The nephew at once started on the run for the old lodge, but when he

had gone only half the way he heard a loud report, băʹʻ! caused by the

breaking of the roots which had been holding his uncle down. When he

arrived at the lodge he found that his uncle was not there. This

grieved him greatly, for he felt that he would become very wretched and

poor without the aid and advice of his uncle. So he began to weep and

mourn for his uncle, but at last he ceased to do so. He then entered

the lodge to think upon his situation, and finally came out to see

whether he could not learn whither his uncle had gone by noting the

tracks he had left on the ground. For this purpose he went carefully

around the lodge, examining the ground as he went. At last he found his

uncle’s tracks, which showed the direction he had taken, for they had

made very deep impressions in the ground as he fled in haste. From the

tracks he learned that his uncle had taken a course directly westward.

The young nephew then said: “So be it. I suppose it is for me to go to

the place whither my uncle has gone. I will follow the tracks of my

uncle, my mother’s brother.”

Thereupon the young nephew, having gotten his bow and arrows, at once

started on a run on the trail of his uncle. He kept the trail in the

forests for three days, when he reached the shore of a lake, and there

indeed the trail ended so far as the nephew could see; so he stopped

there and stood looking around; thus he stood for some time.

At last he was somewhat startled at seeing not far away a canoe,[461]

which was being paddled toward him quite swiftly, and which contained

what appeared to him to be a man. The canoe stopped at some distance

from the spot where the young nephew was standing. He saw that a number

of wild geese supplied the propelling power for the canoe, six wild

geese being attached to one side of the canoe and six to the other

side. Then he overheard the man who was in the canoe address the geese

with these words: “My servants, you may now go forth to seek something

to eat.” The wild geese at once obeyed and flew upward, making the

sound stūmʻ.

The young nephew stood there silent for some time. Then the man in the

canoe said to him: “Come hither.” The youth, replying, “So let it be,”

went to the place where lay the canoe, in which stood the strange man.

The stranger, addressing the youth, said: “I am thankful that you are

well. Is it not true that Okteondon is your uncle? He is my uncle also.

I am thankful, too, that you and I, who are brothers, have seen each

other at this time. It so happens that you and I resemble each other

and are of the same stature. It would be still more convincing if we

should put this to proof by trial. As I have been saying, our bows and

arrows are alike and are of the same length. Let us test my statement

by a trial.” Thereupon the man took his bow and arrows out of the

canoe. Held up together, they were found to be of the same kind of wood

and of the same shape; their arrows were of the same kind of wood and

of the same length.

Then the stranger said, “Come; let us see. We have the same speed, I

believe.” He continued: “Let us now string our bows, as I am now

stringing mine; let us stand here side by side.” While the two stood

side by side again the stranger spoke, saying: “This we do in order

that there may be a race between us and our arrows. Let us shoot our

arrows, and as soon as we let fly our arrows then you and I must start

to run.” Then they let fly their arrows, at the same time starting to

run swiftly. They ran evenly, keeping well together. All that could be

heard was the sounds made by the passage through the air of small

stones picked up by their swiftly moving feet, for they were running at

a rapid pace. Looking upward, the youth saw two arrows flying along

together. In this trial of their fleetness of foot they caught the

arrows before they fell to the ground, each one catching his own.

After this test the strange man said to his young companion, “Now, let

us return to the place whence we started.” So they went back to the

spot where the canoe lay. Then the strange man repeated what he had

been saying again and again: “Have I not been saying that you and I are

indeed brothers? We have the same fleetness of foot; we are of the same

stature; our bodies are alike in form and condition; our bows are

exactly alike; our arrows are also alike. These things indicate that

truly you and I are brothers and that Okteondon is your uncle, as he is

my uncle. Come, then, let us go hence. We will amuse ourselves. We will

go to a distant place where I am in the habit of playing.”

The young man replied unsuspectingly: “So let it be.” Whereupon the

strange man said: “Come, come hither, my slaves, you wild geese. Do you

come hither at once.” He had hardly ceased speaking when the wild geese

alighted beside the canoe and attached themselves to it. Then the

strange man again got aboard of the canoe and invited his friend, the

young man, to accompany him. When the latter had also boarded the canoe

his companion said to the wild geese: “Come, now, do you go to the

place where the island floats in the water.” At this command the geese

began paddling, thus propelling the canoe very swiftly toward the place

designated. Then the strange man began to sing: “Now, now, now, it

seems true, I have started, indeed.” This song he kept singing as the

canoe sped along toward the island of his promised sports.

They finally arrived at the island, and the two men having landed the

strange man said to the wild geese: “Come, now, my servants, go now to

find something for food for yourselves”; thereupon they flew away. He

continued: “Whenever I say to you ‘Come hither’ you must return here at

once. But it must be I who shall say this.”

Drawing the canoe up on the shore he said to his young companion: “Now,

we will go to the place where I am accustomed to amuse myself,” and

they two started. Having arrived at the spot, the young man saw lying

there a very large white stone. His companion said: “It is, indeed,

here that I have my playground; and now you shall see what I will do.”

Then the stranger undressed, making himself entirely naked. Then

raising the great white rock he cast it into the water, which was very

deep. Down it went with the sound bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ. The strange

man next dived into the lake after the rock and remained under water

for a long time. The youthful nephew of Okteondon was watching

anxiously what his strange companion was doing. Finally, the youth was

surprised to see his companion come to the surface of the water bearing

the great white rock in his arms. When he had got on dry land he set

the rock down, saying to the young man: “Thus now you, too, must do as

I have shown you.” The latter replied: “So be it. I will try at once.

After removing all his raiment and being naked he took up the great

white rock and going to the edge of the lake he cast it far from shore

into the depths. Again the rock sank with the sound bubʻ, bubʻ, bubʻ,

bubʻ, as in the first instance, and the young man dived after it.

As soon as the young man had plunged into the waters of the lake the

strange man, taking up not only his own garments but also all those

belonging to his companion, returned to the point where the canoe had

been left. Arriving there, he called out: “Come, now, my servants. Come

you hither,” and shoving the canoe into the water he boarded it. The

wild geese soon alighted alongside of the canoe and attaching

themselves to it began to paddle it along. Their master merely said to

them, “Go directly back to the place whence we started,” and the geese

obeyed him, causing the canoe to move swiftly thither.

In a short time thereafter the young nephew of Okteondon rose to the

surface of the water bringing with him, as did the stranger, the large

white rock, which he cast aside as he came out of the water. He found

no one around and he saw that his garments were missing, so he ran to

the place where he remembered the canoe had been beached. When he

arrived there he found that the canoe, propelled by the swift feet of

the wild geese, was far out on the lake. As he reached the shore he

overheard the strange man in the canoe say in a loud voice: “To you who

feed on flesh and who dwell in the waters of the lake I offer this

flesh to eat.” These flesh eaters were highly pleased with the idea

that they would soon have more flesh to eat. By flesh the stranger

signified the flesh of the young man whom he had entrapped on the

island. The name of the strange man was Sʻhagowenotʻha.

Then the youthful nephew of Okteondon started away, going from place to

place in a hopeless effort to find some way of escape. When he found

that he had been victimized by Sʻhagowenotʻha, he began to cry, and he

went about crying and saying to himself, “Now I know that I am about to

die.”

In his wanderings around the island he found, scattered in numerous

places, many bones of human beings in different degrees of

decomposition. Among these decaying bones he was surprised to find the

half-decayed body of a man lying on the ground, and he was still more

astonished to hear this half-dead man say to him,[462] “My sister’s

son, Oh, nephew! come to me.” The youth, in his surprise, obeying the

voice, went to the spot where the man lay stretched out; there he

stopped and stood waiting the pleasure of the man who had addressed him

as “my sister’s son.”

Then the man continued to address him, saying, “Oh, my sister’s son,

you will now become very wretched, for Sʻhagowenotʻha has now shut you

in on this island. Take new courage and exert yourself, for, though you

may not know it, you are endowed beyond measure with orenda. You must

now put it forth by taking courage to overcome these deceptions of

Sʻhagowenotʻha. Moreover, you must take the following measures for this

purpose. When the sun is near setting you must run to and fro all over

the island, from one end to the other. You must cover it with your

tracks. As soon as it becomes night and darkness is here, then you must

return to the place where the canoe was beached at the canoe landing of

Sʻhagowenotʻha. When you have arrived there you must dig a trench in

the sand sufficiently large to hold your body. In this you must conceal

yourself by covering yourself with sand, but you must leave a small

aperture for your mouth. Your enemy, of course, will come to visit you,

as is well known; he will come at about midnight. Do not under any

circumstances become impatient and do not fear at all. He will bring

with him his dogs, and as soon as he lands he will urge them to find

you by saying, Twūʹăʻ, twūʹăʻ, twūʹăʻ. They will then begin to follow

your tracks from place to place, smelling and sniffing as they run, and

ever at their heels will be Sʻhagowenotʻha. Just as soon as you know by

the faintness of the sounds of these pursuers that they have gone to

some distant part of the island, you must come forth from your hiding

place.

You must also make out of rough bark and soft wood three dolls or

figures resembling the human body. When you have completed these you

must make for each one a bow and arrows suitable for their size. When

you have finished this work you must place one of these figures high up

in some convenient tree crotch, and you must fix in the hands of the

figure, in the attitude of shooting, the bow and the arrows. This you

must do with the three figures.